Newark evening star and Newark advertiser. [volume] (Newark, N.J.) 1909-1916, 1913-12-11
GARDEN PULSES
WITH COLOR AND LIFE
Wonderful Human KaIeidO-
scope" Is AdeIine CarriCk
WeIls's Impression.
RIDERS ARE INCIDENTAL
Once Within Portals of Famous
Amphitheatre Scene Grips
and Thrills Spectator.
By ADELINE CARRIcK WELLS

outside-the grayness of air heavy
Win snow clouds. Inside-the gray
ness of air filled with smoke and dust.
Gray, the faces of the riders. spin
nlng their countless circles around
ana around the ever-curving track.
ana gray, the countenances of those
tnat sat and watched and watched.
anu occasionally reused themselves
into expectancy-colored with a prom
Use or enthusiasm should a happenine Q.
make it worth the effort.
My first Impression of my first six
Gay race, was, in a way. -impres-
bionistic. L could see the riders at the
END OF the week, spent and worn, and
wondering what there was In 1t all.
and why they had tried so hard And
] could see the countless watchers,
hollow-eyed, pessimistic, and hun
cry for the comfortable routine
OF living, with it's work and its food
ana its sane sleeping hours. 1 could
see the vendor of popular songs clos
ing MS mouth In way that was list
iessiy inal; the maker of candy put
ting the sweet, puily STUFF out of his
sight: the cigar man, the pop" man
ana the fce-cream cone man shutting
their way from the race-mad Gar
den. each to the place that to him
spelled rest. willing to give nature
her due at last.
Gray Dominant Color.
And everywhere in my picture the
coloring was gray, for gray is the
color of endurance. and the power
TO endure is the rock upon which
these riders have built their hopes
and piled up their energies. The fore
ground held bit of color, bright
CLEAN that typified the winners. but
this too faded as I watched until It
merged into the whole. For gray is
also the color of WEAKNESS, and even
victors must rest.
But ones inner vision could not be
active long, in the face of the hun
bred and one interesting things upon
which curious questioning outer
vision fastened it's interest. Imagin-
ings gave way before the demands of
curiosity.
WHY do they ride thus? Do they
enjoy it? What is 1t that keeps them
going, and going and going? Are
the spectators having a good time?
Why, then, do they sit and smoke
like solemn sachems? II they are
having fun why don't they look the
part?'
Interrogations filled my brain to
the full, jostling impressions back
into the cell of consciousness wherein
Impressions are kept.
Question for Sphinx.
The "why" of 1t all: that was what
bothered me- pestered me, tormented
me.
What is this instinct for sport which
men have in such full measure and
women find so hard to develop?
Why do men "know" baseball from
the time they are able to toddle.
while women have to be told?
Why will comfort loving male folk
put themselves TO all sorts of incon-
veniences, travelling at night sleeping
on the ground and subsisting on sand
wiches. in order to see shadowy auto
mobiles go streaking by at dawn?
True, their wives go, too, sometimes,
but it isn't speed mania or "iove of
sport" or whatever 1t is that animates
the men. that prompts them. 1t is the
feeling that, If men are so crazy about
it, there must be something in it; and
they go TO try and find out. Also, for
the general excitement of it ALL
Women Are Good Sports.
Not that women do not have a good
time at automobile races, and six-day
races, and ball games; they do, in
deed; but it is in their own way. In
ssance-at a critical moment in a most
important ball game, wherein a run
meant everything to the home team,
, man turned to his wife with a tri-
nmphant did you see that?" only to
find her gazing in rapture at a man
who was nearing second base.
What are you looking at?'' he de-
handed to know. and she replied,
"Isn't it exciting? I was just count
ing, to see how many steps he has to
take to get from one base to the
other"
The man groaned He had been
teaching her the game for a whole
summer.
"Can't Get Away from IT,"
But to get back to the six-day race.
After time even the why" of 1t
all ceased to worry me. The fascina-
ton of the scene took possession. Out
in the centre of the Garden, inside the
curving track, was band whose play
ers ignored everything about them;
q vendor of popular song, who sang
.them raucously in sublime Disregard
of the efforts of the band. "They-ares
a gurrul in the heart of Merry-land,
with a heart that bee-longs to me-" he
reiterated, sending the poor, abused
words with deadly aim and the aid OF
a megaphone straight into the ears or
the suffering mob. Then, when ne
had numbed said nobs senses, and
taken from it it's reason. he Sang"
with knocking triumph, "You-oo can't
get AWAY from it. you can't get away
from it." And the helpless hearers
could but cry I'VE know it."
other things there were in that