Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1932-04-22

VI retreat 1EOm Ine mauuenlue
crowd. Aaiia3 "a
At first his family rebelled. His
wife. young. product Of the world he
had grown into, held back from that
move off the Avenue. His children
fiery, spoiled, intelligent creatures Of
their kind Of environment, SHE'D al
first and then capitulated to the nov
4 city of the idea. ..s
In the end, the move turned out to
be one of the most brilliantly diplo-
matte things Spellman had ever done
1t proved HIS position IN the social
world which his wife and children
craved. Society came flocking over
after Spellman to the hitherto obscure
section along the East river. A new
and old-world looking boulevard be
gan to take shape over there.
Brilliantly successful as 1t was, In
the eyes of his family, and the realty
dealers who .profited by the land
boom, so far as Spellman was con.
cerned. It was a failure. .s
He had defeated his own purpose
In seeking to escape the maddening
crowd, he had only brought 1t tagging
along with him.
Travel meant no respite to Spell
man. There were the ship reporters
the glare of limelight even in obscure
foreign parts, and once when he
sought the desert, reporters with cam
eras had found him out as he stalked
across the waste place, camel-back.
Spellman wanted leisure now. But
his Long Island home was social
rendezvous and his Adirondack camp
that same kind of center all over
again. New Mexico became the fad,
no sooner he had built an abode hut
out there, and a private Office in the
forty-sixth story of the Woolworth
Office building remained private for
about two weeks.
Spellman wanted leisure. Spellman
wanted to write. The old urge was
upon him. The old desire to put into
printed, palpitating word the human
panorama as 1t had marched so dra-
matically before his still young eyes.
Spellman wanted mental peace. The
quiet kind Of hours that yield up
dreams.
One day an idea struck him like a
benign flash out of heaven.
Within three hours, secret agents
had been dispatched down to rickety
little old building in quaint old Green
witch street. t.. 20
Twelve hours later, the property
had secretly passed into the hands Of
Spellman.
One week later, and with a degree
Of secrecy that only power and money
could command, Spellman walked into
almost an extra replica Of the dingy
old fiat of days gone by.
He had even managed to have re-
produced the NANCY old carpet sofa
upon which he had slept those eager
nights, away back.
There was the ink spot on the wall
left from Red Dyke having good ma
turedly hurled bottle of the stuff at
Bill one night after an alteration on
the subject of Neitsche's philosophy.
The first night that Spellman spent
in his new retreat promised to be one
Of the greatest peace he had known In
years. A long quiet evening before
the tunnel-shaped little old crate In
the dlngy fiat. Books Memories
Dreams. Ideals. a . -|
But, of course, 1t was hard to con-
centrate. By eleven o'clock, hun
bred details were crowding into Spell
mans mind, making 1t difficult for
him to use his well-earned leisure.
There was not telephone. There had
been none in the old days. One had to
go to the corner drug store. That
made 1t difficult. In the last year,
Spellman had developed a slight heart
leakage. Unimportant, but he required
a certain amount Of restraint to his
activities. By eleven, Spellman, ac-
customed to chilled mineral water at
his bedside, was thirsty. There was
only the hydrant. And no ice in the
leaky refrigerator. There had never
been any in the old days, unless one
Of the fellows ran over to Grody's
saloon and brought back a nickel's
worth. OF course there was no Grody's
saloon any more.
When finally Spellman turned in,
the magic to the old couch was all
gone. The old couch hurt 1t shot
into his ribs with a cruelty that kept
him wide awake and concentrating
upon his discomfort rather than any
Of the old dreams he had used to en-
Joy, with his eyes staring wide open
into the comfortable blackness.
The blackness annoyed him now.
he had the sensation that vermin
might be crawling around and about
him. The stiff blanket irked. The air
from the shaft was foul. NJ
At eight o'clock the next morning,
Spellman, who had fallen off into a
brief hours sleep, awoke stiff and un-
refreshed A blurred mirror gave back
his lined and weary image
The little old room Of his memories
was a dirty smear.
The old Bill was gone. Spellman
was In his place. fI. ..sl
Emerging from the rickety little
building that morning. eager for a
taxi and trip uptown to his warm
and mellow bath, he found battalion
Of reporters and photographers lying
in walt for him who leaped into action
at sight Of him. ln#
Mr.. spellman, have you anything
to Observation-Disclosures the
subject Of"
"Yes, fellows. have" said Mr..
Spellman smiling, ms he hailed his
taxi. HE who would seek for his lost
youth, must find It in his heart. There
is no going back"