The Omaha morning bee., 1924-11-29
NeW York
DAY by Day.
By O. O. M'INTYRE.

New York, Nov. 2S.-This Is one
of those barren days when l can hear
the faint rustic of my audience
reaching under the seats for their
hats. Nothing comes to mind worthy
of chronicling after solid hour at
tempting to grab something out of
the ether.
Yet l must make the gesture. And
fill the space. I am filled with self
pity. EVERYBODY else has had vaca-
ton. / never have one. No matter
where I happen to be l must do the
daily grind. I had rather hoped to be
fired by fall.
My mail is also unsuggestive. The
skies are drizzle. A man next door
has the whooping cough. And the
way he whoops, my dears. Raymond
Carroll sends me photo of HIM
self in front of a Paris cafe. In front
of him is planted an aperitif. Business
OF O-la-la-ing.
The phone rings and a nit-wit in
quires: 'Have you ever been goose
bit by mocking bird?' The voice
was suspiclously like Verne Porter,
editor of the Smart Set. And l re-
piled: mo. but / have heard phea-
SAINTS sing the mayonnaise. Low
Comedy.
Across the way in an office there is
man who works all day at type
writer as though he must do just one
more letter and catch a train. He
wears a green eyeshade and looks
like Calvin Coolidge. An old organ
grinder wheezes out a tune at the
curb.
On one of the windows in gold let
ters is: Harley p. Lots-Aluminum
Pots" Make your own lyrics. I'm too
tired. That fellow Is whooping again.
The phone rings. And it Is lady
bootlegger who is told there Is no in
terest.
For half hour I have been en-
tertaining by tearing the lining out
of an old house shoe. At times the
strain made me puff. but / have,
] must say with due modesty. done
neat job. 1t was just as fascinating
as loose tooth.
There used to be writer who in
the hours of mental paucity would
lock himself in the bathroom and
Gsing hymns. After that he found he
could write. l thought of trying IL
but didn't for two fair reasons.
cant sing and don't know any
hymns.
There is a yawning gap still to be
filled. Thoughts stray / am thinking
somehow of the night | sat next 10
Charlie Chaplin in n New York cafe
lie was alone and nipping at a
mousse of chicken. Every eye seemed
TO be directed his way. Here was q
man who had reached the topside oi
his hour. But he had an expression oi
MADNESS. With a cigaret he sat for q
long time with unwinking eyes, a,
though carven. A dramatic critic
came by and interrupted the revers
for a moment or so. Others cam,
at intervals. Finally he departed II
that brisk. mignon manner he has
And at o'clock In the morning ir
ing up and down on the sidewalk
hatless and apparently distressed.
sometimes wonder IL fame ever reall,
brings happiness.
vhe happiest fellow | know is
sounter man in a Sixth avenue quicl
lunch. lie whistles. sings and laughi
at his work. He has CHEEKY wor,
sor every customer. And he is Away
ihoutlng pleasantries to the cool
with the orders. lie has his heroes
Babf Ruth and Ring Lardner. IL
works from . at night to 6 In th
morning. asked him once II his TEN
per v<S ever ruffed. No" he said
II Ire folks too much. Life ha
been Asset to me. I've got a good job
wifi. and two healthy brats AM
$500 in the bank toward home"
Famous people are denied the hu
man warmth and personal contac
that makes for happiness and cor
tent. Nothing seems to me so dcpress
Ing as an atmosphere of aloofness.
tCopyrighL io2tl
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