Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1921-04-16
BY WARD GREENE

Picture to yourself a young man
in a dark green suit, black tie with
polka dots, a white handkerchief
with purple border peeking from
his coat-pocket, such a well-groomed
nice-looking young chap as you will
find at almost any country club on
a Sunday; picture him sitting cross
legged in a battered armchair, his
face flushed after two hours OF
question and answer, his dark hair
beginning to rumple, his teeth gnaW-
ing at a long cigar, one hand grip
ping the chair arm, the other lifting
in quick gesture. Picture him
thus and you have Will Manning
of Dallas, Tex, star witness for the
prosecution at Wednesdays session
of the bunco probe.
Picture a room about the size OF
the seventh grade al the grammar
school you last attended, but with
semi-circular rows of chairs and
it with people-fill it as full of peo-
pie as a Heinz can is full of spa
ghetti. Put them in a, knot of chairs
all around Manning. Put them Shout
der to shoulder in the nearest rows
Put them standing in the aisles ano
craning from the windows and crush
ed on top of the rostrum. Then put
more people on top of them-teeter-
ing on the backs of the benches until
the wall of humanity around Man
ming seems almost to touch the CELL
ing.
And quantities of wreathing smoke
the white glow Of scores of electric
bulbs. GREATNESS silence, a SHARP
question, sharper answer, and a
shaking gust of laughter that beats
and echoes from wall to wall until
the chairman pounds his gavel on
the table again and again-and there
you have a snapshot Of the most dra-
matte evening of the bunco probe tc
date.
When Manning first took the stand
about 9 o'clock, interest was only
mild among the rank and file Of
knew what was coming, but the 9th
ers-well, their principal impression
was, Hum, here's new variety OF
victim!"
Varied Types
Manning's immediate predecessor
had been NJ. E. Hoiley, a hard-jaweo
farmer in a red tie and a brown
suit; and before Holley there was
Wade Lamar, stout and red-faced and
ponderously funny. These two. anc
others before them, were the farm
er type. They had aroused mem.
cries of "rubes' and gold bricks
But Manning was different. He
CdllGu Hlu1SGll dHC1lllldIt, DuL AlS
was more the city youth. He looked
like he played golf twice a week
attended to his business the rest
of the time, and tea danced with the
debutantes occasionally.
There were one or two debs IL
the audience, by, the way. AS Man.
ming began to talk, one could imagine
them whispering, tSay, he's cute
isn't he"
And then, scarcely before his audi.
tors were aware of it, Manning ha6
plunged into a tale of crime anc
adventure that read like something
by Old Sleuth. Lawyers, lolling back
in their chairs le1surely putting
cheroots, Strengthened up and Leaned
themselves; some dropped their
mouths wide open and stared-anc
continued to cape the rest Of the
evening. The knotted rows drew
closer. the people on benches began
to mount higher. Manning was the
the benches tops, put their hands
on mems shoulders and stayed SCI
like pointer dogs until their fee
must have ached. And Manning talk
ed on, smiling, then serious, next
striking his hands together to en-.
flushing and fighting back under the
whitening vol1eys of the lawyers fol
the defense.
Bought Rubber
The first chapter of his story, was
the usual victims tale-only 1t
sounded more business-like. He had
not gambled on horse races, but
specialized in what he thought was
United States rubber: One of thee
sentative of Harry Payne Whitney
He had showed Manning a card OF
the Capital City club. Exchange
number one is at the club" he had
told Manning. They rode him around
in big green limousine 1t sound,
ed most legitimate, until-kert1ooey!
-Manning'se money had vanished in
thin air as remorselessly as Holley's
or the old Confederate veterans OF
that of the farmer from Alabama.
Then Manning reached the meat
Of his the testimony Afony det als eharg a
had come back to Atlanta and he had
been here nine months, spending his
own money and using his owG efforts
to run down the men who had swim
died him.. So his story ran. When
as he said, he got disguised with
the detective department, he went
to Solicitor Boykin and he has beer
working with Mr.. Boykin ever since
me and Mr.. Boykin started this
thing" was the way he put 1t
Again, mo. we haven't caught Clyde
Smith, but we've torn this town
wide open, and we're not going tc
stop till we get 'em all!'
And then Attorney Bob Jones
started after Eim-jokingly. smiling
ly at first, kidding him about the