The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-01-10


 \ nocent and agreeable.
 Why is he called the Sturgeon King? Why, because he thought that would be line title for him. self, and he does sell @ lot of smoked sturgeon in his big, pros porous delicatessen shop. The neon sign across the front of the place carries the name and title for all to admire.
 In the window are autographed photographs of Eddie Cantor and Ben Bernie, customers. Barney works all day and until late at night (except Friday nights) be- hind the counter, wearing 8 butchers apron. A grown daugh- ter works at the cash desk.
 The genial proprietor tells me, between sales, that he airmails smoked sturgeon to all parts of the United States, and even has customers in England. Smoked sturgeon, he explains, is @ fa- vorite delicacy among American Jews. The Christians are just be- ginning to like 1t, chiefly in neigh borhoods where Jews predominate. Most of the sturgeon sold by Bar- ney comes from the Great Lakes. Erie and Buffalo, he understands, supply much of 1t. But he buys his supplies from the smoke houses in Brooklyn.
 : Barney has never caught a fish in his life, unless it was one that was found on an unclaimed hook on a deep-sea fishing party one time, 8 few years back. Every landlubber in the party got so sea-sick that the captain had to turn the boat around, just out side Sandy Hook. One fish was caught that day, and Barney thinks it was on his line.
 His fishing experience since then has been confined to Am- sterdam avenue.
 One of the clever bits of mer- chandising prevailing at Bar ney's: No free tastes of anything are handed to customers. They were eating Barney out of house and home, asking for another sample taste before making up their minds not to buy. So Bar ney keeps little trays of odds and ends of sausage and fish and cheese, 8 big bite in each sample. Five cents per bit, and plainly markedl
 James Thurber and St. Clair McKelway, of the New Yorker, found a Greek restaurant that seemed 8 good hideout. They went there often, found the food good and the privacy better.
 One day the proprietor came to his notable customers and told them that he was in 8 bad way. Cook had quit, he must have an- other immediately. Had to be 8 certain kind of cook, but Thurber and McKelway couldn't under stand what kind. The proprietor kept repeating some adjective. but it was Greek to the journal iStS.
 However, they fixed up a sign to stick in the window for their excited host. Thurber illustrated it.
 No cook came in answer to 1t, and next day the proprietor was more excited than ever.
 The sign read: Cook wanted. Must be Leper."
 During one of my recent spice expeditions in Queens Borough, I was discussing sage with the ex- pert who was showing us about the mill. I was shocked to learn that he didn't know that sage is grown in the United States. He even questioned my statement that it does grow in many parts of this country, and said I must be talking about sage-brush! His company imports it's sage from Dalmatia, and he took for grant, ed that that's where all the sage grows.
 It's my belief that sage can be grown in most parts of the United States, and I've seen 1t growing in herb gardens in widely sepa- rated regions.
 My mother grew sage with which to flavor her turkey dress ing in Kansas. I've seen 1t in old- fashioned gardens in New York and Connecticut.
 Jonathan Balch was the oldest man in our neighborhood, when I was youngster. He was rather deaf, not very lively, but looked upon as the wise man. A little boy in the neighborhood bled to death with a nasal hemorrhage. The parents couldn't get to old Jonathan in time for advice.
 My mother was telling the old gentleman about the tragedy. What did they do to stop the bleeding?" he asked. My mother related all the home remedies that had been applied. including a cold dime applied to the fore- head. The wise old fellow lauy.isd a loud cackle. "They thought of everything" he wheezed, "but they never thought of >sagel" His merriment seemed uncomfortable.
 Dried sage, mild astringent. is one of the old-time home rem- edies for nose-bleed. But better ask your doctor whether it's any real good. The laugh might be on old Jonathan, after all.
 Copyright, 1899, McNaught
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