Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 139, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 June 1914 — BROADWAY JONES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BROADWAY JONES

BY EDWARD MARSHALL

4 ■ . ft ‘ ~ _ . - ft TBCM m FIAY or GEORGE ii. COHAN

WITH PfIOTOGf?APHc> \J FROM SCENES IN THE PLAY QOfi>r*/G/tr t etX GieBiUJM&AAt compamg

BYNOPSIS. ■'! 'J} ' ■ r ‘. ' Jackson Jones, nicknamed "Broadway** because of bis continual glorification of New York’s great thoroughfare, Is anxious to get away from his home town of Jonesvllle. Abner Jones, his uncle, lg vary angry because Broadway refuses to Settle down and take a place In the. gum factory fn which he succeeded to his father’s Interest. Judge Spotswood Informs Broadway that $250,000 left him by his father is at his disposal. Broadway makes record time In heading for his favorite street In New York. With his New York friend. Robert Wallace, Broadway creates a sensation by his extravagance on toe White 'Way. Pour years pass and Broadway suddenly discovers that he Is not only broke, but heavily In debt. He applies to his uncle for a loan and receives a package of chewing gum with the advice to cheW It and forget his troubles. He quietly seeks work without success. Broadway gives what is Intended to be a farewell supper to "his New York friends, and before It Is over becomes engaged to Mrs. Gerard, and ancient widow, wealthy and very giddy. Wallace expostulates with the aged flirt and her youthful- fiance, but fails to better the situation He learns that Broadway is broke and offers him a position with his father’s advertising firm, but it Is declined. Wallace takes charge of Broadway’s affairs. Broadway receives a .telegram announcing the death of his UnclenAbner In Europe. Broadway Is his sole heir. Peter Pembroke of the Consolidated Chewing Gum company offers Broadway $1,200,000 for his gum plant and Broadway agrees to sell. • *— V-vv'-CHAPTER. Vl,—Continued. < Jackson was in a fever of excitement "Well, come on then. Let’s get them! What are yon waiting for? Let’s get this all over with as quickly as we can.” - “Do you mean business?” “Certainly I mean business.” Jackson gazed at him with definite reproach. “Don’t I look like a business man?” He displayed the sack coat Rankin had laid out for him that morning. "Look at this business suit!” -He felt In his pocket, found what he sought and was extremely -Satisfied. "And I’ve got a lead pencil and everything. Certainly I mean business.” "You’ll sign the articles today?” “For twelve hundred and fifty thousand dollars I’d sign a murderer’s confession!” Pembroke, who never smiled, looked at his watch. “It’s twelve o’clock.” “Is itr ’We’ll meet here at two.” “I’ll be right here, waiting.” ‘Will you shake hands with me?” “Sure! I’ll kiss you if you want me to." Evfen this wouid not divert Pembroke to frivolity. “Mr. Jones, you’re doing business with a great company.” Jackson nodded. "You’re the greatoat company I’ve ever met.” “Two, then. Don’t forget—two! ” "Twelve! Don’t forget—twelve!” “Good-by!" “Good-by!" ' ■ ? Jackson went with him to the elevator; watching his every movement with something which approached in its bfibodlng care an anxious mother’s. "Be careful when you cross the street! Good-by!" ' Returning to the table, he once more read the magic telegram. "That’s the first time I knew that they could telegraph from heaven,” he said fervently, Just as Rankin entered “I told the chef, sir,” said the butler, “and be says—" • "Never mind what be says. You tell him he must stay. I wouldn’t have him go for all the world. Go out and raise his salary and give him my regards. You Understand?” . ' = “Yes, sir. "Buy, come here. Where do you live when you’re not here?” ‘ln Harlem, sir." - ' "Got a flat?” "Yes, sir.” "Like this furniture?" He waved

his hand at the extremely ornate contents of the room. "Beautiful, sir." “It's yours." “Oh, thank you, sir! Anything else?” "No; what else do you want? Get out! Don't bother me. I’m a business man.” He hurried to the telephone, .laughing very earnestly, as if he really liked to laugh. "Give me long-distance, please. Hello, long-distance/ hello, long-dis-tance. I want to talk to Jonesviile, Conn. Jonesviile. J—o—there, you've jot it right. Judge Spotswood, attorney at law, Jonesviile, Conn. Yes; this is 2468 Huyler. Rush It. won't ' you? Thanks!” ' ii As he sat and contemplated with a smile of great intensity the tips of his .8“ p ‘ teDt ‘ leattl * r Bhoe8 ' Wallaca *

having done his task, returned to him with a grave face. ‘Well," said he, almost discouraged, ‘Tve figured it all up, and the best that I can do makes the grand total sixty-one thousand four hundred and eighty-two dollars." „ “How much?" “Sixty-one thousand four hundred and eighty-two dollars," “Spending money, my boy,” said Broadway grandly. “Spending money.” With that be sprang out of his chair and rushed about the room with joy upon his face and showed his deep contempt for little things by breaking several costly vases, throwing ' six American Beamy roses in the waste basket and tossing cushions here and there. One of an especial elegance he threw out on Broadway, never looking to see whqse head it softly lighted upon, • “What’s the matter with you?" demanded Wallace. "Going crazy all over again?" J Broadway paused in his extraordinary movements. “Do you know what I’m going to do frbto now on? I’m going to make the ioudesj noise Broadway has heard Bince * Dewey came home from the war.” “What are you talking about?” Jackßon looked him kindly In thq, eye. "Know what happened after you had left the room? A messenger boy with golden wings ahd a jeweled harp blew through that window, handed me this telegram and flew right back to the Golden Gates." He thrust the telegram at Wallace. “Read, read, read!” The Wallace read aloud. The reader paused. “God!” he exclaimed. “Did he sign it?” Broadway begged,' without the slightest Incredulity. “It’s signed Judge Spotswood. Who’s her )

"My uncles lawyer." “Is this a joke?” » “If It Is I’ll make a reputation as a gun man!" “Why, this Is the most wonderful thing that ever happened!” ' “It is all of that, and more. Do you know what I’m going to d,o? I’m going to buy Brooklyn—and close it up.” But Wallace was not swept away by hfs extravagance. He really was a business man. “Pembroke,” he reflected. “Why, he phoned. I took his message.” “He was here. Say, did you. ever hear of the Consolidated Chewing Gum company?” f “Why, certainly. They're the biggest in America.” , “Well, he’s second vice-president. He’s coming back at two o’clock.” “Wha,t for?” “To bring me a 'check., for twelve hundred and fifty thousand dollars! I’m going to sell him Jones’ Pepsin.” Instantly the business man was uppermost in Wallace. He became alert, suspicious. “He made that offer?” “Yes.” “And you accepted?” “Yes.” “Sign an agreement?” “Not yet.” Wallace spoke now, with the firmness of a heavy hammer striking on an anvil. “And .you’re not going to.” ,- Btroadway gazed at him aghast “Why?” “Now, don’t give me any argument. You’ve been a damn fool all your life and here’s a chance to get even with yourself." “Turn down a million two hundred thousand dollars!” “Yes.” Broadway shook his head. “Not on your biography!” Wallace was not impressed. “What you need is a keeper, and I’m going to take the Job.” The telephone rang, and, as Broadway would have answered it, Wallace pushed him ruthlessly away. It was plain that he had definitely assumed command.

The message was from Judge Spotswood. As soon as Broadway learned thighs explained that he had called the judge and wished him to come at once to New York city. Wallace gave him one sad glance of pure disgust. Then he told the judge exactly otherwise. , “No,” he called intb the phone. “No, no; don’t you come.here. We'll come there.” Broadway was Instantly rebellious. "I’ll do nothing of the kind.” Wallace waved him off with a condemnatory hand, and continued talking to the telephone. “We’ll be there at six o’clock. . . . In time for dinner. . . . Yes; good-by!” He hung up the receiver, and turned to Broadway with the hard but happy smile of the real business man who has succeeded in accomplishing a coup. “Say, what are you trying to do?” said Broadway, not without resentment. “Run my affairs for me?” "Yes,” said Wallace readily, and then called loudly for the butler. When he etune he told him to pack, without .delay, a grip for Mr. Jones, who, he .gravely announced; was going travel- • tag. i£. -■ « ; V8 a “To—er—Japan?” Inquired the hopeful Rankin. “Same thing, Connecticut" “Look here,” said Broadway wrathtally. ”1 don’t intend—” The bell rang, f “Go see who that ia,” Bald Wallace to.nwrtpwrawlon.lan., : l '

“Say, I’m not working for you, am I?” asked Broadway.peevishly. "Go cm; do as you are told." ‘Well, I’ll be damned," said Breadway, but started toward the door. Wallace, though, was thinking. “Wait! Hold on. It may be Mrs. Gerard. Didn’t she say she would he back in half an hourr Broadway paused, dismayed. "That’s so!” He hurried to the window, and looked out; he turned back with a worried face. "Surest thing you know. St’s her car, all right” » "Get your hat,” said Wallace. ‘ls there another way out of this house?” “The servants’ elevator at the back." "Rankin! Oh,-Rankin!” Rankin, breathless, hurried In. “I’ll have the grip packed in five minutes, sir.” “Never mind the grip. We can’t wait for it. We’ve got to make a train. See who’s at the door. We’re going out the other way.”V He seized Broadway’s wrist “Come on!” , Jackson, departing in a somewhat sideways fashion, owing to the steady

pull of Wallace’s strong arm, called back to Rankin: “Oh, there’ll be a party of gentlemen here at two o’clock to see me, and—” ' * ; , “What shall I tell them, sir?" „ Wallace answered: “Tell them to go to hell,” said he.

CHAPTER VII.

Jonesville was in mourning. Broadway’s departed uncle had inspired not much affection; he had not been one to care to; but for many years, to the workers in the factory, he. had been a sort of business deity—the seml-provi-dential head of the great enterprise through which they gained their livelihood. The folk of Jonesville had neither loved him nor revered him; he had been a sort of elemental necessity to their peace of mind; they had, so to speak, leaned with a feeling of security upon his stubbornness, knowing he would never sejl out to the gum trust; if he did not sell out to the gum trust the factory would operate; if the factory kept' running Jonesville would continue to eat, drink, and. in its crude, undevolped way, be merry. Now that he was dead, a feeling uncertainty spread a mild panic through the little town! The judge was waiting for the two men In thb hotel corridor. His worry over what the new owner of the factory might decide to do about the perfectly well known trust plans was quite as keen as anyone’s, but his dignity forbade that he should make display of it It was something of a relief to him when Broadway hurried to him from the hotel office and held out his hand, although the boy’s appearance was a shock to him. He remembered him as Higgins’ mother had described him and aa the dapper, boyish youth who had aroused the wonder of the town with patent-leather shoes and new dance steps. This pale, extremely urban man, young still, naturally, with a face which told untoward tales of night experiences such as were not written upon any face in Jonesville, no matter what its age, nonplussed and confused him. expected normal changes'; be saw metamorphosis. “Judge.” said Wallace, who, although a stranger, was first to grasp his hand. ‘‘l’m glad to see you." There, was a harassed look upon his face as if he might have had a difficult time with Broadway bn the train. The judge took Broadway’s hand. “And this is little Jackson! Broadway, we used to call you. Well, I’m glad to see you!* “Thanks, judge.” Broadway really was glad, and shook hands heartily, although- the sybarite In him • already was in strong revolt against the old hotel.

"Til go in and register, Broadway,” said Wallace. "And I’ll put you down as Mr. Jackson. No use in—” “Yes,” said the judge approvingly, “the town is all upset There might be—er—” “I understand.” "II it should get around that the old mill would be sold to the trust.” 1

The desk was near the door which led into the fly-specked corridor and the Judge was listening as Wallace made terms with the clerk. “What’ll you take now, Mr. Wallace?” said the clerk, after careful study of the signature upon the register. “Or are you'Mr. Jackson?" “Noj- Wallace. I’m Mr. Jackson’s —secretary. And we’d like two rooms with—” “Two!” said the clerk, astonished. That was such extravagance as-never had before occurred in that hotel. "Yes; two connecting rooms, with a bath between, if possible.” The clerk gazed, open-mouthed. “Well, now,” he explained, “I don’t guess I can do that We got a bathroom. Years ago a barber leased the shop and had it put In next to it Thought he’d rent It oat to strangers. But he didn’t It’s still there, but lord, he’s dead, and I guess th’ lead pipe has been used som’ers else. Know it has, in fact.” “Well—”

“Lead pipe, ye know, Is val’able.” “Is it? Well, do the best you can for US. Telephones in the rooms, are therer . . v - : ' “In the rooms? No. They’s one acrost the street at th' Uv’ry stable.” “Well, we’ll have to -make that do, then. Can we get some dinner?” “Dinner’s over*t two o’clock. Supper’s over now. Might fix up somethin’, I suppose.” “All right do the best you can for us and send K to the rooms.” “What? Send It to the rooms! Want I should come along to feed ye?” The clerk was definitely angry. These city folks! The judge stepped In. "I want you and Mr.—er —er —Mr. Jackson should come to my house for your supper,” he suggested. “We’d better not, tonight. Judge. Tomorrow, possibly.” i Broadway cast at Wallace a pathetic glance. Could it be possible that he meant to stay in Jonesvllle till tomorrow night? Wallace sent him a look of warning. ■ “Well, if we can’t have supper in qur rooms, J suppose we’ll take -it where we can,” he granted, determined that if Broadway really came back to Jonesvllle, as- he Intended to compel him to, some changes should he made In the hotel. “Minnie!" shouted the clerk, in a reverberating voice, calculated to express itself, though miles might intervene. “Two sup-p-er-r-s!” “All right,” he said to Wallace. “Want to wash? Wash basins —” “We’ll do that, anyway, up in our rooms.” “What with?" exclaimed the clerk triumphantly. "They ain’t no water there.” a “But cotildn’t —” ( “Ain’t no water." said the clerk indifferently, grandly, “ner no soap, ner towels, ner pitchers, ner no bowls, ner nothin’.” He turned away. “But where’s the key?” “Ain’t no key. We’re honejjt folks in Jonesvllle. I’m goin’ out.” “But where are the rooms?" “Head th’ stairs. One and two. They ain’t no others.” With no further words he went his way. "My God, Bob,” said , Broadway, approaching him appealingly, “you’re not going to make me live here, are you?” “Yes; but. I'm going to build a new hotel here, Wallace answered. The Judge hovered close to Broadway. “I wish you’d come up to “the house to supper.” "Not tonight, judge, thanks.” "No,” he granted sympathetically, "I suppose you want a rest Tired after four hours on the train, of course. Gad, it's quite a Journey! How’ve you been, Broadway?” The judge pronounced it “bean,” as if it came In pods.

"Oh, so, so, judge.” “Busy, I suppose, down to New York—” “Yes; busy every minute —night and day.” a “Uh-huh, I s’pose so. What did yon say the business was you’ve been followin’?” Wallace answered before Broadway had a chance. "Liquor business, principally,” he Bald tersely. “Broadway’s eyes flashed toward him a lightning glance of sheer malevolence, which his caught without a sign of anything but high amusement “Yea—er—Judge,” said Broadway, "I have invested quite a lot of money in the liquor business.” “Well,” said the cautious judge, anxious not to hurt his feelings, and, In his heart, not shocked, “somebody's got to sell it And I suppose it was the wholesale business you were In. That’s always thought respectable.” “You bet it was the wholesale business,” Wallace broke in cheerily. Broadway began to feel intense distaste for the alertness of successful business men. They took a fellow up and make a monkey of him before he had a chance to think. This whole trip to Jonesvllle — , / "Judge,” said the energetic advertising agent, "maybe you would like a little nip.” “My boy,” the judge replied in mournful tones, “you can’t get it here at this hotel. It ain’t been to be had here since the Episcopalian that once owned it was bought out by a Methodist." “I’ve —" Broadway begafa. “I’ve got some in toy pocket" said Wallace, interrupting. “Now, Bob—” Broadway began to protest but the judge himself did not permit him to complete his sentence. “I could show you to your room,” he said, "being as the clerk’s gone out" "By all means.' We —" " “Er no,” the judge said sadly. “’Twouldn’t really do. My wife —” Jackson was looking round him for his bag. Rankin always— Suddenly be remembered that he did not have his bag. They had fled without it as they dodged Mrs. Gerard. He gnashed his teeth at Wallace. But even though the liquor question was in no way settled at the session, the judge stayed a little while to gossip, principally making inquiries about the story which had been prominently printed In the local papers that Broadway was to marry a rich widow. Wallace took command here, too, with lightning-like celerity. “Judge," said he with gravity, “if every widow in New York who has confided to the newspapers that she would like to marry Mr. Jones had married him he’d be a modern Mormon.” “Yes, I suppose so—with the prospects of this business here in Jonesville and a big wholesale liquor business of his own there in the city. I bet they have been after him. But I must go. You’ll be up after supper?" “Very soon, If supper's what I think it will be,” Broadway answered. Mrs. Spotswood was consumed with curiosity when her husband arrived at home.

“Why didn’t you bring him here to supper?” she inquired. “Well, mother} you know they’ve been on a railroad train four hours. I guess they’re pretty tired. They'll get supper at the hotel.” He laughed. “Mr.'Wallace, he’s with Broadway, asked have it served up in their rooms, and Gilroy, the hotel clerk, asked him if they wanted be should feed it to them.” His laughter became violent “You know Qilroy’s very witty." “How does Broadway look?" “Ten years older. My, how that boy has changed!” {TO BBS CONTINUED.)

"We've Got to Make a Train."

"It Doesn’t Seem Possible it's You."