New-York tribune., 1921-02-06


II portunity which rars combi-
-M nation OF fate and circumstance
has thrust into my hands. I
am to review my own fathers book.
can say whatever like and it will be
printed in the paper. The Boss has
given his word. What no for the
slaughterl
Given all rights and privileges to a
full column, it fought to be simple
matter to get back at my Dad for all
the humilities I have endured under
his parental control. Ny only worry
Is that in the excitement Of the mo-
ment [ may forget some important
breach that deserves special revenge.
However, I shall guard zealously each
inch Of space and make every line tell.
News for His Readers
Probably thAs are many OF my
fathers readers who never have sus-
pected that ne had a child-yes, child
old enough to sit up and pat the
typewriter. Few Of them may know
that my Dad has bald spot on the
top of his head, considerable gray
about the temples, that he is exceed
ingly fortunate to break 100 on the
average golf course. could tell a lot
Of things about him If I once got
started. But, of course, this is no
place for that sort Of thing. must
maintain g certain dignity and hold
myself quite sloof from engaging In
personalities with the pater.
Still, the public deserves some con-
sidcration. The great mass Of the
people doubtless have no conception of
the trials and tribulations Of an au-
thor's son. shall touch the subject
only briefly.
Way back in my collegiate days
this will be poison to the old man
he can never pass for forty again
when l came homo on vacation, he used
to let me do most of the talking and
then he would steal all my best lines
for his stories. If any Of my class
mates came along, he would steal their
lines too. If by any chance happened
to have girl, he would take her bodily
and put her in a yarn. 1t got so my
friends refused all invitations.
Guests Won't Return
1--WE don't want to go to your house."
they said. "Your father isn't human"
Later, when I had finished my aca-
demic career and become a resident
Of the family, the same casual
persisted. If we were out
on the course in q pleasant foursome
and I chanced to make some unusually
witty remark, my Dad would have the
darn thing copyrighted within the
week.
The final blow came when went to
war and got out q book on the perils
of being a private. Taking advantage
Of my absence, my father went and
swiped the first twenty pages of the
book for "a few words by his Dad"
He did say some rather nice things
about me, but then he wasn't sure
whether he was writing an obituary or
q SlIdlShC plCL6Sc' <AliJ "dyP 1C spH a
lot of personal advertisement out of
my book.
When | came home from France he
WAS waiting on the dock to hear all
my pet stories and get them into print
first. This did not surprise me. I
knew he would be there. You can
never conceive the diuculties of a
young man trying to establish himselg
under the handicap Of having sn
anthor for a father.
One thing was plain, We could never
live under the same roof. I could not
continue to accept his bed and board.
There were too many strings attached
to it. So I left home reluctantly to
seek hall bedroom of my own and
maintain my independence, except-of
the little matter of
weekly check.
Style Is Going Back
Since that time I have noticed a