Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1930-02-23

IN the transatlantic steamer q stoutish
man Of about so, bald-headed and
blue-eyed, extended a hand as big as
q ham and introduced himself
Levine Is my name What is yours?
am in the silk business; what Is your busi-
neSs?"
I mumbled that my business was Of no
Importance. After dinner, when the coffee was
brought in. the purser and the captain Of the
boat greeted me and sat down at our table for
few moments I introduced my companion,
who, being overawed that such important
peFSonages should be on friendly terms with
me, asked again:
what did you say your business WASP"
My answer was very vague Puzzled, Mr..
Levine looked at me with suspicion.
An hour later Levine tapped me familiarly
on the shoulder.
Say, I found out what you are They ten
me you're writer. why didn't you tell me
so? That's nothing to be ashamed Of! That's
happened even in my family. Good night"
The following day Mr. Levine had made up
his mind to tell me the story of his life. Instead
of discouraging him egged him on. 1t was
better to get through with 1t. When man
has made up his mind to ten you the story Of
his life there is no escape. The longer you
make him wait for the occasion the more
untrue Nothing is 50 boring Is the invented
romance of unimaginative people
After dinner went up on deck, sat down
on chair beside him, and said:
You wanted to ten me something2 CO
ahead, Levine, let's hear"
Levine hemmed and hawed.
Ito make . long story short, 1t was this way.
I'm going 70 tell it to you briefly, but from
soup to nuts, as they say.
tRTo begin with, KantrOwitz, who Is also IN
tia fflS hanas g. nlA .,oS-.~
who came to America about the same time /
came. 20 years ago. We were both I'm the same
business. Sometimes there was q little compe-
tition between us. Sometimes we worked hand
in hand. In the MAN. We we're friends. Some
times we had Q little fight; little squabble q
little quarrel, but when thought we had parted
forever. Kantrowitz buys little property up
in the Bronx and lets me know that there is
another lot beside 1t which can be had for the
same price he had paid, and we build the same
kind Of house, it should cost cheaper, the
architect and everything else, and we remain
friends forever again for long time. He has
what he has, have what I have, and the
families are friends and everything Is all right
when the time comes and silk is good one
OF his sons, the Oldest one as soon as he has
finished high school goes into his fathers
business. Acne all around, and falls In love
with girl Of the neighborhood, and gets mar
ried to her, moves over to Washington Heights,
and is doing very fine. The oldest boy Of
Kantrowitz is the spit image Of his father
What his father had done at 20 he does at 10
What his father has done at 40 he win do at
40. regular fellow. The kind Of a son a man
wishes to have not a stranger.
But the other son, Izzy-with him it's not
50 good. What's happened was that when Izzy
was IL or Is years old and was still In school
they printed in the school paper poem written
by Icy himself, which was called Indian
Wind And 50 Kantrowitz goes around and
shows it 10 everybody that his son is a poet,
and frames It and hangs 1t up IN the once.
You could not talk to KantrowitG for i've min
utes without he should show you the poem Of
his son framed and hung up on the wall. !
came to talk business. He showed me Izzys
picture. And 1t made the older son good and
angry. What he hadn't written poetry,
wasn't he a good son?
That's all very nice and fine for a boy Is
years old, and not born in this country, who
writes poems that get printed In the papers;
the whole neighbor1ood is proud Of him. He Is
a celebrity already. But the boy finishes high
school, and the father wants he should come
into his business, and Icy wouldn't even hear
about it, Then 1t is not good. He wants
to be poet.
"Wcll, for a y-aF or soswe didn't know nothing
about it and didn't know how mach EEastFowitE
W. Worried and all the m1aTrelg IN the family