Atlanta tri-weekly journal. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1920-19??, 1923-01-09
MY FAVORITE STORIES
BY Irwin Cobb

| A gentleman named GoIdstein graduated
out Of the misunderstanding line into prac-
tical politics. He gave his allegiance to the
Republican party.
! That year the Republicans carried New
York state. They also carried Mr.. Goldsteins
election district, which was an even more
notable victory inasmuch as it was in a
heavily Democratic section of Harlem. At
that time the Hon. Chauncey Depew was U.
S. senator from New York; also head of the
New York Central railroad and likewise, I
think, Republican state chairman. At any
rate, he had commanding voice in the or
ganiZatiOn.
Bright and early on the morning after
election day Mr.. Goldstein was at the outer
doors of Mr.. DepeWs offices in the old Grand
Central terminal building. He sent word in
that Mr.. Goldstein, the poIticianer, desired to
see the head of the line.
Being admitted, he directed Mr.. Depew's
attention to the result of the voting in his
neighborhood and claimed credit for the
showing. Mr.. Depew agreed with him that
he had done we'll and that his labors in be-
half of the party entitled him to recognition
and reward. He desired to know how he
personally, or the G. 0. P. might serve his
friend.
AT this Mr.. Goldstein confessed to an am
bition. He straightWay desired, he said, to
become dispatcher for the railroad.
Depew was surprised He directed his
callers attention to the fact that a dispatch
err, among other essential qualifications, must
have more or less knowledge of telegraphy.
1t speedily developed, however, that Mr..
GOldstein thought dispatcher was one of
those functionaries in blue uniform who,
through megaphones, called incoming and
outgoing trains in the station.
Behold, then, Mr.. Goldstein on night,
one week later, arrayed in blue and brass,
proudly pacing the main Waiting-room, a
megaphone under his arm and conscious dig
nifty, conscious power and conscious pomp in
his manner Presently his chance comes.
He lifts his voice and this statement comes
from him:
Say, etferbOdy, listen. 1t gifts me the out
most pleasure to announce that lofeIy train,
nit cushioned seats und a conductor und
efrything pleasant-say, you'd like that
| train-is now aloud leafing on track number
fife for Albany, Utccer, Rochester, Syracuse,
Buffaler und points on the vest. Who would
like to go in a nice train fur some points on
the vest?''
Plainly panied a0the failure of the popu-
lace to leap forward in a body and avail it.
self of this opportunity he is about to repeat
the announcement when he feels a tug at
his coat tail. He turns impatfenty to find a
person of loWly aspect, who is burdened with
hand baggage.
"Ven," he demands, 'vot is idt?"
when does the last train go to Cleve-
land?' inquiries the stranger.
Into Mr. Goldsteins tones comes pity for
such ignroance
Ven, on the Moo Yawk Central. does the
last train go for Cleveland?" he repeats as
though he scarcely can believe his ears
Nine frlendt, you should live so long!"
Copyright, 1929
BOD Davis, OF Munsey's Magazine, who
mas mania for bringing celebrities to-
@ether just to see how they react on each
other, was }strolling along Broadway with
y. Henry in the latter hours of the nine
teenth, century, when Captain Jack Craw-
the wind, came sailing across Madison
Square. Davis introduced the pair and
dragged them off to lunch.
Captain Jack, like most poets, having
memorlzed all his own verse, never let a
chance go by to hold the willing or I'M
willing listener spelbOund. He opened up
on the Bagdad Scribe before the oysters
arrived. He spilled frontier poetry all over
the premises, shook his hair out in a burst
of blank verse, welded the PecOs river to
the Rocky Mountains, swept through the
dians, broke horses and piled the rhythmic
dust OF pioneer days all over-O Henry.
Captain Jack did all the talking and all
the recitinS that was done at that luncheon,
which lasted two hours About $3.50 D. m.
the party broke up and o. Henry staggered
out into the fresh air waving Davis and
! Crawford a mute farewell.
In the morrow'sl mail Bob received the
following note:
My Dear Colonel Davis:
How is your friend Captain Crack Jaw
ford, the go it spout?
go. HENRY"
Copyright, 1929