The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1932-08-26
a steady stream.


THE YOUNG GIRL: I Won
der how he lost his legs-in the
war, maybe. He's about 30,
Yes, I guess he lost them in a
battle. Maybe he's got a medal.
Ugh. He's SO repulsive, though.
He's only half a man now. I
wonder if he's married? No.
That could never be. Then,
again, you can't tell. Maybe
some woman thinks he's an
other Clark Gable. I shouldn't
be thinking such things. 1 won
der what he's thinking about?
Why does he stare at me like
that? His eyes look so accus-
ing. Well, I must move on.
I've got to pick up a sucker to-
night or sleep in Bryant Park.
THE BANKER: Look at that
smile on that panhandler's
face! And him with no legs!
How can anyone like that
smile? 1t must be awfully hot
on the sidewalk. He's sweating,
too. Maybe I ought to slip
him coin. It might bring me
some luck. God knows 1 need
1t. No. I won't do it. Too
many people looking. Besides,
curtain time is only 10 min
uteS off. Can't keep Maize
waiting. She gets a crouch on
so easily lately. She's never
been the same since 1 took the
town car away from her. But
couldn't help it. They were
after me like a pack of wolves.
If they ever found out-I'd COM
nit suicide. No. 1 wouldn't,
either. That's CHASTITY death.
That's all they've got to look
forward to. I wonder if he's
thinking Of death. But he's
smiling. His mind is probably
distorted, 1t should be. Leg
less. Holy mackerel! I forgot
to buy Maize those sheer stock
1ngs!
THE MOTHER: That same
beggar. Why doesn't he go
somewhere else? I can't look
at him. After this, I'll use
Sixth Avenue. But he does look
like Ronnie. Poor Ronnie. They
say he never knew what hap
pened. The papers said he
walked to the chair smoking a
cigarette. Ronnie would be like
that. He was always so brave.
God knows I tried to keep him
away from that gang. I knew
he'd get into trouble. Why
didn't the governor do some
thing? I pleaded with him
enough that morning. I told
him Ronnie wasn't a bad boy
at heart. Even life imprison-
ment would have been better.
He looked SO much like this
poor beggar. The same express
sion around the eyes. Sad, like.
Still, I'd rather have Ronnie
dead than a beggar without
legs. 1t must be terrible, Sit
ting there watching people walk
by. I'd love to peek inside of
his mind.
. THE RACKETEER: This bird
seems to make out pretty we'll.
Wonder what his take is? I
could speak to him-but he
might squawk. Still. there's no
reason why he should mop up
all the gravy. I've had an eye
On him for weeks. He prob
ably owns a big apartment
house on the Drive and has
q mortgage on Mayor Walkers
limousine. That type is al
ways lousy with money. And
get he always has that sad
mug. SO sunk. So down and
out. People just naturally dig
down in their jeans and shell
out. Nobody misses a dime
much. But they seem to be
passing him up tonight. It's
his own fault. He oughtn't to
look so sad. He ought to look
as though he's in pain. Peo-
pie can't stand pain. People
can't stand nothing. Nuts. I'm
beginning to get the creeps my
self. Yet, he may be LAUGHING
behind that mug of his. How
can you tell what's going on
in that skull? Aw, I'll slip
him nickel. It's pretty tough
to be without legs. Especially
when you want to run.
THE COP: If I had my way,
every one of these buns would
be railroaded out of the city.
They're all petty racketeers.
Two legs off, and he spends
the rest of his life begging. l
wonder why the lieutenant told
me to keep hands off this one?
After all, there's a city ordi-
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