The Newark journal., 1905-05-05
Why Angelo Jones
 Gave Up Art

< ! t < 4 I < < < < < 4 < < < < < | 4 s5 "C) YOU don't know why Angelo
 Jones gave up art, said the doc tor. after contributing three smoke rings to the rathskeler haze. Well, il was a mean game of the old man's-one of thase shrewd. brutal schemes that only hardened stock operator would be eallous enough to think of or execute.
 You know old Midas Jones never took kindly to the idea of the young cub be- coming painter-'daubing for living he used to call it. But he had never been accustomed to exercise any authority or even influence over his children. His was busy life. keeping up the house and the yacht and the villa and the style generally The children and the serv- ants were left to madame. She was vapory thing who lived under the de- fusion that she had soul. The girls all took after dad. They got away from her mamma's $ boy; he thought he had a soul. too, and his mother encouraged him u spread il out in oils
 The old man cussed and threatened and ridiculed, but. naturally the more earnest he grew the more convinced the soul contingent became that it was their duty to stick out against him. And they did Angelo rigged up studio cozy corner style in the top floor front of the old Fifth avenue barrack, entered at the Academy of Design. bought velvet coat and an objectionable pipe, let his hair grow long and joined an evening life class
 This is where old Bamburg came in, You knew Bamburg. You knew his seedy coat and his collar, which he al ways wore once too often, his dusty veil of long hair. his thin, leathery face, his sunken eye and his peony nose. Maybe you don't know. however that he had a touch of genius in him-Senius gone wrong
 Its very sad story He was a bach elor. They say he was very hard hit in a love affair and let go his hold on hope. don't know about the love affair. but it's all true about the hope end of it. He was one of those menwho are marked for failure It was no fault of his. He worked He got his pictures shown. He sold good many. But he never had any business instinct. He never seemed to get ahead of the game. He was always fighting poverty and debt. He was often in actual want.
 After awhile the struggle wore him out Dscouragement crushed him and he became the dealers hack he was when he died
 Yet he was most charming fellow remember one New Years eve he came to my office l was bachelor then and prescribed in the back parlor of fur nished room house, He asked me if ! had some hot water and l said had q gas stove and a kettle. Then he hauled out of one pocket of his long rusty over coat two beautiful eggs and out of the other bottle of bourbon whisky. l borrowed a tumbler of milk from the lanGlady and he brewed egg-nogg. He handled the vessels and the ingredients so tendery that it almost brought tears | to my eyes to see him do it.
 T wondered what the meaning of the l treat was and WaSn much wiser when he told me that it was through me that he had just made $2o0. He didn't seem inclined to explain orG l wonderos vaguely whether he IT, ser.. l for model in some re, He put the subject out ol my hCa0 DI beginning 10 talk about art, and when he talked about art no one could do any thing but listen.
 Il found out later how had helped him. It was his last flicker of good luck, by the way About month earlier, as I recall. had advised him to take some of his work to Midas Jones, whom he had met often in the days when his ca reer seemed full of promise. and who, besides being really a good-hearted man. was always vain Of his reputation as a picture buyer. You should have seen some of the pictures he bought.
 Well, after hesitating for nearly a month, old Bambnrg at last found him. self in desperate hole Extremity gave him courage He tucked a couple of his sketches under his arm and walked