The Scranton tribune. [volume] (Scranton, Pa.) 1891-1910, 1897-07-30
EARLY DAYS OF A GENIUS.
A Chimney Corner Chat Concerning
That Laureate of Hoosierdom,
James Wbitcomb Riley.

On, yes, about the writer VINO wrote
the "Old Swimmin' Hole" and "Or-
phant Annie" and the hundreds of 9TH
er sweet, quaint and beautiful things
that have gone as straight as an arrow
to the hearts of millions. l like to talk
about him, although we so rarely meet
nowadays that / look upon him as a
good deal of Il stranger. Besides the
life of so successful an author as he is
is crowded to it's brim with events and
happenings-new faces and new
friends, and if old things drop out of
his remembrance, it is not to be Won
dered at.
The last time we met-and enjoyed
an old fashioned uninterrupted visit of
half of a long winters night-was at
the Dennison at indianapolis, in Feb
ruary, 1893. 1t had been a dozen years
since we had seen each other and we
had many things to tell that filled in
that yawning time, and then, aprOpos
to notwithstanding, like old men in the
chimney corner, in the solid comfort
of their pipes, we reverted to the "70s"
the very early '70s, when we first
came across each other l remember
the day very we'll. 1t was a bleak,
blanched, frozen out March day, and
the place was the little town Of War
saw, between Chicago and Fort Wayne,
on the Pittsburg and big Four" /
was almost a resident of the place and
| felt considerably to the manor born,
| having been there a year, laboriously
writing a bit of rhyme for The North
| ern Indianian, which 1 never wavered
| or hesitated in calling poetry, because
| it looked like it little ways off. This
| dallying with the muse-a triile heavy
| parfOrmance-Was merely incidental;
| was reading medicine for a steady
job. ] felt, though, that l. was quite
a literary veteran and decently equip
ped to patronize new fledged and thinly
feathered birds of pOesy and causally
spread my protecting wings over their
| blue, shvering bodies. | think l did
| this benevolent and charitable act once
or twice about this time. There was
an old, ratty, dilapitated building al
the foot of the stairs, up which, in q
| pleasant, dirty room, with a warm fire
and a bird cage and a cactus in cor
ner, my intellect wrested spasmOdical
| ly and by jerks with that most Sc
ductive romance, "Gray's Anatomy and
Atkins Practice" the very tlowere
of the healing art. One damp, shiver
ing day a feeble, yellow stepladder--
looking like a bizarre centipede palette
| with its colors gorgeously laid-Wa'
! standing outside one of the windows
which was used for display of jeWelr!
when it's sanitary condition would ad
nit of anyone looking in. On tn
rheumatic, wobbling ladder, half wa.
up, was man painting a sign signifi
cant of the wares of the house. l wa
willing to have a good deal OF leisur
those days and l stopped to talk witt
the thin, inspired artist, and then ant
there Jim" Riley and l became ac
quainted, or, more reliably speaking
he became acquainted with me, as
did the heft of the .talking-his worl
speaking for itself. He pronounce
the shibboleth. He had seen my nam
i'm print and wondered by what uniqu
fortune, what legerdemain, l had ar
rived at this Mecca. And after FEY
brief years | wondered too.
He heaTkened to me like man @
genius and / straightway loved him 70
this adorable quality After this W
were much together, and If by som
oversight or miscalculation of mine
some unforeseen circumstance-there oc
CURED a slit in my conversation, h
would wedge in a word, and l learne
that even he had literary aspiration
: (Which made us more akin and Wor
; drous kind, that he had written llttl
I rhyme but it had never been in prin
He had not found so good an enem
[ or so vicious a friend as to publish n
verses, and so they had gone begin
| and begging on their disreputable wa
that is, when he had postage to proI
r erly HE them-veritable tramps, seei
| ing the veriest back doors for smac
!, Of printers ink.
CThis is the proper place for an al
r terisk and a foot note elucidating II
n fact that the above state of thinE
does not at present "obtain.~
/, When our acquaintance had u
riponing influence of a couple OF day
s time upon it, we became chummy al
confidential, bra2enly turned our pap
}, collars In each others presence, ar
read manuscripts out loud In unblusl
=, ing egotism. Among the bits Of veri
e he read to me one day---the pap
a measled over with vermilion-l st
hold to be the sweetest thing he HI
i yet ever written. 1t was called "Tl
e ArgOnaut." 1 asked him about IL Ia
winter. but he did not remember
n He had probably sent It to The Mucl