The Tomahawk. [volume] (White Earth, Becker County, Minn.) 1903-192?, 1926-05-20
LYDLA'S
SEARCH FOR
ATMOSPHERE
By JACK WoODFoRD
90. 1926. Western Newspaper Union.)

III LIZA bnhhh always Dcch
greatly interested In people.
L. Not the kind Of people who
must, per Sc, be interesting,
merely because they have earned, in
herited, begged or stolen more money
than most of their neighbors, but the
kind who clog up the sidewalks, cause
the motorists to cuss with Impotence,
and support every industry on the
face Of the earth, first by their labor
and second by their tremendous, col
lective buying power.
So, 1t came about that Lydia knew
all-about Jack Simpson, the handsome
youth who juggled millions of dollars
a month-other peoples money-and
received hundred and fifty month
for so doing; he Is the paying teller
at the Uptown National. II Lydia
had not spent many minutes In inter-
ested conversation with Jack, when
she went into the bank to cash her
checks and found him not too busy to
talk-well, that is the story and the
surprise doesn't belong here.
Lydia swung out of the driveway
Of the Edgewater Manor one vibrat-
Ing spring day to seek the unusual,
as was Lydia's way of expressing
her individuality" Turning her smart
speedster down Sheridan road she
headed south toward the city. Being
preoccupied by spirited mental
cross-examination of her own inten-
lions and motives she, Of course,
failed to notice that large, battered
touring car swung quickly around
after one of its occupants had spot
ted the face made familiar by news
paper photographs and followed in
her wake.
At Lawrence avenue Lydia stopped
to take on an eager-eyed girl, headed
downward, apparently, who did not
seem particularly pleased at the idea
of riding with lady considerably
more beautiful than herself.
At st. James place she stopped to
let out the young lady who had, after
some laboring mental gymnastics, de-
cided to say that that street was her
destination, so that she might again
stand at the curb and take a chance
on getting lift from some more in
teresting motorist who might, who
knows invite her to dinner.
Once downtown Lydia made her
decision. She would seek atmos-
phere. No, she did not turn at once
toward the Lake Shore drive. 1t
was not that kind Of atmosphere that
Lydia craved She wanted an atmos-
phere of purest Photographic real
ism: Garlic and other odors in
squalid Easements, foreground Of
ripped mattresses coyly draped over
crumbling easements and cracked
doors dropping disconsolately from
their rusty hinges. Shortly Lydia
found what she was looking for,
much to the citation Of the leader Of
the four in the car following.
Gee! that's luck" he exclaimed
fervently upon noting Lydia's route.
west Madison street! easiest thing
In the woild, now"
"Got the same bug as all them
there society dames," commented one
Of his companions as he lit a ciga-
rette; stunning! we'll, If she wants
to help the poor she might as well
help US, for our pickings sure has
been rotten. Wisht they'd quit
changing police chiefs In this darn
town. They get a new chief every
nAnnlo rpnnfhS ond hn Inno
broom act for the first month and we
suffer-wot q vol !"
1t was easy for the gang, headed
by the notorious Connie" to get
Lydia into their hands after that.
When she had picked out the most
atmospheric" dump she had seen,
after a twenty-minute inspection, and
entered the gang followed at once.
AS Lydia was bending over sick
baby In a squalid tenement room she
was startled by the entry of four ex-
ceedingly gory-looking individuals,
all very much zen character"
The mother of the sick child was
at once cowed by the display OF
voluminous automatics on the part Of
the toughs.
"Glad t'meetcha, Miss Drakeo,"
spoke up Connie, airily. "Doin' lit
tie Summing, I see. We picked up
your sport model on the drive and
thought we'd come along and see that
your contributions reached those
most needy" He swept his cap to
the floor In an exaggerated bow
Lydia walked calmly to where he
stood, leering at her, with his three
henchmen, automatics In hand. be-
hind him. -.
"What is the meaning Of this in
trusionY she shot out bravely.
Cant you see that this Is a sick
room, this baby"
"Can the chatter, kid" returned
Connie, tossing half-smoked olga
rette into corner and grasping the
heiress roughly by one Of her slen-
der wrists. s.
"With your dough, little matter
Of few thousand berries amt going
to crimp you none; we need the jack,
you don't. Write out little check
end note that will let one Of my
men get Il cashed without trouble