New-York tribune., 1921-06-30
hemember M. ST. Ives, Who,
Arrived In New York and
Did Some FancyRunning?
By James Hopper

In trying to make up the assets of
oarpentier's chances against the cham
pion one must remember that he Is
french. Frenchmen, we all know. are
All perfectly crazy. You can never
know what they'll do. In this worlds
weli-arranged harmony--so beloved of
Heywood Broun--they are the fiendish
dope wreckers.
You can't tell what a Frenchman will
60. | member James Gordon BEN
nett airplane race which took place in
this country before the war, The
frefich flyer was the best flyer and had
the fastest plane. The American bet
Iing, though, was against him, because
he wore beard.
well, he started out, and right away
IL was seen that he was going much
1aster than any one had gone before,
and that he was going to win. That is.
this was perfectly evident till, about a
quarter of mile from the end Of the
twenty-mile course, he smoothly stopped
flying and came down TO earth. Every
one ran to him to see wha. had hap
pene6.
Well, what had happened was per-
ifectiy simple. He had forgotten to fill
his tank before starting, and he had
run cut of gasoline.
"A otiSnI cIsiSS1OR
This, surely, is a case in point. You
see, the sporting writer's had doped him
not to win because he wore beard.
have won, except that he forgot his
gasoline. You can never tell what
Frenchman will do.
You especially cannot tell it from
his looks. Every one knows the aver
age Frenchman. You'll find him sitting
in cafe on a boulevard. He's forty
years old, but has resolutely done with
you--as far as physical appearances
are concerned. His clothes are sober
and ill-pressed; his shoes are square
toed. He sits there at his little table
with paunch relaxed, his eyes devoid of
light; he seems stupid and stodgy. You
sit near him and open conversation
and he opens his bearded mouth and
pours cut pearls. Pearls of wit and
wisdom.
One day landed in Paris with lady
and a trunk. The lady happened to be
my wife. the trunk her trunk, and that
trunk was to me uneasiness and shame.
There were other trunks, too, but not
worth mentioning near this one, which,
of the dimensions of a California
bungalow, had been packed so cum
ningly that all its flmy cargo had taken
on the appearance of mass Of molten
lead.
Well, the Trunk Came Up
We landed in front of that little
French hotel, and the lady, going in,
engaged rooms au siXieme. No, Miss
Ollendorf, au sixieme does not mean
sixth floor, even if it seems to. French
would be altogether too easy if it went
that way. Au sixieme means seventh
floor. And each floor was of extremely
high ceiling and the stairs were pol
course, no elevator. l can't tell you
how l suffered as 1 stood waiting on
the sidewalk with that trunk.
Presently the lone garcon of the hotel
came out. He was about five feet just
and weighed, l judged, eighty-fve
pounds. He had curvature of the spine
and one Of his shoulders was much
higher than the other. He took one
little look at the trunk-which was, if
remember right, just d little taller
than he; he took hold on one of the
handles, said "oof!" and sprang the
whole thing to his shoulder. Then he
took one breath, and with that one
breath proceeded smoothly up the
winding stairway and dropped the
trunk at that sixieme, which means
seventh. You can never tell what
Frenchman can do.
Case of Saint Ives
And there was Saint Ives. Do you
remember Saint Ives?
He had been a waiter in Paris, and
he came over to this country some ten
years ago to run in an international
Marathon. This was in the palmy days
of Marathon racing, and he had as op-
ponents the best there was-Shrubb,
Longboat, Dorando-many champions
He was short, stout little man. with
barrel chest and stubby, chubby little
fat legs. His running breeches were
too long and fell half way to his ankles,
and his tri-color jersey was too small
and kept punching up under his chin.
At the sound of the gun, as the run
ners started, a long howl of glee went
up from the stands.
He had bounded away as though he
were going to run a quarter of a mile
~ M