The New York herald., 1922-11-05


barls of apples amt bit like feedin' the
stomach of New York or any other big
1 amt so sure, senst everybody that amt
got any other business nowadays starts a
restaurant, that vittles amt a habi;
formin 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 a 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 law compellin' the
clean plate all the time an give all the
grub it saved to the relief fund foreign
exchange might "a got Strengthened out
quicker, becus you can't talk about broth
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 foodstuff, but
the city man pays a hunderd, an on what's
wasted he loses twice.
My little deals in pigs an apples wasn't
a drop in the bucket 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 /
say possible" 1t would be, if it wasn't
fer jest one thing. I've showed ye how the
thing worked. but when ye come to think
Of the mountains of vittles that's unloaded
I'm a 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
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 anamia; he's a at
mosphere, a miasma, epidemic. He's the
avengin' angel an the primal curse all
rolled into one. Now that's what I'd cal
depersonalizin' a feller. Life is certainly
gittin' kinda complicated
As near as kin figger it 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. OF
grows anything, or invents anything, AIM
the feller that builds houses in Floridy Off
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 oil grain bag to keep lem from
scandalizin' the neighborhood
Like most of the farmin' class. the Great
Unorganized, 1 used to ship stuff down tc
New York on commission, an l got what
1 got One August 1 sent down a lot o
fine Clapp pears, an in a few days I g0l
back postal card-price one cent-sayin
they sold for s2.75. Less freight carriage
an commissions. they fetched home S1.4G
an of course netted me loss
A day or two afterward 1 was In New
York an wandered down in the produce
section an looked up the place I sent EN-
To. There out in front sets some o. my
bar'ls-jest as pretty lookin Clapps as you
wanta see-an there, settin' out under his
wooden awnin'. fer it was hot day, was
the feller I'd shipped 'em to. While was
rubberin' at the pears he come an asst me-