Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1926-09-03

and he spread the news He had an
interested audience for hours Many
would not believe the facts until they
had seen Ringer. The sight was not
long to be delayed. for yesterday Max
started his usual rounds through the
market district, greeting friend after
friend. Many squeezed his hand just
a. bit tighter to make sure it was real
flesh.
He walked into the Atlas sporting
goods store. The Atlas brothers
know Ringer well. AS he walked in,
mouths opened and eyes popped. One
of the Atlas boys started:
why. Mr.. Ringer, Mr.. Ringer?
Mr.. Ringer. we heard We
tbo,1ght-"
ITS Me-" He Tells SEeptics.
Il know all about it. I'm trying to
show folks I'm really alive" Ringer
came back. IT'S me, all right" The
tension broke and greetings were ex-
changed.
AS matter of fact, Max has not
been dead at all. He's simply been In
Philadelphia. But some ones remains
rest peaceably in the local Hebrew
Cemetery and Center Market folk
were sure they were Ringers.
1t was a bright Spring day in last
April that the telephone of David
Ehrlich's poultry stand at 927 Louis
lana avenue rang and a voice from
the other end told David that he was
connected with Gallinger Hospital
he was informed that a Jewish ped
dler had died there and asked to make
arrangement for the interment.
Ehrlich got in touch with Joseph
Rosenberg, 721 Four-and-a- half street
southwest, who arranged the identifi
cation. Rosenberg said TODAY that he
knew the peddler; that he had looked
on the remains which had been sent
from Gallinger to Danzansky's under
taking parlOrs at 1901 Fourteenth
street, and that he was confident that
the remains he saw there was all
that was mortal Of the peddler of the
HagerstOwn Almanac,
Yes" Rosenberg said TODAY. at
saw the remains. 1 was sure it was
him; 1t looked exactly like him: and
| knew him from selling books around
the market"
Fhat man was buried A Jewish so
ciety paid the undertaken. And in
the poultry stands down around the
wholesale market district, the question
now and then was asked: "What's
become of Ringer?" Some friend
would answer: why. he's dead
Didn't you know? Yes. Poor old
Max is dead and buried"
Time Softens Memories.
So the daily haunts Of Max Ringer
resumed their placid ways; time soft
ened memories; he was gone.
While his friends were accepting
the death and burial of Max Ringer
as a fact passing rapidly into times
obscurity. Max. himself, i'm full flesh
and blood, was up In Philadelphia
far indeed from the River Styx.
He knew nothing of these reports
and continued his peddling of books
at the Sesquicentennial Exposition.
Then, three weeks ago. a friend from
Washington came up to Max and told
him everybody in Washington be-
lieved him to be dead. Max We
hemently denied the report.
Early this week he came back to
Washington. Since his return Max
Ringer has been devoting his time to
visiting his friends and assuring them
Of the utter falsity OF the report he
was dead. 1t takes longer to- con-
vince some than to convince others.
But generally as he leaves they are
fairly confident that the man who
was buried last April was some one
else entirely.
You may deny for me that 1 am
dead" Mr.. Ringer told The Star to-
day. Il am verS sorry that the mis-