Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 163, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 July 1914 — BROAD WAY JONES [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

BROAD WAY JONES

by EDWARD MARSHALL

WITH PHOTOGRAPHS FROM <SOT3 ft DC PLAY I -

M . 11...; SYNOPSIS. . Jackson Jones, nicknamed "Broadway** because of his continual glorification of New York’s great thoroughfare, is anxious to get away from his home town of Jonesville. Abner Jones, his uncle. Is Very angry because Broadway refuses to Settle down and take a place in the gum factory in which he succeeded to his fathers Interest. Judge Spotswood informs Broadway that 1*50.000 left him by bls 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 tbe White Way. Four years pass and Broadway suddenly discovers that he is not only broke, but heavily In debt. He quietly seeks work without success. Broadway becomes engaged to Mrs. Gerard, an ancient widow, wealthy and very giddy. Wallace 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 Uncle Abner In Europe. Broadway is bls sole heir. Peter Pembroke of the Consolidated Chewing Gum company offers Broadway HJOO.OOO for his gum plant and Broadway agrees to sell. Wallace takes the affair In hand and Insists that Broadway hold off for a bigger price and rushes him to Jonesville to consult Judge Spotswood. Broadway finds his boyhood playmate. Josie Richards. In charge of the plant and falls In love with her. Wallace is smitten with Judge Spotswood’s daughter, Clara. Josie points out to Broadway that by selling the plant to the trust he will ruin the town built by his ancestors and throw TOO employes out of work. Broadway decides that he will not sell. Broadway visits the plant and Josie explains the business details to him. He decides to take hold of the work at once. Broadway makes a speech to his employes who, In their enthusiasm, carry him around the plant on their shoulders. Pembroke calls and Broadway turns down the latest offer of the trust and announces that he Intends to fight. Wallace Intimates that his father’s advertise Ing agency Is backing Jones and plans a big advertising campaign. CHAPTER Xll.—Continued. ■ TZhy, it’s the biggest cinch in the world,” said Wallace. "If this plant showed the profit they say it did, last year, TH bet you that —" ! He was interrupted by the ringing of the telephone. “I’ll answer it,” said he. "You want to do everything, don’t you?* said Broadway peevishly. It was the long-distance call for which Wallace had some time before left orders. He gave a hurried, warning glance at all of them as soon as he had heard the voice which came to him along the wire. “Hello, guv’nor,” he replied. “Hello! Hello! . . Yes; I called you up. I’m up here in Conectlcu,t . . . Oh, no, strictly business. Say, guv-nor, I can get a big contract from the Jones’ Pepsin people. They’re going in heavy, I hear. I can close this deal right away. What—do—you think ? . . . New owner takes possession today. They must be all right I looked them up. . . . Well, will you let me use my own judgment (about that? I think I’ll make a splendid deal. ... Say, guv-nor, will ypu send me a wire authorizing me to sign this contract? . . . Thanks. ... I won’t be back until tomorrow. . . . Good contract? . . . Thanks. . . . No; I won’t be back until tomorrow. Good-by.” He hung up the receiver and turned hack to Jackson. ..That youth looked at him in somewhat helpless curiosity. "What are you going to do?" Tm going to show Pembroke we’re tyot bluffing. Pm going back tomorrow, and, as a starter. I’m going to bill New York till you can’t see the city through the advertisements of Jones’ Pepsin Gum."

“Where's all the money coming from?" said Jackson dubiously. “What are you going to do? Ruin me?" *TU draw the contract,” Wallace answered. “I'll give you a year to pay for It You'll be the best advertised article in America a month from now." “But, great Scott! I can’t afford to take a chance like that! I don't know anything about this business." “Say,” said Wallace in derision, “will you give me all you make over a million in the next two years if I give you the advertising free?" “Over a million? I should say I will!” , Wallace became serious and then broke into smiles. “Shake bands with your partner then. This will be the quickest, softest and first important money I ever made.” “Do you mean It?" "You bet I mean it” “Are yon sure you mean it?" "You bet Tm sure.” ” "Bob,” said Broadway with real feeling, ‘this is the happiest moment of my life!” At that Instant Sam came in. “Missis Ger —rard—to see —Mis—ter— Jones!" be cried. - ' Thus Broadway's happiest moment came to a sudden, tragic end. In the Mad whirl of recent hours he had forgotten Mrs. Gerard—his little ray of sunshine, sweetheart, dearie!—__ With a quick glance at Josie he almost collapsed. "Tell her to wait,” said Wallace, the “The—gentleman—wants —to— see said ***m -

FROM TAD PLAY CT GEORGE M.COftM

“Gentleman? What gentleman?" "Mis—ter Ran —kin." "Rankin!" cried Broadway with a ray of hope. "Send the gentleman right in, and tell the lady to wait” Sam went away with these instructions. •» "Mrs. Gerard! Where did she come from! How did she know I was here?" said the unhappy youth. Rankin came in respectfully, catfooted, gravely beaming, the ideal butler. “Mrs. Gerard’s here, sir." "I know,” said Broadway hopelessly. "Where did she come from?” . - “She didn’t say. Got to the hotel about five minutes ago, and demanded to be shown to you. I couldn’t help it sir.” “What am I going to do? We’ve got to get her away from here ! We’ve got to get her out of town!” “I'll get rid of her some way,” Wallace offered comfortingly. "Go on; take it on the run." "You bet I will!" said Jackson, and, without more ado, grasped his cane and hat and sprinted for the factory exit. He almost collided at the door with Josie, who was entering just then with papers from an,outer file. "Why, where are- you going, Mr. Jones?" "Any place. Where are you going?” “I’m going to dinner." He grabbed her arm, to her amazement “Come on: I’ll go with you. Let's go .out this why. I love to walk through the works.” “All right” said Wallace to the fat boy as soon as they were out of sight, “show the lady In.” "Shall I go, sir?” Inquired Rankin. “Stay where you are.” Mrs. Gerard came in most hurriedly. Indeed, her gait was almost that of an elderly lady wonderfully well preserved, who was very, very anxious about something which she valued highly and was willing to run hard to catch.

“Why, Mrs. Gerard,” said Wallace heartily. “What are you doing here? Ah, I know! You’re looking for Jackson. Too bad! He’s started for the station. He’s going to make that elev-' en-forty for New York. I think you can catch him if you hurry.” She had scarcely straightened from the stoop which had been imparted by her hurry as She entered. Now she much intensified it, and without a word dashed out “But you’ll have to run all the way," cried Wallace after her. Then he turned hurriedly to Rankin. “Listen! You follow her to the depot and get her on that train if you have to bind and gag her! Don’t leave her until you see her safely landed in New York. You understand?” "Yes, sir.” “Well, go on." “ As he turned back from intent observation of the man-servant’s departure, the noise of a new outburst of cheering reached him from the works, coming through the door the judge had opened as he entered. "What, again? What are they cheering about now?" "Broadway," said the judge, “is mak-

Ing another speech. He stopped in the works Instead of going through." "Making another speech!" They opened the door, wide and, wafted on the gentle breeze, there came to them in Broadway's best and most effective tones.' "Why, think of what I'd be selling! The thing my grandfather worked for and handed down to my father; the thing my father worked for and handed down to me; the thing that I should work for and hand down to my children, and so on, and so on, and so on." - CHAPTBRJffIK - It was hot until the excitement was all over at the factory, until the cheering had died down and the whole place had begun to buzz with industry for the long afternoon of happier labor

than it had known of late yeafs, that Wallace thought of lunch. He was not usually one to forget eating. It rather startled him. A - \ “Broadway,” he remarked, astonished, “do you know we haven’t fed?" “Do business men!” ‘That doesn’t make good sense. *Do business men?’ We’ve just done one business man. Pembroke has gone back to Ndw Yoi% with his disposition in a sling. But what did you think yoq were expressing when you said: 'Do business men? ” "I thought I was inquiring if business men took lunch. It they don’t. I’ll not. lam a business man.” “You bet they do." "If it’s a commercial practice I’ll join you. I’m hungry enough to eat on Sixth avenue." “No such tuck," said Wallace. “We’ve got to eat down at the Grand." Broadway almost paled. "Excuse me, but I’ve lost my appetite, come to think about it.” “I know; but we’ve simply got to eat.” They tried the first part of the luncheon, and it was just after they had tried it that Broadway, desperately worrying about the future, was smitten by a happy thought “Why live at the Grand?” he asked. "You can’t,” said Wallace. “It’s not living." “Why anything at the Grand when I’m the owner of a house with 14' rooms, throe baths, a root cellar and a phonograph?” Wallace looked at him with an enthusiastic light enkindling in his eyes. "Shall you take boarders?” “I shall take a boarder.” “Me?"

“You.” “When?" ~ “7“ “This afternoon.” "Would you be angry if I threw my arms around your neck, and told you how extremely fond I am of you?" “You may throw your arms around the room, for all I care, if you'll keep quiet while I telephone.” It was Mrs. Spotswood whom he called upon the wire, and gladly, hay, delightedly, she promised to take charge of the engrossing task of getting the Jones homestead ready for its future master. “When shall I be able to move in?” he asked. “If Mrs. Robinson’s as good a housekeeper as she has always been, you could move in today.” Within an hour she called him up and told him that Mrs. Robinson was just as good a housekeeper as ever, that the rooms had all been aired, that he had been expected hourly. “Can we have dinner there tonight?” “Why not?" “You mean it?” “Of course.” "Will you, the Judge and Clara dine with me?”

“Well; I should say so.” “Tell Mrs. Robinson that I’ll be early enough to tell her how extremely fond I am of her before we start to eat. And I’ll bring Bob and—er —Miss Richards.” Mrs. Spotswood laughed. "And who?" “Miss —er —Miss Richards." “You mean Josie?” “Yes.” “Well, say so, then. She’ll be mad if you don’t stop calling her ‘Miss Richards.’ ’\ Broadway turned from the telephone and faced the maiden of whom they had spoken. "Mrs. Spotswood says you’ll come to dinner and that you will be angry if I don’t stop calling you ‘Miss Richards.* Is she right?" “She’s always right.” "‘Then, Josie, will you come to dinner? I’ll have all the boys and girls, including Judge and Mrs. Spotswood.” “I’ll be glad to come,” said Josie. And she blushed. That was not strange, but that Broadway felt himself confused and also blushing was a thing which had not happened of late years. Sammy came to at the moment with a telegram for Wallace. Broadway, who was very happy, as he looked at Josie’s cheek (half view, from the back) promptly invited him.

“I'll be there," said the mighty child. "And I shall bring my banjo." Broadway did not notice hojw his sweet young office manager involuntarily shuddered. It was a pretty evening. The sun was setting in the midst of an extreme ly gorgeous Turner sky’, even if it was on Jonesville that the wondrous color fell in almost painful beauty. Broadway, tired out, but rathe - happy’ when he came to think of ii went alfing the old, familiar street wlti a light heart It might not be so verj terrible to live in Jonesville. There were trains that ran to Broadway when the longing became irresistible, and very possibly this might be better as a steady diet He was surprised to find himself admitting this. Sammy was hard at it as the convert turned in between the two white gate posts, each eight feet tall and capped by a great wooden ball which he had used as target when the snow bad been upon the ground and “packy” in bls boyhood days. Sammy did not even look up as he entered. "Say, Sammy," he inquired, after a moment of attentive listening to the production, "I don’t want to interrupt you, but did you write that yourself?” "Yea— sir.’’ “Well," said the happy Broadway very gravely, "I don't think it’e at all bad.” • . Wallace, who had strolled along behind him, arrived in time to hear thia. “No.indeed, it was very good." —v. "Very est Sam. “I should say —it was ' Mrs. Spotswood and the judge, having heard the voices, came out of the house, where they had been awaiting

the arrival of the young men. T 1 le girls followed them. . “Now other tune that— I made ■ up myself.” The judge looked at his son wli h that apologetic tolerance with which he usually regarded him. He was mit ashamed of him; but he refused ’» take him seriously. He would not evdß

punish him. "Keep on practicing Sammy. You’ll get there some day! Sammy redoubled his slow ad .mournful efforts, knowing in his hear! undoubtedly, what it was he Yneant fl play, but communicating to no onl either by the spoken word or an sound he made upon the strings. I "If you’re doing that for me, San my,” Broadway suggested kindl j “don’t overtax yourself. I’m willin you should stop at any time.” "Well," said the good-natured youtl "I—got—to practice anyhow." an kept on plunking. | Mrs. Spotswood was annoyed. San my sometimes got upon her nerves "Well, go home and practice. Don] strum at that thing here.” He looked up discontentedly as, witl the others except Jackson,, she wen up the porch steps and into the house He sat fingering the strings hall heartedly for a few seconds, whill Broadway watched him earnestly Then, from the interior, came thj sound of a piano. This stirred thj youngster’s ire. i "Say - keep that piano -j quiet will you? Gosh shows -j how much you know abou music! You can hear a piano any day. There ain’ ten good banjo players —l3 Connecticut!” "You’re all right, Sammy,” Broad way told him reassuringly. T don’

know how you stand with the rest of the folks; but you're all right with me.” But the piano was annoying Sam. "I ain’t going to stay and listen to that darned old -4 thing. I’m goin’ —to take —my banjo and go home! ’’ Broadway, with a smile, left him, and went to join his guests within. So did Sammy presently, in answer to the pangs of hunger, and they all had a most extraordinary dinner. Sam was incensed after awhile. That piano once more began to no one wished to hear his banjo, the world was out of joint He would not stay and sanctfon such mad judgment. He would take his banjo and go home. "Gosh!” he muttered. “That’s all the thanks I —• get for goln’ to « all the trouble of bringin’ my along and everything. Some day they'll be darned glad to hear me play when I get perfect!” Sammy was at the gate between the high balled posts when a great, lean and powerful touring car slid gently up before them and came to a standstill. “Excuse me, young man,” said the linen-coated gentleman, who, upon close Inspection, proved to be an elderly, clean-cut New York business man accustomed to commanding. "Well —what—do —you—want?” Sam was very peevish.

"Thia is the Jones house, isn’t it?" "Yes.” “That’s Mr. Wallace playing the piano, isn’t it?” "Yes he’s showin* off. He makes—me —tired.” “Will you .kindly tell him there’s a gentleman here who'd like to see him.” “Tell —him —yourself. I —ain’t —goto’

*YoW son has told me all about you. You have a very fine boy, Mr. Wallace —smart as a steel trap. I’ve taken a great liking to him. Mr. Jones has just opened up the old house tonight, and we all came over to supper—or dinner, as he calls it.” The Judge smiled tolerantly. “Perhaps you’d better come inside.” “No; I’ll wait out here.” "Hello, gov’nor!” Bob cried heartily —or tried to exclaim heartily; he was more than a little worried as he sprang through the door, across the porch and down the steps. “Well, you have handed me a surprise!” His father answered coldly. “You’ve handed me a surprise, also.” “Why, what’s the matter?” Bob knew perfectly; but it is always best to let your adversary state his grievance before you try to answer him. He may forget a point or two to his excitement. ' (TO BE CONTINUED.)

“By Gracious, I'm Awfully Glad to See You!”

Bob and Clara.