Maryland independent. [volume] (Port Tobacco, Md.) 1874-current, 1909-03-19
! The True Story
Of a Story.
BY VICTOR KAUFMAN.

. ~>r>'f-rs>~
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This is the true story Of a story
that will not down. It had its begin
ming more than seventeen years ago,
and to all intents and purposes 1t is
as fresh to-day as 1t ever was.
In 1891 ] was a reporter on a
Washington evening paper. On day
in october of that year, during an
unusually heavy wind and rain storm
that swept over the city. really hur-
ricane, large building on f street
that was being erected for a music
hall was blown down and several
persons were either killed or injured.
In a very few minutes / was on the
spot watching the police and firemen
in the work of removing the debris
and rescuing the victims. | must
have sat down upon green wall, ftr
on my way home from the office that
afternoon a friend called my atten-
tion to the fact that the rear Of my
trousers was badly marked with plas-
ter.
Now was particularly pleased
with that pair of trousers, for they
had but recently been made for me
by New York tailor, and we're the
most costly raimentr that had ever
indulged in. So that evening I left
word that when John Quander. a
colored handy-man, came in the
morning to black the boots and Incl
dentally to rouse me for the days
toll, he was to give that garment a
very thorough cleaning
The next morning. when John had
raped on my f5or the customary
length of time, tne following CONVEX
sation ensued:
< Deed, sir. x can't get them pants
cleaned nohow / done bresh EN-, m
use wet ag, n soap n water, but
&can't get 'emAlean nohow."
s.sssjss ~ tried ammonia?"
.g7-Ny. =. shaven't; but I know
they'd fit M. 1rst rate"
Now ukought then and still think
that tha} was the best pun in the
English language, especially as the
perpetratof was so thoroughly inno-
cent. seat the story with a sugges-
tion for an Illustration to a leading
New York weekly. T received no re-
ply; but few weeks later the story,
with an illustration such as | had
outlined, did appear in another we'll
known periodical, presume some
friend who had heard me tell it had
forestalled me. and had reaped the
reward had thought was mine.
However that may be. that story is
still going the rounds ofthe press. and
cropping up as a brand-new story
with remarkable regularity. A few
years ago, when l was in Florida,
saw the story in a Philadelphia paper
ascribed to Representative John
Sharp Williams. Again l saw it in
Chicago daily credited to the son Of
a famous Milwaukee brewer who had
a valet. That was the only differ
ence. 1t has appeared at intervals
in New York, usually laid at the
doors OF some ~well-known visitor at
a prominent uptown hotel It has
come to be part of the stock in
trade of many professional interview
ers, who, when short of fresh ma
terial, ring it in in their Hotel Cor
ridors" column as told by some IL
lustrious guest at a leading hotel.
And so it goes.
Some fifteen years ago a Washing
a faI he af, -
only she finished it up something like
this
John. have you tried cleanolio?'
No, sir, l haven't; but l know
they'd fit me first rate.
And she wondered why it fell so
fiat, for she had heard it told by
Elinor Mccartney Lane. the novelist
and playwright, and always with
great success. Mrs. Lane first heard
the story day or two after It "oc-
CURED, and for more than seventeen
years now it has occupied promi-
nent place in her repertoire. 1t is the
only old story she tells
In the spring of 1907 | was at the
Grand Canor in Arizona, and there
met very brilliant young woman
from Los Angeles, who was one of
the best story-tellers | have ever
known. We swapped yarns to our
mutual satisfaction, but | saved
"mine own for the last and best.
Finally l sprang 1t in what thought
was my very best style, but there was
nothing doing. In despair l repeated
it, accenting the point. Thus: Have
you tried ammonia-haye you tried
'em on you. See?"
With a wistful look across the
great ehasm she merely said:
please do not ask me to laugh at
that story. had to laugh at it at
seven dinner parties in San Francisco
last winter, and each time the teller
insisted it had happened to him.
This summer, when ! was in New
England, this same young woman
sent me an August number of a pop
ular magazine, in which my story
again saw the light of day.
Last winter my brother was at a
dinner given by the Mems Society of
the Church of the Covenant, which In
years gone by has sometimes been
known as the Church of the Govern
ment. F." A gentleman sitting at his
right told him that selfsame story as
having happened to him, and a few
minutes later one of the chief speak
ers Of the evening incorporated it in
his address as personal experience.
have never seen the story in Lon
don Punch, but am sure that by the
time It shall have reached its major.
ity, four years hence, the editors will
have appreciated its merits. ana that