Evening star., 1927-04-17
".

uN Ut it wasn't all murder
trials" chuckles Dorothy
Dix. much as l seem TO
IL have had to live among
murderers and criminals
during these last twenty-five years.
There were other people in the news.
And they provided me with amuse-
ment as we'll as tragedy.
Il think my first really big assign
ment was to 90 out and stay with
Carrie Nation in Kansas for while
and send back stories about her daily
performances. There was a character
for you. She had leaped into inter-
national fame when she walked INTO
a saloon with an ak and just natural
ly wrecked that saloon.
II went to one meeting that Carrie
Nation called out III some Kansas
town. Fifty gaunt Kansas matrons
came--and every last one of them
had an ak hidden under her petit
coat But for some reason OF other
the fifty didn't go on the warpath
with their little tomahawks that day,
and 1 lost what ought to have been
an awfully good story
Carrie Nation unQuestionably had
brooded until she thought the Voice
of God was guiding her. / called her
the Kansas Joan of Arc in my sto-
ries, for the first time / asked her
when she was going to march on an
other saloon with her hatchet she
said; Tn waiting for my voices to
tell me. Miss Dix / asked her what
voices. She told me that voices
straight from God came and told her
what saloons to attack
IL think probably the most harrow
.S-T.
was reporting the Conemaugh mine
disaster near Johnstown, Pa. 1t was
on a Fourth of July. l had gone to
Philadelphia to lunch with friends.
remember that I was all dressed up in
a beautiful new light Summer silk
dress. and / had a new hat all covered
with flowers. | just liked myself All
dressed up in my best bib and tucker
And right there in Philadelphia | got
telegram to drop everything and
take the next train for Johnstown
and cover that mine disaster. rushed
out to the mine. For three days and
three nights l spent most of my time
by the mouth of the mine. sitting on
a rough, dirty pile of Stag, and watch
ing those little mine cars come out
loaded with burned and crushed and
twisted and tortured things that had
been men--load after load of burned
and mangled bodies. Me there in my
light silk dress and flowercd hat.
"All around me were massed
women Heavy, shapeIess bodies.
shawled and roughly clad. with thick
ankles and thick wrists and SCARED
hand and disheveled hair. Every load
that came up seemed just an indis-
tfnguishable mass of bodies to me.
But those women knew.
Then I went to the little church
where the one great funeral service
was to be held over them all at once.
A cheap little raw-board church
Rows on rows of cheap collins
Shrieking, wailing women
Fine for the nerves, that. was
a wreck. Then, as we came away
from that funeral, one man who was
there reporting the story for another
New York paper said to me: Miss
Dix, ] need a drink Don't your /
said that ] certainly did. Come on
and let's get one, he said. We started
downtown. My mind was fixed on
something very much like four fin
gers of the strongest old brandy |
could find. Maybe | would take two
drinks. | felt as though / needed half
a dozen. Then Here's the place.
said the reporter. And he led me into
a drug store and bought me an ice
cream soda!
y + X
eco many memories keep popping
up. There was the bigamist
had to see. He had married 36 wives.