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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 18, 1924)
“THE GOLDEN BED” By W ALLACE IRWIN. Produced as a Paramount Picture by Cecile B. DeMillc From a Screen Adaptation by Jeanie Macpherson. ' (Copyright. 1124) __/ (Continued from Yesterday.) Stature aside, the Peake girls dif fered only in subtleties. Physically Flora Leo was a shade the finer: a purer blond, softer skinned, smaller boned. Her hair was not so heavy as Margaret's, but It held the pallid gold of an Italian figurine. Margar et's eyes were the more beautiful; they had the candid quality of cry stal against warm gray velvet. Flora Lee's were shot with hazel—the youthful portrait of General Horatio Peake, Continental Army, showed eyes like hers, accounting possibly for his record as a duellist and an In stigator of duels. From infancy that dash of hazel gave Flora Lee an ad vantage. The Livingstone children fancied billygoats. They kept a barn full of (hejn. Billygoats in every stage of horn-and-hair development. With the aid of Rol and Jeff Carter and the whole resident tribe. Including sev eral anomalous negroes, they would torture these animals into harness, hitch them to wagons and race ex citedly up and down the drives. The sport amused Margaret until the day She discovered that Rol always want ed to be Ben Hur. Then she fell out of her chariot and did the very thing he most detested. She went over to one of the stone gate posts, climbed it by dint of con siderable exercise and personal expo sure, and got. herself astride the ram paging, tail raised iron lion which was planted there to howl defiance against trespassers. ‘‘Margaret Peake, you come down from there!” commands the angered brother. . , . ‘‘You said I couldn t do it. Look. 1 can—” , The law of gravitation spoils her little human boast. She loses her balance, sinks down on all fours and saves herself by a lucky clutch at the monster’s unyielding mane. M •'I'll have to tell grandmother this, aavs Roland, frowning. "Tattle tale'.” “You jret down from tnere. “Nobody can make me,” says Mar garet. Nobody does. On a bench not far away Flora Lee Peake is being "read to” by old Linda, who doesn't know one letter from an other but follows the text by the pictures. Flora Lee's languid eyes are on the crude illustrations of Sleeping Beauty; during Margaret s idventure she hasn t taken th trouble to look up* . Still scolding her, Roland Is helping Margaret shin down from the lion s pedestal. But Flora Lee's eyes aie New York —Day by Day— _____/ Hy O. O. M INTYRK. New York. Dec. 17.-1 have, despite the current number of ex cellent Plays, been cleaving to my first love—vaudeville—lately. 1 ba.e the yokel mind that finds romance no 'doubt in the commonplace Vaudeville to me Is teeming with romance. \ love the bladder-whack era of burlesque too. There is a beautiful young girl in vaudeville, for instance, who shares plaudits with a trained epe. I wounder if there is jealousy be tween them. He seems to run away with the act. And what happens to the performers vfhen the animal they have spent so much time trebling dies? It seems to me the only sure fire method of winning applause in • vaudeville is to be a dancer and he able to hold one foot in the hand and jump through it with the other. In all my experience In the halls I have never seen it fall. Vaudeville children live in a world apart. Their life Is jumping from one town to another—sleep ing on trunks and in hotel rooms. I wonder if they know how to play ? off stage, they are the shyest children I ever saw. Behind the footlights they are the worldlest. Amt why does a nut song never fail to ring the bell? Mr. Gallag her and Mr. Shean ' is still raging Ho are a dozen more as senseless, flog shoes with bells have a wide appeal. And there never was a Dutch wooden shoe dancer who didn't get a hand, no matter how frigid the audience. Thera Is one thing the vaudeville audience lacks and that is respect for the last act on the bill. No matter how good it may be the house walkH out. There has never been a solution for this problem. Vaudeville needs a "Stay for the Finish" campaign. My love for acrobats and Jug glers is unbounded—ineluding the Scandinavian. Twice daily they risk necks for the faintest of applause. But did you ever see them lose their respect for the audience? On a legitimate stage the treatment they receive would be rebuked with a stinging curtain speech. Bellevue's psychopathic ward has a strange alcoholic case. He talks and writes backwards. He asked to ■ehd a letter to a friend amj with out effort he wrote thusly: "I ma ereh ta Euvelleb dna yeht kniht I ma yzarc. Dnes pit a knlrd.” New Tory’s most famous boot legger was 10 years sgo an Indif ferent professional dancer. His en gagements at the second rate cab arets were few and far between. Today he has several cars, a fine home and his wife Is one of the best dressed women In town. Nightly they occupy a best, table where the smartest crowds go. He does not drink. Neither does she. They still dance every dance hut It Is noticed thaf no on* ever talks to them. Perhaps they are happy but lino doubts it. The theaters, by the way, are presenting almost every country. There aro plays In Itusslan, Yiddish, French, Chinese, Czecho-Slovaklan, .laps-ese and Scottish. Why not Turks In "Halitosis?" «, Was the famous Jewel robbery during the prlnea of Wales visit on Dong Island a publicity stunt? A keen society reporter hints at It In this fashion: “Anna Held had her milk baths—ao why shouldn't a, certain Dong Island family have their Jewel robbery?” One Ihlng Is certain a lot of people never herore In the social registry ha.va landed ♦ here because the prince took them up. It la almost Impossible to |,» lieve there ta such silly snobbish ness in the old wrufd. <Copyright, lilt# on a shabby boy of thirteen who in defiance (or is it ignorance?) of Liv ingstone rules, has shuffled into the gate, a market basket over his arm. . The boy with the market basket stops dead in his tracks and stares at tlie two bright-haired girls. He rec ognizes the name. To him the Peake women aro like the goddesses whom Aeneas knew in {Missing by the frag rance of their tresses. "He's the Candy Boy!” shouts Mar garet, speaking of him as she would of some inanimate object. "Lend me a dime, Kawl.” “Lend you nothin’;’’ grumbled Ro land, and rejoins his goat. The Candy Boy, gazing with the fascinated look of a wild creature, fumbles an instant with his paper bags, then relinquishes a half-formed plan. The girl’s crystal-gray eyes are studying him, whether in disapproval or sympathy he does not know. Her look stings him. Shuffling away, he hesitates in front of the bench where the little girl sits with her nurse. Her hands and her eyes go out to him, coaxing with a sort of proud mendi cancy. He has no power, no wish to resist her; his action is hypnotic as he reaches into his basket, brings out three peppermint drops and lays them in her soft, warm palm. “Hey, boy!” he can hear old Un da’s scolding tone following Him through the gate. “What you doin’ In Jln’rel Livin’stone’s place? Ain’t you got no sense? Mas you lost yo’ mind, boy, givin’ candy to Jedge Peake s gTHtichlllun?” The Peake house centered a hun dred and fifty feet of lawn at the in tersectiou of Archer ami limes Streets. That conjunction meant much in the horoscope of yesterday. Judge Peake's was not only the best residential lot in town, blit it held upon it the finest residence. There was a flourish about the Peake house which the Cato Livingstones, with their pallid creole stucco, French win dows and Iron filigrees, had never quite achieved. These two mansions stood facing each other, separated only by a street's width. The Peake house was completed nineteen years before the Civil War Horatio Peake built it for his bride, Miss Randolph of Aiberntarle County, Virginia. A gentleman who traveled much in youth, Horatio Peake di gressed considerably from the Amer ican taste of his day and, like Thomas Jefferson, built to bis own ideal. Ho ratio Peake's experiment was Renais sance rather than Georgian; the por tico. shading the entire lower portion of the facade, was semi-circular in form with tall Corinthian pillars. The panes of the upper window's were marked off In graceful ovals of a pat tern seldom encountered in that re gion of the South. A French archi test named Pitou had suggested these windows together with other niceties of design. Only Sallie Peake’s bedroom, on the second floor overlooking the side garden, had escaped Grandfather's Itch for Improvement. Little Flora Lee, born with an instinct for Ver sailles, had loved this room since she could see it. Mornings before her mother was up—which was any morn lng in the week—the small girl would stand peering in, refusing to be bul lied away by Linda's awesome warn Ings. The room was charged withi fascination. It was oval in shape, paneled in yellow brocade; and from the candelabra dripped crystals that looked like ladies’ earrings. The gilt chairs had fluted legs, ton slender to support any' but the lightest of princesses. Upon the floor an en chanted carpet was Spread, flowered with roses and garlanded with launch Then there was Mother's bed. Horatio Peake had brought it from Venice, Flora Lee was to learn years later when she owned that lied and slept In it. As a small child she peeked at it ami thought of the Sleeping Beauty. . . . There were golden flowers, aspho dels perhaps, twined all around the headboard. Upon the apices of Its four short posts perched gilded swans, their wings spread, their heads drawn bark belligerently on seri>entine necks. . . . I.ike lovely, graceful dragons they stood all night and guarded dreams. . . . An Hesperian wanderer, title bed, in land where Georgian mahogany reached the splendor of its polished severity . A state barge out of some hyperborean channel, ft had floated into the tall house in Inness Street; and a rather worn woman with bronze hair and eyes that lost their wrinkles when she slept lay ail morning, every morning, crumpled languidly between its guardian swans. Sometimes she would open those eyes like pansies caught fire in the center, and beckon to the little spy in the door. “Flora Lee, honey, come here an' kiss tne good mown In "Mother, Linda says I must go in the Park," the child would complain, throwing herself into arms more lan guid than her own. "Linda!” {Real Folk* at Home (The Freight Elevator Man) _ Hv/RAV \ GT WA-SHCD/ '2 By Briggs MAOP EIGHTY Tia/O TRIPS MOST OP 'pi'A . To Th‘ ROOp AMD " A LoTTA STOPS .That's what KlWS wr~ MOAT oF Tne iTuFF °*» AMD4 I^ADTO HELP , peSVct'^RUlO arc^ss?-?*, . Th’ UNiokJ CGTvS >^k.'-OOK 00r. I —— , V [.H. V>, v'oMf? C.ooa Too ? po.wt.s aroot'em ' §or D6V0ZCET tr 7/ TfAC-V PR#MIJ*5 *** -, ivio» J T,ie Front .IoB AS -J . • J\ —-■ ■ i (AS THAT vT>\AJ^C^ - >-TV oiwi i Sj / VAJCUV. CARHlK • l cA M ‘ "T r^O ewVTMlMG I A CTOCS'A A JO0 MOL4J , J5AYS... Th* TfclMANM I ppopli jmo rher wja* . PUTTIMO IW JOMVP SJSyO \ -—-z~v, eLC'^ATORS' L L~a w*ci. 4 ki.weep Me , 1 /(o rvuwo J «— 1 L—»»««««■>. ABIE THE AGENT Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hershfield Near Knough. fOOO,HE1?E HE 4!» AQAlrt, U THAT PESY«NOUJ tYlL I \ COMMENCE'.: i /I'u. M^RWOUR V S»VTCR fcND \OU . AlU'T QO>N<*TD V^top^^^ver^/ [ uTW'S'S THE BlA itXS ARQUMENY IN PREVENT A I x 'THERE. ABCXH 3 SECOND COGS'# „ •■ FRCM ^ETTlNCr _g£_ ; anv closer s j I f “Yns'm.” The old negress -would step forward and assume the respect fully critical pose of one who, in bondage, had enjoyed her privileges. "Linda, have you lost your mind, smugglin' my child away in the mawnin' before l'in so much ns awake?" "flood Ian. Miss Sally?’ Linda would exclaim. Hot in the least in timidated by the great lady whom .she had baby-nursed, “Kf Flo’ Lee wuz to wait in th’ house evvy niawntn* till you woke up she’d grow like a mushyroon, nevva seein* daylight.” “Oh, hush, and straighten up the room a little, will you, Linda? Sa mantha's perfectly useless since she got married.” “Yas'm. Marriage takes 'em that a-way sotn* times,” Linda would phil osophize, stooping to sort out the lit ter uf shoes, letters, lingerie, ribbons and pa pel-cove red novels which strewed the rug like objects hurled before a high wind. Sally Peake, propped up li\ bed, her favorite daughter across her knees, would study the little girl's eyes with a sort of wild gentleness, running a tawny curl thoughtfully across her forefinger. Then without any ac accountable motive she would lean down and kiss one of the small feet; it was a foolish act, as though Flora law were a hare-toed baby. "They ought never to touch the ground, except to dance.’’ the mother would cxi-laln, pride and pathos In her voice. "How coujd 1 get to the Livin' stone Place without feet—'less I had wings like the swans?’* Flora Lee was fascinated by- the golden guar i dians on her mother’s bedposts. "Someone mud always carry yon, my dear." Generations of self-indul gent grandmother* spoke through her llpe. \ "But Unda says I'm gettin' too old 1 to be carried.” "Somebody alway s will. Always— _(To He Continued Tomorrow.) +T* THE NEBBS /hello FAkikW , _Thi£> \S RoDy - 5AY. homEyTN ] WOM'T BE home FOR Dimmer-Owe of OuR { Good customers from out or Tovsjm <S VIS'TWG WERE AHD I'M G0lwGTOTA*E W»M j ~XO O'WWER AMD MAYBE a SHOW \SURE,AS EARLY AS 1 CANJ y ('-\£w her you' rtlMr 1—* M»GHT BE MM» \ late 1 THE WORLDS -___ GREtfTCST wealth/ --- I Fir WILD OATS. ! /ovTshE WA$/so SWEETEN /twaTS AU. PiOKtTk»o'^\ f SME SA'O "TAKE CARE or T I LL aUT A G ALLOW 6VJT 1 vouPSEtr and wav/E A I ,|r YOO'CE GO\nGToSPEkjO i GOOD time - SM.yOVLl \ pv/ENVNS} In PEMOPSE UAV/E TO auVAT LEAST A T yQ0 AS WELL Go/ ?\NT Or WATEP So I CAW / WOMG _ I'M WOT USED COmS\DEP NOU A COSTOMEP // ftoKlwlWG APOdwO 7 \ AWO NOT MAKE A nSBEP / \ wrTw amATEOPS out or MTSEL-r / '——~y--— ^ ™EOh1 ) (S^fTz)) f—-s i UsSijr&V _ »i: * Directed for The Omaha Bee by Sol Hess * (Copyright 1924) /*I BEL'EVE EVERY MARRIED MAN &MOULO WAVE A nvgmt OOT occasionally—»r v.au'ES W»S UOMEOEARER tO WvM. _ RODY .c t\ Good average hoSBAwD- HE WORKS 3R7Ko$&'ajSFSKJSt. , l Sot»C* X^COSTOMER^vmcon6EniW_ 10 ^ mT^TI Hk % • i \ • J R C*.fttSow (Copyright. 1M4, by The Bell Syndicate Inc.) \ /jj_ Barney Google and Spark Plug Bess. TO AV.L OOn't UAME- \ To - AM 3EST MAO \ ^VAMKY out FC MtS DAU.V / Doz.cn An Me. ^-r< Go I.AK A / r\U I \ VTUJEAR C J >✓«! • > UttMTNMN - \ U5HAT A Me SMO' am \ LOAD o^A GONNA EAT Vit- 1 MT CMEST OAT GOO AM NfcX SATiOOT /MUD /? - * 3SO* ^ lHATS uiuat CIW CouecT - it it pyr _ i t*\E Oh ThE_ fcOAHfc\JA«D -FoP. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Billy DeBeck __ __ iCopyright IttUi) ^ / (.AVW .WIU now \ TRuvr me for a PtMCa AMO A e*G ' PAO OF UiRlTiMO- V PAPER. > I VWAMr \ \ To MAKE A FEVU (MORE 9ETS OM ^ _ PA1 HCR it' Cr~fi77— | ^•^rW*l2,cV RRINfllNCl I IP FATHFR . /o'*"."!.,. SEE J,ccs AND MAGG,E IN EULL Drawn for The Omaha Bee by McManus UIMllVlIllVl U1 1 rt » 1 11-iIV U. S. P.t.nt Olfic. PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Cop/riebt 19241 t've worn that OLO HAT UNTIL I’M “blCK OF IT- r I VO JOTiT C.OT TEH OOLLAR^j AN ill O'T My HATTER TO ‘bEND ME UP HUH! t * NEED ten * •-ir/ DOLLM?-bTO PAY j v, the. DRu<;^nT- r-1 /.V HE'LL HERE \ MINUTE A\.__ t __ U ^ k <s^rK~u£ ■ / A>ND OA.OO r I L .- E MOW HWE. Five! ill dollars for ;— e>E THE. HMR — e^CK' ' P— - Myfi &Y COLLV YOU NEWLV C<OT AWAY 1 EROM me-old palm _ 1924 BY IhT L FfA*j«C Service. INC. * Ci»t Butun rif* s reserved- / S *7 8 | -J JERRY ON THE JOB SLIGHT DELAY. Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban * ~ (Copyright lVx4l / 6osn 0/jaMvtW3SB.8Lo'rs.'TMEvat. / Bl*AKMvy3 on 'TUfc /AQAW= , Sr>aw\ows 'tusb.e uvte a jttWT" , Coupis o* 'T^s-.rA'*V?*> /V .^1 _' —^ /-~~N / SlACK. OAVC .. " (akj^Bowv- /• flj gvg .CoSji£ro\ 'TWA't yAGfttCA^tV /l ^ E v ° r 1 Vo vfou -5 / V ^ad.v.a^-t J (_^VKCTT. C~\) StAC-reo) / Oh ^ER, •» j V j e. VA ? / V smfwe OO'^ ^o (J, ^ 'J l S>rt^ o\n ^»e- y ^ /, ,>c ( SMATTivl' ttOOVA ,-> *" W. ^""y^rrw A ^'-'23^ if _ Cl 'A