Bisbee daily review., 1917-10-28
AS MAN TO MAN
JUST A BRIEF AND SIMPLE TALE OF
 A CRAFTSMAN

T am going to lay these old bones down for awhile" said the printer to the newspaper man. And the latter smiled with his lips but looked with serious eyes at the old printer as he took his hand and bade him goodbye. The printer lay on his bed at the Cop per Queen hospital waiting for the at- tendan.s to take him to the operating room. The newspaper man went out rom the walls of pain ro the pleasant flower gardens where the sunshine gleamed and the wind from the noun tains caressed the green leaves and made them murmur a soft, and. sweet song. And. stopping there awhile, he thought of many things.
 The newspaper man used to be a printer himself. So he knew what that old time printer man meant when he said he was going to Hay those old bones down awhile" That printer. who was waiting so gamely for the breath of the poppies and the knife of the surgeon. what a life he had led, In the prime of his youth he had worked on the New York Herald with a hund- red men about him and never a lino- type machine in the plant. They set type by hand then, weighing each word in the stick" In those days the printer was supreme in the land. Forming the most intelligent body of craftsmen the world has even known or will ever know. the printer in the old days was in a class unto himself. He was cynic. philosopher. an art ist, reader, a worker and a potentate all in one. He came and went and asked no man for the waschword or countersign.
 f This printer left Broadway for the grapevines and pine trees and white houses and glistening crosses of a little Canadian city somewhere across the New York border. And then his rest less fancy carried him on west to Chi cago where the whirlpool of life flows he swiftest and the strongest on it's way to the sea of rest And then he followed the old Jesuit Father Mar quette, down the big river to New Or leans. stopping. of course at St. Louis on the way. And then he went to see the dawns gid the Golden Gates of Frisco Bay. But he could not be still. The north country called him and he entered the portals of many printshOps from Montana to Puget Sound. Back to the south country he wandered. stop ping at the City of the Angels for a few years. And then he crossed the desert again, stopping at Yuma for a little while. and finally cas. anchor in the Warren district of the Tombstone | canyon
 What days and nights this old printer has knownl Working night after night in the light-hooded composing rooms of the grea. cities; playing as hard as he worked under still brighter lights. Shifting his own scenery upon life's stage to the country town and the old cylinder press. But always on foot. his back bent over the stone and the case and the rack at grinding toll. and then his elbow on the mahogany rail. and then hoi for the next place on the long trail of work and pleasure and travail
 These old bones carried him well. The type he has set would load an ocean liner. The paper he has print ed would stretch in a ribbon from coast to coast. The friends he has made are legion. The good times he has known ring to the rafters of many an inn and room where the men of the stick" and rule" were wont to gath CT. But even his iron constitution had to bend and give before so much work and so much play. And now. Tor the first time in many. many years. this restless printer seeks a little rest His spirit is undimmed. but he had to lay those old bones down." The fast Of he Old Guard came finally to the plains of Waterloo.
 The neat little nursemaid bent over him and sent him to the chambers Of Chlorofrom Land, in the grim. deft. cool. skilled surgeon undertook to make over again that loyal tenement
  spirit until it, too, is ready seek ever lasting rest.
 Word from the hospital is to the ei- feet that the old printer stood his op- era ion splendlidly and will soon be back again at the forms" to place the shining type in rows and platoons and battalions for their early u.orning charge upon the still sleeping readers of this district Hasten the day. and more power 70 it when it comes The shop down stairs and the office up- stairs miss him sorely and are pulling for him 10 come back. Those old tones" need that rest. for they were tired after their long. fast journey.
 A little slower. now. old printer man. but little surer. too. and so we press bravoly forward on that journey thst all good printers and newspaper men must travel to the eld. And then we'll hang thirty" on the hook and tell the world goodbye win a smile.