The New York herald. [volume] (New York, N.Y.) 1920-1924, 1920-11-07
\ RBsUMABLY when the ordinary per-
son who lived in Da vinci's time
nrst heard that genius spoken of as

Il
- son who lived in Da vincis time
nrvt heard that genius spoken of as
a wonderful painter. q great engineer. a
marvellous mathematician. he came back
with what correspondent in italian to 'Hoot!
hooti" Since the world began this is the
revenge mediocrity takes of genius.
A sop of this kind to ones complacency
kept up the spirits of a reporter of THE
New York HERALD during a long and some-
what dreary ride from Brooklyn Bridge TO
Gravesend avenue in Brooklyn, undertaken
for the purpose of looking at pictures painted
by retired police officer, a cop whose work
with the brush had been described by per-
sons unknown as phenomenal"
The reporter knew better. His precon-
ceived Judgment was more than confirmed
by the neighborhood in which George T.
Conroy lives. Can any good thing come out
of NAZARETH" queried the contemptuous
Jews twenty centuries ago.
The query and the doubt renewed them
selves as the Investigator stepped off the
train at Ditmas avenue The house he was
looking for turned out to be a tenement If
the kind that has nothing to recommend it
one where you pant up to the top of long
flights only to hear that the person you are
looking for lives nearer the ground And it
was into a dark entry that the reporter was
finally admitted by small girl whom he
could not see but whose voice he heard say
ing:
"A man from New York to see you, papa"
Come in, come in," cried a hearty voice,
and the door was thrown open, admittingsto
an improvised studio filled with canvases
and frames and paintings, and also with
dazzling light from two north windows In
the middle of this crowded studio stood the
painters easel, on it an exquisite picture, as
pure and dazzling as the very light itself.
The painting caught and held the eye even
before the visitor had glanced at the painter.
1t was like an unexpected climax.
The Agreeable disappointment.
Vanished instantly the expectation OF
finding in this environment examples OF
feeble drawing and poor color; vanished. too,
was the other possibility that of encounter
ing strange effects of color, caught as they
sometimes are by amateurs. more by acct
dent than by design. No, the painting on
the easel and the paintings on the walls
were works of genuine art, exceptional in
drawing and lovely in tone They were paint
ings that even a connoisseur would say had
been done by man who had labored for
years to paint lucidly who had painfully
selected and eliminated in a supreme effort
to compel his pictures to give forth light.
But you real artist" cried the VS.
itor surprised to rudeness.
Conroy laughed. He's human being and
appreciated the spontaneous compliment
He did not mind clearing away the in
credulity that fingered by telling in
straightforward fashion how he became
painter.
but he is an arrived artist, recognized by
fellow artists-he has just been elected
member of the Salmagund Club and sold by
recognized dealers. Conroy, who is a big,
cheerful Irish boy in spite of his Al years.
exulted in both these triumphs.
xrzsv. ~. h. Ca1
gundi TO meet the artists whose very names
L don't know very well for the first time.
I'm after wondering what they'll think OF
the wild Irishman who has broke in. All, but
I feel sure they're a lot of fine fellows
And as for the dealers, tell ye my boy.
they're after me- they want me. and don't I
know they'd be chasing me with club If
my pictures didn't sell? I don't want to be
boostin' myself but it's some change for a
cop to be sittin' here at home paintIi' away,
and few are the weeks that I don't make a
tidy sum from my pictures like $3.50. That's
step up. If you have heard what cop gets
a week"
BY his own account this man had lived to
be SO years old before he knew what art was
He had never studied pictures. even in shop
windows. and the coored supplements of the
daily papers represented his art standard
even IL he had one. lie had never held \
brush or knew the shape Of palette
Fourteen Years in Department.
For fourteen years he was I'M the Police
Department. patrolman i'm Brooklyn for
four years and then advanced TO the Detec-
tive Bureau at Headquarters. where he
served the balance of this time
Il was content so far as / knew myself
and had longings for higher things as
you put It, Art. painting, was as far away
from me If / had been born blind. II
you'd told me in 1914 that I'd be maxim
pictures and sellin' EN- in 1920 I'd "a laughed
loud at you. pretty fair cop. that's
ALL"
But his visitor could not accept this rough
and ready denial OF any sensation of original
genius, so he asked Conroy If i'm his family
history there had been artists. His father
perhaps?
He the honest mani" exclaimed Conroy
with huge laugh. MY father was an Irish
longshoreman. That's your answer"
Life went on smoothly enough in the De
tective Bureau and then chance--that foolish
persons don't believe it--took a hand i'm the
game and dealt out 10 George r. Conroy a
new set OF cards. He went with his wife
and child TO spend his vacation in Wood
stock n. Y.
There's an artist colony up there sum
mers, and got acquainted with some of the
men. like Harry Rosen and John Etheridge
IL was just road acquaintance. / used 20