The New York herald., 1922-01-22
Flappers and Their Ways, Delicate Subject,
Discreetly Handled by Councilman Quinn

Rebellion and got the dangest wallop In
the jaw that any candidate of his party up
to his time had got at the hands of the
people.
However, friends, let bygones be by
cones. I wish only to say that the time
Blaine had the audacity to seek a good
bedroom with southern exposure In the
White House without repudiating Doc
Burchard was time in the metropolis
when we young lads had not the embar-
rassment of the present unwieldy Austria
liam ballot law.
To-day, friends, IL you vote more than
once in your precinct you are open to COM
ment! But on the Tuesday after the first
Monday of November, 1884, friends, I and
the rest of our own kind friends, knowing
our cause was just, voted at least
"In Difference, however, to Rev. Pilberry,
Councilwoman Prettyman and the young
Of the Borough ranged along the rail this
night we'll let that pass.
NOW, friends, where was I when"
working up toward the Battle Of Bun.
ker Hill, Senator!" here cried the Bor-
ough unfortunate Clarence Santee, who
again last night was in Fire House in his
pots, he having again got hold of bottle
gals, Senator! Go on some more about
the gals who"
So they threw him out.
Councilman Quinn next showed how in
the terrible eighties of the days of the
Blaine campaign many young couples
came to days when they wished they
never had been born. For these and other
laxities, said Councilman QUINN every
body blamed the roller skating rinks which
sprang up over night in towns all over the
country, dragging many to their ruin.
Moonlight Picnics and Wheels
Took Blame in Their Turn
But it all came back, said Hon. Quinn,
to human nature and the wages of sin.
Then it was next the bicycle and moon
light picnics that got blamed everywhere.
said Councilman Quinn, but the only thing
to blame, said the eloquent speaker of the
evening, was that human nature is human
nature and boys will be boys and girls
will be girls.
"You can't make silk purses out of sows'
ears!" cried Hon. Quinn in his eloquent
windup that took one and all by storm
"This, our land, remember, is a pagan
y
Those that would practice the homely vir
tues are mollycoddles no less! And
woman rates now her success in life not
by the number of her children \but by the
number of her husbands.
Our social order as to-day it is disor-
ganized makes the grand mistake of con-
fusing the sore toe of life with life itself
Idleness and Incidence lay open their traps
for the young of the land. In word
friends, we are all pagans, materialsts
suffering one and all from fatty degenera
tion of the soul.
"Sermonizing, am 1, say you? Sermon
izing, friends, / am. Too little sermoniz
ing have we in this wicked day and genera
tion. In cycles of five hundred years each,
friends, so history shows, man goes down
to destruction and moral death
Friends, we're on the brink And the
one dang thing that gives courage to the
likes of you and me this night is the
thought that Doc Frank Crane and John
Roach Straton and Percy Stickney Grant
and their likes agree to man that there's
no hope for us.
There's hope for us. friends, in that
thought | leave with you. And were it
not for my religious scruples / would now
this night bid you one and all sing what
l believe you call the doxology while
Brother Pilberry passes the plate. My
friends, good night and Gods blessings or
you, and let you pass out quietly now.
remembering that though / may have cast
gloom in your hearts with my preachments
this night, as for myself I've had Hatch
of a pleasant night"