Evening star., 1954-12-11
By Grontlond Rice

trail. our close friendship re-
kindled. During the early and
mid-l930s we made more calls
than two sailors. often with
Authors Bud Kelland. "Socker"
Coe, Frank McClain and our
wonderful actor pal. Frank
Craven.
It was during the summer Of
'33, the year the Amateur was
played ct Cincinnati, with George
Dunlop beating Max Marston for
the title. Anyhow, Bob and !
landed there straight from cover
ing q fight In Chicago. We were
both tired when we were given
the absent Odd McIntyre's suite
at the old Hotel Sintou. q
Let's have q quiet dinner up
here and then hit the hay" I
said.
Granny" Bob said. "that
suits mel"
After filing my story. we were
about to order dinner when we
decided to ask o. B. and Nom
Keeler to drop in for q cocktail.
Paul Calico, covering for the
New York News. stopped by, as
did one or two others When we
finally sat down to dinner--alcng
about l0:30-there were at least
Is Of us.
Orchestra Joins Party.
Suddenly realizing we hadn't
asked Dan Horgan. our host, up
for a snort, ! called and Dan
arrived. Because 1t was getting
toward that hour. Dan called the
supper room and got the or
chestra up.
The quiet meal for two had
developed into o house party.
When guests began calling, COM
planning they couldn't sleep. Dan
invited them over. The entire
guest list, is seemed, accepted.
It was dawn when we swept out
the last remains. Somehow that
type OF thing wasn't unusual
whenever Bob and I combined
| forces.
Well. it's now a score Of years
later and the Bob Jones of today,
physically speaking, is far cry
from the Jones Of 1929. A spinal
ailment has all but riveted him
to a wheelchair. But the mental
the really important-side of
this great and gracious gentle
man shines through with nary
a flaw.
When the United States de-
clared war on Germany in April,
1917. I was 81 and had been
banging away for the New York
Tribune syndicate for four years.
Quite a string of papers were
using the Sportlight column,
and my pay amounted to $500
a week. In December of that
year. I handed over all my secu-
rites. totaling about $4,000, to
a lawyer friend for safekeeping.
(If I didn't come back. at least
there remained a tidy chunk for
my two girls.) Then ! enlisted
as q private in the infantry.
Heads for Balmy South.
One December 5, 1917, a bitter
cold day. I pulled out Of New
York, headed for the balmy old
South. It was five above and
showing when we reached Camp
Sewer, s. G. MY pup tent had
a rent In 1t as big as a frying
pan. The next morning when
awoke I found myself up to
my ears in snow and mud. The
cold got that first night in the
sunny South lasted until the
Armistice.
We didn't remain a foot-sol-
dier regiment long. In q short
time we were changed over and
rechriStened the 115th Field
Artillery. I'm q neighboring
field. with the Hath, was q red
head named Larry MacPhail.)
Our commanding officer was
Brig. Gen. Gus Galley, known
throughout the service as Good
God Gus"
The majority Of our outfit
consisted Of Southern farm boys.
The fact that ! was older than
most and knew my left foot from
my right probably had a lot to
do with my becoming q sergeant
drill instructor. and then a can
didate for officer training. Dur
ing the two months Of study in
preparation for the written exam
required for commission, I was
fortunate in getting to know Col.
John Geary. a big Irishman.
Geary had come up through the
ranks. He had q sharp sense Of
humor and he understood the
enlisted man far better than
most officers. The officers train
ing course was loaded with
mathematics.
Colonel Takes Care of Math.
Colonel" said one day. 81
haven't opened q math book for
more than is years. I'm not up
to this foolishness."
mo, Rice. you're not--but you
will be-" grinned the Colonel.
Geary helped me to qualify for
my commission as, second lieu
tenant. Without him / never
| would have made it.
| In April. 1918, our outfit
sailed from Virginia, aboard the
old George Washington. Weeks
later we arrived at CherAoourg.
I started to the front with my
{ sMosfVnIfInbIe