The Wilmington morning star., 1947-12-29
AS Pegler Sees 1t
BY WESTBROOK PEGLER
Copyright, 1947, by King Features
Syndicate. Inc.)

Show me man VINO IS KIM W ouliiD all
mails and I will trust him to the ends OF
the earth. as the old saying goes, think.
And there, my friends, you have the key TO
tho true nature of Westbrook Pegler, the
man. .,
He used to have a dog or rather several
dogs but usually only ne at time put last
wear it was a canary called George Spelvln;
Spelvin was conventional canary UNI
the trip to Arizona when the conductor,
pulling out of Grand Central, looked up over
his glasses and cracked down with a glare
on this little canary He said, you under
stand, now, if that bird raises any disturb
ance, off he goes"
With the atom bomb and Palestine and
the Iron curtain and starvation and woe all
over owe he was going to pull the cord out in
the country up around Utica maybe, IN the
dead of winter, and throw off one canary
for disorderly conduct.
Spelvin didn't sing note that night or
all next day. After two weeks went by and
no singing he, Pegler, meaning me, wrote
to the warden of big prison where they
have a fellow who has been almost 35 years
in solitary for murder, who is nutty as
nougat but was allowed to breed canarles
until a few years ago when he got fresh
again When he got fresh again, they non
chalantly took his owl away and he never
will see another bird as long as he lives.
That shouldn't be long though, for he has
been away, as they say, ever since 1918.
He is still great authority on the diseases
of canaries and is even canary psychiatrist
of sorts, so the warden put hypothetical
case to him and he wrote his recommends
tions. Spelvin soon began to chitter and IN
no time he was roaring his head off. sent
the warden a check for $40, but can't
imagine what good it can do the poor guy
buy absolutely nothing outside the regular
standard diet. No cookies, no candy bars.
Nothing They get a regular issue of tobacco
and papers but no store cigarettes.
1t makes you ask God to make you
better boy, doesn't it?
Last summer, Spelvin's talons grew so
long that he could almost palm young lamb
what they did about the condors when their
claws got too big. He said to soften them
with olive oil until they were nice and pill
able and then pinch them off with nippers
started to do this but Spelvin got away
and flew up on one of the perches and when
made grab for him he made graceful
leap for the trapeze the way he usually
does But with the olive oil he slipped, miss
ed his footing and sprained his ankle. He
was supposed not to try any fancy leaps for
at least three weeks but few days later he
got fresh and hoped to the trapeze. He
made that all right, so then he hoped to
the perch. On that ankle he was slow to
duck and the trapeze swung over and hit
him in the back of the head and knocked
him cold. l gave him a slug of old Grand
Dad and it brought him around quick but it
also got him cockeyed. He tried the trapeze
and this time he missed completely and hit
smack on his snoot. Since then he sings fine
but 1 think he is punchy from getting hit
again and again in the back of his head by
that trapeze. No timing at all. Jumps off on
to the perch yelling Look! No Hands!' Then
nd
conks him and he st;aggers around mutter-
ing "He pulled a knife on mel"
That is all there is to the canary phase
of the true story of Pegler the man.
I am not going to have any more dogs.
You can divide your lifetime into the life
times of your dogs. If | were to have an
other 12-year dog starting now, he would
die just when hit 65 That is no time to lose
a good friend.
Up to last year, had two dogs, a thorough
bred Dachshund and little stringy mutt.
The Dachshund had powerful jaws and the
mutt had jaws like sugar tongs, and to-
gether they were a good team on wood
chucks. The hund would 60 down hole
and the mutt would come home for help.
Then down we all would go with pickaxes
and crowbars and mine him out. He got
cut up something awful but he hated chucks
in dumb way and there was no quit in
him, where woodchucks were concerned.
Otherwise, he was no dice with me.
The breeder who sold him to me was a
could make case out of this because how
could anybody know l was going 10 want
Dachshund when never had one before and
they are strictly an eccentricity, anyway?
However, you give me pup for his first
seven months and 1 will fix his habits and
prejudices SO that you positively can't ever
change them
If cortap1v enoroS oIotv f1Irpv tho uav
this Dachshund acted toward me.
I petted him and babed him and yet the
dirty little double -crosser would wait until
strangers were around and then would lie
down and cringe and whine, "Oh, don't
get that terrible club that you beat me with
this morning! Don't kick me anymore!"
Why, the rat! I never laid hand to him
except to feed him and gentle him but he
was always accusing me in public.
1t wasn't exactly libel or SANDER. He was
too clever for that. He was like those nasty
Communist females down in the garment
district who would flop down in front of
some good Irish cop and scream, "Ow! the
club and kicked me in the pelvis with his
great big shoes!' When all he did was say
Cali right, girls, break it up!''
Exactly the same tactics except that he
didn't say anything People would say, 'Look
at that great big hulk pretending to be so
gentle and look at that poor little Humid.
They don't cringe like that unless they have
been terribly abused"
I got disgusted and gave him away to
some neighbors.
Democrats but nice people, And, because
they were inseparable, gave them the little
mutt, too. A few weeks ago I was driving
along about dusk and here came the mutt,
homeward bound from his girls house.
stopped and he hoped in for the ride over
to town and back A few days later heard
he had been run over. That is the way it
goes. Always the wrong guy or the wrong
dog