Plentywood herald. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1908-current, 1927-08-05
The Handsome H0Ofer
Published BY special srraneement with The
Chicago Tribune 6yndicate)
IN TWO PARTs-PARr ONE

A s Eddie Keedick sat before the
N lighted mirror in his dressing
room and thrust forth a silken
foot which his valet. kneeling. en-
cased in a cleaning patent leather dane
ing shoe, he was rejecting upon the
swift and sudden stroke Of fate that
had lifted him to this exalted position
In the world. A year ago he had been
merely a hoofer. playing the ~two-a-day
land sometimes three) as the dancing
partner OF May Mckay. Now his name
glittered in electric lights above the the
alter and. moreover, he was. after mid
night. the star entertainer at the most
expensive night club in New York.
Swift and sudden indeed had been this
skyrocket rise to fame and fortune. After
a quarrel with his vaudeville partner.
pretty May Mckay Whose mother al
ways travelled with herr his agent had
secured an engagement for him to do q
specially" in the new Ellington must
cal show, Hoo Hool" And everybody
who has pleaded with the ticket agencies
In an effort to procure seats for tt-at
eleven dollars each-knows what a SEN
sational hit Hoo Hool" became.
Now 1t was the policy OF that shrewd
Snowman, M~illingston, to open all his
productions with a brave array Of
Names" then, after the irst two weeks.
gradually to decrease the cast, thereby
reducing the salary list. So Eddie Kee-
dick, the tall and handsome eccentric
dancer, had been recruited from vaude-
vile at three hundred dollars q week
on a two weeks contract. But 1t hap
pened that Eddie Keedick walked away
with the show" as they say along the
street Of lights; and, when a rival man
ager appeared with an offer OF eight hun-
dred dollars q week B~illingston hastily
preferred a contract for q thousand a
week-and his name in electric lights.
Eddie Keedick had arrived. Catching the
wave of popularity at It's crest, Dave
Delaney, owner OF a string OF night
clubs, engaged him to cavort at the new
Club Parasol for twenty minutes each
evening after midnight at the opulent
salary Of q thousand q week and o per-
centage of the restaurant receipts. That
was the way they did things in the night
clubs.
Thus it came to pass that Eddie
not to mention Brooklyn and the Bronx.
And Eddie never mentioned Brooklyn
he had been born there. But 1t Is one
thing to captivate Broadway n quite
another thing to captivate Park avenue
and Eddie Keedick had achieved both.
about through the good graces of Cae-
sar Blagwyn, the critic, who wrote many
paragraphs in praise Of his dancing. and
one day exhibited him as q curiosity at
the Round Table In the Hotel Algon-
quin. There, undismayed by the scintil-
liant talk Of critics. dramatists n at
taches of the arts, Eddie had contrib
uted, in the vaudeville vernacular, such
extraordinary comments on life n lit
erature thai some one bore him of as q
discovery" to Sammy Fielding's. Sammy
Fielding (ne Feldmanl was the composer
whose adroit adaptation Of the classics to
jazz melodies were to DO heard on every
danro fnQr h11rdU-OlIrdV Qnd radin and
at his ornate apartment. at tea time.
and after heater one found an assert
ment of what New York called amusing
people" These were persons who fire.
quently used the expressin, amusing
people," in their conversation
At Sammy F~ielding's one was certain
to encounter Daphne Poole. that 1.-THE
n lovely debutante, whose passionate
search for amusing people" was occa-
| stoned by finding SO lew IN ner own
fashionable world. 1t was a never end
ing thrill to her to meet in the flesh
Though a few OF them were quite thin
q newspaper columnist, a play-writer,
or an acrobat. SO at Sammy Fielding's
| Eddie met Daphne Poole. Or, more pre-
cisely, Daphne met Eddie.
He was thinking Of these amazing
events tonight as he stood up in his
dressing room after the performance and
thrust his arm into the sleeves Of the
smart tailcoat his valet held for him.
This was his first valet, and being still
q valet, he treated him with something
like the magnificent condescension OF q
stage duke.
MY hat, John" said Eddie Keedick.
And John, the dapper young negro,
whisked forth a shining silk hat.
MY gloves" said Eddie. (He liked to
hear himself say it,
with "a 0o,rraeh tka rlCvao nov
sented.
Setting the hat upon his head and
giving 1t the final tap he had so often
seen upon the stage, Eddie paused to
survey himself in the glass. Rather
pleased with the effect. he turned mi
permitted John to assist hiTn into a dark
topcoat.
''Taxi's waiting, Mist Meedick." John
was holding open the door OF the dress
ing room.
Thanks. Good night" said Eddie,
with something OF a manner, and sailed
forth to the night club where ne was due
to appear in his eccentric dances upon
the stroke of midnight.
Occupying a ringside table on the edge
Of the dance floor at the Club Parasol
sat Daphne Poole and that celebrated
lady, her aunt, Mrs. Berkeley Haven Of
Paris, accompanied by two sleek haired
young men (for Mrs. Haven was an un-
firing dancer) n T.. Winston Brumby,
whom the fashion papers invariably re-
ferred to as an eligible bachelor.
The Club Parasol differed little from
other establishments OF the sort in New
York. The same florid walls and dim
lights, the same muted jazz, the same
people at the tables. the same bottles
cached beneath the tables; in short, a
temple Of terpsichore. where votaries paid
three dollars each, as q cover charge
land this practically nothing, for even