The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1932-05-26

So many people wonder how I can
get up this column every week, and
more than many wonder if it takes
any thought. They don't see how it
can, after they get a look at me, but
for the benefit of those who subscribed
to The Republican long before 1 be.
came the leech that am, and who
might have me visualized as rational
and intelligent being, will explain
just how write what I do.
Before going to bed at night I tie
a carpenters pencil to my bedpost.
Then eat fancy food before retiring.
Then 1 always keep one eye open for
Nightmares. When one comes along
/ lot down the ideas on the pillow
slip with the big pencil.
Next morning 1 look over the notes
on pillow slip and then write about
something else.
All of which brings me to my trip
to Baltimore, although that is no re-
semblance to a nightmare, even if l
did travel with Harland Jones and
Herbert Leighton.
was constantly reminded of George
Giessman and home when saw those
Betholine elephants along Route 40.
We called on the State editor of the
Sun and then looked in every edition
the next day for our names under the
local column, in this style: III. L..
Jones, socially prominent and success
full Oakland banker; Herb Leighton,
congenial postmaster of Mountain
Lake Park and with pleasing person
atty, and George Hanst, alias Scoop,
famous for his remarks in Garrett
county's leading newspaper, are
spending a few days in Baltimore do
ing the town." Our story was proba-
bly, crowded out at the last minute
by a seven-alarm fire.
Where is the postoffice? There goes
a parade, probably a circus, and the
first to get up and gawk out Of the
windows were the Baltimoreans them
slves. Herb, don't look at those high
buildings, but it's too late now; look
at the crowd that has gathered, all
looking in the same direction you are,
trying to see what you see. What a
bunch of goofs. I'll bet they think
milk is manufactured by dairy.
If 1 could only lay my hands on that
taxi driver who let US out in front Of
the Southern Hotel instead of the
Emerson, and it was still raining, too.
Picture of Harland Jones, locked
out of his room and banging on 626 to
let him in, when we were in 625. If
only a woman had opened the door!
And then there was the story of the
20 horses and stalls, and the horses
had to be placed so that there would
not be an even number in any stall.
(Answer upon request).
| $50
And was l about to burst when we
met Mark White at Perry Point, a
former Oakland boy, and he said he
read this column every week and en-
| loved it. Even if he hadn't taken US
out to dinner I would still like him,
because he told it so beautifully l be-
lieved him.
Don't anyone come along now for at
least week to burst my bubble.
Another letter from Paul Stutzman,
of Uniontown, Ohio, faithful reader,
boosts my stock to new high level.
Is the boom on?
Maybe you think 1 have never been
to the city? Well, I have. At least
twice.
Forty years ago under the caption
of "Dobbin," and signed "Snag," The
Republican printed the following:
Mature has again clothed the earth
with grass and flowers and the birds
are singing their sweet songs in the
budding tree tops. The peach
and cherry trees are in full bloom ad
ding much joy to these songsters."
He omitted that the flies were also
with us, the ants were preparing them
selves for picnic parties and the mos
quitoes were sharpening their spears.
"Why is it," asks H. c. Sincell,
chat Jim Kerins always has to laugh
backward?"
Scientists say that before long we
will be getting our electric power
from the wind. When that time comes
maybe these communistic windbags of
Garrett county will be made to pay
for themselves and become useful.
Now Archibaldson is asking why
is it that we never seem to have a
failure in the spinach crop.
***
Neil Liller remarks that although