Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1922-10-19
&c OF WATTERsoN TOWERS

THE EPIC OF WATTERSON TOWERS
When two military policemen came upon
him in the Care du Nord, at Paris one day in
the summer of 1918, he mais picture worth
looking at. He stood about six feet two in
his soleless and broken brogans, and he was
as black as coal-hole at IL o'clock at night
during total eclipse of the moon, and he
was as broad between the shoulders as the
hack of a hack. He wore a khaki shirt, a
pair of ragged blue overalls and an ancient
campaign hat. He didn't appear to be going
anywhere in particular; he was just stand
ing there.
Now, the military police Of the A. E. F.
had a scheme for trapping deserters and
malingerers. They edged close up behind a
suspect and then one of them snapped out
"Shun!" in the tones of drill-offcer. If
the fellow really was a truant from service,
force Of habit and the shock of surprise to-
gether made him come to attention and then
he was a gone gosling, marching off to the
calaboose.
But when this pair slipped nearer and
nearer until they could touch the big darby,
and one of them barked the command right
in his ear, he merely turned head and in
CURED politely:
'Speakin' to me. Boss?'
To be on the safe side, one of them asked
for his papers.
"Whut kinder papers?"
Your military papers-your pass-some-
thing to identify You by.'
"Wy, Boss" he asked, "does you need
papers to go round wild yere in SAINT
Nazare?"
This amt St. Nazare," they told him;
"this is Paris
Paris? My Lawd Den dat .splains it,
Explains WHAT"
"'splains wy I couldn't fine all dem mig
gers dey tole me wuz SAINT Nazare. Here
[ been in Paris all dis time-ever since dis
,iy7B on' iHYsk
ner I couldn't locate dem big warf-boats an
dem niggars.'
Never mind that just asked you where
are your papers?"
Papers? Me? Huh, Boss. amt got no
more papers n hant. Effen you needs pa
pers to git about on, you gen'elmen better
TEX me an lock me up right now, 'ka'so /
tells you, p'intedly, I amt got nary paper to
my name.''
They took him to number ten Rue ST. Anne,
where our prOyost-marshal in Paris had his
headquarters, and there the tale came out.
got it first hand from captai4 Of the In
telligence department who examined him
and l know got 1t straight, because the cap
tain had been a monologist on the Big Time
before he signed up for the war, and he has
both the knack Of narrative and the gift of
dialect. Later. saw the central figure in
the comedy and interviewed him. I think
his adventure was the most remarkable of
any / heard of on the other side Of the ocean
that last year of the war-and heard my
share, How big, lubberly American negro
with absolutely nothing on his person to
youch for him or his purposes, could travel
half way across country where no one else
might stir mile without pocket full of
passes anC vises and credentials; and how,
lacking any knowledge of the language, he
managed to do what he did do seemed incred-
ible.
1t was at ten Rue St. Anne that the ex-
vaudevillian took him in hand with the in
ton Of comforting the third degree. For
quite spell the interrogation couldn't make
up his mind whether he dealt with the most
guileless human being on French soil or
with a shrewd black fugitive hiding his real
self behind mask of innocence.
Batting his eyes as the questions pelted at
him, the giant Aade straightforward an