The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1916-1920, 1919-04-06


years. Then his family, in the delicate
words of the publicity men, "lost their
alr'' and the boy was thrown upon his
own resources. He undertook TO put him.
self through college-and succeeded-just
as he now succeeds in selling everything
he writes. You can't help losing little
breath at his courage. But perhaps this
wasn't any more daring than ii is now for
him to 60 about the streets of New York
alone on four months acquaintance.
Il had scholarship a. Colorado Col
lege and was making my own living" he
said. VI was getting along splendidly IN
til got tangled up in the annual Fresh
Sophomore fight, took pretty prom
inent part in it, in fact. They told me
that scholarship man was supposed to
be on the side of the faculty and not the
students l left"
Wasn't that almost too desperate of
youi" 1 asked, and quite as obviously,
How did you daref"
"Oh, never take anything seriously"
he laughed. II entered the theological
Seminary at the University of Oregon and
preached for two years, but | made no
converts and was finally dropped fromthe
church for radicalism. There was nothing
particularly individual about this, as it
was happening all the time. The differ
ence was that the other students became
liberals, Ibeheve mine was the only case
where the offender was actually expelled
from the church. had been giving music
lessons, mostly to preachers who wanted
TO learn to play hymns. Of course it was
a bore. But ] used to have lot of fun
on my trips through the country. The
elders Of the churches would chew tobacco
while l was preaching, thinking l couldn't
see. 1 couldn't, but 1 knew they were
chewing. However, as I was in the habit
of stealing behind the church for smoke
before and after service, 1 didn't COM
plain.
al took my degree at the University Of
Oregon, but / never called for it and 1
guess it's still at the registrars Office.
You have to pay $40 for degree. 1
taught for a time in the English depart
ment and squandered my money and when
summer came l discovered that was dead
broke l had made it a rule never to call
on my family for money and so l sold
papers in San Francisco. had to work
pretty hard. First l would sell from
seven in the morning TO nine at night with
no rest or food, and again from ten to two
the next morning. l don't suppose 1
scunded typical as newsboy. 1 just called
out anything 1 thought of, but 1 made
money and after two weeks 1 stopped
work and began to squander it again. My
boss felt worse than I did. He made
half cent on every paper, while l made
only a quarter of cent"
l wanted to know how long it would
take to squander two weeks earnings as a
newsbov. go.
t"It don't cost much TO sail back and
forth along the California coast on
tranps,' Mr.. Blades assured me. That's
what / did and had a fine summer with
all the money [ wanted. But the best
summer ever had was back in the early
days (which being interpreted means 1917
when l was writing for the Los Angeles
Tribune. 1 roamed about southern Cal
ifornia, sleeping on the sand, swimming
and fishing, and all the while was writ
ing articles telling the people that what
they needed was Red Blood--more out Of
doors. Ii was during this time that the
inspiration for Claire came to me-the
opening scene where the girl and the blind
man are smpwrecked. 1 know how it
would feel to be shipwrecked. 1 used to
think about it as 1 swan about alone
ended our talk by asking Mr. Blades
if he thinks such woman as Claire, she
of the meat knife, really exists.
Il do think she exists. know she en-.
ists," be said Il know Claire"
Come back! In reviewing Claire for