Red Lodge daily news combined with Carbon County news., 1933-06-14
HOARD SPENT FOR
POMP AT FUNERAL
Little Nick's Life Secret Re
vealed at Death.

Who that knew It ever suspected
that out of Little Nlck's rag picklng
cellar would emerge Fortune, Fra
tricide and Phantasla7 Only a dingy
basement In Fourth street under the
II" 1t seemed so utterly common
place. Yet 1t vas there the Brothers
Bellinl picking over the rags one day
found a limp dollar bill and fought
until one was stabbed to death. And
1t was there, too, that Little Nick
conceived the incredible, Gerald
Breltigam reports, In the New York
World Telegram.
He came to the cellar first as a
humble peddler, pushing a cart all
day through Thompson and Mac
Dougall and Sullivan, through
Blocker and the other teeming
streets Of the Italian quarter south
of the Square. He seemed to have
been In that district forever, yet
none recalled him as a boy. He had
come as a hillman already matured
from some little village in the Pied
mont. with his years upon him and
his obscure life In the past.
There was that In his embittered
eyes masked by brows like cliffs
with gray furze on the rims which
seemed to say his life held broken
dreams. What were those dreams OF
the swart little man-shattered, un-
realized dreams perhaps of hot love.
perhaps of riches? Who knows? Ger
tainly not his nelghbors In Mlnetta
lane.
10 them he was only Little Nick.
the ragpicker, a fellow with no fun
In his system, no capacity for mirth
bubbling out over cheese and a bot
tie with cronies. In fact, he had no
cronies.
He lived alone on the ton floor
OF n of those ancient houses In
that narrow way, the one Just at the
bend, where the lane turns like a
crooked elbow. Today the house still
stands, with It's winding stairway
down which the burial club carried
Little Nick's wonderful coffin. and
with Its time-worn handrail. But,
OF course, the arty crowd has come
In; Little Nick Is gone, and gone.
too, are all his fellow countrymen
who once made an islet there for
themselves against the cruel CITY.
In the years when he lived there.
though, Little Nick became a legend.
lie was the Lanes miser. So men
called him, and women-gossipina.
shawled, market-basketed, babIed.
They were forced to believe that he
was making money, for he had come.
In time. to acquire the cellar, with
ragpickers working for him. But
what III he do with his money? Some
said he bought houses, Others that
he sent remittances home to buy an
olive farm In the hills. But none
really knew anything except that he
never spent on himself: that he had
neither wife nor sweetheart that he
was alone.
Then one day the old who
locke after his room found him dead
-. an important lawyer came over
from Blocker street.
do this" he said. "Do that
A coffin was ordered. with silver
handles. All the members Of the burf-
al club received magnificent largesse
OF a full days pay, SO they could
march In procession, enjoy the funer-
al wines and meats. A band came
to play.
Coaches arrived for everybody and
some were piled high with flowers.
IL was a great funeral and 1t reached
Its apogee in the Church Of Our Lady
OF Pompeii when all those candles
were lighted. How they gleamedl
Mass wal to be said for DAYS.
The story came out when the viii
was made public. F. Little Nick had
lived all his days friendless, In d.
rest poverty, in order that he might
go out gloriously in the end. He
had left all his hoard of $4,000 for
a funeral!