The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1932-02-27
TALKING
ITOvER
By JOE WILLIAMS

NEW YORK, Feb. 27-"Well, 1
IN never expected it would come
10 this >. Mr.. Dumb Dan Nor
gan stood propped up against the
Fiftieth street side Of Madison
Square Garden, mumbling to him.
self. A heavy grief had enveloped
him. A brief glance was enough
to convince you Of that. He looked
bluer than an over exposed blue
print.
Now Mr.. Morgan IS one Of my favorite
Broadway characters. and know that ne
is not by nature morose or melancholy
soul, and yet well. a fellow can stand
Just 50 much, and / happen 70 know that
ae r hs M Not s9s1 OT ee5 ye apy too
There were the hilarious old days of the
fight racket, for instance. when MI Nor
gan handled Knockout Brown, Battling
Levinsky and Jack Britton. great battlers
and good money makers.
. Mr.. Morgan was a parsonage in sports
the fighters do the fighting and he did
the talking. He'd sit in the corner and
spin. yarns with the newspaper men while
his bum was in there swinging away. You
couldn't shut him up. THAT'S how he got
that tag line-Dumb Dan.
There isn't much left Of Mr.. Morgan'S
once pretentious stable now. One or two
kids fresh out OF the amateurs and
couple Of frayed veterans. Mr.. Morgan
jimmanasium. as he calls it-and watches
them fiddle around. Out Of habit, guess,
or maybe because he hasn't anything else
MOST of his old pals have gone
1V1 on or passed out of the game,
and when you get old you miss EN-.
Leo P. Flynn is under the sod.
Scotty Monteith is in the west.
Billy Gibson has called it quits.
They were all members of the old
guard FOSTERING crew Of amiable
brigands, unincumbered by too
many virtues or too many vices.
Money didn't mean anything to them
not to Monteith, Gibson or Mr.. Morgan,
anyhow. Flynn had commanding missus
fellow could always get action with Mon
teith., Gibson and Mr.. Morgan. When they
had II they'd bet you it wasn't Tuesday.
The three OF them must have kicked away
q million or so.
Even the town has grown away from
some ways, but somehow it isn't the
same. suppose towns never are when
you look at them through the, soft haze
OF memory. There was the old romantic
=. Weber and Fields q. Lillian Russell
: I could fancy Mr.. Morgan sneering.
,'and what have you got todayP A Coney
in cellars . Cantor and Jessei . =.
automats Mae West and Win
chell."
I GLANCED again at Mr.. Morgan
4 and he had started down the
street, toward the river, shaking
his head, still muttering.
Well!!l! Catching up with Mr..
Morgan, L took him by the arm,
and with some anxiety, said: Come,
come, Dan, things can't be so bad
as all this"
Mr.. Morgan empaled me with feverish
what do you mean things can't be so
bad, as all this" repeated Mr.. Morgan,
70, I know how tough it is, how you
miss, the old gang and the old razzle
who said anything about the old gang.
I don't miss anything, but II l decide to
take a smack at him, won't miss"
grief was deeper and more soul-searing
than 1 could possibly have imagined.
The pride of his life, the baked apple OF
his eye, his one cherished hope for the
perpetuation of the noble Morgan dynasty,
his son. Dumb Dan Junior, had spurned
the prize ring and Joined out with jazz
ut wouldn't be so tough" swallowed
Mr.. Morgan but he plays the Saxophone
and they tell me he croons like Vallee."