The Washington herald., 1918-07-23


John Purroy Mitchell who at the
boyish age OF "a became the ruler Of
the civic destinies OF the worlds
metropolis. dropped from the clear
Louisiana sky there arose from the
mangled debris OF his aeroplane
omething-intangible at frst-but
fashioning itself into a well Of in
spiration for New York and the ma
ton.
Faint hearts took courage, the weak
In spirit became strong and Death
was stripped Of its hideousness and
revealed for what 1t is-a pitiable
bugaboo, a shameless charlatan. Mai.
Mitchell did not. as 1t might appear.
stretch out his hand for the flag of
victory and grasp an emblem of de-
feat.
He snatched victory gloriously from
the very jaws of defeat. He had Just
met crushing defeat at the hands
of the people Of New York who are
now paying him homage He had no
reply for the slanderers who played
pitch-and-toss with his name. He
turned his face toward the tomor-
row. OH rewspapermen, who have
seen many defeated candidates, say
that never was a man finer in defeat
Maj. Mitchell was sought by many
big corporations to WELD an execu-
tive hand. but his love OF country
ruled him. During the early days
when the war clouds hung low. he
was the ideal captain OF a war
bound people. about to march. His
mayoralty duties did not prevent him
from taking on government duties
his patriotism demanded.
Maj. Mitchell was a silk-stockingcd
aristocrat, IL you will. but he was
man clean through. The day after
his weeping widow brought his body
10 New York. I happened to be in
the neighborhood of City Hall.
A thunderstorm was banking up.
leaden and threatening behind the
white spire Of the Woolworth Build
ing. City Hall Park was filed with a
crowd.
1t did not mill about. nor laugh,
nor talk after the fashion of many
such gatherings. Slowly and rever-
emily IL moved toward the steps of
the old building. Above them hung
a service flag with a single great
gold star giimmering in the dusk.
From aloft a bell spoke slowly, for
beneath the roof on which it hung
there lay the BODY Of very gallant
gentleman.
There were 10 jests of a caught
in-the shower crowd. Stories that
might have been amusing at another
time were fat and Improbable. The
hastily gathered crowd was think
ing.
Clare Briggs and H. T. Webster,
two, of New York's braves of tho
world of cartoons, have just re-
turned from a swing around the cir
cult with Barnum and Bailey's cir
cus-tanned and opulent with mirth.
The cartoons they are drawing
now with the circus atmosphere are
the result of their experiences un-
der the big top" Briggs, who is
short and stout. was the comic po-
liceman who rode a donkey each
day in the parade, and Webster who
runs to the Woolworth style of
architecture, walked along the
streets in his clown costume and
delighted Boyville.
Briggs and Webster are veteran
clowns not only in caricaturing, but
in the real world of the mime. This
is their third season with the cir
Gus. Instead of taking a vacation
they don the cap and bells, and live
in circus trains, and even the circus
folk-who are a clannish lot-wel-
come them as brothers. The two
cartoonists come from neighboring,
small towns in Wisconsin, and work
ed in Chicago together before they
came to New York. They have
never forgotten that childhood thrill
of being the first up on circus day,
and carrying water to the elephants.
As a result it is said that most
of their time is spent In slipping
kids into the circus-much to the
disgust of the commercially mind
ed business manager.