The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1920-12-23

The old folks loved their boy toe
well to reproach him for his desertiOn
now In the first flush of his young
manhood. but their hearts did ache al
thought of the separation.
you'll soon get tired of all that
hurly-burly there in the city, Tom
his old father told him. Sand when
you do, I want you always to remem-
Der that we've still got place for you
back here at the old homestead. II
maynt be as fine and snowy as lots
you'll see there in the city. but it's
more the sort that the good Lord in
tended you for. Ma and are hoping
the best for you. son, but-when you
do find out that your fortunes not
away off there-just pocket your pride
and come back here to us who love
you"
So young tom left the farm with
shining eyes and high heart and adj
ventured into the great, far-away city
In quest of fame and fortune.
How he Jared there and all the sOr-
ry disappointment that repeatedly
overlook him during that year of alb
sence would be long and narrowing
story to tell. He chased his rainbow
to it's end. yet found the tabled pot OF
gold not there as he had so confidently
and blatantly expected. ],
Tom made applications for all sorts
of office positions only to find himself
quickly rejected because of his lack
Of experience In those specific liz
"WelI. anyway, I'm young and hus-
ky and used to hard manual labor"
Tom cons0led himself. II can at least
get job with contracting gang, as
a painter, or plumbers assistant, or
teamster. That will suffice to keep me
going for while until the sort Of po-
sition want turns up"
But even in those lines Of work the
green country boy found himself sud
denly brought up short against blank
wall. He had no references as to past
city employment and nobody would
hire him after once finding ont that he
had no union card.
Huddled in his shabby overcoat on
q street corner In the squaiid section
Of the city-the Icy wind whistling
around him and biting through his
threadbare garments-poor Tom stood
on the evening before Christmas. won
dering where he might find shelter
in which to sleep that night without
freezing.
Just how long he had stood there,
shivering In the chill wind on the
street corner-bitterness against the
great, unfeeling city ranking In his
heart-Tom did not know. He was
startled from his moody reverie by
hearing q hoarse. wheedling voice at
his very elbow. saying what was in
tended as a confidential tone:
How'd y'like a nice hot feed and
some coin to Jingle in yer pants. DO?
Amt hungry. are va
Whirling about. Tom saw that his
accoster was an understood. burly fell
low with tough, truculeht visage and
hands showed deep into the side pock-
cts of his coat. He wore battered
cap with the visor pulled low down
over his eyes and spat malevolently
upon the sidewalk each time before he
spoke.
How'd y'like the idea, huh?" he re.
iterated in his raucous, grating voice.
siding closer as he spoke and casting
wary eye up and down the nearly
deserted, gloomy, wind-swept street.
Tom regarded him with distaste and
undissuised mistrust. He looked like
q typical thug. But misery cannot be
too fastidiaus about the company 1t
keeps. Finally Tom scowled blackly
and answered:
whats that to you, anyway"
SWELL. you're Outta luck, amt cha.
pal? Yer on yer uppers, stony broke
and maybe with an empty belly. too.
huh. bo? Well, guessed that much.
] amt blind yet, amt! Well. l
need a pal for little Job tonight and
we both can make lOtta jack out OF
1t, see?"
"You-you mean-burglary?" Tom
muttered hesitantly. with an involun-
tary contraction of his heart.
"Humph! Not anything like safe
cracking or breaking into house.
don't. Too many people staying up
with the kids over Christmas trees to-
night. amt keen on takin' TOOL
chances like that, I'm tellin' yaI Nav.
this l wantcha for Is something soft !;
safe and easy as falling off log. You
know the big prices people are willing
to pay. for real booze since the coun-
try went dry. don't cha? Well. right
near here I know certain warehouse
that's got 20 cases Of whisky stored In
the basement. Real bonded STUN
The Waterman is an old pal o mine
and is willing TO let us sw1pe II II