Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1916-04-04
Night in Border Capital Rem
derS Visitors 0bliviouS to
Danger Despite Turmoil Not
Far Distant
By LEON sTARMoNT.

Ell. PASO. Tex, April 2.-Let's take a
walk tonight around Ell Psso, to see
what we can see.
del Norte. with living models, fresh from
Broadway.
There's THE Birth of a Nation at
the Texas Grand, where slows poken
southerners are cheering the Ku Klux
Khan.
Store windows fronting the Frado
Summer with silks such as you'd see in
Marshall Field's-and before them pace
soldiers in tours and skies, khaki cloaks
tapping in a chill night breeze, service
rifles over their shoulders pointing GRIM
~ at the cold north star.
Limousines purr to a standstill before
the Paso. del Norte. emitting pairs of
evening-gowned women. chatting gaily.
They stand silent on the curbstone till
the soldiers pass. Then they enter for
the fashion show.
Farther south, on the one paved
street that stabs the squalid Mexican
quarter. garish red-and-green posters in
Spanish annoupce 1.-The Serpent-Para
Hoy!' Theda Bara registers hate from
behins a Mexican ticket-girl who rakes
I'm nickeIs. They look very much alike.
\ phonosraph screams in Spanish
from a little SKIS restaurant, equipped
with two tables, n cigar counter and a
yellow haired, non-Mexican waitress.
In a cantina. a Mexican saloon, brown
poems talk in soft grunts, and look
at the pictures i'm ribaId weelSlies pub
lished in Madrid and Barcelona.
There are fewer people on the side
streets Let's walk this way.
"QuOng Sing. laundry, down the al
ley reads an English sign.
There's an alley there, but you might
have passed il. The gate is only two
feet wide. There are fourteen little
wooden doors in as many little adobe
huts. built close together. without win
cow I'm the row. \ Chinaman regards
US cuTiously.
Soldiers in twos are walking through
these side streets.
Four Mexican girls. who might be
eighteen or twenty-eight, razor their
customers in a LADY barber shop
Up in the FL Paso and Southwestern
yards a trainload of trucks has just
pulled in-motor trucks from Detroit,
for use I'm the Mexican desert behind the
army.
Fifty civilian drivers pile out of a
tourist car.
'Br-r-ri.-it's cold down here" says
one. Few of them brought overcoats
along. They thought Ell Paso would be
sunny and balmy. They'll all buy over
coats before they venture into Mexico
There's a hint of snow in the air.
All windows are lighted in the higher
/ part Of town, inhabited by Americans
and Mexicans of the well-to-do class, who
/ fed from revolutions. There is sing
I ing i'm some of the homes along Montana
street Where there are no lights, YOU
/ can bet the residents nave gone to the
/ fashion show, or the Country club, which
/ perches on a clay-bank this side OF Fort
Bliss and commands an efficient view
/ of the unvegetated Franklin hills.
Taxicabs flash past, toward the road
/ houses out Ysleta way. It's just like
| any March night, up here where the
/ streets bunt the foothills.
| Down where the big irrigation ditch
/ gurgles past Camp Cotton, sentries
\ stalk in silence up and down the Dor.
/ der. Restless army mules kick the sides
/ of their stalls. and soldiers, Weakened
/ curse them.
Empty street cars at intervals cross
! the international bridge.
/ a passing cloud is illuminated by the