The Washington times., 1930-11-12
Chapter S

I'LL lOm Clll6Sp1S Q&Q BOkl6
through enough to entitle him
self to the claim that he was a
man.,
He had landed in Castle Gar.
den, an Irish immigrant kid.
He had looked for the gold they
had said was in the streets
all he had found was mud, he
was the oldest Of 13 children
and the dirt-floored hut had
been just big enough for the
next dozen, the parents and the
COW. So he had been pushed
out. He had six or eight kins-
men in New York. But they
were all travelling out Of the
same station. He was still! too
young to be q policeman. So
he got q Job driving a wagon,
From that start, reins in hand,
Tall Tom became the owner OF
the wagon, another one, the
stable, more stables; and by the
time motor trucking came in, he
was q Tammany leader, a rich
man, the husband Of Nora
Quinn, and the father Of a boy.
ITe didn't care any more for
that son than he did for his
both eyes. His sentiment for
Tommy went double.
He still drove with reins in
his hand. Tom Gillespie was
born q leader-whether Of TAM
many or the impoverished ten
ant farmers Of his country, or a
South Sea island, If ne landed
there.
He had come up through the
competition Of New York
money-making and the dirt and
shenanigan and intrigue Of
Manhattan politics. And his
word was currency and his
promise was security.
A Celebrity
Now he had lived to see his
boy, the son Of the son Of
the. son of an impoverished Irish
farmer who had scrabbled for q
living on a flinty four-acre
patch Of worthless ssoil, a Yale
graduate, a celebrity, a whole
some and handsome youngster
with brains, body and bulldog
in his makeup.
* y r.
When Silk Freeman's His
pano-Suiza drew up to the door
of his Park Avenue apartment
house, wherein on the eighth
floor he had his hide-away. his
sanctum and his hop-nest, the
uniformed doorman, who pack
ed q gat under his ornate har-
ness, and who looked as smart
as any door opener on the
stree, bent toward the Big Shot
and whispered:
"Biff-GlaSsorl in the lobby"
Freeman didn't answer him.
He just guided Polack Annie
toward the door and followed
her In. He addressed the ele-
vator man. who had an auto
matte in his armpit, too, and
said out of the side Of his
mouth: :
"Take the lady up get her
in-I'u be right along"
The elevator man guided
Annie toward the lighted lift.
He slid the door back at the
eighth, knocked on the metal
portal opposite with just such
q succession Of taps, and the
door opened.
Annie saw a, bent, aged man,
He didn't see her-much. He
never raised his eyes, surely not
his head. He waved toward a
roomy chair. Annie slumped
into its hospitable embrace.
May I serve you a drink?"
asked the servant.
Scotch straight, old timer"
the answered. You've done q
bit in stir. How's YOUR folks?"
A WindOwless Room
eyes, ma'am," he replied, and
shuffled out for the liquor.
Annie's eyes roved. She saw
q windoWless room. The fur
nishings were antiques. The car
pets were high and. thick and
furry. Everything had, Solidity
and substantially.
So-this was the retreat--the
home-of Silk Freeman, the
Big Shot!
To this fastness he had
brought her, Polack Annie!
The servant sing,songed in
with the Scotch. Annie threw
1t down. 1t was good.
X y
Get this, Chief" Glasson