The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-03-06
"CHUCK CONNORS"
QUITS NEW YORK
Says Gotham Is Not What 1t
Used to Be and He Is
Real Lonesome.

NEW YORK, March 5.-Not even on
that historic occasion when the heroic
Cincinnatus lolled upon the rostrum
and announced that he was about to
retire to his farm did such gloom pre-
wade the hearts of men, or such sense
Of irreparable loss choke their utter
ances as will grip the feelings of New
York today when it becomes known
that Chuck" Connors has decided to
flag" New York for Hoboken.
The soul of the esthetic "Chuck,"
philosopher-in- ordinary to Chinatown
and juggler of meaty phrases, has been
filed with loathing by the artificiality
of life in the metropolis.
Things amt what they seem; the
times IS out O. joint and the wheels of
the metropolitan machine amt runnin'
smooth and noiseless like"
So the hurry and the jar and the
veneer have repealed the bohemian and
democratic Chuck"
This seasons Arion ball deserves to
live in history. Not for the sweet moth
lngs which were said, nor yet for the
glitter and the glamour that enveloped
It, But just as the most faithful of
ArioniteS was abandoning the palace Of
pleasure Chuck hurled his dictum at
the world. And the dictum was in
Bpired, secondarily, by the Arion ball.
With Chuck in the late-early hours
of yesterday morning was Boston
John" or Boston Chinee," the richest
Monaghan in the United States. John
maintains numerous stores, where silks
and teas and the deftly nodded trinkets
Of the Orient are sold for a more or
r.. L. Ill Il
by the artif1ciality of New York life.
Did you like the ball. Mr.. Connors?"
the reporter queried.
Cut it out, beau, cut it outi" re-
piled the philosopher. ct was rank.
I'm goin to t'row dis game down hard.
New York's on the lallapaZaz. Hoboken
for mine. There's more real hilarious
ness in dat burg than in tree villages
like New York.
Hoboken for "Chuck."
I'm goin' to take nice house-no,
not an Ice-house'-over in Hoboken, an
me an me bundIe-dat's me wife-is
goin to do the housekeep stunt dere.
Well cut the Bowery out. Dere's
nothin' to it. Wen peepul like Monk
Eastman gifts the limelight an deservin'
guys is socked into the shadow, the
games on the deadheimer.
AN then l comes here at tree in the
mornin' an finds the Arion ball as
quiet as strawberry festival in Or
ange, En- Jay.
Deere amt any more swells in the
city. Wy, say! 1 reco'nized a hum
dred glad coats an a hundred plug
hats in there this mornin'. Lots O.
the gang has got 'em frequent for fifty
an a case note for functions wat are
pulled off in Chinatown's real set. The
sports is froze out, an the ten dollar
ribbon clerk is dom the freezin'.
AN there amt no more old-time
-spOrtS-gamblerS, / mean-left. / takes
p walk wit me bundle the other day on
Broadway and sizes UP the crowds. I
sees six O. the old-timers on the alley
wearin' rubbers to hide the holes i'll
their shoes an suckin' on shine five
centers that d be shootin' offenses in
the old days. Yes, sir! Strikers stuck
In their mugs! Amt it orful! An
two plugged nickels in their pockets,
too! Gee!
Nov, Wen you see all these things
-sorter signs O. the times-you can
make up your little mind dere's nothin'
dom in the swell set. Der amt even
a crap game maxim rent on the Bow
cry, because peepul amt squanderin'
money.
AN the Tenderloin! Say, beau,
there amt no more Tenderloin than a
AdOUIC. II u1Su dH was CTeIldlGQ d
year ago! If you don't believe me, ask
Dick Garfield. The rich guys amt
takin' any more chances. Just for
sample, take a pike at this ball here.
Wat d'you see? A lot o. OF gram
mothers wit face embalmer, an hair
preserver, an lot O. kids without no
suggestion O. fur on their lips.
cav, beau, it's too bad! Dere was q
time Wen I ulster prefer livin' in
Bowery lodgin' house in New York to
wallerin' around in the Palace hotel
In Frisco. Me for the Hoboken thing.
New York's cut out, an dere amt no
more attraction here.
Address me Jest Chuck Connors,
Hoboken, Moo Joisey,' an kindly git
the direct'ry peepul to yank me name
out O. the households. S'long, beau!
Whenever you got to butt into Hobo
ken, Moo Joisey, come in an me bundle
IL tap a pot O. tea"
And the ennuied, Disguised, forlorn
philosopher dragged his weary form
Into the depths of Chinatown.