McCormick messenger. (McCormick, S.C.) 1902-current, August 25, 1932, Image 3
Thursday, August 25, 1932
McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA
PAGE NUMBER THR]
f i
FELIX RIESENBER6
♦ V V v V V
SEVENTH INSTALLMENT
SYNOPSIS: Johnny Breen,. 16
years old, who had spent all of his
hfe aboard a Hudson river tugboat
plying near New York, is tossed in
to the river in a terrific collision
which sinks the tug, drowns his
toother and the man he called fa
ther. Ignorant, unschooled, and
fear driven, he dra^s himself ash
ore, hides in the friendly darkness
of a huge covered truck—only to be
kicked out at dawn—and into the
oiidst of a tough gang of boys who
beat and chase him. He escapes
into a basement doorway where he
hides. The next day he is rescued
and taken into the home of a Jew
ish family living in the rear of their
second-hand clothing store. He
works in the sweatshop store—and
is openly conrted by Becka—the
young daughter .. . The sc®ne sb'fts
to the home of the wealthy Van
Horns—on 5th Ave/me, where lives
the bachelor—Gilbert Van Horn—
in whose life there is a .hidden
chapter . That chapter was an af
fair with his mother's maid, who
left the house when he was accused.
The lives of Johnny Breen and Gil
bert Van Horn first cross when Van |
Horn sees Breen win his first im
portant ring battle. , Pug'Malone,
fght trainer, rescues young Breen
from a crooked manager, takes him
in hand, finds Breen cannot read
and r tarts him to night school.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
As he burrowed and grubbed and
collected and stored the kernels of
fact, he visioned a greater, vaster
thing than all of the astonishments
of the surrounding city.
Hubert Malcolm, his teacher, met
John one Saturday afternoon, quite
by accident. They were in Union
Square. “John, I live over this
way; come in and have tea. Mrs.
Malcolm will be happy to see you.
I've been telling her of your pro
gress.”
It was a flat, so clean and fresh,
so simple and pure. John drop
ped spoons, flushed, stammered.
Enid Malcolm seemed like an angel
in her gingham dress, and the baby,
tucked in a crib, curled its pink
hands about his fingers. It had
never occurred to John that a baby
could be so clean, and could seem
so happy. ‘
Malcolm smoked a pipe, and
John, like a wild thing, sat ton
gue-tied.
“Are there many places like this?’
he finally asked, his tpnes harsh.
Mrs. Malcolm overheard the ques
tion. ,
“Millions of them,” she smiled,
“only much nicer than this.”
John knew the quiet-voiced wo
man was a liar. For the rest of the
visit he sat mute and ill at ease,
and then his friend took him to the
Square and walked with him as far
as Fourteenth Street. John Breen
headed back tp the Bowery more
bewildered than ever.
John Breen had lost his interest
in fighting, in the greater thrill of
the fight for that unknown prize,
the astonishments always lying just
ahead. He was spurred on by curi
osity, and not by ambition. He was
the primitive climbing to the top
of a mountain, not for food or
treasure, but for a better view.
Honor and prizes, and prosperity,
as Pug Malone kept pointing out to
John, lay behind the direction he
attempted. 1 In several clandestine
bouts, John Breen only held his
own, in one, with the Philadelphia
scrapper Jerry Wilkie, he almost
lost, until, at the very ragged edge
of his downfall, Pug pleaded with
him, cried to him, implored him,
literally throwing the handlers
from the ring, talking and arguing
with John who sat sullen and pre
occupied.
■ The bell sounded and John Breen
a sudden light in his eyes, his face
battered, stepped into the center of
the ring and knocked Wilke cold
with a single perfect blow to the
jaw. -A tremendous howl of ap
proval greeted him; admirers tried
to carry him from the ring.
“Leave him alone,” Pug caution
ed “That kid was thinkin’ of
somethin’ when he hit Jerry, or he
never would of pulled that punch.”
“What was you dreamn’ about,
John, when you soaked that Quak
er?" Malone asked as they prepar
ed for bed -
“I ivas knockng the whole prize
fight game in the eye. I’m through,
pug.” John smiled sadly.
“I guess you're right, Malone
agreed. “That crack was too good
^ true wish I knew what
to do with you!”
“Ill leave.” John stood looking
out of the window.
“Not if I know it!” Pug jumped
up and grasped John’s hand. “You
s^ick around an’ finish that school.
I won’t fight you any more, can’t
risk it. The next time some low
brow scrapper will trim you good.
An’ then where will I be?”
So John Breen continued to tend
bar during the day, to work in the
Samson Club gym, to live with
Malone. Another year drew its
veil of changes over the face of the
growing city.
“Judge Kelly says they’ll stand
for anythin’ an’ they’ll pay—pay
well. The McManus looked yellow
and flabby in contrast with the
trainer. “If you work them guys
rough they’ll fall for you.” and
then, looking up at Pug with vein
ed bloodshot eyes, he spoke ve
hemently. “Kick ’em, beat ’em up,
sweat tha liver out of ’em. Judge
Kelly’s watched you, Pug, knows
what you kin do, an’ he’s lined up
guys who’ll pay. But, mind, Pug,
you got to turn tha trick, three at
a time. If you set ’em up right it
means a big thing for you, a
big thing, I should say.”
“What joint.did you say it was?”
“Greenbough Farm, a fancy
place, I guess, up in Westchester.
Kelly owns it: got it handed to
him, or somethin’.”
“I’ll need Breen,” Malone spoke
' those brief moments, before he
dropped off to slumber, he seemed
to see a fading city, a vast pile of
tenements flashing with lights and
the jumbled voices and cries of
millions, as if he had alighted in
the midst of it suddenly, as he had,
and as if he were then standing on
the rear platform of a train, whirl
ing him away. The quick rumble
of the wheels of his ideas lulled
him co sleep.
And on Saturday Gilbert Van
Horn, Judge Marvin Hart and the
great insurance magnate, E. K.
Southerland, came under the strict
regimen and spartan simplicity of
Pug Malone’s training farm.
Van Horn and Johnny Breen
were thrown together and uncon
sciously, became strongly attracted
to each other.
Two weeks after the arrival of
the trio the bags with their elabor
ate provision for comfort, their
toilet sets, silk pajamas, and fancy
knickers, the country toggery of
city folks, were again on the ver
andah. The three men, strangely
sober, tough and cle&r-eyed, march
ed up, took their traps down to the
waiting buckboard and then, of a
sudden, they rushed back . yelling
like Indians. They grabbed the
ft*
.W&J:
‘I’m getting tired of this training,” said John, “the fight game is a
rotten business.”
as if to himself.
“Take him. Him an’ his books.
No use fightin’ that kid no more—
he’s a dead pan; a bust. Ain’t he,
Hannon?’'
.“Yes, sir, yes sir,” the immacul
ate Hannon chimed in as Malone
left the room. The McManus smiled
genially.
“That fixes Kelly on that,” he
grunted. “And I’ll put Patsy in
charge of the Corner.”
Greenbough Farm consisted of a
fair acreage of rocky uneven land
upon which a roomy comfortable
old house was sinking into gradual
decay.
Carpenters from the city, working
under direction of Pug Malone, con
verted the bam into a practical
gymnasium. A farmer and his
wife and son were engaged to run
the place, milk the cows, tend the
garden, and the chickens, and
cook the meals.
The farmhouse itself was given a
thorough cleaning. The wall pa
per was stripped from the place,
the plaster sized and coated with
washable tint. Floors were painted,
and bed rooms were prepared on a
model of Spartan simplicity. Can
vas cots and stools, without backs,
were placed near the windows and
a small rag rug was added by way
of luxury. Three pegs were driv
en in the doors for the hanging up
of clothes, and all closets were lock
ed and nailed. There were no
lights, no mirrors, no shelves, no
pictures. There was absolutely
nothing to distract from the busi
ness of sleeping, for which the
rooms were designed.
Pug also fitted the windows with
cleats which prevented them from
closing by a foot at the top and
bottom, and of course there were no
shades.
“There’s nothin’ de luxe about
this place,” Pug remarked to John
when the work had been complet
ed, a labor in which both John and
the trainer shared with enthusi
asm. The green country was a
‘.efreshment to John Breen. In
trainer, hoisted him on their
shoulders, carried him down the
field and tossed him on a hay
stack. ^
.“Boys, your better’n I expected,”
Pug shouted, waving at them as
they ran for the buckboard, calling
“goodbye” to John Breen and Pug
while the grin on the face of Char
lie and the frantic apron waving
from the kitchen doorway, and the
expansive face of the driver, told of
extraordinary largess by the de
parting guests.
Pug Malone became sole owner
of the farm, for Judge Kelly, im
pulsive and liberal, sounded the
full measure of his worth, and be
sides advertising it, he made easy
terms for the trainer. Van Horn
became a frequent visitor, and
brought many of his friends; he
seemed even more interested in
John Breen than in the farm. E.
K. Southerland said nothing, but
sent Malone a check that almost
took his breath away.
John was approaching twenty. He
was an indefatigable reader, his
room, on the top floor of Green
bough, was littered with books, and
while the rigid rules turned lights
out at nine, John’s blazed far into
the night as he continued his ex
plorations.
While John was making haphaz
ard progress in learning, the great
city to the south, the city that
loomed up on clear days and glow
ed with a cold aura of light on
sharp winter nights, added another
million to the /tally of its inhabit
ants.
Van Horn, in his own way a lov
er of the city, took John Breen on
long rides through the width of the
metropolis in his new high-powered
racing car, a second French ma
chine that sped over the poor roads
with a soft purr of chains clicking
in giant sprockets.
What was this thing, the
city? Van Horn, in arguments at
Greenbough, with men such as
Rantout, the engineer, attempted
.j iis meaning. His ancss-!
tors had predicted great things for
it, and their faith had been re
garded, but their dreams were al
ready far behind the actuality that
vas the city in the year 1905.
“It’s simply a natural coming to-
;ether for cheaper warmth and
,'helter and food. It’s a result of
specialization in industry made
^o^sioie by progress in the mech
anical arts.” Rantoul looked upon
the city as just beginning.
“This building Will never stop,”
Herkimer Pratt, the auctioneer, in
sisted. “Ten years, twenty, thirty,
fifty, a thousand years. It will keep
right on until—until ”
“Until what?” asked Van Horn.
“Well, guess it will continue un
til all the people of the world are
assembled in cities.” His vision
was of a world cut up in city lots.
John Breen, listening, reading,
and appraising, sensed the im
mensity of che city.
John Breen had come up through
the difficult period of life with a
rush. His childhood held on into
manhood, and his sudden crash
from the shell of circumstance
found him emerging into a world of
delirious earnestness. John was
twenty-two, and as he strode be
side the rather tall figure of Gil-
best Van Horn, on one of their
long walks, in early September, a
casual observer might have pro
nounced them father and son. Gil
bert Van Horn and John Breen had
become friends, close, yet miles and
miles apart.
They talked as they had long
talked, on many subjects. Van
Horn’s interest in the prize ring
and John’s ability and knowledge
gave them a common topic. The
fights, many of which they saw to
gether, had long ceased to be an
absorbing interest with John Breen.
“Gil.” He paused for a moment.
The older man was puffing as they
lifted over a rise of ground. “I’m
getting tired of this training game,
and I haven’t fought in the ring
since Pug came up here. Fact is
I’m not so sure there is any real
fight in the business. Gil, it’s a
rotten business.”
“Right, John.”
“I’ve made up my mind to break
this training, Gil.”
“I guessed you would, John.”
(CONTINUED NEXT WEEK)
Ly Rev. GLarles E. Dunn,
m
V
Rev Chas. E. Du an
GIFTS FOR BUILDING THE TABERNACLE
Lesson for August 28 Exodus 35:21-29
Golden Text: Proverbs 3:9
Wears Michigan Crown
In the passage chosen for our lesson we read of a hearty, liberal
response on the part of the Hebrews to the needs of their tent of meet
ing. “The chUdren of Israel brought a willing offering unto the
Lord,” jewelry, precious metals and stones, clothing, skins, wood, spice
and oil in abundance. *
Such giving is a test of character. If you crave a sound under
standing of the motives governing your neighbor’s conduct, do not be
greatly concerned over the amount he spends upon the necessities of
life, but rather ask him how much of the remainder he gives to ben
evolent causes.
It is astonishing how vast are the sums expended in America for
luxuries. We spend annually, as a people, $540,000,000 on soft drinks,
more than $750,000,000 for candy, and a billion dollars for various types
of amusement. Our yearly tobacco bill, in the neighborhood of two
billions, is larger than the annual cost of our religious and educational
institutions combined! •
Now while we recognize that civilization must have its amenities,
there is surely need, in the expenditure of our wealth, of a greater de-
gre of sobriety and moderation. God is calling us, as stewards of
His bounty, to live a simple life, and to return to Him, in the spirit of
the Golden Text, a much larger proportion of the generous wealth He
has bestowed upon us.
Personally I am a strong believer in the Old Testament practice of
tithing. I watch my expense carefully through a budget plan, and
aim to give to my Church and various philanthropic causes at least a
tenth of my income. To do this demands a systematic method, with
a “check-up.” A tither does not give in a haphazard manner.
As Dr. Charles R. Brown has pointed out, the rich yoing ruler who
came to Jesus was familiar with the phrases, “Sell and get,” “Sell and
hoard,” “Sell and spend,” but the Master’s command, “Sell and give,”
was to him a new, and uncomfortable idea. In these present days
of widespread and tragic want, “Sell and give” is a slogan that
might well be proclaimed from the housetops.
Taking Off Into The Unknown
Miss Billie Haynie, 19, Detroit, is
old King Neptune’s Queen in the
Great Lakes region—having been fit
tingly crowned from a bevy of bath
ing beauties for Michigan’s annual
water carnival.
When slim little Prof. Auguste Piccard, Belgian scientist, climbs into
the air-tight ball-basket attached to his balloon and sets off for stratosphere
heights—he sails into space never before explored by man. In his first trip
he attained an altitude of over 10 miles. Photo shows Prof. Piccard enter-
mg gondola, and his assistant. Max Cosyn, before the start of their second
trip from Switzerland in mid-August
ri
11
l«
BOO N BOB HAVE FOUND A NEW END*
THIS F&IEND, READERS, IS NONE OTHER
THAN REX ROA*AER*REX NAS JUST ABOUT
COMPLETED WORK ON A NEW ROCKET PLAW
IN WHICH HE WILL TAKE THE BOYS EACH WEEK
TO SOME UNUSUAL PART OP THE WORLD TO
SEE THE STRANGE AND UNUSUAL THINGS
THAT ACTUALLY EXIST.--
GEE BUB-AND REX SAYS HIS FRIEND SAM SINK
HAS A SUBMARINE THAT CAW TRAVEL ON
THE BOTTOM OF OCEANS and SOME DAYS
WE cam TRAVEL- WITH SAM - ISNT THAT GREAT.
‘
yessir Boys- sam and i can
TAKE YOU TO ANY PART OF THE
WORLD AND BACK .EVEN BE FORI
MOM WONDERS WHERE
ARE‘BE READY NEXT WEEK
AND WELL GO TO THE WEST
INDIES TO SEE A MOST
UNUSUAL VILLAGE 2.000
FEET ABOVE THE
SEA.
NOW FOLKS-
this Rocket
PLANE CANT
CARRY US ALL*
BUT WE CAM
FOLLOW BUD
’N'BUB HERE
EACH WEEK*
THE PLACES
THEY LI VISIT
AND THINGS
THEY’LL SEE
ACTUALLY EMS1