Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 255, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 November 1917 — A Young Fellow [ARTICLE]

A Young Fellow

By.H. H. Duncan

(CopyrUjht, 1917, by the McClure Nowspa- * per Syndicate.) A young fellow started out in real estate, and real estate, when one isyoung and just beginning, is almost as barren of business as the first year’s practice of a lawyer. But £he young man had an office, with his name In gold leaf on the glass in the door. he sat in his swivel chair before the empty roll top desk and eyed the sign, he became dissatisfied. The letters seemed to mock, to tantalize, to Khlm. He determined to lock up ffice and go see Florence. Just as he whs about to put his idea into execution, a visitor crossed his threshold. It was Mr. Thomas Henry, father of Florence, and one of his father’s most Intimate friends. f I am glad to see you," stated the young man cordially, as he rose to greet the older man. “It was good of you to look in on me.” “I was just phssing,” said the elder man, “and I thought I would drop in for a moment’s rest. How’s business, Frank?” “Neither good nor bad,” replied the young man cheerfully. “There isn’t any.” “TTgh! That’s rather fierce." ' “Oh, don’t take it seriously, Mr. Henry,” remonstrated the young man, shunning pity. "It’ll pick up some day. Tm not a bit discouraged.” “That’s the way, Frank,” approved Mr. Henry. “I’m gjad to hear that you're proving—or rather promising to prove—worthy of your friends. One of them said to me today, ‘He’ll make good. I’ll guarantee that he will.’ That’s what one person thought about your future In real estate.” “Who said that?” asked Frank eagerly. “I didn’t know any business man “ here Fn town held that opinion. They all said the field was overcrowded and that I was a fool for launching out In it. Who was he?” It was rather awkward for Mr. Henry. He hesitated. “It wasn’t exactly a business man, it was Florence." He looked keenly at the young man as he mentioned his daughter’s name and smiled; The young man was not at all disconcerted. On the contrary, he seemed as much elated as if Thomas A. Edison had been his Indorser. Of course, poor reader, you can’t understand this, as you don’t happen to know Florence. • • “She’s a mighty dear girl,” the young man declared. “Do you know, Mr. Henry, she’s all right, even If she Is your daughter.” Mr. Henry looked at the young man for a cue, and found him grinning. “Frank.” declared Mr. Henry, his brow wrinkling, “I’m up against it. I wish you could help me out on a little deal a big deal, rather. But it’s hopeless. “The most experienced men in the business have fallen down on it." “What’s the deal, Mr. Henry?” asked the young man. “Give me a chance.” “You couldn’t do anything," replied Mr. Henry rather sharply, “unless it would be to drug the old man. It’s that Jackson block business, Frank. You know Mr. Jackson, a client of mine, has been wanting that half block for an office building site. He’s bought every foot of land from Walnut street clear through the alley, a solid half block, all except that little lot on which old man Boyd has his shack of an office. That little one-story shed Is all that stands In the way of a new building. For my client, I’ve offered him four times as much as the ground Is worth or will ever be worth, but still he holds out. He’s jealous of Jackson, that’s all. I can’t get him to give In. I’ve tried every way through all kinds of people.”

Mr. Henry stopped and scowled. He glanced U'rOund the room, scowled at the empty wastepaper basket, at the book shelves, at the filing cabinet, and even out the window, where a ten-year-old girl, who was passing, a very good girl, nrobablv. whouw doubt helps wipe the dishes at jmme, and takes care of her little brother, was badly frightened because she thought Mr. Henry was scowling at her. "Boyd lives just the other side of the half block, doesn’t .he?” asked the young man. “Yes, he does,” growled Mr. Henry. "What has that to do with lt?’O “Everything, if It’s worked right,” declared Frank. “Do you want me to buy that twenty feet for you?” “You get a chock for a thousand dollars If you do," fttomlsed his friend, “and we’ll allow for the lot" . “Will you give mO a week, Mr. Henry?” The young matt was excited. “I will,” replied Mr. Henry, looking at h<m in bewilderment “And take the deal out of the hands of the agents?” To this Mr. Henry was willing. "All right,” answered the young man, “it’s your lot” “I don’t know." '“I do,” declared Frank. “11l start the ball rolling right away. Kindly remember me to Florence, will you, Mr. Henry? Tell her Til call just as soon as I bring about this deal. I’U have something important to tell her. Spring the lock as you go out will you?” Frank bolted'into his coat grabbed his

hat and, leaving Mr. Henry glued to one of the installment-plan chairs, darted down the street. » ‘.‘Hello, Sam?’ called the young man, after he had traveled several blocks. “I was looking for you.” A large negro, carrying a basket of ashes toward an old horse and wagon, wiped, his hand on an overall leg and greeted the young man. “I’se powerful glad to see you." “How’s Mrs. Smith and the babies?" Inquired Frank. “Fine, sir, fine. You jes ought to see my little boy, Mr. Frank. “And how’s the band?” asked the young man. “Say, Mr. Frank 1" shouted the negro, kicking over the basket of ashes in his excitement, “you Jes ought-to hear that band now. Fve been practicin’ era regular ebery night, and they’se gettln’ on fine. You ought to hear ’em play the ‘Swanee Biber.’ Mr. Henry, it would make tears melt fn your mouth. Ob course, I hab my troubles, y* understand Mr. Frank, the negro continued. “Ebery bandmaster has his troubles, Mr. Frank. Now take that nigger trombone player. He’s all right on volume, Mr. Frank. He’s fine on volume. You could hear him four miles, I reckon. But the feller won’t play in tune. When we’re playing flats he’s playing sharps, an’ he's always a couple of notes ahead of the rest. An’ the cornet, an’ some of the others, ain’t what they should be. but I’se practicin’ ’em. We’ll get together all right after a while.” The negro smiled hopefully. “Sure you will,” agreed Frank. “Where do you practice, Sam?” he asked.

“We’ve been playin’ In a barn back Ob my house. It’s a tolerable enough place when it don’t rain. I’s looking for a better place, but don’t seem to find none. We can’t afford to pay much rent." “Sam,” stated the young man, ‘Tm Interested In music, and Tm Interested in your band. How would you like American hall for your practices?” For an answer, Sam grinned like a man on a holiday. “I can’t premise It to you any longer than a week.” “Das all right, Mr - Frank ” responded Sam. “A week’s better ’n nothin’." “Want to start to-hight, Sam?” asked the young man. “Yep, seben o’clock. Play straight through till leben.” “Fine,” declared Frank. ‘Til explain a llttler Sam. The reason I’m renting this hall for you Is because I want to treat the neighborhood to some good music. See?” “Yes, sir,” answered Sam. But really, you know, he didn’t. “If things work out the way I expect them to,” promised Frank, ‘Tm going to buy your band new uniforms.” “Good heabens, Mr. Frank! Real ones, blue with gold braid? An’ a drum-major hat for me to march In? “Surest thing you know,” answered Frank, grinning. “Only be sure to have the band play loud. You know I want all the neighborhood to be sure to hear the music.” This Sam guaranteed. “And see here,” added the young man: “If you don’t care, Pd like to be known as the manager of your band. May T?” ( “Ob course,” magnanimously. “It’ll be a big thing for the band; Mr. Frank Lucas, manager.” “And remember this, If anybody comes up and wants to cut out the music—some people like music, others don’t—or threatens to kill the trombone specialist, you tell ’em I’m manager of the band, and send ’em to me, will you? Tell ’em Pm running the circus, will you?" “I shore will,” promised Sam. “I don’t want no scraps wid nobody, I don’t An’ t’ank you, sir. The band’ll give ’em good concerts all week—nice loud ones. So long. Mr. Frank.” Well, it all came out as we expected. A week’s music from Sam’s band rehearsing “Swanee River” each night from seven until eleven o’clock in the hall directly opposite his residence, was all the music Mr. Boyd could stand. He remonstrated with Sam in vain—he was sent to Mr. Frank Lucas. The police told Boyd, when he complained, that they had no right to Interfere so long as. the band was orderly. At last Mr. Boyd went to Frank. Frank explained to Mr. Boyd that lie had been thinking of moving his band to another part of the town, but that he was interested in buying a certain strip in the Jackson block site.- Boyd saw the plot, but trom-bone-crazy, he forgot his jealousy and sold the property for its true value, $5,000. I In return for the deed, Frank received from Thomas Henry $15,000, as per agreement. Frank’s ledger read: “Received fee, SI,OOO. Profit, $10,000.’ The band removed to Its old quarters, but marched the following Sunday In new uniforms. Then the cash account in Frank’s ledger was credited with SSOO, charged to personal account. With the SSOO Frank purchased a solitaire for Florence.