lMmiM

READ •••
Confession of
& aji/aW York
Jiam m er
^Murderer
Transition N vm ber---- Page 23
THE NEW PRICE 50c
VOLUME
GIRL PICTURE ALBUM 3
IS NOW ON SALE BY YOUR NEWS DEALER
Vol. 37 10 STO R Y BOOK, March, 1939 No. 10

Presents
C O N F E S S IO N O F A N E W Y O R K
HAM M ER MURDERER
.........................................A. Gerard M acau ley
H O L L Y W O O D H OSS T R A D E R S
............................................. A1 H icks Senior 8
T H E H A N D S ............................Dillard Stokes 11
COLLEGE CAPERS J. Oke Smith 13
IN N E W S P A P E R S T Y L E Satiricus 14
W IT H L O V E T O T H E E D IT O R
................................................A rnold Fletcher 17
T I M E S U R E F L IE S J. Oker 18
B IT O’ B LA C K AN ’ W H IT E 19
W O M A N IN A W H IT E H A T .........................
.................................................. A lm a Paschall 20
P O P P E R W R IT E S T O D E SON
M EELTON H. N. W ebster 24
ESCAPE A lfred Clark 28
T H E C A SE O F T H E M IS S IN G
M A N U S C R IP T A. Lincoln H icks 32
W E N T ’R O U N D A N D ’R O U N D J. O. K e r 36
Q U A IL ...............................D onna R eigh Scott 40
THE LAST W ORD J. R . M cC arth y 46
S A ID B L U B T O B L U R P J. O. K . E r 48
DEAR CLARA G. K . B eam 50
P L U G G IN G A L O N G Lou Seguin 54
I T ’S A N IL L W IN D M on t Hurst 58

JA. Published monthly by Sun

Including Publications at 529 So. Clark
St., Chicago, 111. Single copy
2 price 25c; yearly subscriptions
in the United States $3.00 per
RIB-TICKLING year. Title registered at U. S.
Patent Office. Copyright 1939
SATIRES by Sun Publications. Appli­
cation for Second Class entry
on pending at the Post Office at
Chicago, 111., under the At t
IMMORTAL of March 3, 1879.
HOLLYWOOD
 10
W ERE CALLED
— AND
10
W E R E CH O SEN —

and M ary “Punkins” Parker, here

shown, led in pulchritude the ten
beauties H ollyw ood selected to rep­
resent immortal H ollyw ood.

Globe Photo.
 Confession of a
New York Hammer M urderer
By A. Gerard Macauley

H IS is what happened, the whole in-law’s son. I know this old burg like a

T truth, so help me.

V ictor Pate, my. cousin from D ove­
two-time widow knows her matrimonial
onions.”
cote, Vermont, asked me to show him the “ I presume you mean to imply that the
town. It was not only V ictor’s first visit locale is entirely familiar to you. Fine—
to New Y ork but it was his initial sight of lead on.”
any metropolis. “ Y ou want to see our subways first,” I
“ Y ou want to see the points of interest,” said.
I said. “ I ’ve heard of them," he said, "It will be
“ That’s it,” he replied. interesting.”
“ V ictor,” I said, “ you couldn’t have come I took him to the Times Square station,
to a better man than your mother’s sister- where the usual crow d was battling to board
4 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

the trains. W e slugged our way into one of man’s appearance on Earth. They were
them and clung to straps. formed by the action of the river seeking
“ Some mob, eh, V ictor,” I said proudly. an outlet to the sea. O n their crests can
H e drew a big breath. “ Y es,” he said, be seen many huge boulders left there by
“ your subways last year carried over a billion receding glaciers tens of thousands of years
and a half passengers. In nickel fares that ago. A few years ago the Palisades exist­
amounts to one hundred million dollars.” ence were threatened by the blasting of
A n express roared by in the opposite di­ quarrymen, but happily the states o f New
rection. Y ork and New Jersey combined to end
“ Going some, eh, V ictor?” I chuckled. this outrage.”
“ It surely is,” he said. “ These subway “ W e ’ll go downtown,” I said, “ and see
expresses are said to make as high as a the East River, and the ships and bridges
mile a minute at times, but generally they and things.”
average forty miles an hour. A t rush hours “ Fine,” said Victor, “ I ’m especially in­
there is a three minute interval between terested in seeing the Brooklyn Bridge.”
trains.” W e stood under the old bridge and looked
A t 125th Street we got off and squirmed up, and then we stood upon it and looked
and forced our way to the exit stairs. down.
“ Some station, isn’t it?” I said to Victor. “ This first and undoubtedly most beauti­
“ The express stations,” he said, “ are ap­ ful of the East River Bridges,” said Victor,
proximately four hundred feet lo n g ; in some “ was begun January 3rd, 1870 and opened
instances close to five hundred feet.” M ay 24th, 1883. The stone towers are 272
W e walked over to Grant’s Tom b on feet above the river. The length of the
Riverside Drive. bridge over all is 6,016 feet, and the length
“ Imposing structure — this, don’t you of the central span is 1,595.6 feet. Its total
think?” I asked him. cost was 25 million dollars. The inventor
H e viewed it critically. “ The tomb is and engineer was John Roebling.”
150 feet high and 90 feet square,” he said. “ Y ou w on’t want to see the other bridges,”
“ It is built of granite from Maine and New I said, “ they’re just like this one, except
Hampshire. The cost was $600,000, which they’re built a little different.”
was raised by popular subscription. The Leaving the bridges and walking through
corner stone was laid April 27, 1892, the a narrow street V ictor halted suddenly to
date of Grant’s birthday, and the dedica­ point to a funny looking building on a
tion ceremonies were held April 27, 1897.” corner. “ W hy, there’s Fraunce’s Tavern,”
I took him down to see the Hudson River. he said enthusiastically, “ one of the oldest
“ Some creek, eh, V ictor?” buildings in the city. It was General W ash­
“ The Hudson R iver,” he said, “ is 350 ington’s Headquarters during the R evolu­
miles long. Its source is Lake Sanford in tionary W a r.”
the Adirondacks. It attains its greatest “ Y ou want to see the Statue of Liberty,
width between Nyack and Tarrytown, New don’t you,” I said.
York. It is navigable for large boats as “ Oh, yes. Y ou know, of course, that the
far as T roy, N ew Y ork, above which city Goddess of Liberty was the gi-------”
it narrows abruptly. The Hudson has been “ Look out— that ca r !” I yelled, shoving
termed the American Rhine.” him violently toward the curb.
“ Those are the Palisades, V ictor.” I said, “ W hat car? W h ere? I don’t see any
pointing to the Jersey shore. car,” he said, looking around puzzled.
“ The Palisades,” said Victor, “ antedate “ It’s gone,” I said, “ it went around the
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 5

corner.” a place of entertainment. Lafayette was feted

“ W e were talking about the Statue of there on his second visit to America, and
Liberty,” V ictor said, after we had walked it was the scene a generation later of the
on a few blocks, “ It was the gift, you know, memorable American debut of Jenny Lind,
of the grateful Fren— —— what’s the mat­ the Swedish Nightingale.”
ter?” “ Let’s go in,” I said, “ they may be closing
“ M y head!” I said, clapping my hands soon.”
over my eyes and staggering. “ A sudden “ N o,” said Victor, looking at his watch,
dizzy spell.” “ It is only 1 1 :30 and the visiting hours are
“ W e ’ll take a taxi,” said Victor, “ W e from 9 a. m. to 5 p. m. The yearly attendance
shouldn’t have any difficulty getting one; exceeds 2,000,000.”
there are over 13,000 taxi-cabs in New— ” V ictor seemed to enjoy staring at the poor
“ There’s one n o w !” I shrieked, fran­ fishes.
tically waving at a passing vehicle. We “ The total number of specimens on exhibi­
climbed in and rode across town. tion here,” he said, “ exclusive of inverte­
Alighting at the Battery I said to Victor, brates and young fry in the hatchery, varies
“ Victor, perhaps we’d better not visit the from three to seven thousand. The Aqua­
Statue to-day; I— I don’t feel so very good, rium is equipped for heating sea water for
and you have to take a little boat over there tropical fishes in winter and in addition has
and climb a lot of stairs and things.” a refrig------- ”
“ W hy, surely,” he said, “ I can see the “ It’s stuffy in here,” I said, pulling him
Statue some other time. But you’re wrong toward the door. “ W here’ll we go n ow ?”
about having to climb stairs: an elevator “ Mmmm, let’s see,” said Victor, “ I’d love
was installed in 1902. Previously to that to see Central Park and the W oolw orth
visitors were obliged to climb the 305.6 feet Building. Central Park is approximately two
from the base of the statue to the observa­ and a half miles long by a half-mile wide.
tion platform in the torch. A s I was saying W ork was begun on the Park in-------”
the Statue was a gift of the Grateful French “ Let’s go home first and have some lunch,”
people to America. It was the work of the I said.
sculptor August Bartholdi (born 1833, died “ Fine,” he said, “ then we can come down
1904). It is of bronze and weighs------- ” again and see the W oolw orth Building before
“ W hat do you want to see n ow ?” I asked we visit the Park. The W oolw orth Building
him. is seven hundred------- ”
“ Let’s take in the Aquarium,” he said, V ictor fell flat on his face in a mud puddle.
“ There it is right over there, that circular “ Y ou must have tripped,” I said, helping
building resembling a fort. A s a matter of him to his feet. “ A re you hurt ?”
fact-------” “ I didn’t trip,” he said angrily, wiping the
“ It was a theatre or something,” I said, mud from his face and trousers, “ Someone
“ before they kept fishes in it.” pushed me— from behind.”
“ Yes, it was,” he said, “ but that was three “ It must have been that big fellow walk­
quarters of a century ago. But from 1855 to ing down there,” I said, “ H e passed us as
1895— when it was made an aquarium— it you fell."
was used as a landing place for immigrants, “ Someone pushed m e," lie repeated, “ I
during which forty years 7,690,606 immi­ don’t know who il was.”
grants passed through its portals. It was “ You can clean your trousers when we get
erected in 1805 as a military structure and home,” I said.
was known as Fort Clinton. Later it became W e didn’t talk much on the way hom e;
6 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

V ictor seemed sore about something. But distinction of possessing one of the highest
after a good lunch and we were sitting down elevations in the city.”
for a little smoke he cheered up again. Then I went to the nearest police station
“ Had a great day so far,” he said, “ Aside and gave myself up.
from that— that accident. I ’m looking for­ “ I ’ve just killed a man,” I told the Lieu­
ward with keen anticipation to the W ool- tenant at the desk. “ H e was my cousin from
worth Building and Central Park. A s I was Dove-cote, Vermont. M y father was his
saying Central Park contains 843 acres, of mother’s brother and this makes the fourth
which 185 are in lakes and reservoirs. W ork brutal murder in this city within the past
was begun on the park in 1857 and it was forty-eight hours. The Police will express
officially opened in------- ” themselves as baffled for a motive for the
“ It was that big fellow,” I said, “ he shoved crime. Y ou will find his body in the dining
you. W e have some rough people in New room of my private suite on the thirteenth
York— he looked like some sort of a foreigner floor of the Hotel Pistachio Arms. This
to me.”
apartment-hotel is forty stories high. Besides
“ These foreigners-------” said Victor. “ W e 1,468 single rooms there are 523 suites of
have nothing like them in Dove-cote, thank
from 2 to 9 rooms with 5 to 14 baths. The
God. W hy, do you know that 28% of the total floor area is 745.6 acres and the halls
population of New Y ork City is foreign b orn ; if laid end to end would reach from here to
that 2 5% have one foreign born parent, and there and back again. Send a couple of your
2 3% two foreign born parents?” trusted men over to verify what I have told
“ W ill you have a glass of sherry?” I asked y o u ; I ’ll wait here until they return.”
him, reaching down into the buffet behind his
I took the chair they offered me. A squad
chair.
of plain-clothes men rushed out.
“ Sherry, eh? W ell, don’t mind if I do.
Back home, of course, we have bonded “ The New Y ork City police force,” I said
to the Lieutenant, “ is undoubtedly the
whiskey that is bonded. But everybody knows
world’s finest. It consists, you know, of ap­
that New Y ork City is the bootlegging center
proximately 14,153 Patrolmen, 125 Police­
of the country. The number of liquor con­
women, 212 Doormen, 964 Sergeants, 543
victions in New Y ork City alone last year
amounted to seven thou-------” Lieutenants, 95 Captains, 30 inspectors, 7
Chief Deputy Inspectors, 1 Chief Inspector
H e put up a good fight but I brought him
down in the end. and 1 Commissioner at a salary of $10,000
a year.”
“ This is murder,” he moaned, as I rained
blow after blow with the hammer on his “ The rank of Doorman, sir,” corrected the
naked skull. Lieutenant courteously, “ was abolished by
“ There were 372 homicide cases in New Act of Legislature April 16, 1912.”
Y ork City last year,” I screamed in his ear “ I beg your pardon, Lieutenant,” I said,
just before he lost consciousness, “ an average “ I did not know that.”
of 8.5 per hundred thousand of population. They found my cousin V ictor’s body as I
This one won’t affect the figures for the cur­ said they would and I am writing this from a
rent year, although the homicide rate in Italy cell 9]/2 feet long by 6 % feet wide in the
in 1925 was 4.7 as compared to that of 7.2 Tom bs Prison, New Y ork City. This City
for the United States. Unless your family Prison is located at Center and Pearl Streets
claim your body it will probably be interred and has long out-grown its capacities. Its
in Greenwood Cemetery, Brooklyn, which in surrounding walls are 18 feet high and the
addition to containing over 500 acres has the stone blocks composing it are 3.8 feet thick.
 H O W T O H O R S E B A C K R ID E W IT H O U T A H O R S E
This young lady shows us how she takes a morning canter around the Lincoln
Park bridle path without even going out to Lincoln Park. Just a part of our
synthetic age! Globe Photo.
 HOLLYWOOD HOSS TRADERS
A Cheerful Cataclysm Concerning Chiseling Anent
THE CINEMA CAPITOL
in
7 Plain and Airmail Letters — 3 Inter-office Communications
1 Night Letter — 1 (one only) Straight Day Message

DANIEL GARFIELD
Publisher — Literary Agent
3 1 8 Westcott Dr.
CHICAGO, ILL.

Dec. 2, 1938
Mr. Edward Burke
6242 Sunset Blvd.
Hollywood, Calif.
Dear Edward:
Sometime ago I sent you a copy of
Eliza Duane's book "Simpering Sally"
which I published for her with her very
kind assistance. I requested you as my
West Coast representative to read the
book, give me an opinion that I might
read my client, and then to get it before
Abe Wenzel who is producing and super­
vising for Freckles Smithers the child
cinema prodigy.
I requested merely that you place a
copy of the book upon Mr. Wenzel's desk
with a request that he read it and dis­
cover that it was a superb vehicle espe­
cially fitting for the Smithers child.
So far and to date I have not heard a
word from you. One of my clients pass­
ing thru Chicago stopped to confer with
me last week and from him the rumor came
that you had done nothing since you were
thrown off the Canyon Comedies lot as a
comedy constructionist for suggesting
that Miss Biddy of the Biddy and Betty
Comedies do a featherless fan dance. He
added something about your being jailed
later for attending a premier of the
latest Canyon Comedy and breaking out
into loud sobbing while it was being
shown.
I have asked very little of you and
paid very well for your work for me in
Hollywood. I have not leaned toward the
cinema market very heavily to date, but
I must ask that you give me some infor­
mation and action on the above matter at
once or I shall be forced to contact an­
other outlet for my Hollywood material.
Trust that this will suffice to bring
you to your senses,
I remain,
Very truly yours,
Daniel Garfield.
P.S. When can I expect further of
your inimitable tales of the Cinema cap­
ital, with editors enquiring? Nothing
but your own apparent lacadaisicalness
prevents us both from making some money.

6 2 4 2 SUNSET BLVD.
HOLLYW OOD, CALIF.

December 7, 1938
Daniel Garfield
Publisher
Chicago, 111.
My dear Mr. Garfield:
By other mail and on Hotel Roosevelt
stationery am sending you an opinion on
"Simpering Sally" which you may show
10 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

your client Lizzie Duane (and the Lord instructions I have placed the book in the
have mercy on my sou l). hands of Fred Dineen, father of Dimples
Personally, to me the book is ousy-lay. Dineen, the child darling of the universe who
Lizzie must have read all the Allcott books is cuteing them to death on the Blasted P ic­
and then tried to out-sweeten even Allcott. tures lot and stages. I happen to have a
The adult leads in the book talk like a couple drinking acquaintance with Fred and further
of characters out of “ The Drunkard” and as happen to know that he can recommend a
for the Smithers brat playing the child fea­ good story in for his kid and they will listen
ture in it, listen, you got scenes in the book (if lie's sober) the kid is officially about eight
where this Sally kid runs around showin’ years old and about ripe for a change in
her panties; he it ever such a shock to you, character. I know the book will get where
the Smithers kid has had to wear a brassier it will do the most good because I had to tie
and elastic girdle in her last two pictures and it into Fred’s pocket when I left him the other
they had to cut out entirely a tree swing scene morning in front of the Cinegrill at closing
closeup and take a telescopic shot of it ac­ time. Quote ten grand for the story when
count of tiny freckles the nation’s joy is be­ they start asking and don't take a cent less
ginning to roundhouse like W est herself. than four g's.
You talk of laying a book on old Baldy W ith kindest regards to the shorter of your
W enzel’s desk like I was a hen or something. two stenographers, I remain,
W hat do you think associate producers are Ed. Burke
doing out here ? H olding open house to book W est Coast Rep.
and manuscript layers ? The hook and manu­ Garfield Publishers.
script layers’ line forms before daylight every P.S. If you don't wire that fifty address
morning and by six o ’clock there’s still a half me next care of Gen. Del. H ollywood,
dozen optimists who don’t get up to the in­ Chloroformia.
formation window to throw theirs in the bin This also goes for any more delightful
provided for them by Brutal Pictures, Inc. yarns from me as the man came and took the
where as you know is where Abe W enzel is old Underwood this morning.
now fighting.
Regarding your further insinuations as per Airmail— Special
your letter, I still have 500 ft. of Miss Biddy Daniel Garfield
doing that featherless fan dance which I will Publisher— Literary Agent
rent to smokers and stags for a yard and a 318 W estcott Dr.
quarter a night if you can do any business Chicago, 111.
around the loop with it. And it wasn't a Dec. 11.1938
premier, it was a preview of the Canyon Mr. Edward Burke
Comedy that 1 sobbed at and I wasn’t the 6242 Sunset Blvd.
only wet eye in the house either. If that was H ollywood. Calif.
a C O M E D Y then YOU laff at it when you Dear Mr. B urke:
see it. W hat in heavens name do you mean by
Speaking of my job and your payments, I turning over the copy of “ Simpering D olly”
could use fifty right now to keep my standing to Dimple Dineen’s father. I said nothing
(o r leaning) at Sardi’s, The Silver Dollar, along these lines. It is absolutely not a story
Perry’s Brass Rail and other dubs that I for the unsophistication and sweetness of
belong to, so let it come if you want concen­ the Dimples child. It is a vehicle for the tom-
trated action on this thing. boyish and bedeviling Smithers girl.
However, according to your request and (Continued to Page 27)
 The H ands

O B O D Y really gave a damn when rich Beneath this her face was white, the way

N old Timothy Packard was picked up

with the knife in his ribs. Even though
he was bumped off, the papers would have
women’s faces are when they are scared. She
did not move at all, day after day, except her
hands. H er hands never were still.
carried only the regular great-loss-to-the- Eve sat still and stared at the jury. And
community quotes and dropped him in a Juror Number One, who was DuQuesne,
couple of days. But when they arrested his the artist, watched Eve. That is, he watched
26-year-old wife, that was something else. her hands. H is gaze never left them while
Eve Packard was the loveliest thing that they twisted and writhed, now clenched, now
ever was inside the courthouse. The photog­ limp, but always moving and tortured.
raphers had a picnic. From the time she DuQuesne watched E ve’s white hands
was pulled off the boat until she went on while the witnesses testified that rich old
trial for murder there were not many days Timothy gave his young wife a dagger on
without pictures, of Eve leaving the jail, of her birthday, for a paper cutter. They tes­
Eve entering court, of Eve pleading not tified Timothy quarreled with her one night
guilty, or just of Eve. and that there was silence in the bedroom all
The indictment was long and complicated, night, as though nobod}' were there. Next
but even the rewrite men caught the drift of morning this turned out to be not the case.
it and there wasn’t anybody in town who The servants found old Timothv cold as a
hadn’t read all about the case. The people herring, with bis wife's dagger stuck neatly
who tried to get into court to hear the trial between his fifth and sixth ribs. Killed about
were lined up for blocks. midnight, the coroner said.
Eve was slight of build and superb of There was no sign of Eve or her clothes
shape. Her hair was black and glossy. She and luggage. She had parked up in a hurrv
wore it drawn back under a crepe turban. (( iHilinitnl to t\uje 13)
JU S T A B A B Y — vaulting lightly out of her crib— to see the world for the first time. This world being H ollyw ood
— and the baby being B aby M ary M aguire of the film “Alcatraz”.
G lo b e Ph oto.
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 13

THE HANDS from the jury room. On the third day

( Continued, from Page 11) DuQuesne, the artist, read the verdict. Eve
and left. They caught her on a liner, just listened, twisting her hands, and did not
before it cast off for Europe. She had left a move, even when DuQuesne, with his eyes
trail a mile wide. straight upon her, concluded, “ . . . guilty
These facts, the prosecutor roared, left no as charged and we fix her punishment at
doubt whatever that Eve had got rid of her death . . .”
husband in the simplest way and dashed off The defense appealed and appealed and
pell mell in guilty flight, against the peace and the prosecutor with the bull voice, who
dignity of the State and soforth. H e was a wanted to be governor as much as anybody,
smart prosecutor and he knew his publicity, countered with cold legal skill. There was no
especially when it came and snuggled in his error of law, he bellowed, and if the jury
lap. So he thundered this conclusion again chose to disbelieve the defense witnesses, that
and again. E ve’s hands were the only thing was their right, that was their duty. Appel­
about her that moved during this condemna­ late justices bobbed their heads and said the
tion. DuQuesne, the artist, never heard it. same thing in their opinions.
H e was watching E ve’s hands. These appeals kept Eve on the front pages
DuQuesne watched her hands when she right along and she did wonders for the street
took the stand and swore that she ran away sales. There was nothing in the papers about
after the row and left Timothy storming up DuQuesne, the artist. Those fellows don’t
and down the bedroom. H er lawyers brought make very good copy.
out that there were no fingerprints on the Eventually they took Eve down to the
dagger. They did even better, her lawyers chair and afterwards surrendered the body
did. They turned up three surprise wit­ to her family. This was fully reported the
nesses who said (their stories tallied w on­ next morning. There was a great deal in the
derfully) that about 1 a. m. they saw a man papers also about how DuQuesne, the artist,
climb out of that bedroom and run away as was found in his studio, dangling from the
fast as he could. Finally the lawyers proved looped belt of his bathrobe. H is face was
that Eve was on her train and in her berth purple and his tongue protruded. This
at midnight. dressed up the story no end, especially parts
DuQuesne, the artist, didn’t hear much of of the letter he pinned to his undershirt:
this either, because he kept watching her “ . . . it was her hands. So white, so
hands. H e turned to look at them when the tortured. I couldn’t think of anything else.
jury filed out to deliberate and a true verdict Her hands were never still. And they were
render. A couple of the sob sisters observed so w hite! They needed rest. The other
DuQuesne looking back and wrote quite eleven wanted to acquit her. Guilty, maybe,
fetchingly about it. but not proved, they said. A reasonable
The public and the newspapers thought doubt. But I kept thinking of her hands,
that verdict would be just a formality. But of how beautiful they would be, folded in
one day, two days passed without a word peace on her breast."

C O L L E G E CAPERS
P R O FES S O R : "W hat's that! You say you don't know how
many grains make a scruple?"
FLIP CO -ED : "Yes, and what's more, I don't give a dram!"
 FARM >! RESENTED
wd- had a club in
ut to u.': oKe o f
-X* (hew m y . gun
X
O pp"
lo drop the club,
’the air at the same EXPI |
jpt the club, but he
:roWd. Vandalia
automobile with ers and l
i it, and they had county dee
One o f the sity o f llli
and with a red here, w h'
mentally
crop problems common io the ».
Eight months ago the farmers con­
ceived the idea of providing a farm
for the university. Money was sought
by public subscription. Business men
aided. Subscriptions ranged from 50
cents to more than $100.
N ow .the old Morey farm, 80 acres
of prairie land and 40 acres o f tim­
ber, belongs to the university, and
agricultural scientists will have op­
portunity to show what can be done
toward soil conservation, better land
use, and improved crops and cropping let
on land that has been farmed almost ck
a century with no treatment what-

,_0MCE GREELEY-
fa th e r < f Jou rn a lism
Father: “ W ell, did you enjoy yourselves?” M other: “ Yes, we were engulfed in the

M other: “ Yes, we had a much needed tanned and sun-burned throngs that fought

respite from the heat of the sweltering city.” their way, tired but happy, through the
crowded railroad station.”
Father: “ W hat time did you get in ?”
Little O sw ald: “ A t times, daddy, the vast
M other: “ W e arrived with the returning
multitude strained the patience of railroad
hordes that poured into the city by every
attendants and special police were detailed to
incoming train and boat.”
handle them with the least confusion, but
Little O sw ald: “ The trains, taxed to their there was no panic and little disorder.”
utmost, disgorged us at about 5 o ’clock,
Daddy.” M other: “ Bad as was the influx, the
exodus was worse.”
Father: “ Y ou came home at the peak of
travel.” Little O sw ald: “ Oh, it was an awful
 I ryii
»he
r Uam
f i rett
Dam W A . f,.V M tt, W ^ TZ * t ;.f
--- j>taKe.. the i^aiiii»i-^merican
independent union form ed iit -opposi* .hospital. where physicians said he had by the agents o f the federal bureau

Ition to the Committee for .tndustriaf a fair chance to recover. The bullet
Organization union at the Inland
-estigation. Completion o f the
fourteen A uare miles oE
t to the home’
single shred

firm,
illy cet ___________
bherif ''- ;xa».
iding inST Youngstown were being Then Miss Denges heard outhouses, and barns, in a sear?*
Republic plant rose to 10 with the
ised. He telephoned police chiefs the thud o f a f i li n g M y . Fa the body o f Mrs. Parsons. Like A
death of Lee Tisdale. 50 years old, of
surroipiding towns, asking them to moaning reach r R eal ize activities in the case, however, that
5246 South State street, colored. what had h a t ^ ^ g ^ . , * sent her
(nmon the necessary men to block- Tisdale was employed at the search was in vain.
all entries to the city. brother-in-law. . Marie. 4515
Youngstown plant, but joined the N orth T ripp
Ask Governor for Troops. rioters who marched against »»- -

exodus, daddy.” tionists before each ticket window.”

Father: “ I ’m always afraid of exoduses.” Little O sw ald : “ Station Master Pluvius F.

Little O sw ald: “ This exodus was a pre­ Mohonk stated that within his thirty-five
holiday exodus. It began twenty-four hours years’ service he had never seen such a pre­
ahead of time and lasted well into the small cipitate retreat from the city’s heat.”
hours of the holiday itself.”
Father: “ It was a record outpouring.”
Father: “ H adn’t the railroad officials made
M other: “ At times it took on the aspect
ample provision to handle the traffic?”
of a hejira.”
M other: “ Oh, yes; the service had been
Father: “ Still, the seaside was nice when
greatly augmented. Practically every train
you reached it, was it n ot?”
was run in three sections. They left the sta­
tion at short intervals on an intricate schedule M other: “ Yes, indeed. The skies smiled
prepared under an unprecedented strain by a down upon the merry hordes disporting them­
tireless traffic department under Superin­ selves in the briny and on the sands. Over
tendent Eagan.” 50,000 pleasure seekers visited the resort

Little O swald: “ You should have seen the during the holiday, and merchants reported

railroad station when we went away. It was their biggest business in many years.”

black with pleasure seekers.” Little Oswald : “ The weatherman did him­
M oth er: “ H ours before each train de­ self proud and won the thanks of the delighted
parted there was a long line of eager vaca­ public.”
HOW TH EY GUARD GREAT T h e y put R oselle T ow ne— as shown here— in front of one, and all the burglars
BANK VAULTS N OW ADAYS! forget their burglaring. V ery simple!
Globe Photo.
 WITH LOVE TO THE EDITOR
By ARNOLD FLETCHER

U IG I B E C A L L I rocked back in his Real Italian raviola.”

L chair with a sigh of happiness. Things

were good and by next Christmas he
Good old mama. A good thing she didn’t
know what her son was doing in far-away
would be with his family with enough salted
Chicago. She thought he was a watch re­
away to provide for himself and the other pairer.
Becallis for a long time.
Luigi smiled in the darkness of the flat and
Outside, a tiny bell tinkled and a Salvation watched his cigarette glow, then fade slowly
A rm y Santa Claus tramped through the into dull ember as the greyish ash covered
snow, his tin cup held in foolish solicitation the ember.
in this bypath of poverty.
Luigi Becalli, Louie— the Torpedo, the
“ Santa Claus.” Luigi chuckled. H e could best bomb maker in Chicago’s underworld.
see Marie’s face when she saw the big doll he Owing allegiance to no gang czar, but, work­
had sent her; and Benito— wait till he got ing purely as an independent business man,
hold o f that soldier outfit; and mama. Oh, he made and addressed all manner of bombs,
mama! H e visualized her shaking her gray charging and receiving large sums for his
head, holding her sides and laughing. expert services.

“ Ha-ha— that Luigi, never he forgets to His last venture was to net him two grand.
send me raviola. H e knows what mama loves. It was well worth that money, too, as it was
18 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

his most fool-proof explosive up to now. at the headlines with a frown of puzzlement.

Luigi smiled as he thought of the editor N o mention of any bombing. Oh, hell, prob­

of the Daily Herald opening that Christmas ably the editor was one of those guys who

package. W ell, it served the damn fool right. never opened their packages till Christmas

The next editor would be more careful how day.

he crusaded against organized rackets. Outside the dusk had changed into a deep

Suddenly, to his ears, strangely muted by blackness. The wind had risen and blew

the falling snow, there came from the street through the half-open window a hurrying

below, the cry of the evening news-hawks. crowd of flickering crystals that shone for a
brief second on the frayed rug.
Rising and stepping to the window, Luigi
raised its protecting frame and called into Luigi Becalli paid no heed to the biting

the night. draft or the drifting snow flakes. H e stood,

erect and motionless, his eyes on an article
“ H ey, kid— Daily Herald.”
half way down the front page.
In a second, pounding footsteps sounded
“ Everyone loves an editor. Am ong the
on the stairs and a tattered newsboy, looking
Christmas gifts received by our genial chief,
like a rosy gnome in his snow covered mack­
was one from an apparently Italian admirer.
inaw, stood in the door holding a wet news­
Enclosed in the package, a hilarious group of
paper in a grimy hand.
reporters found a— shiny new soldier suit, a
Paying no heed to the boy’s muttered big doll and a large can of real Italian
thanks, Luigi unfolded the paper and gazed raviola.”

TIME SURE FLIES!

"W hat is the last thing your boyfriend does, after he kisses
you good-night?"

"H e goes as far as the gate, comes back and kisses me good­
morning.
“H e’s a vegetarian.’
 O R T O N strolled out of the sweltering town to­

M ward the airport. Not that it was what one

would call much of an airport, just a long shed-
hangar, a bungalow where the boys hung out, and a
good runway. The mail-planes stopped there regularly
to refuel. Beyond the landing-field there was just
sugar-cane. Sugar-cane. More sugar-cane.
It had been a sickeningly hot day, but now there
was a whiff of breeze. Morton took off his hat and
let the faint coolness finger his hair. A ll day he had
been working at the books of the Royale Sugar Com­
pany, and 3’s and 5's danced in his brain like midges.
Everything was quiet at the airport. Evidently no
plane was expected tonight for not a soul was in
sight except Jocelyn, who was lolling in an old arm­
chair propped against the wall of the hangar. H e
seemed asleep although a cigaret dangled from his lip.
M orton sat down on the bench usually occupied by
loafers when a mail-plane was expected. H e would
wait until Jocelyn woke up. This was no climate for
a white man anyhow. I fow quiet and pleasant it was
V/OMA'fSj
in &
out here under the sky . . . Mustn’t let himself get
sleepy though. . . .
Suddenly M orton sprang to his feet. A plane was
taxiing down the field. Funny he hadn’t heard the motor
in the sky. . . . It was distinctly not a mail-plane, but
looked rather as if it might belong to some wealthy
amateur. A ll shiny with chromium.
Jocelyn came running. W hen the steps were ready,
the crew stepped down while gasoline was being taken
on. Foreign-looking. Heads sleek as seals.
Suddenly, framed by the oval door, there appeared a
woman, smartly gowned, and wearing a white hat with
an upstanding silver quill. The crew stood close, but she
came through them, up to Morton, and spoke to him in
painstaking English.
“ W hat is the name of this place?”
“ San Juan . . . In the sugar-trade.”
“ W ou ld I be safe here?”
“ Safe from what?”
“ W ar?”
“ W e have no rebellion on our hands just now . . .”

T
i■

* . /■
22 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

“ Y ou are married ?” been no woman.”

“ N o, madam.” “ W earing a small white hat with a shiny

feather?”
She seized M orton’s hand and began to
pull him toward the road which led to San “ N o woman, either with or without a

Juan. H e drew back, frankly afraid. W ho feather. Y ou have had a stroke, perhaps.”

was she, a spy? A n escaping prisoner? A “ Didn’t they refuel their plane here?”
refugee? A n y o f these might mean trouble “ M orton, you need a stimulant. There has
for him, and while his job was a long been no plane, there will be no plane until the
anguish of dullness, he was unwilling to lose day after tomorrow. Come in. I will give
it yet. But he found himself being drawn you a drink that will clear your head.”
along.
“ H ow did I get back here to this bench?”
A bullet hissed over their heads, and a com ­ asked Morton, as he followed Jocelyn.
mand came from someone at the plane.
“ Y ou have never left the bench.”
W hatever the language, there was no mistak­
“ N ever . . . left the bench?”
ing the meaning, for it was accented by an­
other bullet. M orton stopped. “ N ot until you rolled off.”

“ W e must ru n !” There was no resisting M orton sighed and remained quiet while

her appeal. Jocelyn shook up a cocktail. This he sipped

cautiously from the frosty glass.
H er hand tightened on his and again they
were running along the dark road between “ N ow has the woman gon e?” asked Joce­
the thorn bushes. H e could scarcely keep lyn, his eyes kind.
up with the woman in the white hat. Sud­
“ But how do you account for this ?” asked
denly he tripped and sprawled headlong.
M orton, laying a ring on the table in front of
A s he passed out, he felt her pressing some
Jocelyn. “ She gave me this.”
object into his hand.
Jocelyn took the ring gingerly into his
Groggily M orton staggered to his feet. hand and turned it about. “ A trinket such
Jocelyn had been patting his face with water. as this can be bought in any shop of San Juan.
“ W hat became o f her ?” demanded Morton. It is of no value. Doubtless you grasped it
when you fell. See how tarnished and dirty
“ W h o?”
it is?”
“ The woman in a white hat.”
M orton began to talk about something else,
“ There has been no woman here.” and presently he rose to go. H e thanked
“ A nd the plane ?” Jocelyn a little samefacedly.

“ There has been no plane.” “ Never you mind, pal. Come out again
“ But yes, there was a plane, and a w om an!” soon. I w on’t let the women get you.”

“ But no . . . M orton, I have warned you to M orton walked slowly back into town to
be careful in this heat. There has positively his own not too comfortable quarters. H is
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 23

head was swimming at little, whether because She gave him a long mournful look, re­
of the heat, the cocktail, or the woman in turned to the plane, and soon became a part
the white hat he didn’t know. of the air.

The next night he found himself again on Morton stood and rubbed his eyes, shaking
the road to the airport. Might as well. his head and trying to awaken himself. W hen
Nothing else to do. he felt that he could be rational, he went into

A s he came up to the field he heard the the bungalow.

roar of a motor. Taxiing across was a long Jocelyn sang out when he saw him, “ Y ou
foreign-looking plane, much ornamented with should have come a few minutes earlier,
chromium. It came to a stop. From it, as Morton. A plane from R io just refueled
soon as the steps were placed, came a beauti­ here. They had one passenger, a woman,
ful woman in a white hat with a silver quill. quite the most beautiful I ever saw. She
She came toward him. wore a dress from the R ue Faubourg, and a
“ W ould I be safe here?” she asked, in white hat with a feather.”
accented English.
M orton’s knees went weak. “ Better fix
“ N o, madam,” he replied coldly. “ Y ou had two cocktails,” he said. “ One for each of
much better return to the plane.”

Watch for the NEW 10 Story Book

COMING NEXT MONTH

BETTER STORIES

BETTER PICTURES

UNUSUAL AND DIFFERENT

 D eer M e e lto n :
Iss h ok ay de collitch , M eelton ? Iss m issing m och de
hum ? I ’ll h opin g w it v e ry sancerely d ot y o u ’ll sh ouldn’t
gat de hum seeckness fu r de M om m er end de P opper, w o t
/o u r a gru n-h u p hadult n o w end sh ouldn’t gat de hum seeck­
ness.
Iss m aking g o o t de stoddies ? R em am ber, I dunt vant
y ou should com e hum in de som m er w ecashen w it a bed
rep ott cart. I w an t y o u should gat planteh haducashen in
de collitch so y o u ’ll should bicom m a sm ot m en like de
Prasident R u tzvelt od der M eyer W u k k er od der even ya t de
Popper, m ebba even sm otter, w h o cou ld tall ? D unt fo r-
gat w o t I ’ll tul y o u h ab ou t a haducashen has g o t a cesh
velue batter yat den a seexkerets blue w h ite dim ons.
DE POPPER Spikking o f de sm ottness, I dunt k n o w in g w o t I ’ll doing
w it de d opeh bruddeh Sidneh, w o t he’s soch a dope d ot I ’ ll n ot k n o w in g should
I put heem in de panatenshury odder ya t m ake from heem a G-m an. S och gray
hares h e’s geev in g de P op p er d ot I ’ll so o n lukking like de Senta Clus. W a s hon-
ley ch ost to d a y dot I ’ll gattin g from de preencipal o f de skul a latter w o t it’s
saying, “ D eer M eester F inklebaum ; C host a cop p le lines to lat y o u k n o w d ot de
son Sidneh, w o t he’s in de feeft grade in de skul, w on fro m ull de odder cheel-
dren een de skul a debating cuntest, w o t de hargum ent w as tees : W A S C H U -
L IU S S I Z Z E R D E W O I L D ’ S G R E A T E S T C H A N E R A L O R W A S H E N O ?
N o w I ’m esking, w ot ees de deeference to d ot dope
Sidneh w ed d er Chulius Sizzer w as de bast chaneral o d ­
der ya t de bast reebon clerk ? Should he b e debating
h op p ull de odder p oor cheeldren ch o st b ik o zz dey
sh ouldn ’t hagreeing w eet him , de b ig b u lly ? E e f it’s a
price-fiter h e’s w anting to be sh ould he practice de train­
ing in de skul? Batter ya t he should saving de hanergy
w ot he cou ld d o som e w oik in g w eet it.

MOMMER
 E n d w h y sh ould de preencipal, w o t h e’s u lso a dope,
w astin g de tim e to tailing m e ull h abou t eet? H e ’s tink-
ing, m ebba, I should b e proud, hah? B atter yat he should
steeking to de beezness end not w a stin g de texpayers’
m on eh on soch silleh latters, w ot d ey ’ ll ousting too sants
heach de pustage. W e ll, ennahow, w h en de bruddeh Sid-
neh he com es hum from de skul dees hefternun I ’ll sh ow ­
ing heem w o t eet’s feelin g like to gat a g o o t debating, w o t
I ’ll g eev in g it to heem w eet a harse-brosh.
W e ll, M eelton, de beezness ees ponk dees m ont. D ot
d o ity gen iff opp de street, G oldberg, w o t he’ s soch a sm ot-
elek, ees geevin g planteh trobble. A copple wiks h a g o I
geev in g a m onster fire end b en k ropsy sale, w it de pure w o o l NE ELTON
soots sailing fo r $17.98 w it a haxtra pare pents free. A t de
same tim e G oldberg, de d oity robbeh, g eev in g a sale at de
sam e price, unly instad o f geev in g free de haxtra pare pents
he g eev in g free a latest Perris style w o m e n ’ s hat w it heach
soot. S o w ot should be de resolt but I unly had W A N
costim er, w o t he w asn ’t rilly a costim er et ull bekuzz o f de
feet d ot he w anted de free pents w it-h ou t buyin g de soot
but G oldberg, oy, oy, soch a beezness he did. W a s halm ost
a co p p le pipple keeled in de rosh, w o t h alm ost every w om en
in de ceety m ade de hosbands g o b u y a s oot so she should
get free from charge de Perris hat. I ’m esking, is he in de
clu dd in g beezness odder yat de m eelinery beezness de d oity
robbeh.
W a s nottin h axiting d oin g de oddeh hevening, so I ’ll de
cid in g I sh ould take de M om m er to a talkie. So I’ll look in g
de n oose-pepper for a g o o t wan w o t I seein g a hedw ertize-
m ent fu r a re-run cu lled de “ S IN G E IN G F O O L ,” w eet
a M eester E l Julson. W a s teenking eet w as m ebba a fon -
neh peectu re habout a tailor w ot sin ged ull de pents, so w e ’ll gun to see it. So
enn ah ow I dunt k n ow yet w ot is de m in nin g o f de “ singeing,” w o t n obu d dy
deedn’ t singe nottin (m ebba E l Julson h e ’s a tailer in de reel life, h a h ? ), but
M eelton, h o w dot Julson cou ld S E E N G . O y, oy, eef I cou ld seeng o r even
1 /7 as g o o t I ’d be on de stage, b eleef me. E e t’s rilly
a d oity shame d ot Mrs. F loren ce Z e e g fe ld o d d er Oil
Carol sh ouldn ’t greb heem o p p kw eek end sine hees
name to a con trect. D e y should m ake a forshen. B e ­
leef me, M eelton , dees b o y Julson is w o t d ey cu lling
on de spotin g page a “ com er.” O n de stage he should
make a m eelion in no time heacy, I ’m pradeecting. He
made de M om m er cryin g like he w as a honion she was
pilling, w eech is halways de pruf o f a g o o d hector.

S ID N E H
26 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

W ell, Meelton, I ’ll should feenishing de habout de Collitch.

latter now, wat I shouldn’t have nottin more Yours weet wery trully end regods,
I could saying. Dunt forgat you should writ- DE POPPER.
ing de Popper rill soon end telling heem ull (P e r H . N. W E B S T E R )

“I have nothing to say, you r H onor— unless you care for risque jokes.’
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 27

HOLLYWOOD HOSS TRADERS Dear Old Sock in the Mush,

I’ll bet the ticket sellers on the Chicago
(Continued from Page 10)
Elevated stations love to see you come up to
Unfortunately I had already wired you the window at rush hour with a dollar bill,
fifty dollars before your typical letter came. just another change counter, over and over.
W ere it not for this and the approaching I am not placing “ Simpering Dolly” with
holiday season I would be tempted to relieve W enzel for you or the Marines. I f you want
you o f all representation and responsibility it in front of W enzel why the hell don’t you
as my W est Coast Agent. go on a spending jag and send him a night
Please, as quickly as possible undo the letter explaining what a heel I am in giving
harm you have done, take the book out of Dineen a peek at the book for Dimples, and
M r. Dineen’s hands with a diplomatic ex ­ then A I R M A I L H IM A C O P Y O F T H E
planation to him and as quickly as possible by B O O K . . . wouldn’t that make you spend
some means get it before M r. W enzel, or the and spend. O n second thot you better not
story dept, at Brutal Pictures, Inc. In the unless your personal physician thinks your
event that M r. Deneen proves difficult I am ticker will stand the strain.
expressing you another copy of “ Simpering Fred Dineen has the book, not only the
Sally” for you to use in contacting the first copy but also the second one you sent
Freckles Smithers producers. This is all extra as he came over to the flat last night and said
expense as well as my having to airmail and he had misplaced the first one after getting
special letters to you. I have not as you half way through it. Made a feeler of two
know been in the habit of conducting my grand for all rights which I laughed off after
business this way. I believe in saving every­ the second drink. N o sir, Fred is my pal
where possible, so please do not make it and when I get a good thing he gets a piece
necessary for me to expend anything further of it.
beyond routine costs. If you can sell this Y ou are further crazy if you think my idea
book for me where it should be sold it will of price is high on this book, better leave it
mean a very nice year end check for us both. to me Chief Coldfoot. I know a thing or
Let me know immediately you have recti­ two or three.
fied your mistake and also Abe W enzel’s Luv and kitheth
reaction to the story. Eddie B oy
V ery truly,
Daniel Garfield B y Night Letter via W estern Union
P .S. I trust you have redeemed your type­ To
writer and taken care of your apartment MR ABE W ENZEL
rent. W hich reminds me your idea of price A S S O C IA T E P R O D U C E R
on this book is insanely high. $3500 was F R E C K L E S S M IT H E R S U N IT
my most fanciful expectations for all rights B R U T A L P IC T U R E S IN C
on it. HOLLYW OOD
M Y W E ST COAST REPRESEN TA­
6242 Sunset Blvd. T I V E E D W A R D B U R K E H A S D E L IB ­
H ollywood Calif. ERATELY D IS O B E Y E D MY IN ­
Dec. 13, 1938 S T R U C T IO N S A N D P L A C E D W IT H
Daniel Garfield D IM P L E S D IN E E N P R O D U C E R S A
Publisher B O O K S IM P E R IN G S A L L Y B Y E L IZ A
318 W estcott Dr. DUANE AND PU BLTSPIED F R O M
Chicago, 111. (Continued to Page 37)
 T W A S a warm afternoon at the Indi­ was admiring the glorious line o f yellow

I ana Dunes. She had slowly wandered

along the shore for some miles, attired
shore backed by green-tipped hills melting
into the blue distance. She could not afford
in a modern two-piece bathing suit. She a holiday this year. She had not had one
for eight years. The depression was over— noon. She had sauntered meditatively
or wasn’t it? But it seemed as if real pros­ through the Gallery o f Battles, Baedeker in
perity would never return. hand, and looked the length o f the famous
Eight years ago she had had a holiday. hut artificial landscape o f Le Notre. W here-
Eight years ago that very day, as a girl in ever on the right stood a statue, another
her teens, she had wandered in the Gar­ statue matched it on the left. Every tree,
dens at Versailles. shrub, and geometrical flower bed on the left
That, too, was on a sunny summer after­ had its twin on the right. The great object
30 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

o f the design was to get two sides alike. W e Had she been in Versailles, she would still
have since learned to admire nature in its have been in Chicago. She smiled sadly, as
wild infinite variety; but in the days of le she remembered the old excuse for getting
Grand Monarque, an unspoiled natural land­ drunk, that it was the easiest way out o f
scape, such as the Dunes shore line she now Chicago. But she had never been drunk,
beheld, would have been thought uncouth, and she feared “ the morning after” . She
savage. passed beyond the wood, and descended a
slope o f yellow sand. Here, in spite o f the
The iconoclastic realism o f the French
heat, and the tumult o f her thoughts, she
Revolution was to shatter this Dresden china
paused fo r a moment to drink in the vista.
heaven.
The marshy bottom was bordered by a rich
The Gardens as she had seen them were green, shading into brown towards the cen­
beautiful though neglected, as were also the ter, where a stretch o f deep blue water re­
Palace itself and the Trianon. L ife had flected the cloudless sky. The green was
passed them by. They were now merely flecked with bright yellow and purple blos­
show places for visiting Americans. soms, and at the far end where tall trees
She did not wish to g o back to Versailles. arose, a large patch o f flowering cactus gave
She knew that Europe was experiencing a a touch o f vivid gold. The cut and dried
depression worse than anything we had ever landscape at Versailles seemed tawdry.
imagined in these United States. The people
But again her thoughts rushed back to
o f France were immersed in their business,
Chicago. I f only she could forget it and
their poverty, their fear o f war, and their
all it stood for. Versailles would have one
general misery. She imagined the Gardens
advantage over the Dunes. I f she had met
were more deserted than ever. Besides, it
any one in the Gardens o f Le Notre, it would
was not Versailles itself she longed for. She
probably not have been a Chicagoan, per­
merely sought escape from Chicago, with its
haps not even an American.
worries and miseries. That was what
brought her on week-ends to the Dunes.
She remembered descending the steps o f
She felt, however, she had wasted her car­
the Place and encountering a polite fo r­
fare, for she had not succeeded in forgetting
eigner who spoke English with an enchant­
Chicago— which meant forgetting herself.
ing accent, and the thrill she experienced as
A t this thought, she rebelled. She did not
she let him scrape an acquaintance with her.
want to forget herself, but to find h erself;
She had so pleasant a time, and as the eve­
and to find herself free, emancipated from
ning shadows deepened he raised his hat and
Chicago and all it stood for.
bade her a courtly adieu. H e seemed a
The breeze from the the Lake was cool, gentleman o f the ancient regime come to life
but the sun was hot. A t Burns Ditch she again. It was not improbable he was des­
turned aside and, passing between the cot­ cended from the old nobility. H e had a
tages and traversing the outermost line o f title— or so he said. It was likely enough
Dunes, she lost herself in the woods. She that he spoke the truth. So many continen­
scarcely saw the people she passed. She tal Europeans have perfectly genuine titles,
might have played ball, or gone in swimming and his card bore the name “ Le Marquis
with the bunch she knew, but she avoided Jules Du Puis.” A title means nothing where
them. They were part o f Chicago, and she thousands o f people possess one. But it
wanted to forget Chicago. But it pursued seemed romantic to have a flirtation— yes,
her. It was with her wherever she went. let her be honest with herself, that was the
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 31

right word— with a genuine marquis, even the nakedness o f her culture, which embar­
though it was quite possible he was a sales rassed her more than that o f her body,
clerk, or even a laborer. But no, he could though she was alone in the w ood with a
not be that. H is hands were soft, and he strange man, and in a two-piece bathing suit.
was certainly a cultured man. H e spoke “ I am flattered, Mademoiselle. Come, see
English, too, after a fashion. A t least she this scene from where I am standing.”
understood it better than he did her French. The sand was burning her feet. There was
A s these thoughts floated through her no plausible escape. W here the easel stood
mind she felt a welcome lightening o f spirit. the grass was long and cool, and the shade
She was really putting some distance be­ o f a large oak promised protection for her
tween herself and Chicago. blistering back. A s he seemed so courteous,
The hot sand was burning her feet, and she so natural and harmless, almost involuntari­
began to move towards the cool grass be­ ly she walked around the bush. Then sud­
low. Suddenly she saw, above a low bush, denly she changed her mind, waved her
the upper part of what proved to be a paint­ hand to him and turned towards the little
er’s easel. Involuntarily she slackened her footpath beyond the easel, which went in
pace, then stood still, watching an artist’s the direction she had intended to go, skirting
putting deft little finishing touches to a pic­ the wood and the marsh.
ture o f the scene which had entranced her. “ W h y leave me so suddenly, Mademoiselle
H e had not seen her, and she felt shy at R ose?”
being discovered impertinently looking over
She started.
his shoulder. She could not go forward
“ H ow do you know my name ?”
without being seen, and she did not want to
turn around and re-climb the hot slope. “ Have you forgotten m e?”
The painter paused and stood back from his “ JU L E S ?” she exclaimed, “ or am I
work, taking a critical view. She moved dreaming?”
her foot and a twig snapped. The artist
“ N ot unless I am dreaming the same
turned his head.
dream,” he smiled.
"A h 1 Mademoiselle you have been watch­
ing me painting.” They faced each other. She hesitated. It
really was Jules, the Marquis. She felt the
H is accent and appearance seemed
hot sun. She touched the trunk o f the tree
French: clean shaven, dark hair standing
with her hand. The ground was firm under
up straight without any parting, o f uncertain
her feet. There was no doubt about it she
age and courteous demeanor.
was awake. Her subconscious prayer had
She blushed beneath her one day tan. been answered as if my a miracle. But what
“ Sorry— I didn’t mean to butt in. I’ve should she d o ? She had only met him once
only just come.” before, and spent a single afternoon with
him. Besides, it was one thing to be roman­
“ Y ou need not apologise. I am glad to see
tic with a stranger in a public park and quite
you. W hat do you think o f my picture? It
another in a wood, and clad only in a two-
is nearly finished.”
piece bathing suit. But on the other hand was
She was not an artist. She felt her inabili­ not this just what she had wanted? W ould
ty to say anything that would not be hide­ not another afternoon with him be just one
ously banal. more pleasant mem ory? She could go on
“ O h ! Fine.” She felt her remark revealed (Continued to Page 45)
 THE
CASE
OF
THE
MISSING
MANUSCRIPT
or
HOLLYWOOD BUYS A STORY
B y the same author: “ The President phone numbers. drawn across the throat, sometimes known
Needs Advice,” “ Heinz Minus Pickles” as the Sign of the Double Cross. H e waits a
“ Cloudy California” and “ The Barren The action of the play is set in the ornate minute, clears his throat, M ister Throttle -
Diones.” and inner grandeur of Throttlebaum’s P ri­ baum looks up from script impatiently.
This little playlet has been especially vate and E xecutive bungalow on the Bellicose T H R O T T L E B A U M : Oh, so it’s you,
rtacionpH fn r -nm HnrKnn anrl rpaHincr Hv T.nt A m .n ix iu p d a s h ppntrp. n th r n n p G. P w e ll. w h e r e ie it-? G iv e it to m e ! I ’m
 v- w % * * * v .* .™ — v- — & ~j

your own home town W riters Guild and chair from the prop room behind it . . . on busy and in a hurry!
is faithfully dedicated to those brave the desk phones and phones and buzzers and G. P . : I ’m sorry, Mister Throttlebaum,
souls who have or vowed to submit a dictos. A secretary’s nook in one corner. but I haven’t been able to locate the script
scenario to The H ollywood Film Fac­ The remaining space is cluttered up with you mean. I ’ve looked everywhere, even
tories for their Plagiaration, Mutilation, Early Renaissance statuary, Mid Victorian over in the hack writers’ cell block, thinking
and Condemnation. chairs, and deliciously inviting Late Grauman their “ grapevine” might have smuggled it
TH E CAST couches. in to them in order to give them an idea that
(In the order of their appearance and salary) N ote— In the original and unbridled version would effect their release, but it ain’t even
Sid Throttlebaum................................. Big shot of this play which was given at the A rth ­ there, so there!
producer of Superepics for Bellicose ritis Club of Pottstown, Pa., a prologue TH ROTTLEBAUM : Listen, G. P.,
Pictures. and epilogue was used. It was omitted or somewhere around this lot is a manuscript,
G. P. De M oron ............................... Assistant forgotten after the first performance, it was “ The Deep End.” I looked it over, it’s a
and official echo to Mister Throttlebaum. abstract trivia anyway, having to do only story of small town life, boy goes to city,
(A lso a relative by matrimony.) with the author before and after he sent meets vamp, you know, goes up fast and then
Miss Teidlebaum.................. Exec. Secretary, the famous script to H ollywood. What- Phhhhhhhht. Some punk back in New Y ork
and adopted niece by a former bank­ hell, after all, he’s only the author, and as wrote it, never heard of him. I want that
ruptcy, to “ Sid.” they say at the Fillum factories, “ Sure this script to put in Iris Divot’s hands tonight for
Orville Astigma........................ Head Reader, Midsummer N ights’ whatsis is a good yarn, her next picture. I got ideas about the thing,
Story Department, Bellicose Pictures, plenty production in it, B U T W H O T H E change the title to “ The Cheap Hens,” move
H ollywood, California. H E L L E V E R H E A R D O F T H IS G U Y the action from city to country, make the girl
Miss Glace......................................... Assistant W H A T S H IS N A M E T H A T W R O T E the lead . . . and yuh got somepin. N ow
to Astigma and “ one of the finest pals IT .’ ’ get the hell out of here and find that story.
in the world to help a guy review a And so . . . on with the show. G. P . : Yes, chief. I remember the story,
script over the week end.” A t the curtain, Throttlebaum is seated at ’member I brought it in to you first. I got
“ Lenseye” Barnet........................Cameraman his desk, deeply engrossed in a manuscript a new angle on it, too. I think it’s good
for the Throttlebaum unit. he is reading and which he has extracted (M ister Throttlebaum appears to keep right
Ryan Danielson.................... Casting Director from a pile at his elbow. In fact, he is so on reading his script) you see we change the
for Bellicose. deeply engrossed that it is hard to believe name to “ The Leap Ends,” build it around an
Gloria Dixie (D an ielson )......... Ryan’s niece that he hasn’ t a copy of Ballyhoo folded in airport, aviator and his girl friend innocently
by a former marriage. She gets fairly behind the script, but no . . . he is really get mixed up with a gang of air mail robbers,
regular work by using the name Daniel­ looking at the script. boy finds out, tells gal, they both go up for a
son (although she has no right, heaven G. P. (D e M oron ) enters briskly up cen­ last air ride and leap . . . suicide . . .
knows) when applying to the casting ter, stops before desk, makes short bow, ac­ strong scene where they go over the cockpit
window. Unkie Ryan sez “ Give her a companied by the H ollywood Salaam, you . . . they jump and land on the plane of
break, boys, blood is thicker than tele- know, the action of the forefinger being the air mail gang . . . big fight, boy makes
34 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

good by capturing plane and gang along with (W h en he is sure she is gone, Throttle­
mail he let ’m get away with. Good eh? baum makes copious notes on another sheet
(Throttlebaum appears not to know of G. P .’ s of paper on his desk. Then places both sheets
existence.) W ell, I gotta go over the Sound in his inside coat pocket. Picks up his script
Department. I ’ll get Miss Teidlebaum after again and appears to read, as Orville Astigma
that script for you. enters from left.)
( A s he closes the door behind him, Throt­ A S T I G M A : I ’m sorry, Sidney, but the
tlebaum peers around to make sure he’s gone, only check I have on that script Miss Teidle­
then grabs pencil, makes few notes on paper baum says you are looking for is a memo
on desk, then resum es ms. reading.) that I recommended to your unit with some
(M iss Teidlebaum enters from left, she changes. I thought the title could be changed
affects a M ae W est stance, the Harlow swing, to “ W e Keep Friends” and build the thing
and the Garbo putt.) around an international adventuress and
M IS S T E I D L E B A U M : G. P. gave me female spy, who after a long career of intrigue
your memorandum on that script that’s miss­ in which she sells her very soul, dies in an
ing, Sid, you know, the one we read together attempt to keep her boy friend at home from
at Arrowhead over Thanksgiving. I can’t discovering her true nature. I think it will

In EveryIssue o f
10-STOKYBOOk
One-Act Play
find it, looked everywhere, even called my click. ( Throttlebaum still has his nose buried,
maid, had her look to see if we, that is if I well partially buried, after all a Throttlebaum
could have left it around my boudoir any­ nose is not to be buried so easily . . . in
wheres, but ‘no peanuts’ it just ain’t. I ’mem­ the script.) I seem to remember seeing “ The
ber it well, I gave an idea on it . . . you Deep E nd” around the camera department
’member . . . changing the name to “ W e a few days ago. I ’ll contact Barnet on it and
W eep and Lend” y ’know, sort of a mixed up see what he can tell you. ( Sidney appears not
story about a couple guys get tired of their to see, hear, or smell A stigm a.)
wives and start swappin’ y’know it rahlly ( A s Astigma bangs the door after him,
happened out here . . . and then it winds Sidney again makes some lengthy notes on
up in a bedroom farce in reverse where the paper and it joins the others in his pocket.)
guys really get into their own wives’ bed­ (Barnet enters through a window playfully
rooms . . . by mistake. I think we could knocking over a fine marble of Venus D e
get it past Hays and Brennan alright, y ’know, M ilo.) '
dress it up. (Throttlebaum keeps on read­ B A R N E T : L ook a, T h rottleba u m , I
ing.) I ’ll check with the Story Department haven’t got that script you’re looking for. I
an’ see if they have anything on that script. did read it, a friend of mine, Miss Glace in
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 35

the Story Department, asked me to look at it (R yan Danielson and Gloria D ixie enter
for camera angles. I did and got a new slant hand in hand through the French window
on it. Y ou know change the title to “ T o opening to the lawn; they stop at the side of
Sleep W hen,” make it one of those Calgarri Throttlebaum’s desk as he slowly turns over
Cabinet things, weird, girl under spell of a sheet of his manuscript to stare at the n ext.)
fiendish scientist, boy goes to rescue, big D A N I E L S O N : Say, T h rot’, old sock,
laboratory shots, electrical transmigration of about that manuscript you can’t find, as a
souls and personalities, boys soul gets into matter of fact, here’s the little gal that brought
scientist by mistake and vice versa, surprise it on the lot, gentleman friend of hers sent
ending girl marries scientist, boy carries on it on to her to get it in for a reading. N ow
search for good 5c soul transformer. H a, ha, I got an idea on that thing, let’s switch the
good, eh? (T o Throttlebaum, Barnet doesn’ t title to “ It A ll Depends.” It’s a triangle angle,
exist. ) one of those big sister and little sister things,
(Barnet starts upstage to leave by center both trying to hold the big banker boy friend.
d oor; as he does, M iss Glace enters center Little sister goes glorified all over trying to
door quietly, they clinch in an eighty foot outdo the big gal, Big sister has the little gal
tonsil massage, and as Throttlebaum stirs kidnapped by boyhood sweetheart and they
uneasily, Barnet goes on out slamming the fall in love. B ig Sis sees way cleared for
door behind him. Throttlebaum immedi­ banker’s love nest when the banker outsmarts
ately grabs his trusty pencil and goes to them all by marrying a rich widow who can
work on another notation as M iss Glace cover up his short count at the bank. I kinda
com es slowly down stage. Throttlebaum, had in mind my niece here, you know her,
realising he is not alone, quickly drops pen­ Gloria Dixie, for the little sister part . . .
cil and resumes interest in manuscript.) (H ere Gloria gives a whoop and pointing
M IS S G L A C E : Sorry to bother you, to the script that Throttlebaum is still hiding
Throttle, old boy, but that manuscript you behind says.)
are looking for, I ’ll try and buzz him on it. G L O R IA : W hy, there’s the script you
H e introduced it on the lot and I looked at are all looking f o r : what dumb clu cks! That’s
it first. I had a good idea on it . . . chang­ “ The Deep End.” I ’d know one of m ’boy
ing the title to “ T o Sleep W hen,” make it frens scripts anywheres even if I didn’t see
one of those Calgarri Cabinet things, weird the name on it . . . Look, Throtty, this is
girl under spell of fiendish scientist, boy the one you’re looking for.
goes to rescue, big laboratory shots . . , (Throttlebaum goes red, white, and blue,
(Throttle, old boy, perks up here as if seeing grabs script back out of Gloria’s hand, stut­
double, then turns to M iss Glace.) ters, hems, haws, sputters, starts to call his
T H R O T T L E B A U M : Gerradahere, can’t lawyer, then remembers not to. Laughs
you see I ’m busy? w eakly:)
(M iss Glace turns with a swirl and a T H R O T T L E B A U M : Yeh, yeh, I know
fillup and goes up stage, turning to thumb just a little joke. Forget about it, forget all
her proboscis at Sidney behind his back about it, and Gloria gets a nice fat part in the
. . . then the door booms after her.) picture . . . yeah sure, yeah sure . . .
(Throttlebaum sneaks a peck, and sure no good day.
one has slipped in on him as before, starts (O n their exit, Throttlebaum makes an­
to make another sheet of notes, stops for a other set of heiroglyphics on his note paper
moment as if having difficulty remembering, and plants that one with the rest in his
then finishing the notes, puts them with the pocket.)
rest.) ( H e then throws the key on his desk Dicto
36 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

and calls for M iss Teidlebaum to come in. advise me on the practicability and costs
She enters center and comes up, stands along­ of the story as here laid out.
side of his chair, her notebook and pencil
Take a letter to . . . (here he picks up
poised for action.)
script of “ The Deep End” ) of . . . to . . .
T H R O T T L E B A U M : Take an interoffice
the author of that . . . “ Dear Sir, After
memo, Miss Teidle . . . fer Gawd’s sake,
looking over your script, ‘The Deep End,’
stop breathing that way. Passion, h ell! that’s
which has come to me from our story de­
croup! Memo to each . . . G. P., Mr.
partment, I find that in its present form, we
Astigma, Miss Glace, Mr. Barnet, and Ryan
could not use it. The story is weak, and in
Danielson . . . Subject, story conference
spots impossible. It would be possible per­
. . . After some hard work on my part, I
haps, with the injection of some new ideas
personally found the missing manuscript,
in this, that we might be able to allow you
“ The Deep End.” I have decided to make
something for what we might use of it, which
this story with some changes and ideas of
would be, maybe, a small part of the title for
my own put in. I may retain the original
which we are prepared to offer you $300.00
title or I have in mind, “ The Tree Bends”
at this time. If you are interested, please
in its place. Th e rough idea on changes is
notify our legal department in New Y ork
(here he extracts notes he has made from his
and they will close with you. Y ou rs” , so and
pocket, upon which are drawn funny little
so, oh yes . . . Miss Teidlebaum, “ P. S.
men and animals and houses such as the
O f course, you understand that in buying
Egyptians of old w ere wont to use for decora­
any part of the title, we expect to retain the
tion and story upon the sides of their um­
entire script as our property, worthless as it
brella jars.) I will put the story in an inter­
apparently is. This will be explained to you
national air service setting, (he continues to
in the New Y ork office.”
search through his notes as he dictates) with
a woman adventuress and her little sister try­ TH ROTTLEBAUM : That will be all,
ing each to land a big, foreign banker, there Miss Teidlebaum.
will be a sequence where the banker turns out
(Teidlebaum starts off, then turns:)
to be financing a scientist, who is attempting
a soul-switching machine for wealthy widows. T E I D L E B A U M : Shall I read this letter
There is an angle in it where the adventuress to you before I send it off ?
is reunited with her home-town boyfriend,
T H R O T T L E B A U M : W h y do you al­
who is an aviator . . . she helps him fool
ways have to rub it in ? ? ? ? ? Y ou K N O W ,
some air bandits . . . please report to my
S O M E B O D Y has to R E A D it to me.
office (Bungalow 21) at 11 A. M . tomorrow
for discussion on this and be prepared to C U R T A IN .

GOr»

T H E BO O ZE-H IC! G O E S 'R O U N D A N D 'R O U N D

A stew went to sleep one afternoon leaning against a large
tree. W hen he woke up it was dark. He pulled himself up and
started walking around the tree feeling with his hands. After a
couple of revolutions he sat down and groaned, "M y Gawd! I'm
walled in!"
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 37

HOLLYWOOD HOSS TRADERS Dineen for Dimples when I know in my heart

I should have sent it over to you. It is a
( Continued from Page 27)
Freckles story. I cannot at the present time
T H IS O F F IC E S T O P T H E S T O R Y IS rectify the mistake but I hope that should
E M P H A T IC A L L Y A F R E C K L E S Mr. Garfield send you a copy you will give
S M IT H E R S S T O R Y S T O P F IT T I N G it your every consideration.
T H E S M IT H E R S C H IL D T O A T S T O P The Blasted people through Dineen have
REGRET TH E ABOVE HAS H AP­ offered four thousand for the story to date
P E N E D A N D A M A IR M A IL IN G Y O U but deep down in my heart I think it is a
A C O P Y O F T H E B O O K T O N IG H T Smithers kid story. Please let me know if
STO P T R U ST Y O U W IL L G LAN CE there is anything I can do at this late date
O V E R A T L E A S T T H E F IR S T T W O to rectify the matter.
C H A P T E R S W H IC H W IL L I A M SU RE V ery sincerely yours,
C O N V IN C E Y O U I A M R IG H T R E ­ Edward Burke
G A R D IN G IT S C A S T I N G S T O P Comedy Constructionist.
M IG H T S A Y W I T H O U T A P P E A R IN G
B R U T A L P IC T U R E S , IN C.
TO BE TO O FO RW ARD T H A T A TE N ­
Inter-office Communications
T A T IV E O F F E R O F T W O T H O U S A N D
T o— Mail Clerk, Front Gate
D O LLA R S H AS BEEN M AD E BY
From — Mr. W enzel
F R E D D IN E E N D IM P L E S F A T H E R
Subject— A ir Mail matter
T O M Y F O R M E R R E P R E S E N T A T IV E
Please be on the lookout for airmail parcel
S T O P T H IS C A N N O T B E D E P E N D E D
containing book from Chicago. See that it
U P O N H O W E V E R A S T H E Y SE E M
reaches my office immediately upon delivery.
T O B E M E R E L Y A P A IR O F S W A S H ­
AW
B U C K L IN G L IQ U O R A D D IC T S S T O P
T o— Story Dept.
F U L L L E T T E R O F E X P L A N A T IO N
From— Mr. W enzel
IS W R I T T E N O N T H E F L Y L E A V E S
Subject— Book, “ Simpering Sally” author
O F T H E A I R M A IL E D V O L U M E .
Eliza Duane, Pub. by Garfield, Chi.
D A N IE L G A R F IE L D
W h y hasn’t someone scouted this book?
W h y the hell has the Dineen unit had it for
6242 Sunset Blvd.
consideration for that damned Dimples for
H ollywood, Calif.
two weeks and I don’t see it ? It’s a Smithers
Dec. 14, 1938
kid story and the Dineen brat gets it . . .
M r. A be W enzel
get up off your hams you bums or you’ll be
Brutal Pictures, Inc.
crying in the front office again. AW
H ollyw ood, Calif.
Dear A b e : T o— Miss Smithers
I know you don’t think a terrific lot of me From— Mr. W enzel
but the fact can’t be overlooked that I have Subject— Story for next picture.
thrown one or two good yarns your way as M y dear little girl Freckles I never would
well as pulling a couple of your Super-Spe­ believe how you have growed up until I read
cials off the red side by gagging them up for your note left for me on my desk. Y ou
you on the retakes. shouldn’t darling use such big and ugly
Recently I made a terrible mistake and I words. O f course Uncle W enzy is getting
am afraid my boss in Chicago (Daniel Gar­ you a good story, one like you say you can
field) may release me. It was I who put get “ something besides your teeth into” I
“ Simpering Sally” into the hands o f Fred think it will be from a book already pub­
38 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

lished, w on’t that be nice, and lots of chance far simply because a Garfield H ouse w ord is
for you to be naughty in. Unky W enzy as good as its books and to show for the
future that we stand behind our representa­
B R U T A L P IC T U R E S , IN C .
tives in any dealings they may begin regard­
H ollyw ood, Calif.
less of our own feelings or profit.
Dec. 16, 1938
I feel it necessary to notify you that be­
M r. Edward Burke,
cause of your actions and conduct in this
6242 Sunset Blvd.,
matter your association with this house will
H ollyw ood, Calif.
terminate immediately and hereby enclose a
Dear Sir B u m :
check for thirty dollars your two weeks
Y ou are a low life no good chiseling
drawing account in advance.
soanso, if ever you put foot on this lot again
W ith sincere regret that I could not have
I ’ll have it thrown off you.
more pleasant news for your holiday season
Y ou are no pal to Dineen, this I know,
and wishing for your future only the best,
you are pals to nobody, you double crossing
I remain, Sincerely,
chiseler, I call you it again. Ask me for a
Daniel Garfield.
job fixing my pictures, ask me that’s all.
P. S. W ill still be more than delighted to
Respectfully,
handle any of your semi-humorous literature
A . M. W enzel
at the usual agent’s rates.
P. S. The least you can do is call me up
and let me know how high I got to go to beat
B y straight Western U nion wire C O L L E C T
the Blasted people to “ Simpering Sally” —
T o D A N IE L G A R F IE L D ,
for 2 % on what you save me.
318 Prescott Drive, Chicago, 111.
Daniel Garfield U N PACK YO U R RUBBER COLLAR
Publisher— Literary Agent AND IN D E S T R U C T IB L E T O O T H
318 W escott Dr. B R U S H G R E E L E Y G A R F IE L D A N D
Chicago, 111. S T A Y E A S T T H E R E ’S E N O U G H ON
B y Air-mail Special Del. T H E R E L IE F R O L L S O U T H E R E
Dec. 20th, 1938 N O W L E T E L IZ A C O M E O N A N D
M r. Edward Burke, C R O S S T H E IC E IF S H E W A N T S T O
6242 Sunset Blvd., G E T H IT W I T H T U R K E Y B L A D D E R S
H ollywood, Calif. A N D H A V E T H E C H A IR S P U L L E D
Dear M r. Burke: OUT FROM UNDER HER STOP
I have just closed tentatively with Mr. T H A T ’S W H A T T H E Y DO TO SUPER­
W enzel for “ Simpering Sally” for $8,000. V IS IN G A U T H O R S O U T H E R E S T O P I
Three times he raised his bid of his own C LO SED W IT H A L P H O N S E TU C K E R
volition and for no reason except that he W I T H A T N O T A N S O F P U T R ID
likes the way I do business. I am packing a PRODUCTIONS F O R F IF T E E N
few things to leave tomorrow on the W hippet T H O U S A N D F O R A L L R IG H T S T O
Busses for Los Angeles to close the deal in S IM P E R IN G S A L L Y S T O P L E A V IN G
person. Miss Eliza Duane will accompany M E L A S T N IG H T A F T E R S IG N IN G
me as a fellow passenger to supervise her first H E S A ID A S H E F E L L IN T O A T A X I
motion picture adaptation and production. Q U O T E I ’ M G O IN G T O M A K E T H IS
Be notified hereby therefore to terminate T H IN G W I T H A M ID G E T E D D IE
any dealings you may have with Dimples S T O P I ’ M S IC K O F T H E S E S W E E T
Dineen, her father, and the Blasted Pictures A N D S O U R F A C E D K ID S C U T T IN G
Corporation. I have allowed you to go this I N T O M Y B O X O F F IC E R E C E IP T S
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 39

A N D I G O T A P E R F E C T 36 IN C H W IT H A L IT T L E N U D G E H ER E A N D
H IG H M ID G E T B U IL T L I K E A B A B Y T H E R E A N D A H E L P IN G H A N D
W H O W IL L T A K E EM L IK E G R A N T F R O M A M ID G E W H O U S E D T O B E
TO O K RYE AND BOURBON COMM A ON TH E DE K R A C K O SH OW S W H E N
Y O U R B O S S ’ C H E C K W I L L B E IN I W A S PRESS A G E N T FO R TH E M
T H E A I R M A I L Y E T T O N IG H T U N ­ A N D O L D L O U S Y F R E D D IN E E N
Q U O T E A N D IT W A S A N D I S A W T O H A D A T E N IN O N E F R E A K S H O W
IT T H A T IT W A S STOP YOU R IN T H E S A M E O U T F I T S T O P I ’L L
F R IE N D W E N Z E L H IS T E D H IS B ID T A K E A F I V E D O L L A R R A IS E O N
T H R E E T IM E S B E C A U S E I C A L L E D T H E W E E K L Y D R A W A N D W IR E
H IM T H R E E T IM E S W H E N T H E M Y CHECK FOR A GRAND TO TH E
D IN E E N K ID S O L D M A N H IS T E D H O TE L R O O SEVELT HERE STOP
T H R E E T IM E S S T O P I H A D T U C K E R A F T E R IT S A R R I V A L A N D F O R T H E
F O R A N A C E IN T H E A R M P I T A L L N E X T TH R E E W E EK S M Y ADDRESS
T H E T I M E S T O P M Y B IT O U T O F W I L L B E S E C O N D C U S P ID O R F R O M
T H IS S H O U L D B E H A L F O F Y O U R T H E R IG H T S T O P S L O P P Y J O E ’ S
L E G I T IM A T E B IT W H I C H S H O U L D PLACE STO P T IA JU AN A STO P
BE TEN PER CENT AN D PR O B A B LY M E X IC O W H E R E T H E Y K N O W H O W
IS T W E N T Y F I V E P E R C E N T S T O P T O P U T Y O U T O B E D A T N IG H T
IT S H O U L D B E M O R E F O R M E G IV ­ S T O P A M B U Y IN G M Y T Y P E W R I T E R
IN G Y O U A G R A N D L E S S O N IN A N D T A K IN G IT W IT H M E T O T H E
H O L L Y W O O D H O SS T R A D IN AS FRO N T STOP O F TH E BAR STO P
P R A C T IC E D B Y T H E M O R E A D E P T W IL L T R Y A N D D O SOM E STU FF
C H IS E L L E R S A N D G U L L E T S L I T ­ F O R Y O U W H I L E IN C U M M U N IC A D O
T E R S O U T H E R E IN T H E B A L M Y B U T B E L IE V E I W I L L T R Y M Y H A N D
A R E A STOP N OBODY W A N TS A N Y ­ AT DRAMA STOP S O M E T H IN G
T H IN G O U T H E R E U N L E S S A T ABOU T AN U NSCRUPULOUS AGENT
LEAST T W O OTH ER PEOPLE W A N T D R IV IN G H IS P U B L IS H E R B O S S
T H E S A M E T H IN G S T O P I P L A N T E D ACROSS TH E H O LL Y W O O D STE P­
T H E Y A R N O N D IN E E N IN T H E P E S IN A B U G G Y T H E W H I L S T
F IR S T P L A C E K N O W IN G T H E IN ­ TH E Y ARE PU RSUED BY A PACK
T E N S E A N D O V E R W H E L M IN G O F S L A V E R IN G S T U D IO W O L V E S
L O V E B E T W E E N T H E D IN E E N A N D STO P OR W O U LD T H A T BE D R A M A
T H E S M IT H E R S K IN D E R G A R T E N S TO YOU QUERY
STO P A F T E R T H A T I JU ST L E T TH E A D IO S A M IG O
C L IM A T E T A K E IT S C O U R S E S T O P E D W A R D B IS M A R C K B U R K E

The O D D E S T
Stories Printed in
Am erica or England
are Found in
10-Story Book
Nuff Sed!
 Hcture By
p W m . O. Roberts

C A N ’T sit on
■' the stairs with me,
Tony. Y a can’t!
Leggo my arm,” insisted
Maymee. “ I gotta g o an’
pay the landlady m y rent.
I ’m alius a week behind. If
I don’t come in the minute
I gits my pay, on Saturday
noon, she comes up an’
jaws me.” Maymee’s gray
eyes flashed with resent­
ment. She advanced several
steps along the narrow,
shabby hall toward a partly
opened door to the rear of
the staircase. “ A n ’ I gotta
mend my skirt. I tore it on
the machine this mornin’ .”
“ Y ou likes me, M aym ee?”
“ Yes, I like you, T ony, if
ya ain’t American, an’ can’t
talk good United States,”
she answered, with a smile.
T on y’s dark boyish face
quivered with a world of
devotion. “ Maymee, I— ”
“ A w , cut it out,” she
sighed. “ D on’t start follerin’
me ’round again. I w on’t
hook up with ya, T on y .”
She lowered her voice.
“ Cookin’ over a gaslight fer
two is worse’n fer on e! I
tol’ ya that a hundred times. I ain’t gonna “ Oh, Maymee, never I pay rent no more.
listen to y a !” I— ”
“ M aym ee! Y ou listen never when I try She paused, her hand suspended toward
tell. Maymee, please! W hen I sail my fruit the knob, her little slender form tense. “ The
stan’ I go— ” cops gonna git ya? Y a goin’ to ja il!”
“ G oo’bye, T on y.” Once more she at­ “ No, no, I got house, Maymee. I own
tempted to reach the door leading into the heem.” H is voice squeaked in his exultation.
landlady’s kitchen. An expression of wide astonishment
dawned in her eyes, and then disappeared in “ Cut out the fairy tales. I can tell you,
incredulity. “ Y a don’t know what ‘ow n’ no feller’s gonna git me with a line a hot
means, T on y.” gush. The truth fer me.”
“ Sure I own house. Make heem mysel’. T on y’s sturdy, brown-clad form straight­
A n ’ little piece o f land. Oh, fine place, ened. H e raised his hands and eyes in vow ­
Maymee. I am plant grape, an’— ” like attitude toward the cracked ceiling.
42 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

“ Sure! I make ’em my-sel’ !” Tony regarded her with excited admira­
“ W hat ya make?” tion, relieved her of the handbag, and closed
“ M y fine house, Maymee. Marry me. Y ou the door after them into the October sun­
can have. A ll furn’tu’— all ever’thin’.” shine.
“ Y a mean ya got a house in the country A n hour later when they emerged from
that ya ow n ?” Justice Smith’s rooms in San Francisco,
W ords failed h im ; he nodded his head in Tony, beaming in Latin rapture, was scarcely
violent acquiescence. able to find the sidewalk, teeming with a
“ Y a never hafta pay rent ? An no-body kin chattering crowd. “ Come,” he said in tones
put ya out? A n ’ furnished?” that trembled with love, drawing her arm
H e clasped his hands emotionally. “ Sure. closer, “ we go eat swell place.”
S u re!” “ No, T on y,” she declined. “ W hat kinda
“ A n ’ yo wanta marry me ?” stove ya go t? G as?”
“ A w , Maymee, I walk hand on feet!” “ Gas? Country. No, no. W ood. Make
“ Y a sure ya ain’t lyin’ to me, T o n y ?” mysel’ . Tree ever’where.”
“ Oh, not lie. I save— save— I sail stan’. “ O -oh, great! O ven?”
Get land. Make fine house. F ix fer you, “ Sure.”
Maymee. Nice lace on winder. M y sester “ It’ll be grand to cook a dinner in our
sen’— I write— tell my house.” own kitchen on a real stove.” She giggled
“ I guess ya ain’t lyin’ . Tony, an’— ” with joyous anticipation. “ H urry. W here we
“ Marry me, now, Maymee, pleese!” git the street-car, T o n y ?”
“ I sure iike ya, T ony, if ya ain’t American. After several hours’ journey by trolley and
A w , Gawd, nothin’ but work fer eats an’ jitney and a walk on an ascending road in
rent,” she ruminated, unconsciously running a canyon, cultivated here and there, with
her fingers over the clawed plaid of her skirt. hazy blue mountains in the distance, they
“ A house in the country!” Suddenly a soft drew near to their destination.
pink that made her pretty beat into her Ton y tremulously pressed his wife’s hand,
cheeks. “ Sit down on the step, T ony,” she and motioned to a mass of juniper twined
whispered, “ till I put on my glad rags.” with poison oak and wild roses. “ Back tree,
“ Maymee— ” W ith a rush of feeling he Maymee, you see house.”
extended his arms. They dipped into a hollow, fragrant with
She pushed him gently aside, and patted the perfume of the roses, pushed aside some
his shoulder. “ W ait ’till we git in our own branches and came within a dozen feet of a
house, T on y,” — she pitched her voice un­ tiny, rough shack. It was a rough shack
necessarily loud— “ where there won’t be no­ with a touch of soul; Ton y had felled trees
body snoopin’ ’round.” and had fashioned a pergola across the front.
She rapped at the partly opened door. Immovable Maymee stood for a moment,
“ H ere’s your rent, Mrs. Topins.” There was her lips apart, her eyes staring. “ M y Gawd,”
a grumbling reply, a hand grasped the money, she cried finally, “ do you call that a house?”
and the door was slammed. “ Maymee— ”
Maymee sped lightly up the rickety stairs “ It’s nothin’ but a one-room gol-darn
and T on y leaned against the banister and shack! Call that a fine house? I ’m goin’
sank into a rapturous dream. When she re­ right back. Y a liar, Tony. I ’m goin’ right
appeared, she wore a blue serge dress and a back!” She swung round, sobbing, and be­
coquettish blue velvet cap on her straw- gan to patter up the hill toward the road.
colored hair. She carried an ample cloth H e grasped her arm. “ A w , Maymee, you
handbag. marry me. See porch— I fix. Think all you.”
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 43

Tears choked her throat and blurred her “ W hat ya gonna git ?”
vision. She snatched away her arm. “ Come “ Quail for Maymee.”
inside, see how nice? F ix other room, bye, “ Q u ail! Only swells have quail— on toast.
bye, Maymee, pleese!” Some kindda bird. I heard about it. Y a can’t
A fter a period of pleading, she protestingly stuff me with a new line a goff.”
allowed herself to be led inside. W ith the “ Sure, Maymee.” H e unlocked his trunk
hand of a lover and the eye of an artist, Ton y and brought out a gun. “ I eata quail ever’
had mingled the limbs of the buckeye and the day.”
willow and had achieved a table, a bench and “ Point that outside. I— I don’t believe ya.”
an armchair. A cheap bed, an old cookstove “ I get— than you believe?”
and a large trunk constituted the remainder “ A ll right,” she said in a resigned manner.
of the furniture. Pictures, taken from maga­ “ But if ya ain’t back in a half-hour with a
zines, were grouped under the two lace-hung bunch of ’em, I ’ll know ya been stuffn’ me.”
windows. H e departed, twisting his head to gaze at
“ Sit-down, Maymee,” he begged, bringing her adoringly. “ N ot lie, Maymee. Bring
forth the chair. quail for weddin’ dinner.”
She petulantly refused. H e hastened up a trail leading into a grove
“ H un gry?” he asked with an apologetic of scrub oak and manzanita, where he heard
laugh. “ I fix soup.” H e took a half-gallon quail calling. A s he scrambled through the
tomato can from the window ledge, and brush, cottontail and other game ran or flew
placed it upon the stove. H e stepped out­ about him unheeded. H e was determined on
side the door to pick up some kindling. quail.
Indignation was swelling up within her. H e moved along a rush fence, adjoining a
She took the can from the stove, sniffed at grain field. Before he got near enough to
the contents, and then hurried to the door, shoot, a flock of plump quail, with a whirr
“ Call that a kettle,” she sobbed, “ an’ that like a miniature airplane, rose in the air. In
dago stuff— sou p!” She swung the can to­ desperation he took aim. Just then, a
ward him. It slipped from her hand; the screeching tribe of blackbirds flew from the
spaghetti, tomatoes and onions rolled into grain field and circled him, flying between
the weeds. him and the quail. Nevertheless he shot, and
“ Maymee,” he said sorrowfully. birds flopped to the earth.
She banged herself down on the foot of W hen he gathered his spoil from the leaves
the bed, her face buried in her arms, her and twigs, he found that he had shot six
shoulders heaving. blackbirds. The quail were winging their
H e bent over her and attempted to em­ way to a tall grove o f eucalyptus across a
brace her. “ Maymee, mus’ get use to house.” deep ravine.
“ D on’t call it a house,” she jerked. “ If— Sunk in gloom, fearing his half-hour had
if— ya’d called it a— shack— I ’d know— what elapsed, he decided to exhibit the blackbirds
to— expect.” to Maymee to prove that he was a good shot,
“ Maymee. N o cry. Hungry. N ot like and to beg for another half-hour.
soup, so I— ” H e paused listening to outside A s he approached the cabin, she stood in
sounds. the doorway, swinging her handbag. “ M ay­
“ Yes, I am hungry.” She rose and made mee,” — lie began pleadingly, holding aloft the
her way to her handbag. “ I ’m goin’ back to blackbirds.
my room, an— ” She whirled back into the room, laid her
H e continued as tho he had not heard the bag in a corner, tossed her hat onto the bed,
last remark, “ I get, Maymee, quail.” and pushed up her sleeves. “ Got any spuds ?”
44 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

In the space of thirty seconds the expres­ W hen the wedding feast was spread, Tony
sions of astonishment, consternation, joy, de­ drew up the bench and tenderly helped her to
termination chased one another over T on y ’s a seat. She sighed, dropped her head on his
countenance. H e eagerly brought in a pail­
shoulder, and proudly regarded her sur­
ful of the vegetables.
roundings, tinged with the mauve-russet of
“ I ’ll cook the spuds,” she tendered, con­
templating him with proud eyes, “ you cook the setting sun. “ In our own house,” she
the” — she gestured toward the game— “ I breathed, “ an’ eatin’ quail— ya’d think we
don’t know how.” was millionaires!”

“I told y ou w e shouldn’t have put water in pa’s liquor jug— now I bet
he’s dead!”
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 45

ESCAPE visit to heaven remaining ever afterwards

a pleasant memory.”
( Continued, from Page 31)
“ Yes, indeed.”
afterwards just as if it never happened, with * * *
just one more line written in the treasure The rest o f the afternoon was spent very
book o f her memory. She could have pro­ much as on that pleasant day at Versailles,
ceeded along the little pathway to the left only the privacy was greater. A s the sun
as she had intended, but that would now was setting over Chicago they walked to­
be not merely discourteous, it would be posi­ gether towards the shore where was the
tively insulting. Besides, she had had such cottage in which she had left her street
fun with him ! dress. The Marquis seemed to take it for
These thoughts rushed through her mind granted he was to accompany her all the
in far less time than it takes to tell them. In way, but on the shore she paused.
less than a minute she was sitting on the “ Goodbye.” She shook hands with him.
grass watching the completion o f the pic­ “ I thank you more than I can tell for another
ture. In less than five minutes he was sit­ glorious afternoon. W henever I wonder
ting beside her. whether life is worth while I shall remem­
ber having met you. Goodbye.”
“ Mademoiselle liked me last time we met.
Have you ever thought of me since?” “ Goodbye, Mademoiselle, I shall always
be glad I gave you so much pleasure— I may
“ Sure.”
say that we gave each other so much
“ W e kissed.” pleasure. W e may never meet again. I
“ Urn— urn.” return to France, you, I suppose, to Kansas
City. Goodbye.”
“ That afternoon nothing in the universe
They kissed again. Then he walked to­
mattered.” His voice was deep, and rich,
wards the railroad, she, up the shore to the
and slow. His manner was gracious, his
cottage.
arm was hard around her waist.
She had not told him she had left Kansas
“ It does not matter whether we are in
City for good, and had been settled in Chi­
Versailles or where we are; or that I am
cago almost five years. H e lied when he
French or you Americaine. It does not mat­
said he was returning to France. She had
ter if you are Protestant, and I— er— per­
not told him she was married, had three
haps Catholic, perhaps Atheist— perhaps
children, and that her husband was a W .P .A .
something else.”
worker.
“ N o, not a bit.” He had not told her he was married, had
“ A nd it does not matter what we were six children, and that his only hope o f not
just before we met, nor what we shall be having to apply for relief was the early sale
again afterwards. It does not matter wheth­ o f the picture. H e was living in Chicago.
er we are married, or-------” Their afternoon at the Dunes is indeed
a sweet memory to each o f them. In order
She started to interupt him, but he
that it shall remain so it is to be hoped she
hastily added:
will never know that he is really not a
“ I mean for the afternoon, and so long Parisian but a Rhinelander and an enthu­
as our happy friendship lasts just for then. siastic N a z i: and that he will never learn
Afterwards our paths may lie apart, our that her name is Rose Rebecca Israelson.
 THE LAST WORD
By j . r . Mc C a r t h y

L D Martin Gilroy fed the seven hens. He was tempted to mend the wire in the chicken

O yard, just for something to d o ; but there wasn’t any sense in it. H e would be moving
uptown to live with his brothers in another week or two.
Becky was dead. N ow , on the third day, he had finally come to realize that Becky was
dead. The funeral was to be that afternoon. All the villagers would come to help Martin
Gilroy bury his wife.
Martin smiled. H e threw the seven hens an extra handful of grain. H e squared his thin
shoulders. This was his day and he intended to make the most of it.
People couldn’t say he hadn’t cared for Becky. O f course he had cared for her. A ny man
who quarrels with a woman for fifty years and still does not leave her, must love her after
a fashion. The only trouble, of course, was the way the quarrels had always turned out.
There was no use denying to himself what everyone else knew— that Becky had won every
argument in half a century. That quick m in d ! That sharp tongue! That last w o r d !
But the last word would not be Becky’s today. She could not talk now. Ordinarily,
according to the local customs, Martin would not be expected to have anything to say
either. But Martin Gilroy had planned to upset custom and win his first battle with one
stroke.
H is sister-in-law, poor Becky’s sister, came out of the house and approached him there
by the chicken yard. She had an air of proprietorship, lifting her feet rather high for an
old woman and surveying the grounds with a satisfied look.
“ W ell, Martin,” she said, “ you’ve kept the fences in pretty good shape.”
“ Yes, Elvira.”
“ A nd the roses ain’t exactly ruined.”
“ N o, Elvira.”
“ Thanks mostly to Becky’s prodding of you all the time.”
“ Yes, Elvira.”
 “ Can’t you say nothing but yes and n o ?”
“ N o, Elvira.”
“ A smirk on your face, too, Martin Gilroy.
A s I live and breathe! If Becky was here she
would tell you something.”
“ Y es. But she isn’t,” said Martin with feel­
ing. “ A nd what’s more, Elvira, this is one
time when I ’m going to have the last word.
Y ou just wait and see.” H e stuck out his chin
and wiggled his goatee at her in the way which,
he remembered, always roused her ire just as it
had Becky’s.
“ O h !” said Elvira. “ So that’s it, eh? That’s
just what poor dear Becky was afeared o f on
her last bed. A nd I believe you would do it,
you wicked old goat y ou ! W ell, all I can say
is, as soon as the funeral is all over I want
you to pack up and get out of here as fast as
you can.”
“ A ll right, Elvira. N o hard feelings. It’s
your house, of course. Anyhow, you always got
your rent on time. There’s no answer to that.”
“ Isn’t there? I got the rent on time because
Becky saved it out of what should have been
clothes and good times and trips. N o answer,
ain’t there? There’s an answer to everything.”
Martin sighed and walked toward the house.
Maybe there is always an answer if the person
is still alive, he thought. But it seemed better
not to say it aloud.
The funeral was a splendid affair, with the

VI w V//' VH t I I \
\>«

Iv
, I V\W W'/K
48 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

whole village in curious attendance. Martin, won, she would remain at her labor or in the
in his good black suit, rode alone in the car battle until the last syllable. The last syllable.
behind the hearse, not because he particularly N ow that she is no longer able to speak for
wished to be alone but because the only other herself, 1 am sorrowfully happy to say, in
person who had a right to ride as a chief her honor, this last w ord.”
mourner was Elvira, and Elvira preferred to H e bowed his head. A murmur of approval
ride in her own car. from the crowd was suddenly broken by the
voice of Becky, loud and shrill and real as
Martin’s plan for final victory was an abso­
life: “ Y ou don’t say, Martin, you don’t
lute secret. But the fact that he had a plan
s a y ! I ’ve had the last word for fifty years and
was not a secret. The expectant faces of the
rapidly assembling crowd in the cemetery if you think I can be licked by a little thing
like a funeral you’re much mistaken. N ow go
proved that some rumor was afloat.
right back to the house and take off that black
Martin was pleased. The Rev. Mr. Pitkins, suit and fold it up with those moth balls,
in charge of the proceedings, turned to the be­ and . . . ”
reaved widower at exactly the right moment
The voice suddenly ceased. Elvira, looking
— the last moment. “ And now,” said Mr.
out grimly from her sedan, held up a small
Pitkins, “ our brave and mourning brother
phonograph. The villagers were polite, decent
will speak a few w ords.”
folk. They did not laugh. Martin walked
“ Becky Gilroy,” said Martin in a firm slowly through the crowd, which fell apart
voice, “ was an excellent and dutiful and pa­ for him. H e shook his head in a dazed way.
tient wife. H er patience was unbelievable. If “ I might have known,” he kept saying to
there was work to be done, or a fight to be himself, “ I might have known.”

BLIBB: How could you tell by his nose that traffic cop was

drunk?

BLURP: W hy, a car stopped and waited thirty minutes for

the light to turn green.
 B A N JO -E Y E S ?

W ell not exactly— just the eyes of a banjo player— Jean Chapburn— looking
straight at you — and laughing at you while they d o it!

Sennccka Photo, Berlin.

 O D A Y is our twentieth wedding an­

T niversary— twenty years— that’s a

long time, Clara. H ow time flies.
Just think, twenty long years have
passed since the day the minister pro­
nounced us man and wife. A nd we said
then, Clara, that we’d love, honour and
cherish each other till death us do part.
That was a momentous day for us,
Clara, a day we’ll never forget. I know
that I'll never forget how excited and
nervous I was, or how beautiful you were
in your wedding dress.
A nd remember all the wonderful pres­
ents we received ? The clock that wouldn’t
run, and the frightful pitcher your Aunt
Minnie gave us— W ell, at least it did hold
a lot, and it didn’t leak.
And then, when we were standing in
front of the minister and your father gave
you away, I glanced at your mother, and
judging by the expression on her face,
she was afraid that your father W O U L D
give you away! The old gentleman had
been hanging around the punch bowl all
day, and that punch sure did pack a wal­
lop. I wouldn’t say that your father was
tight, but it was rather embarrassing when
he walked up the aisle with you on his arm,
in his stocking feet.
And then, after the ceremony your
father gave us a big dinner at the Plaza
Hotel— and sent me the bill. But I guess
I shouldn’t hold that against him, he
wasn’t working at the time . . . Did your
father ever work at any time?
W ill you ever forget our wedding night,
Clara? Remember, we had the bridal
suite at the Plaza Hotel. That was the
first time you were ever in a high-class
hotel, and it was quite a bit different than
your home. Remember, you thought that
the doorman was Admiral D ew ey? And
then, when we finally decided to retire,
you tried to blow out the electric light.
Yes, the Plaza Hotel was quite a bit dif­
ferent than your home.
 A nd then we went to Niagara Falls on
our honeymoon. A nd on our return we
bought that little house on Twenty-third
Avenue. Remember, we bought it be­
cause your mother liked it so much. And
when we moved in, she came over and
helped us get settled— and three years
later she was still with us.
W ill you ever forget the night the house
burned down ? And later your mother ac­
cused me of setting the house afire to get
the insurance money, and to get rid of her.
Really, Clara, her accusations startled and
shocked me— why I ’d never given your
mother credit for being so smart.
A nd then we rented a flat uptown, and
it was there that you really started cook­
ing for the first time. Remember, when
you’d set the meal on the table, I ’d ask,
“ W hat is it, dear?” And then, if you
knew, you’d tell me. I ’ ll never forget the
pies and biscuits you used to make, and
oh, how happy I was when that bakery
opened up on the corner.
Oh, those early married years, Clara,
I ’ll never forget them. Remember the pet
names you used to call me sometimes?—
A nd the names you used to call me other
times ?
A nd then, after nineteen years together,
you went “ arty” on me.
H ow did you ever get in with that bunch
of long-haired, wild-eyed Bohemians ? And
what did you see in them, or rather, what
did they see in you ? Y ou certainly weren’t
their type. A nd who ever told you that
you could write poetry?
I’ll never forget the night you threw
that party. Remember, you tried to keep
me in the background. All your “ arty”
friends were there, with red eyes and hun­
gry bellies. M y gawd, I ’ll never forget the
mad scramble there was when dinner was
announced ! H ow those fellows could e a t!
And the girls didn’t do so bad either,
especially that little blonde girl. I think
52 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

that her name was Rosie. And wasn’t she I don’t imagine that I ’ll ever see you again,
a model? W ell, if she wasn’t, she should Clara, and I want you to know that I hold
have been. My, what beautiful E Y E S she no hard feelings. Y ou can keep the car and
had. our furniture. W ill you ever forget how
And then, after the police had departed hard we had to scrimp and save to pay for
and the party was over, we couldn’t get rid the Chesterfield set ? And that big overstuffed
of Carl, the young artist. And I felt sorry chair I used to love to lounge in ? Remember,
for him, thinking that maybe he didn’t have when I ’d come home from the office, you’d
a home to go to. A nd then, after Carl had have my slippers setting hv it, and the eve­
been with us a month or two, I suggested ning paper close by.
that if he’d get a haircut I might be able to It isn’t so bad up here, Clara, the food ’s
get him a job. And he flew into a tempera­ good and I ’ve met a lot of interesting people.
mental rage-—•and you did, t o o ! After all, ten years w on’t be such an awful
But enough was enough, and I was tired long time. A t least it is a consolation to
of watching him kissing your hand, and wear­ know that they don’t inflict the death penalty
ing my clothes. So I put my foot down and on one in this state for killing an artist.
said one of us would have to go— and you
As Ever,
handed me my hat— the hat that Carl didn’t
like. ROGER.

I don’t think I’m going to like this new hair up style.’

N egligee? M aybe, or one o f those nightgowns the girls wear for evening
gowns these days.
Globe Photo.
 PLUGGING ALONG
Lou S e g u i n

T S E E M S that this is to be a story of a minds, dear readers, the writer is not writing

I beautiful romance between a man and a

woman and that said romance is to be
about you.
Now, the hero of our story is one Morbid
completely shot to pieces for a time because Dick, a gay, happy-go-lucky young man-
of jealously, infidelity and a lust for money. about-town. Greet the readers, Dick.
But, of course, in the end both man and “ Hello, folks. . . . I ’m M orbid Dick . . .
woman will realize the error of their ways hawhaw.”
and have a happy reunion. The writer men­ Comes next, Fickle Fannie, our heroine, a
tions all this because some reader may begin cute little trick. Greet the readers, Fannie.
this story but before he finishes it, he may “ Hello, folks . . . I ’m Fickle Fannie . . .
mislay the magazine and never find it again. tee-hee.”
Naturally, this reader will begin to wonder Herman Glootz, the well-known dietician,
whether there is a happy reunion at the con­ says: “ Read 10-S tory B o o k . It gives you
clusion. So, giving a synopsis of the story an appetite.”
at the beginning the writer eases the readers’ W ell, anyway, it seems that M orbid Dick is
minds and makes a nice thing of it. deeply, madly in love with Fickle Fannie but
The characters in this story— the story Fannie is not too eager to return his love.
itself— the incidents and places mentioned are The reason for this is that Dick is by no
purely fictional. Any similarity to real peo­ means handsome and he never has more than
ple or real facts is coincidental. So rest your (Continued to Page 56)
W H A T ’S Y O U R G U ESS? Yeah — that’s what we thought — one of the Bennett Girls. E xcept that it’s Eleanor
W hitney.
Century Photo.
56 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

two-bits in his pocket. around the collar and says: “ So that’s it,
“ W hen I marry a man,” Fannie tells hey? W ell, something’ s going to be done
M orbid Dick one night when for the seven­ about that.”
teenth time he proposed to her, “ he must be Fickle Fannie comes to. “ Something’s g o ­
handsome with curly hlond hair and pinkish ing to be done about what?”
blue eyes and who whispers sweet words of “ Y ou r being nuts about anybody but me,”
love in my ear. A h !” She sighs heavily. Morbid Dick snarls.
"A n d another thing,” she continues, “ he must “ Tee-hee,” Fannie giggles, “ I do believe
have oodles upon oodles of money.” you’re jealous. But don’t worry, darling.
“ A w , gnats!” M orbid Dick growls. “ You I love you.”
women are all alike. Y ou don’t appreciate a Herman Glootz, says: “ 1 0 -S tory B ook
good man when you see him.” made me the popular man I am today. You,
Fickle Fannie giggles. “ Do you burn up too, can succeed.”
. . . tee-hee.” W ell, anyway, what Fickle Fannie says to
Herman Glootz, the famous authority on Morbid Dick she does not really mean. She
marriage, says: “ 10-S to ry B ook is a good only wants to see what effect her words have
thing. It keeps your mother-in-law out of upon him. And she doesn’t have a long wait
trouble.” to find out because our fine-feathered hero
goes completely off his nut. H e yells his fool
W ell, anyway, Fickle Fannie persuades
head off. H e runs up and down the street
Morbid Dick to take her to a movie with the
like a mad dog. He tears down fences, street
money she made all by herself. No, she
lamps, signs; breaks windows, and pulls up
doesn’t counterfeit.
fire hydrants. All of which causes a lot of
The picture is a stirring love drama star­
damage, indeed. This uncalled for demon­
ring the movie idol whom women come from
stration on the part of M orbid Dick scares
all over to see. (Guess w h o?) All through
the living daylights out of Fickle Fannie and
the show Fannie is in something of a daze.
she starts to yell for help. She yells so loud
More than once does she heave a sigh of
that she brings out the cops, the firemen, the
adoration and utter a long “ ah” which can
undertaker, the W P A and everybody else to
be heard all over the place.
her aid. F or awhile there is quite a bit of
Finally, the performance over, Dick and excitement around there but finally the (log-
Fannie leave the theater and are on their catcher brings his net down upon Morbid
way home. It is a beautiful moonlight night. Dick and throws him into the wagon. Morbid
There is a scent of roses in the air. Frogs Dick is hauled away to the nut house. Poor
are croaking. Cats are doing a one-night Dick.
stand on the alley fence. All is love; all is
Herman Glootz,- the notable psychiatrist,
romance. That is, with all but Morbid Dick.
says: “ Y o u ’ll be simply nuts about 1 0-S tory
H e is completely down in the dumps. Fickle
B o o k .”
Fannie just won’t pay any attention to him.
W ell, anyway, Fickle Fannie feels no sor­
“ Say,” he bellows, “ what goes on here?
row, no regret for putting M orbid Dick in
W hy don’t you say something?”
this position. Rather, living up to her name,
“ Shhh . . she takes on a good-riddance-to-bad-rubbish
“ D on’t shush m e !” attitude. The writer frowns upon Fickle Fan­
“ Shhh . . .” nie. She has done her man wrong.
Y e Olde Greene-eyed Monster whispers W ell, anyway, it doesn’t take Fickle Fannie
something to M orbid Dick. Dick gets hot long to snatch up a rich sucker after she
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 57

gives him the old come-on act. O f course, At this point the writer could spring a
this sort of thing is being done all over but joke with that line but he’s afraid it is too
the writer hangs his head in shame to think moldy.
that a heroine of his is about to take a guy for Fannie gasps. “ Y ou mean . . .”
a ride.
“ Y es.”
Gowns, wraps, bats, shoes, cars and an
“ O h !” The shock is too much for Fickle
apartment are all Fannie’s now. It is no time
Fannie. She goes into a tantrum, a rage.
at all that the sucker’s fortune is completely In fact, she goes absolutely goofy.
depleted. lie is a sad man when he breaks
A few hours later M orbid Dick and Fickle
the news to Fickle Fannie.
Fannie meet again at G oof’ s Domain. They
“ W ell, Fannie,” he begins, “ I ’m afraid fall into each other’s arms.
you’ll have to take in washing from now on.” “ D arling!” he says.
“ W hy, what do you mean?” Fannie asks, “ D arlin g!” she says.
surprised. Herman Glootz, the celebrated book re­
“ W ell . . .” he hestitates. T h e n : “ M y viewer, says: “ For less stories like this one,
wealth is no more. Today I am a pauper.” read 10-S to ry B o o k ."

The
ODDEST
Stories Printed in
Am erica or England
are Found in
10-Story Book
Nuff Sed!
£ £ T U S 'F wait! Just wait until you liear her! W hen tliat
I girl whistles— well, it’s the most beautiful music in
the world and you fellows’ll be saying the same thing!”
Ed Reade was eulogizing his pet radio “ find” all over again.
Tt had been going on like that in the office for nearly a year.

“ And she ought to he on the radio!” sighed Jim Miller.

“ She’s the original an’ only human nightingale!” I chimed

in.

“ Y ah ! I know you guys are trying to rib me, hut just

wait until you hear h e r! T’m telling you she’s a genius! If
she only had an audition somewhere— a sponsor— why, she’d
be the outstanding hit of ra d io!” W e walked out with Ed
raving on and on.

About twice a week, since last year’s duck hunting season,

Ed Reade had been raving like that. Some waitress he’d heard
in a highway lunch stand had been whistling while the radio
furnished her accompaniment. H e ’d been on a duck hunt
down in the Gulf Coast country and had stopped at the stand
for a snack. The girl started whistling and Ed had been raving
ever since, even forgetting to brag about his prowess as a duck
hunter.

H e claimed that the place he’d hunted in was the best for
ducks he’d found, so we had arranged a little party of four
to go down there this season. But we began to wonder if we
were going after ducks or to listen to a whistling waitress
who worked in a roadside lunch stand!

Th e day we took off for the Coast on our duck hunt, our
car contained Ed Reade, Jim Miller, Bill Neill and myself.
It was some two hundred miles to the place where Ed claimed
the ducks were flying like snowflakes.

A ll the way to the Coast we heard nothing but the merits of

this waitress who whistled. It got on our nerves and we
began snapping at Ed. H e paid no attention to our sarcasm.
60 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!

W e almost had to hold him down as we down there and hear h e r ! Then, Ed will give
passed up one cross highway down below us a rest.”
Lake Charles. That particular highway was
“ H ow far down the road is this ‘temple of
the one that led to the whistling Calliope. Ed
music’ ?” Jim asked.
made us swear that we’d drive down there
and listen to the whistling female when we “ Only about eighty miles,” Ed cheered us.

returned. W e solemnly promised, keeping I drove down the intersecting road and
our fingers crossed all the w hile! mashed the throttle flat on the floor. It
wasn’t long until Ed pointed out the place.
It started raining the third day of the duck
hunt and we weren’t having much luck. All I pulled up at a pretty dirty and disreputa­
four of us were taking our ten day’s vacation ble looking lunch stand. It was a ramshackle
and it looked like our duck hunting would dump that looked like a couple of shotgun
turn into a big washout. The fourth day a shanties thrown at each other. Tin cans
damp, biting wind blew in from the Gulf. and debris were piled all around in the rear. A
N ext day rain started coming down in tor­ mangy dog huddled under the rusting body
rents. W e just sat around playing cards. of an ancient flivver. All kinds of tin signs
A t the end of the week we decided to call it were tacked upon its outer walls and the
a day and spend our last day in New Orleans. scene wasn’t conducive to the propagation of
an appetite.
“ Sw ell!” Ed exuberated, “ This’ll give us
Ed led the way inside triumphantly. There
just enough time to drive down that highway
was an expression of utter happiness upon his
and stop at the lunch stand so we can hear
beaming face. W e sat down at the greasy
that girl whistle! Gee, you fellows think I ’m
counter shooing the flies away. A smell of
kidding— but w ait! Y o u ’ll get the biggest
garlic and spoiled onions insulted the air.
surprise of your life!”
Ed looked at us and smiled. “ W ell, fel­
Our nerves were just about shot and it was lows,” he said, happily, “ here’s where you
with great difficulty that we restrained our­ learn I wasn’t talking out of my head! Y o u ’ll
selves from doing Ed Reade real bodily hear music that will stay in your soul— it’s
harm. H e’ll never know just how close he whistling that’s going to be on the radio even
was to the brink of another world. It was if I have to pay for it out of my own p ock et!
bad enough having our duck hunting ruined Y o u ’ve heard a lot of professional whistlers,
by weather. but you’ve never heard anything like this.”

W e killed as much time in New Orleans as W e smiled resignedly. After all, it might
we could, thinking Ed would forget the be worth listening to and we were here and
whistler and beat it straight for home. But had to take it anyway.
on the way back Ed raved so vigorously that
A swarthy looking fellow shuffled out from
we had to humor him.
the kitchen, wiping his big hands on a very
I gave in first. “ All right, let’s go on dirty apron. H e was badly in need of a
L ov ely Jane W ym an — thinking perhaps of Shangri-La?
62 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT!______________________

shave and his shirt was open at the neck, re­

vealing a white scar surrounded by greasy
dirt. There was a radio next to the cash
G ir l P a r a d e register on the counter.
vo lu m e 6
“ ‘ Evenin’,’’ said the man with the dirty
apron.
Published
April 1st and October 1st “ S a y !” exclaimed Ed, “ Y ou aren’t the
same one who ran this place last w inter!”
to alternate with
“ N a w !” replied Scar-neck in a voice ad­
justed to truck driving, “ I jes’ bought this

G irl Picture Album dump a couple o ’ weeks ago.”

Published “ But, you have a girl working here—-I

mean, you have a girl working here who
January 1st and July 1st whistles! Y ou know— the waitress who
whistles? Turn on your radio and tell her
•
to come in and whistle for us. W e ’ll pay
Now on sale wherever you bought
her— and you, too! I ’ve brought these fel­
this magazine.
lows eighty miles just to hear her whistle.
• Tell her to come in.”

Don't wait until It Is selling at a premium The man spat a stream of tobacco juice in
(For artists, art students and those who admire the direction of a battered cuspidor, “ A in ’t
the artistic and beautiful in feminine posture) no whistlin’ gal workin’ here— th’ joint’s too
tough f ’r th’ ladies!”
100 PAGES — ALL DIFFERENT
Ed looked perplexed. “ But, where is she?”
Every type of pose imaginable
“ I know who yuh mean,” said Pleasant
50c a copy Face, “ She whistled herself right into a pair
o ’ angel’s wings, m ister!”
If your newsdealer cannot supply you, send
cash or money order to address below and
“ W hat— what— ” Ed stuttered.
your order will be filled immediately.

W e have a few copies of Girl Parade

“ She’s dead as a door n a il!” says Scar Face
reassuringly, “ A guy killed her a week fo ’ I
Nos. I, 3, 4 and 5 still left (no No. 2)
bought this here place. It wuz one night

• when two mugs comes in here an’ orders

dogs an’ beer. T h ’ radio wuz goin’ an’ th’ gal
SUN PUBLICATIONS wuz whistlin’ with th’ piece it wuz playin’ .
529 S. Clark Street Chicago, III. W ell, one o ’ th’ guys hollers fer her to shet
up that whistlin’ , but she never paid him no
 THE ODDEST STORIES IN PRINT! 63

mind. T h ’ guy wuz a leetle liquored up.”

“ But— but, she was a genius,” Ed pleaded.

“ Maybe yuh think so, but not to this g u y !”

the Gentle One was talking out of the side of
G irl Picture A lb um
his mouth, “ T h ’ gal didn’t pay him no mind,
VOLUME TWO
an’ jes’ kep’ right on whistlin’, thinkin’ th’
guy wuz so drunk he didn’t know whut he
wuz sayin’. W ell, suh, he hollered at her to •

stop whistlin’ agin, but she jes’ kep’ right on.

Published
So he went plumb nuts, grabbed up a meat
cleaver from that block over yonder, swung JANUARY 1st and JULY 1st
at her, an’ busted her right smack dab in th’
So that it will be alternate with G IR L P A R A D E
face with i t ! She wuz cut up purty awful-
which is also published every 6 months, viz:
like ! He hit her a lot an’ dang near cut her
head off, I ’m tellin’ y u h ! She bled to death APRIL 1st and OCTOBER 1st
right on th’ floor befo’ we all could git a doc­ This will make it possible tor you to have a

tor over heah! They caught th’ guy over new 100 page book, every 3 months, IN ­

near th’ bayou an’ he’s in th’ parish jail now.

V ALU ABLE TO A R TISTS in the posing and
Trial comes up next month. Guess he’ll git designing of commercial work.
th’ works, to o ! Yes, suh, he wuz one guy
whut sho’ didn’t like no whistlin’— ” . Second issue of the new Album will be on sale
about July 10th
Ed closed his eyes; he looked sick. The
atmosphere was heavy with something we •
couldn’t fathom. We sat there silently.
Tears trickled down E d’s cheeks. M y eyes BUY OF YOUR
felt misty and I could hardly swallow. I guess
we were sorry for Ed— and the girl, and all of NEWS DEALER
a sudden none of us regretted the eighty-
•
mile drive. N o whistling— and how lucky we
are not to go out under a butcher’s cleaver! PRICE 50c
“ W hut you guys gonna have?” asked the
If he hasn't it, send 50c for
man with the dirty apron, as he spat at the
a copy, by prepaid express.
cuspidor and finished rolling a cigarette.

“ I believe I will have some of that roast •

duck,” said Jim, and pretty soon we were all
at it— even Ed. SUN PUBLICATIONS
Did you ever see the distant relatives eat 529 S. Clark Street Chicago, III.

after a funeral?
NATIONS DIE
But their Heroes live again with flashing
swords and roaring guns in swashbuckling
romances and adventures from history's
pages in

Golden
Fleece
The Hew Historical Adventure Magazine

BUY FROM YOUR DEALER

But if he cannot supply you, send

two dimes to

GOLDEN FLEECE 538 So. Clark St., Chicago