The Pacific commercial advertiser. [volume] (Honolulu, Hawaiian Islands) 1885-1921, 1908-11-15
THE PERSISTENCE
OF THE UNINSURED

! Deen SlmpklnS, pam SlmpklnS, Wad-
ding on his uninspired way, meeting
men whom he bored, viewing other men
honored, liked, loved; the universal
word of praise had never fallen to his
lot. You would never have suspected
it. He was lonely"
The Oldest Journalist lit another
cigar and smoked in silence a moment.
Then he repeated his last word:
"LOnely You are young and can oc-
casiOnally catch friendly eye in the
crowd. We both have our profession,
our work. But sometimes in these
warm seas, under these cleaning stars,
l pause an instant and know what
loneliness is Maybe it s bred in our
bones, this Anglo-Saxon feeling, in the
dumbest of us, for our social life. Any
way, I think / understand Simpkins.
He wanted place in a community, to
be somebody-tO be chairman of the
floor committee at the ball of a leper
settlement.
"Don It imagine he said all this. He
was an unutterable bore that afternoon.
Only 1 was convinced that Simpkins, in
his childish and unreasoning desired to
have a place, social position, funeral
with mourners, an obituary, had picked
out, of all places in the world, Kalau-
papa on MolOkai!
E'You saw old Scrapbook giggle when
1 said 'Smpkins of Molokai'9 That is
the attitude That seeker after a place
was incredibly dull and offensive. 1
believe he never did the right thing in
! his life He did not even catch the
leprosy, but lived blatantly healthy
among the dying, waddling around that
afflicted city, pursuing up his lips i'm
! pOrtantly over his petty affairs, pur-
posely content. Really, my dear fell
low. I am one of the principal men of
Kalaupapa!"
| The foreman looked in to ask whether
| the cable had come. The Oldest Jour
nalist resumed his pencil. elbow about
the obituary notice you showed me7'
| demanded.
fSimpkins saw it in paper and cut
lit OUT was the response. lin a
moment of confidence yesterday, when
he was dying, he showed it to me. He
was infelicitous to the last. Some
thing like this might be appropriate, ,
he told me. Thrust it into my hands,
you know, with an anxiety worthy of
a little politician crazy to have his
name in the paper. l suppose he had
nursed the hope for twenty years that
some dayshe would have an obituary
j like that. But imagine the audacity of
! his insisting that I write it so. Pahi -
! / unused over this, and the foreman
came in again. Look here, he
said angriIy els this the best picture
you We got for the front page tomor-
row? Simpkins of Molokai Why, ne
was crazy! People will laugh at the
paper.
The Oldest Journalist looked up.
GIVE got a column story to go with
that. he said severely. ''What business
/ is it of yours, anyway"
! The foreman shifted his feet, grum-
S7ed something about the insanity of
/ all newspaper men, and departed. As
editor in charge, l felt justified in
question. "What are you writing
about Simpkinsg'
He threw the sheets together and
tossed them over to me. "Just what
Simpkins asked for,D he said. "There
is a frst-class, stereotyped obituary,
with everything in it, from the lament
ed citizen in our community to widely
mourned by a large circle of friends.
| have described the theater, the ball
room, and the festivities he fathered,
in the best iOurnalese. 1t is a final
example, nv son, of the Persistence of
the Uninspired. -
"'But column And a picture of
Napoleon I'LL" l protested.
The Oldest Journalist turned on me
with a snarl "'He earned it, did Simp
kins of Molokaii He had no inspira.
tions, / grant you, and he was a bore
such as heaven spare us another. But
his life was harmonious, and his end
came fttingly. BY the Lord, if he
wanted all through his dull life word
of friendliness said over his grave, it s
not your business.
f'It is nv business, - I demonstrated.
"I'm here to see that the public get
the news and nothing but news. I'm
not here to give a column to the death
of crazy fool who was the laughing
stock of five islands. You re indeed
the victim of his persistency in the I'M
inspired if you try this scheme.
The snarl melted into a chuckle.
"YOu re the victim, too,' said the
Oldest Journalist, putting on his jacket.
''Simpkins left all his money to the
lepers, and that s news worth column
any day, with a full-sized picture. L
have the will in my pocket. -
So Simpkins of Molokai got the re
ward of his perseverance on the first
page of the Advertiser. graeed by a
picture that I am informed looked
strangely like him. And the final
paragraph of the Oldest Journalist
article ran thus:
With the passing of Mr.. simpkins
there passed away the single citizen of
the unfortunate colony on Molokai who
pursued the avoeations of a friendly