San Antonio light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1911-1993, 1925-08-09

finished the trip up the harbor to
the landing on the Brooklyn side.
Here my family and l were placed
in an automobile and driven
through seething, yelling throngs
to our old home at No. go Bush
wick avenue. Here triumphal
arch had been erected by our
friends and neighbors. There were
speeches and fluctuations, then a
luncheon at the nearby Bushwick
Club. In the afternoon / was given
a reception at the City Hall and
rendered the freedom of the city.
1t is profitless to attempt de-
tailed description of my existence
during the first weeks after my
return to New York. Suffice 1t
to say that the strain of constant,
clamorous public attention was al
most unbearable, and my whole
desire eventually became conferred
on rest. In all the unceasing eff
forts of my countrymen to do me
honor there was scarce a moment
of pleasure for me.
It was inevitable at this time
that there should be in circula-
ton innumerable false, baseless
and grotesque stories and rumors
about my Polar trip. Newspapers
misquoted me and everybody else
they interviewed on the subject,
and some of them badly manufac-
tured stories out of whole cloth
when the facts did not suit their
ideas of news.
One of the most widely dis
seminated and credited and prob
ably the most amusing of these
fables was the great gumdrop
hoax. On the strength of a news
paper yarn which represented me
as using gumdrops to bride my
Eskimo assistants, the whole world
accepted this absurdity as fact. On
my return home | found that sales
of these glutinous CONNECTIONS had
jumped sky high through the Wild
fire spread of this myth. Entirely
without authorization, candy
makers and dealers used my name
in advertising their gumdrops.
Countless jokes and jingles were
built around the supposed affinity
of Eskimos and gum drops. ] can
still recall one silly rhyme that went:
"A little gumdrop now and then
Is relished by the Eskimen."
Some time after my return |
learned the real source of the gum
drop myth. Oddly enough, it
started in a careless and impatient
bit of persiflage uttered by my
friend and hacker, John r. Bradley.
During the weeks that elapsed
between announcement of my dis
covery and Peary's message the
Pole story began to lag in the
papers for lack of new material.
Frantic editors and reporters ran
down every possible shred of in
formation about the Polar regions.
The few persons in New York, or
in the entire country for that mat
ter, who had first-hand knowledge
of the far North were interviewed
to distraction. -
Among these was Mr.. Bradley,
who was deemed an authority on
Arctic lore because he had hunted
on North Greenland. But Bradley
didn't know or care a great deal
about the frozen wilderness except
as regarded its sporting opportuni-
ties. So he waxed irritable under
the constant quizzing of reporters,
and finally declined to be inter-
viewed further.
But one persistent newshound
refused to be thus baffled. He
plagued Bradley until the latter
at last granted him a brief call.
what is it you want to know"
bluffly inquired the wealthy sports
man as the reporter was admitted
to his presence.
"Well, Mr.. Bradley, l thought
maybe you could tell us how DR..
Cook got the Eskimos to help him
with his expedition, if he didn't
have lot of goods to trade them,
replied the relentless journalist.