The Washington times., 1936-08-22
KerkhOff
Pinch-Hits for
SObOI
BY JOHNSON D. KERKHOFF

BY JOHNSON d. KERKHOFF
(Pinch-hitting during Louis SObOl''
VacatiOn.)
The thing seemed a little silly al
first. It didn't belong. After all, 9
Broadway columnist is a pretty
busy man; he's got to keep on the
jump:
'But you'll enjoy it," said the
nice middle-aged man whom
somehow I had met mid the up
roar at Beau Rivage, q night club
out Sheepshead Bay way, where
1 had maSterfully been guided
"fOr the atmosphere"
I said that I appreciated The
invitation. but that I didn't know
what Louis Sobol and the rest Of
them would think if 1 went kitine
off to a beach to sit in the moon
light and listen to tall tales.
you'll get . whole column"
urged the middIe-aged man. ut
turned out that he is B. M.
Thorpe, teas and spices). ''Meet
you at LynbrOOk, $50 tomorrow
night" So 1 was at LynbrOOk,
and 1 had a swell time and
did get q whole column.
There are about ten of them, all
living on Long Island. A doctor and
his wife, Mr.. and Mrs. Thorpe, an
insurance salesman, a youngster
studying for the bar, a playground
superviSor-just people. At least
twice a month they pack up their
suppers and drive to Jones Beach,
and spin yarns until midnight.
The stories must be out Of the
ordinary; they must be true. Per
sonal histories are preferred.
They like problems.
We had what they called a picnic
supper: Cube steaks about the size
of hamburgers, fried potatoes
toasted English muffins, tomatoes
and cucumbers Ito be eaten by
handO, layer cake, frozen pudding
(kept that way in a special ther'
mos), coffee and two cases Of beer
nicely iced in Mrs. Thorpe's two
waShtubS.
Mr.. Thorpe was first. He had a
dream. II dreamed" he said,
that for some reason I was walk,
ing along the railroad tracks be-
tween Lynbrook and Rockville
Centre. was walking in my bare
feet. It was night. A train came
along; it's headlight blinded me.
just stood there, and the train
struck me and I woke up"
Then he said: 1.-TWO days later
a man was killed by a train in al,
most the same spot. And he was
not wearing shoes or socks"
And his name was Thorpe, "
chimed in Mrs. Thorpe, unable to
wait for the climax.
Spelled without the e." her huS-
band said.
We opened more beer, and lis
tened to the beat of the waves
as persistent and mournful as q
widows wall. Then we talked
argued about the doctors story
1T seems to me-" I said, "that
the best part Of these stories is
the argument that follows" They
were q little hurt; then they
agreed. We had a fine time turn
ing the medical profession inside
out and condemning or upholdina
our moral codes. Talk is good. II
is good because what you are is
pictured by it as truly as an X-ray
of your soul.
There were m any other
stories. Hans Flickinger, the in
Surance man, told a ghaStly one
Of an ancient gang that insured
persons and then murdered
them so cleverly that deaths ap-
peared accidental. challenged
him; those gangs are modern, I
told him; part Of our civiliza-
ton. Such a gang was sent only
recently to the electric chair at
Sing Sing. But he brought out
an old clipping that showed
that the same racket was prac-
ticed ever SO many years ago in
New Orleans.
A Miss Murtha told a funny one,
A friend of hers came home one
night to discover that her par
entS were gone (they were at a
movie); the lights on all through
the house, and strange man sit.
ting in the kitchen eating the re.
mains of a roast chicken. She or
dered him out of the house; he
wouldn't go, just smiled at her,
and she, all panicky, rushed over
to a neighbor'S and called the po,
lice. She went back with the po,
lice-to find her mother sit.
ting in the burglars lap. Turned
out he was an uncle, whom she
had never seen, back from the
wildS of Peru.
VOTE AMERICAN
NFAHr IC CrTAI