Evening star., 1943-07-10


the British Gus
Henry MeLemore. toms when the
boat lands at Holyhead. And, you
know the Customs-just a bunch of
snoops who won't take an honest
mans word for anything. They ask
you If you have anything to declare
and If you look them straight in the
eye and say, NO" that is their cue
to look through your luggage as if
you were bringing in a brother TO
the Kohinoor Diamond with 50
pounds of heroin and three antique
sofas.
talked with some Irish friends
about the best way to get Donegal
tweed through and they all advised
that I get some pins, needles and
thread and sew suit and then tell
the customs inspectors that it was
one that I brought over in case the
Irish weather became unreasonable.
Became Own Tailor.
Well, I followed their advice. I
bought sewing kit, repaired to my
hotel room and started to make a
suit out of my tweed. I have fin-
ished with the suit and it is packed
in my bag. But what the customs
man is going to say when he yanks it
out and holds it up to the light of
day, l don't know. I have a feeling
that if he isn't struck stone-blind
at the moment he produces it, he is
going to conf1scate the material and
fine me for being both bad liar and
bad tailor. @r
never had appreciated the skill
Of a tailor until 1 spread the tweed
out on the floor and started to make
pair of pants first. l wrapped the
stuff about me and hand-pinned 1t
down the middle to give it legs. Then
couldn't get up off the floor with
out having the pins stick me In Is
places and the material flap and
| wave at several crucial points. 1
tried Is or II methods without sue
cess and then decided to cut a pat
tern out of newspaper and follow
that.
So l stretched out on two or three
editions OF the Irish Times and the
Irish Press and started cutting out
the shape of my legs and waist. This
was very difficult to do. When I
would lean up to cut around my
ankles, 1 would lose the pattern of
my waist and vice versa.
But I finally managed to cut 4
pair of pants. l sewed them up and
tried them on. The effect was
startling. 1t was impossible, when
looking in mirror, to tell whether
was coming or going. The front
looked just like the seat and the
waist just like the ankles.
But the pants were nothing COM
pared to cutting the coat. Who
would know how to put a sleeve in?
Napoleon himself couldn't have cut
coat collar or lapels, but hacked.
whacked, sewed, swore, pinned and
unpinned until something resem-
bling coat was brought forth.
Wanted Guests Reaction.
The only thing to do, 1 said to my
self, is TO wear this down into the
lobby of the hotel before I catch a
boat train and study the reaction
OF the guests. If they accept it as
a suit, then, perhaps, the customs
men will be as tolerant. So I put on
the suit and started for the elevator.
A small child, who happened to
poke her head out the door of the
room adjoining mine, screamed and
ran to her mother. I kept going. I
couldn't stop because only a de-
termined forward movement kept
the suit from falling off.
I staggered into the elevator.
showering pins. The elevator boy
rubbed his Irish eyes as If he had
seen an apparition and dropped me
quickly to the lobby. The downward
rush of the elevator blew off a
sleeve and one pants leg and
reached the cashiers desk in a state
of disarray that caused the house
detective to finger his gun and nod
to the doorman for help in case it
were needed.
When I reached into my inside
pocket for my wallet, the pocket
became unpinned and fell to the
floor. The second sleeve fell off
when bent down to retrieve nv
money Without intention, I was
doing mock Sally Rand in the
lobby of a very staid Dublin hotel.
Slowly but surely I was becoming
begged down in odd bits of tweed. 7
got back to the elevator without
being arrested and made 1t quickly
to my room, where I changed into
substantial suit of navy blue. The
odds and ends of the tweed I packed
in my suitcase. Now, in a few mo-
ments the customs men will be after
me. Get to praying. Jeanie. You'll
look mighty sweet in that tweed II
it ever gets home.
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