Fletcher's State Rights Farming. (Hondo, Tex.), Vol. 14, No. 10, Ed. 1 Friday, May 1, 1936 Page: 10 of 16
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FLETCHERS $T*T> RIGHTS FARMING
May, I93<i
A PRACTICAL
HOAXSTER
88
By THAYER WALDO
f McClure Newspaper Syndicate.
WND Service.
/~> TAXD1KO Just Inside the en-
trance of Hotel Christie—Plaat’s
Palace de Glace—Garrison care-
fully scanned the scene.
It was. he saw, a gala occasion—
this opening of Hollywood’s most novel
play spot.
There, enclosed by a ring of sapper
tables, countless couples In sports cos- j
tuine skimmed over a gleaming floor j
of ice, while lilting music came from
an orchestra at one end.
Watching the skaters. Garrison at
last focused on a girl In scarlet sweater
ami skirt.
Rather, it was her partner he studied,
for the girl was familiar enough. Myra
Drexel, Indeed, ranked as one of
Zenith’s most promising young act-
resses, and Garrison for some time had
felt a keen professional interest In
helping her to reach stardom.
The man with her was tall and
gracefully slender, though somewhat
past youth.
There was about his bearing an al-
most Intangible touch of distinction.
Seeing the captain of waiters, Gar-
rison called him over arid asked: “Al-
phonse, just who is that chap skating
with Miss Drexel?”
“Oh, that,” Alphonse replied, “is the
Baron Siegfried von Fleumann. He
arrived from Munich today, I believe.”
The publicity man’s eyes narrowed.
“I see; thanks. By the way, which
Is Miss Drexel’s table?”
The man pointed It out.
Garrison glimpsed a tow-headed fig-
ure in one of the two chairs, and
smiled.
So Steve Crandall was second fid-
dling again!
That, he knew, wouldn’t suit the
lad’s jealous temper, nor would the
plan Garrison now had. However,
that was Just too bad.
He strolled over, clapped the blond
man's shoulder, and said amiably:
“HI, fella—how goes it?”
The other’s response was a mere
grunt
Garrison grinned ud sat ■&: orac
•Sure.” te oaoMt *1 cun 6ar
ariie T*M'"tnt burned, he inaa-'J ni’* aa
; i iUitaa ’
The j mmgir.Ar tr-ir-et ir. um ctutl;
“Mkaamg •iSUt’Lt? vmr'”
“hflAtL rra yon, rvim vhi :mr' nrti
hdndut{ it r*a uvuum imjijwin u i* v
’ lie'v* gnw'ieL * uui umi‘t
£•’ » i imj-lhtule-Uec Tu* uu gigou ”
.vm aim uu o" r ant
ijitt tt: lnu tlltiq #efiuusi} Tna; man
a t gen Urn* imrui i ron Genuan.' nt
lest. f«ov tuus‘ hum**
1. UiOlUtluii tn» LMJWepitpe" e»«»w(
Tnui: o' tn* * r!u-up? tuey’i u» i4
jflyri- urn ia* ininn ute ugeiket ai
eveiluig uui ne tdaw uv
bieve't sktoWj vy£u> t veauim>u.“ Lumg.
“LuOi litrfe, Lutn.-? ’ n» o*-gaL iteep-
mg uu? t«etii lygetnc "iu no; goiuf’
W tal in will am o4 your cockeyed
acneuiee, an—■”
“Wait fe uuiiute, »oc.'' Garrison cut
in easily; “loving Myra, >ot want ner
to have a career, don’t you? Weil,
no one in tabs town ever reacnec toe
top without pieuty of nui c-up u. print,
and here* your chant* w neip tu<
girl get some. With ner ta*en’. tnat«
ail she need* now. How about ItT
For an instant the hoy didn’t repiy.
Then he looked at 'iarrison and
asked: “What do you wimt me to dor
“Duck out of here. 1 hen when the
Baron brings her bac’^ he’ll either
have to stay at this t tbie or ask her
to his. Intake oar* 4 the rest.”
Steve showed a bleak one aided
smile and stood up.
-AII right,” he said tersely : “I’ll
play It your way. But that doesn’t
menu 1 hove to like it.”
As he stRlked away, the music eamo
to hm end.
Hurriedly Garrison rose and went In
the opposite direction.
Twenty yards away he took a vacant
chair and waited.
Couples were gilding off the rink
now; In a moment he discerned Myra
Drexel and the Baron approaching.
Reaching her table, they paused and
rho girl glanced around perplexedly.
Then, with an apologetic little shrug
she said something to the man.
Me bowed smilingly and pulled out
her chair. Myra accepted It. and Baron
Siegfried von Fleumann seated himsel
across from her.
The publicity man indulged a grin
of thorough satisfaction.
On the room’s other side sat a
gronp of men and women from several
of the city’s papers, and Garrison fcnev
they couldn’t miss seeing the couple.
That would make press notice a cer-
tainty.
But one item remained to he ar-
ranged.
Tnobstruslvely he stole away toward
a door which gave into the hotel
pro{>er.
Five minutes’ searching found Luke
Long, ace photographer for City News
Service, at the cocktail bar.
Garrison greeted him and Queried:
“Where’s your flash outfit?”
Long indicated a black case and a
tripod at the counter's end.
“Well, grab ’em,” the publicity man
Instructed, “and come along with me.
We’re going to get a pretty little pic-
ture for page one on all the after-
noon rags.”
Together they left the bar and head-
ed for the Palais de Glace. At its en-
trance Garrison halted long.
They had a clear view of Myra and
the Baron.
“They’re the ones I’m after,” the
nublicity man said, pointing; “and give
that lens of your a polish. 1 want
this to be good.”
Long set to work deftly.
In fifteen seconds the camera was
ready on its tripod.
He handed Garrison a loaded powder
trough, took a quick slight, and an-
nounced: “All ready—let ’er go.”
As Garrison prepared to touch the
ffstsS* off. a violent jolt from behind
feat it fanning from his hand.
3S*ifov*sriiig balance, he saw a vol-
uauswui female figure in soiled ging-
ham gown heading straight toward
Myrfi Drexel * table.
Then, nefore he could move, she had
planted herself in front of the Baron
nut launched i shrill tirade.
Y<o. co<‘ or ntv»Min.-l*va er!”
orhsl WNvs, Ov A vehement tVvivflUiUMT
In Imv “vh> yen vhoohU p«» cam
Inc h.MV f e cut up P‘V>! ;ohnov',Nvt bein'!
Maybe ye- re! yout new l*d\ friendt
vhnt yon a h.v '■beet, ,M ’ Veil,
v<v'st ri” slon»; hoi hn and pntd on d»'t
lan for'* on Yu-w bct'»vp^ 1 giff jou s
smack In dor vhmsM !'
The man'v face had vone slowly m*%
gen fa
His In tv worked v|vsvmodieAlly, but
onl\ cnffural tiVrmAnle kMUi^l* re
suited
Sinl.VnI> rhe woman se<red N'ib Ms
shonlde *s and be gaff re shake ihom
violently* 1.
People wore <r. ok'^v galberins
around.
Wi-li ‘in anguished m.van M>ra Divxol
sprang up and startcnl to push her way
through them. Then out of the melee
loomed Steve Cramlall's flaxen head.
Myra clutched him and burled her face
on his shoulder.
“Oh. Stevie:” she murmured tear-
fully; “it's so awful! Why did you
run away and leave me with that
fake?”
The boy chuckled as he led her away.
“As 1 recall it, darling.” he an-
swered gently, “it was you who did the
first leaving. But we won’t worry
about that now.”
They went out through the lobby and
waited a moment while the doorman
called a cab.
As it drew to the curb, a figure
emerged from a door near them and
started to waddle hastily away. Steve
called: “Good night,Kate—and thanks!”
Myra, shrank closer to him, gasping:
“Why, it’s that horrible wife of the
man who pretended to be a baron!”
The taxi door was open. Piloting
her in, Steve followed and took his
seat before replying.
“My dear,” he said then, smiling into
the girl’s upturned, wondering face,
“that particular phase of the lady’s
existence is at an end. I was sure
that in the excitement you wouldn’t
recognize Candy Kate, the woman who
has that little stand on the corner.
But say—can you feature it?—she
staked that swell act for me for only
five dollars, and the same accent gets
Garbo five thousand!”
ADVOCAtlNG THEFT.
A stolen garden is more fair
Your neighbor’s flowers are best
In ev’ry way. This is the test:
To steal here a seed and a cluster
there
Another handful down the street
Plant them and tend them and watch
them grow
A garden of bloom with edgings neat
A stolen sweet! “I told you so!”
—EDITH ANISFIELD WOLF.
mm
m
YOU BIND THE PLEIADES?
Hav* yot a Oliver bridle for the stats
M tm. * ut. it uarnefcsfed splendor down
The sky. ant match their might
Agamst the re ms
, Of God?
Poo* CJOC
Kaii-ooweree with btains!
Tirt siailioii.- of the night
Wii never bieneh before your frown,
0* wait, unhaitered, at your pasture
bars, /
O' owv tneii neckt to move tin- laden
can
That o*^at you? surpiu- ctop to town,
O; ortai their ordered flight
Anove the piain>
You piod.
' The sod
Kay yieia you giainr
Anc bloom lor your celight.
Doer this make mar ctea .ion crown?
Have you a siive/ d/tch 1 tin suur?
—CLAKiBKL V hbKc A v'LkV
in Apei. KALblDOOKAPM
MAY
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_^V7
************
* *
* ONE-MINUTE SERMON.
« ...-
* \ remembered thy judgments
* of old, O Lord; und have com- *
* toiled myself. Fs. 119: f>2.
* When the days are dark and «
* dreary, ami the clouds are hang- *
* mg low, and the soul feels blue *
* and weary, and the feet refuse *
* to go and who is exempt from *
* these doldrums and prostrations *
* of the soul? —then it?s well to ¥
41 remember former times and oth- *
* er people whose countenance was *
* falling and the heart failing "
* and sinking within them, and see
* how they wriggled through and *
* recovered their little patch of
* poise and paradise where the *
* “merry heart goes all the day”. *
* Simply to “grin and bear it”, as
* some have it, reminds too much ‘‘
* of the camel slouching over the *
* desert sand, goaded on by yell *
* and yap and whiplash. It does
* not remove the stigma, the dis- *
* grace, from the plight, explains *
* neither head nor tail, sipelis *
* hopelessness, pure and simple, *
* and makes comfort null and *
* void; moreover, an excessive
* load might break the camel's *
* back and leave the carcass to the *
* jackals of despair. In times of
* heartsore, heartache and heart- *
* break, the psalmist remembered *
* the judgments of old, rendered *
* by his Lord in the torm of decis- *
* ion, adjustment and approba-
* tion, or in protest and rejection, *
* and tnus he found comfort. The *
* history of his people offered a *
* grand array for survey and pe- *
* rusal. The greatest men, Abra- *
* ham, Joseph, Moses, David and *
* others, all started in the valley of *
* shadows, toiling ana trailing *
+ through twisted and torturing *
* thickets and stretches, often tot- *
14 tering on the brink, often pass- *
* ing debris and corpses and hor- *
* ror, but their last cnapter always *
'* ended in the brightness of a +
f golden sunset. The L^iu is still ¥
* Commander-in-Ghief of the *
* armies of the world and they *
* march at His “Forward” and *
•! stop at His “Halt”. He has not *
* resigned from the post of Chief *
* Justice and from His judgment *
and verdict there is no appeal *
* and He judgeth a righteous *
* judgment on His own. code, no *
“ matter what headstrong count- *
‘ er-coteries may argue. And He *
¥ champions the cause of those *
‘ who trust in Him to such an ex- *
* tent that “the cares that infest *
'* the day would fold their tents *
14 like the Arabs, and silently steal *
* away.” —C. W. *
* *
***********
A COLORFUL SCENE ON LONG
ISLAND.
THANK GOD FOR DOORS.
Thank God for doors that open out,
On yards where children laugh and
shout
In sheer exuberance and joy!
God safely keep each girl and boy,
Outside home doors.
Thank. God for doors that open in
On mothers when the hours begin
To < art» long shadows down the street!
CoO safely briny each member's feet
Inside home doors.
-IRENE STANLEY,
(With the sun for its lover)
The setting sun still lights “The Sun-
rise Trail”,
The isle blest of the gods with life
is teeming,
Even on Montauk’s castled hills and
vale;
We drift on Big Peconic Bay—now
seeming
A pond of mirrored beauty without
might!
Look! through old growths of ce-
dar, oak and pine
A wondrous glow! Ah-h-h-h! Soon
lovely twilight
Approaches with a hush that is di-
vine.
To each part of the isle (the winds
of dawn
Called Fomonok) its lover bade
farewell;
And few would pause to wonder
where he’d gone!
Ere long with lips of passion he
will tell
Of love and kiss his darling’s breast
and feet ....
While thd happy island lies with
joy replete.
—ELOISE COOPER FOWLER
in her forthcoming book.
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Davis, Fletcher. Fletcher's State Rights Farming. (Hondo, Tex.), Vol. 14, No. 10, Ed. 1 Friday, May 1, 1936, newspaper, May 1, 1936; Hondo, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth555393/m1/10/?rotate=90: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting Hondo Public Library.