Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1919-08-06
THEOTHER ANGLE
Unsung Heroes.
BY KIRK MILLER.

| A man 10 q funny flsh and tho world
is all balled up like a dish of spa
ghetti Italienne. Nothing is right in
this peace-spotted cosmos as the
schedule plainly indicates that most
Of us are plumb cuckoo and the rest
of us chin ourselves on a strap twice
! each day. A man is never a hero un-
It'll after he is dead and then the two
cared, four-eyed. five-fanged public
cophagus where everybody In the
! world can see 1t except himself.
Which is all wrong, Just the same as
an eleven inch foot rdie.
Bill Shakespeare, Chris Columbus
and Dorsey Foultz are all exhibit AS
i of the theory that q man at best Is
! bum until he Is gone, after which
good, live sales corporation could print
a million editions Of his last speech
before the Straphangers' Sangerbund
and sell them by apothecary weight in
stead of avoidupots.
When Bill Shakespeare was standing
UP on his way to work every am. and
trying to make ends meet by walking
home at night, he couldn't sell poem
of more than two verses II poetry had
been in greater demand than sitting
space in LeDroit Park rolly coaster.
But when he answered the call Of the
brides and took up his abode where
all writer's. good and bad, hope even
tually to park their sprained tendons.
his poetic offsprings were in every
cook book. hymn book, almanac and
telephone directory. From then on he
was field marshal and commanding
general OF the poetry works Of Europe,
Asia, Africa, Abyssinia and Glen Echo.
Same way with Christopher Column
bus. the boy mariner. He made the
North American Indians a present Of
q lot Of white folks to populate their
island; not, however. without first
pawning all the earrings, shirt studs
and cum buttons In the domestic ken
mel OF Queen Isabella and King Ferdi-
nand, long may they wave! It is said
the hook tickets are still in Pennsyl-
vania avenue loan shop. but it is ru-
mored also that they were absorbed by
the note holders protective committee
Of the W. r. and e. Co.
Anyway, Chris discovered America
and everything and never got any
credit until after he cashed his beer
checks. He died in prison because he
didn't have enough clackers to nav his
landlady, his laundry bill and the taxi
CAB company and now that he is sleep-
Ing where the woodbine does the Irvine.
we erect monuments to him, name =
cent cigars after him and pay him all
other kinds of Questionable homage.
Then look at Dorsey Foultz whan
snat bird was stalking the streets ~
SWampoodie he wasn't as good IA cat
meat. He could come and 20 with Sr,et
as little notice taken Of him as a frog
taxes or . mere. tadpole But-after he
pulled few altruistic stunts like mas
saging his neighbor with q cobbIe stone
or letting gas pipe accidentiy fan
across the dome Of the treaslrer ~
the treason tripartite.. right away he
became the most sought after man in
the street-car-dangling District Of CO.
lumbia. For years the stationmaster
OF every depot in the country was ex-
pectng MIN as guest and had their
hooks out to not let him escape the hos
pttality which the local police force
wished to tender him. The hooks are
still out; 50 is Dorsey.
So We come to the gist Of the story.
It seems q shame that a clever little
fellow like Capt. Kidd should have Zig
xagged his way through this zone of
graft and proflteering and only made
the rank OF captain. If he had lived
IN the present regime he would have at
least bAen lance general with braid an
his coat slevs and soup on his coat front.
II no had brains enough to be a chair.