The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-03-26

for me at that time. Of course, ex- pected to get another job, and a bet ter one, perhaps; l kept looking for one; everywhere l went I was re- ceived courteously and listened to, until happened to mention the fact that l was an ex-serviee man. then they seemed to shrink from me as if had remarked that l was a leper, and politely. but firmly, told me they feared it would be a good while be- fore there was an opening, they were sorry, but I had better look elsewhere for employment. Naturally, while in the service I had not acquired a for tune. and the weeks that 1 was with out work played havoc with my pocketbook. So one day I was turned out of my boarding house because owed the landlsdy; she had locked my door and l was in the street with what I had on, and no more. I took the thing philosophically. I kidded myself that 1t was a gcod joke on me. This Is a poor world for philosophers. That's where made my first mistake. Most of these fellows you see sitting around the park are philosophers. They are trying to solve the puzzle of how they got to the park bench when they should be thinking about how to get off the bench for good. Well, that's one of the amusing things about it; once you get to the point where you can sis like dummy hour after nour on one of these re- pentance stools. lost sight of how you got there, you are so full of pity for yourself that you don't care what happens. It's so much easier to sit in the warm sun and blink at the squir- rels than 1t is to hunt a job you won't find After awhile you don't care how you got there. The chances are that you don't know how you got there. No one knows how I got there; l don't know myself. Va grancy is a disease, calamity; 1t eats away the pride, the self-confi- dence, the strength, and the expecta- tions of life. It alienates you from the social channels through which men and women acquire success. A man who Is penniless Is dead man You see. there Is such thing as living corps, q human life that Is buried. smothered, kicked aside by his fellow men because no one has understood that it is question of economies that confronts the world Tn its problem of the unemployed-not a question of food.
 Philosophy on Park Bench
 I have said that man is only three QaYB TeInONGu lIOill 4 pNhAs @NAiN -AA that statement is some of the phil osophy one thinks of on a park bench.
 Three days go my collar was clean, I had a shave, my shoes were shined, my clothes pressed and brushed, and had a sleep the night before. l had a half dollar when I started out three days ago to find a job. That night had my first experience of being without shelter.
 Over there in the trenches there was a glow in the heart that kept you warm. It's not the physical dis comfort that shrivels q man, it's the shame in his heart when he has to admit that he is without shelter. My pride, the innate pride of any man in the same fix Is the spur that bricks his ribs, that stings and hurts him so. I pretended to myself that l would walk about. I still had the key to the street and had a right to use it. Toward morning when the electric signs go out, when the streets become deserted so that the cop looks you over suspiciously, sauntered into one of the large railway depots of the city. My welcome was about as cordial as that of any man who ought to be in bed at that time. A beliggerent man in a natty blue uni form came up to me where I was sitting.
 Where are you going?" he asked, with look in his eye that was far from sympathetic. For some reason said Kansas City"
 Got your ticket?" he asked, strengthening up. mumbled that hadn't bought it yet. My stammer- ing tongue should have been enough to confirm his impression that was bumming.
 Beat 1t, beat 1t now. this ain't no poorhouse" he said, laying his ax hand on my shoulder. Even then fell ba ek on the pride that won't die in a man, and walked out with my head high.
 There was still a wide barrier be- tween me and those poor buns l Saw stretched out on newspapers on the steps of the public library or under som ewagon in the dirty corners that were dark and cold. No. I thought, I hadn't fallen as low as that, so kept aimlessly walking, like a man who had insomnia. That's what was going to say if a cop stopped me. I'd just tell him I had insomnia, couldn't sleep. On such slender inn agination one defends ones pride. The men I met in my solitary noe turnal nromenade with the excen-