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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 11, 1924)
JO ELLEN 1 By ALEXANDER BLACK. Cov,Tltbu ltu (Continued From Yesterdar.) **I don’t know. Anythin* that hasn’t happened before. Maybn that's it. I’m *oln* stale. Smoke, Miss Measenger-of-the-gods?” Corn held forward a gold case. “Thank you. no,’’ said Jo Ellen, who wondered when Miss Farrand was to be free. "Do you want us to get out?’’ asked Cora with a make-believe scorn. "No." Miss Ferrand shook her head, to the peril of the hair process. "In just a minute—isn't that so, Ma thilda?—I’m going to look at the thing Miss Rcwer would show me and O. K. it. You know how Eberly is. A lot of funny little special documen tary ornaments. This is supposed to be a case of being particularly nice with me.” "Nailing you to the cross deli cately.” "O no! As If I were Maud Adams or something. I think you’re feeling peevish today, Cora.” “I’m glad of one thing,” said Cora. 'Nobody here has a grouch. It seems thst everybody in my company is frazzled. Enough to give you the jumps. Did you ever play with Pal lish?” _* .v "No” ’’ "Well, he thinks It's his kidneys. Maybe it is. Sort of worries my nerves. Every time he leans over that Louis Quartorze table and gasps, ‘Have you never suspected by flaming passion?’ I think of his kidneys. You know what Mary Shaw said to us about never letting the other fellow in a scene get you? I can hold off Pulllsh all right. But I can't quite forget the kidneys. I'd like to play opposite somebody T never saw off the stage, that never spoke a word to me but his lines." "But, Cora,” laughed Miss Farrand, "that isn't as bad as playing oppo site an ex-husband. And think of , poor Garrette slobbering over the girl who had stolen her man—patting her j cheek and murmuring those lovely words when she wanted to dig her nails lntoTier throat." ■’Wouldn’t mind that at all. That • would steady me. It’s sympathy that ' gets you In wrong. Same with mar- 1 tiage. You ought to hold him off— ' act vour part and keep on being your- j self. Then comes In this horrthle j svmpathy about something—drink. 1 neuritis', or even a sick sister. Gus Hammond had a mother he used to pull on me. I can see now that he | knew just how to do it. That was , the beginning. He got the sympathy i started. I might never have broken , with him if I had—how was it Mary | Shaw called It?—kept him objective. , My dear," and Cora turned her ex- , perienced brown eyes upon Jo Ellen, j "if you ever marry—" , “Can that!” cried Miss Farrand. , "You needn’t give any cynical advice , to my manager’s nice secretary. Don’t j New York -•Day by Day \__/ By O. O. M’INTYRE. New York, Aug. 11.—A page from ,he diary of a modern Samuel Pepys: 1’p pretty betimes and to breakfast with Rudolph Valentino and he gave me his book of poems which shows him to be a very jaunty jongleur. Through the town and met Will Hays along Forty-second street and he was burdened with a sheaf of im portant papers and never have I seen one so frail appearing accomplish so much, it being his rule to admit everyone who comes to his office. “Service,” quoth Sir Will, "is the supreme commitment of life," and I doubt not he was right, but had I been disputatious I would have argued with him. Home and at my scriven ing until Tom Millard came and I served tea, a custom he picked up during many years in China. In the evening to see S. J. Kauf man's music revue and saw Broun, the critic, as an actor for the first time and not greatly impressed al though I deem him a brave scrivener. So to bed. Franklin P. Adams tells of a song in a musical revue wherein gorgeous young girls caparisoned as this or that enter to the program announce ments such as "Furs from Russia” and "Fins from Timbuctoo.” After the fifth of these a cynical friend turned to his neighbor and shouted: “Love from Elsie.” It was in one of the biggest hanks in New York. More than a dozen armed and uniformed guards patrol (he corridors. Into it came two cat tlemen dressed like those on the Texas border—high-heeled boots, corduroy coats, flannel shirts snd mile-wide sombreros. Business came to a sud den stop. East met west. I saw ♦ ho guards maneuver about uneasily. Finally one of them ventured up to a window. They were seeking letters of credit preparatory to flailing for Europe. When they left the entire bank seemed to sigh a deep breath of relief. I appreciate now why spals and cane caused a flurry of excite ment In a little town on the Texas border last winter. The wonder 1it row I ever came home alive. There Is another big hank In New York whose two highest officials have been touched by the forked tongue of scandal. I know a teller there. All his life he has admired red neckties but because of the dignity of his calling he doesn’t wear them— save on gala occasions In the privacy of his home when he dons one of a vivid hue and feels quit# the raacal. There Is one freedom a Journalist known to the vulgar as reporter—en joys and that Is in the matter of per sonal adornment. He may wear a pearl derby and a red veat, and his city editor will not hesitate to send blm out to sen a reigning magnate. There are people who pass them on the street, gaze st their trick raiment and exclaim: “Oh, my gosh!” Only once have I winced under the verbal bludgeoning of passers by. it whs on Madison svenue. Two beautiful young Indies were waiting under a cafe canopy for a motor car. An I passed one said: “Did you ever sen anything so terrible?” I was stung to the quick snd decided to turn and stare them out of counten ance. When I did I saw one of the young ladles had torn a gaping hole in her skirt. “Oee, ain't the subway terrible’" Mid a Bronxlte. "We’re pneked In like sardines.” ’N'aw.” said the neighbor." "sar dines are better off. They're laying down.1' (Cop»right, ttSt.J you listen, Misa Rawer. All this' time this Cora person Is a sentimen tal old thing. There! I'm ready to be a business woman," and Misa Far rand gathered the lacy folds of her loom robe. "A lamb to the slaughter," mur mured Cora. Jo Ellen had been studying the three figures; especially that of Cora, because Cora was eo mysteriously old and young. The room also interested her. She had seen but few hotel rooms. Perhaps this waa like any other. It seemed bare and hard. There was a bedroom adjoining. Prob ably that was equally unlike a home room. The suite was simply a place in passing. Perhaps If you could, as Cora proposed, always keep on being yourself, it didn’t matter about the place. Homes held you to things, and If you kept on being yourself you hated to be held. Nevertheless, a picture of home waa always In Jo El lon’s mind; It was not the home she would go to at the end of the day, yet It seemed very real—as If it could be very real. Perhaps you never thought much about It until there was something wrong with what you had. . . . It was Cora who went down in the elevator with Jo Ellen. In the corner of the cage she looked younger than Jo Ellen had believed her to be. There were tears in her eyes, which seemed astounding. “You know," she whispered, "you make me want to cry.” "But—why?" "O just to see you looking so young and fresh.” "What should I say to that?” asked Jo Ellen, as they emerged into the lobby. “Nothing at all. Let me snivel. I tell you what you might do if you wanted to be nice. You might go to lunch with me. My breakfast.” Jo Ellen thought she had to get back to the office, but her wrist watch said that Eberly would have gone out to eat. Cora saw her hesitate. "We'll make it snappy," Cora said. “It'll do me good. And it won't do you any harm—to go to lunch with an actorine. about nothing at all. I don’t want anything you can give me or get me, except that—your com pany. If this sounds maudlin, charge it up. Actually, I don't often do any thing so sensible.” VIII. They went to Gronson’a. Whatever turn the incident might have taken waa diverted in some degree, doubt less, by the fact that they met Can nerton In the place, and that he. In his ruthless way, contrived to main tain the trio. Perhaps it was true that Cora Vance's impulse had be hind it no special intentions, and Can nerton may not have seemed discor dant. If she simply wished wished to watch Jo Ellen, Cannerton might have been a good enough factor. But Jo Ellen was not to be counted upon to perform. These two other mem bers of the trio belonged to a world of which she knew only the echoes. When you do not speak a language you are more awkward with two audl tors than one. Cannerton'a manner was diluted by the other presence, although he always gave the impres sion of being uninfluenced by any ex ternal considerations whatever. To be sure, he had a great many man ners. But in each of them Jo Ellen always found that his impudence had for her a kind of simplicity which didn't appear so markedly in the company of Cora Vance. The two, Jo Ellen told herself, did not treat her as a child. They had. indeed, a funny way of assuming (or was it pre tending?) that she "belonged." Yet they managed somehow to set her apart. For one thing. Cannerton wondered, mildly, why she was with Cora; and Cannerton's knowing her so easily made Cora wonder in her way, which was quite different. On Broadway you knew everybody, at last. The point was, how did you know them? Bid you know them tolerantly, gratefully, sentimentally, savagely—there were endlesn shad ings, and people tried to read them. After all, it was just like Inwood, except that on Broadway you never got the job finished. There were too many, and the shadings were too in trlcate. Besides, Jo Ellen didn't real ly belong. She was here because she was somebody's secretary, and the others, who knew everything, would consider whose secretary she was. More make-believe. At its best. Broadway was always speaking with painted lips. In the end Jo Ellen was sorry that Cannerton had happened. He was, as usual, amusing, even when he pretended, as he did just now. that he was miserable. But it would have been better to bear Cora talk more directly. Most of the talk would he about Broadway, about things that began or ended on Broadway. Jo El len was used to that, yet she came to the feeling that these things ranged tremendously, spreading out. like those diagrams on the tablecloths at the Astor grill, to farthest corners of the country. The*# stage people were very rough with one another, and at the same time full of the al>surdest sentimen talisms. "Most actors are simply morons," Cora flung out in the midst of some thing^ "Yes," said Cannerton with a ludic rous gentleness, "like little children. Except ye become as one of these ya cannot enter the kingdom of art." They had a wrangle about art; and then about beef stew and dressing rooms and rheumatism. Cora powdered her nose. "Speaking of women." said Can nerton, "It's too bad they're always looking for something to suffer over. Funny trait when you come—” "Not so funny when you come to think of what men are." muttered Cora. "For Instance, they don't take any interest in a fashion unless it hurts. They've Rot to be burdened or an noyed. They have a passion for self inflicted pains. They love v> be Rath ered up by any morbid momentum. They can make even trifles an exquis ite torture. Take the matter of cos metlcs. The one color a human being can't put on the fare le white. This was discovered by clowns. Especial ly on the nose. A white nose is the supreme symbol of the comic. Yet feminine noses have been getting whiter and whiter. Nothing goes now but the corpse color. Unless a woman's nosa looks dead, or af least frostbitten, she feels depraved. There's a lovely idea for a play. * 'White Noses.' The hero, a genial, enterprising chap, would have a normally pinkish nose, and the girl—•* "Is this humor?" asked Cora. (Ts Be Continued Tomorrow.) THE NEBBS _ RUDY APPOINTS HIMSELF PRESIDENT. Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess / GENTLEMEN . I'M ATTORNEY \ / -. TORCH AM - REPRESENTING \ f MOW WWO t$\ cai rp. 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THENOKW& WATER CO.f ME6&a SUDER T>STR\BOTORS ; pee^OEMT RUDOLPH NEBB VICE PREStOEm HORKUONlBUCK &EC- g TREAS.'' OBEDlPW SUDER j ! f i ._ ---———-■—■■■■-- - - - - - — - J Barney Google and Spark Plug Barney Must Have Felt Lost in That Bush of Whiskers. Drawn for The Omaha Eke by Billy DeBeck EXCLUSIVE picture or oaron scartfmoff ) flMH. ’* ^TJpRoTSKt," "The mn name, is barney/ pi* FAMOUS RUSSIAN Two near / nOOGLCNIT*H OLO UiMO ARRIUEO with °F HOBS* HIS OWNER. Baron "That'* cJonna ■5CAREMOFF, THIS FACE VooR Famous'trotiri" IN MILWAUKEE OM* Yl«K' FROM SATURDAY • ' f I KtSS Y ; Copyright. !924jCinf Features Syndicate. for Great Britain rights reserved HiniirimiauiniriMiijm". 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