Albuquerque morning journal., 1922-11-26

couple o. dozen pigs or thousan'
bar'ls Of apples amt bit like feedin the
stomach Of New York or any other big
town. Eatin' is disease in the cities, an
amt so sure, senst everybody that amt
got any other business nowadays starts a
restaurant, that vittles amt a habit
fornin' thing.
1t amt on'y the people in the big cities
that's got to be fed; it's the garbage pals
If Americans didn't throw away as much
as they eat they'd think the last shadder
of their widely advertised liberties was
gone. Mister Hoover kinda pulled em up
durin' the war an to hear the holler they
made you'd "a thought lot of 'em had
their legs shot off Every furriner that
comes over here is paralyzed to see the
way we waste vittles. What goes into the
carts would fatten all the starvin' China.
men an Russians in the world
If Hoover could git a law compellin' the
clean plate all the time an give all the
grub 1t saved to the relief fund foreign
exchange might a. got Strengthened out
quicker, becus you can't talk about broth
erhood to a feller that amt tasted beef
for eight years. But for film the pockets
of those that makes money off of it, what's
wasted is Jest as good as what's eat. It's
a matter Of record that the farmer gifts
thirty-two cents gross receipts out of
every dollar that's spent fer foodstuf. but
the city man pays hunderd, an on what's
wasted he loses twice.
My little deals in pigs an apples wasn't
a drop in the buckle. but they showed the
truth Of the doctrine, an how possible il
would be to cure the evils that is maxim
marriage a extra hazardous occupation. 1
say possible" 1t would be, if it wasn't
fer jest one thing. I've showed ye how the
thing worked, but when we come to think
of the mountains of vittles that's unloaded
in CITY, day in an day out, an realize
that they's never more than two or three
days supply on hand, ye kin begin to git
a faint idee of the job it's gonta be to
unscramble the food system.
In a small, narrer minded way you talk
about the middle man. Great Scott The
middle man amt person any more. He's
a form of pernicious anemia; he's a at
mosphere, miasma, a epidemic. He's the
avengin' angel an the primal curse all
rolled into one. Now that's what I'd call
depersonalizn' feller. Life is certainly
gittin' kinda complicated.
AS near as l kin fgger 1t out, nothin' is
worth anythin' till it gifts to the machine.
It's organization that tucks on the value,
an the feller that makes anything, or
grows anything, or invents anything, amt
the feller that builds houses in Floridy off'n
the proceeds. By the sweat of the other
feller's brow shalt thou eat alligator pears
an smoke Uppman Imperials all the days
OF thy life Thou canst produce butter
or grain or garden truck all the days OF
thy life an have thy wife patch thy pants
with an OF grain bag to keep them from
scandalizin' the neighborhood.
Like most of the farmin' class. the Great
Unorganized, used to ship stuff down to
New York on commission, an l got what
1 got. One August l sent down lot O.
fine Clapp pears an in a few days l got
back postal card--price one cent-sayin'
they sold for $2.75. Less freight, carriage
an commissions, they fetched home $1.4G,
an Of course netted me loss.
A day or two afterward I was in New
York an l wandered down in the produce
section an looked up the place sent 'em
to. There out in front sets some O. my
barls-jest as pretty lookin Clapps as you
wanta see--an there, settin' out under his
wooden awnin', fer 1t was hot day. was
the feller I'd shipped 'em to. While I was
rubberin' at the pears he come an asst mC
il was ookin' to buy some.
NO" | says; II very seldom eat 'em.
was just lookin' at 'em becus they was so
nice; but you have lot O. spileage n loss
ia this ere business, guess"
That started him a goin'. "You betcha,"
he says, N begun to tell me his troubles
He'd found a sympathetic stranger, l don't
think.
my" he groans, "how this ere stuff
costs, an they try to git it away from ye
fer nothin'."
question. what do ye git fer barl o. them
there?"
II don't part with barI o. them pears
fer less n Sc to nobody he says Don't
we think that's cheap enough?"
II sure do" l says; Il didn't have no
idea ye sold em fer no such price as that"
well, we do" he says.
Fine" says; you never was in JAIL
was ye?"
mot yit," he says, laughin'.
well. ye'd oughta be-" says l, pullin OUT
his postal card. Mister, I'm Josh Bean
from Bascom's Bridge says, "an' there's
my name on them barTs. I'rh the sucker
that growed them pears an that got back
a dollar'n'forty-six cents fer en-"
He took the card m looked at 1t. Bimeby
he took the cigar out of his mouth an
grinned the hull width of his face.
"Tha's right" he says; you be a sucker
why, don't ye quit 1t m git into some
business where ye kin make some money!"
was so mad l could "a pasted him In
the nose, but he was big enough t. eat hay
an just then two men that was workin
fer him come out n leaned up agin me.