The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1898-12-18

there, and I'm sorry TO say, crime.
The Boys We're Honest.
But there's one singular thing about
the boys ] have had fer models, | have
never found one Of them 20 be dis
! honest 1 don't care what boys par
eutage may be or what kind Of sur
roundings he may have In what he calls
his home, when he comes into my
studio he can be trusted. I suppose
have painted very nearly 200 boys. Many
OF them I have left in my studio alone
for an hour at a time. But l never
missed anything when 1 came back
One of my boys, Barney never knew
his last name. or if 1 had 1 have forgotten
it-made himself very useful to me on oc-
casions. I have left him alone in my stu
do when have been out on errands, and
during my absence visitors have called.
Some of them came to ask questions, 9th
crs 20 look at pictures. This boy, Barney,
entertained them as well as 1 could have
done myself He answered their ques-
tons. He made notes of their requests
and ne showed them my pictures, and
what's more, he praised them, too. lie
was only 10 years Old when 1 first got
him. He posed for me a number of years.
one day he came to my house early in the
morning. He was 20 have been at the stu
do at s. He had his sister with him.
" why so early?' I asked.
% Me mothers dead
3" 'Dead?'
Z" Yes. Died last night, an we amt got
no money"
Il produced some money and asked him
whether l shouldn't give it to his father.
d" Nope. Give it to me sister
"The inference is easily drawn. 1t
doesn't require a mind reader to know
what kind OF a father that boy had For
two days Barney stayed away from my
studio. The third day he was on hand as
usual
" I'd ruther cum here than stay 20
home he said
But he didn't look 1t. He was the blu
est, most depressed, most melancholy ur-
chin l ever painted. This went on for two
days At the end of that time he was
as merry, light hearted, gay and happy as
ever. He sang the little catchy songs
that street boys pick up. He whistled he
kicked his heels against the stool and did
a dance or two-jig style-whi.e ne was
resting. That was Barney. He had an
uncle who had once been a policeman and
a short time after this his uncle took him
to Ireland to educate him. He came in to
see me about three years ago. a smooth
faced, square-jawed young fellow with
broad shoulders. He was awkward and
freckled and had hands he didn't know
what to do with. And he spoke with a
strong Irish accent When he left here
he was a typical New York street boy.'
How about the girls you have painted?
Aren't they as honest as the boys?'
Il am sorry to say that have not had
very pleasant experience with my girl
models. Several years ago I painted a
picture showing some street girls dancing
to the music of an organ. My models were
little girls picked up on the street. 1 at
tribute it to curiosity; certainly there was
no other reason for their thieving, be-
cause they took all sorts of things that
were of no earthly use to themselves or
their friends; half-used paint tubes, old
brushes, and even the rags 1 wiped my
palette off with"
"Who was your best model?"
II think, taking him altogether the
best model I ever had was Paddy Leon
ard, from Hell's Kitchen, the ragged
est, dirtiest little urchin you ever laid
your eyes on, an actor as we'll as a mod
el. He put spirit and life into his posing.
1 had him from the time he was until he
was II years old That was six years
ago. He figured in some of my principal
pictures. He had a splendid face for a
painters model, and a laugh that made
the studio ring with merriment, and he
could dance and sing and whistle with
the best of them
Paddy of HeIFs Kitchen.
There was one good thing about Pad
| dy He never would dress up. He always
| had some new kind of dirt on him. His
clothes were always torn in some new
! place and he could disarrange his hair
naturally in more different varieties than
] any boy in the world, l believe. He was
! an artist in rags and tatters. One of his
| strongest points was poker. He could
| beat his father at poker, so he said and
I lfWNv al
/ Of cards in his pocket, among other
| things. and what he couldn't do with them
wasn't worth doing. 1 don't know much
! about poker but l always knew enough
not to play with Paddy. Paddy is 20 now,
and 1 understand he drives horse on the
docks Apparently he has not turned his
| knowledge of poker to any practical use. "
What becomes of your models? Don't
you keep any record of them?'
How can 1? Consider the kind of boys
paint They are nothing but street
arabs the poorer and dirtier the better
| Their names are not in the city directory.
| Sometimes though, / do hear of my old
| boys l had call from one of my former
| models a year or two ago that both sur
! prised and pleased me. He was a slender
man of medium hight, and he came into
| my studio unannounced and introduced
! himself. His name was not familiar to
me. He didn't look like any one I had
! ever painted, and 1 didn't recognize him as
man who had ever bought any of my
pictures. Neither did include him among
any of my social acquaintance.
~ dare say you don't recognize me,
Mr.. Brown he said, but you used to
| know me very well once
When? l asked.
From Model to millionaire.
Thirty years ago came to your studio
one day with another boy. 1t was in this
| same room. We both of Us applied for
jobs as models You took the other boy.
but you didn't take me. 1t nearly broke
my heart. You painted him in two or
| three pictures Sometimes l came with
him. Sometimes l met him outside after
you got through with him, and he was so
proud that sometimes he wouldn't speak
TO me- Then we fought. I laid il I'D
| against you for good many years. Then
| we both went out West He went to st.
Louis, and he's a millionaire now.
went to Seattle, and they call me a mil
lionaire out there. I'm interested in the
| street cars and various OF or thf ga IN a .