Indianapolis Times, Volume 48, Number 3, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 March 1936 — Page 15

MARCH 14,1936

'WHAT A WOMAN!'

BEN BRUNSWICK was a bum, and nobody in Franklin meant maybe. Every uplift agency in town had tried to boast him out of it, failed and given him up. And then one day a little old woman, not a whole lot better than Bon. came along and said six words to him and changed everything. The six words were “Please take care of me, sonny," and it's funny if you know Ben.

If you had told anybody in Franklin that those words would have affected Ben Brunswick one way or another, you wouldn't have been believed. Ordinarily, any little old woman you could have found would have been Just about as hopefully employed pouring water on a duck as saying, “Please take care of me, sonny," to Ben. In fact, you could have looked at Ben and seen with half an eye that he couldn’t and, scarcely less plainly, that he wouldn’t take care of anybody--the Ben he was then. And “sonny!" You’d as soon have applied the w'ord to the old mangy, moth-eaten bull buffalo out at City Park whose coat was coming off in patches. It is hard to believe that any little old woman in her right senses would have spoker. like that to Ben. tt tt a WELL, the answer is that, the little old woman Bcv, picked up in his arms < because there was nobody else in sight he could pass the buck to) was not In her right senses. She had just been knocked down by a hit-and-run driver who had stepped on the gas and disappeared. There was blood in her eyes and she couldn’t see. She was out of her head—such as it was. Ben thought she was dying. The curb in front of the shack lie lived in out there in the edge of town by the gas tank was red with her blood. He picked her up because he didn't know what else to do with her. She w r a.*i so lithe in his brawny, lazy arms, she didn't seem to weigh anything at all. She was so pitiful and insignificant that she penetrated oven his accumulations of indifference and inertia. It had been a long time since anybody had gone down through the layers of them to see what manner of man lived on beneath. He carried her in and laid her on his bed and stepped out at a pace unknown to him for a good many years, and returned with a visiting nurse and a doctor. tt n tt . "W THAT," they said to him after W she had come back to consciousness and was lying there looking at him as helpless as a small wounded animal, “are we going to do with her? Where shall we send her? Who’s going to look out for her?" and something that was down in Ben that he didn’t know was there —and goodness knows nobody else would have suspected the existence of —spoke up and scared him by saying: “Leave her stay here. Maybe she ain't got anywhere to go. I’ll take care of her.” The doctor adjusted his spectacles and stared. “You?” he said. “You don't take care of yourself. This place isn't fit " “I’ll make it fit," Ben said, and took off what had once been his coat and did a cleaning job that was recognizably related to civilized standards. “Ben," the visiting nurse said a little later, “did you mean it? You were right, she hasn't got anywhere to go. I've been telephoning United Charities. They know all about her. They’ve been trying to help her for some time, but she won’t take it. She’s had a room on Philbrick-av, but her week was up last night and she gave it up—told ttvm she couldn’t afford to keep it. Nobody knows how she gets along. All she’s got on earth is in that bundle there, and you can look at her and see she’s too old and feeble to work. If you don’t keep her ” tt a a STRANGE are the workings of the instincts, and the filial is no exception. “Listen," Ben said, “from now on she's the same as my mother, see? An’ I’m seeing her through. What’s her name?" “Mrs. Euphemia Boppy.’ “Hell of a name! From now on her name's Mrs. Benjamin Brunswick Sr." “It's a nice name.” the little old woman said, lying there all tricked out in an elaborate boudoir cap Ben had bought for her in the tencent store. “I never was partial to Boppy anyhow. Maybe, on account of the man I got it from.’ “No danger of any mixin’ up with my old man,” Ben said. “I calculate I must ’a’ had one. an’ I s’pose he was white, because I am. but I don’t know anything about him, and I didn’t even take my name off'n him. First place I remember of was a town named Brunswick, and I called myself after that." The little old woman nodded pleasantly. “A real nice name,” she said, and fell asleep. tt tt tt SHE wasn't much hurt after all and she got well in a hurry. She spruced up amazingly under the companionship of a son, and rather an amusing one, for Ben had seen a good deal of human nature in the raw and liked to talk about it now that he had a listener. Having a listener is a marvelous thing, if you’ve been without one for a long time. Ben put out leaves and blossoms. Also Mrs. Benjamin Brurswick Sr. spruced up the shack, and ren took to bathing, to measure up to it. The social service workers of Franklin came around just to look at him. They didn’t believe their eyes. They said Ben must have found out that Mrs. Euphemia Boppy had property hidden away somewhrt-e and was going to murder her for it some night in her sleep. And then one day Ben came an*d asked for work, and they all said they were going to give up for life forming final judgments where human beings were concerned. They hustled out and found him work before he could cool off; but it must be admitted that he cooled off almost immediately afterward. tt tt tt HOWEVER, the few days he stayed with it were enough to finance; as cozy' a two weeks as mother and son could wish—conversation, leisure, sitting about in the sunny spots under their own wild cucumber vine and jimpson weed bush, limitless rest. They were a couple of presidents emeritus of that college whose whole curriculum Is designed for the teaching of one thing—how to

Today's Short Story

The Tale of a Bum

exist with least discomfort upon the irreducible minimum. Ben didn't own the shack, but there was nobody sufficiently interested in dispute his squatter’s rights to it, so all he had to supply (since it was summer) was food; but even so, that’s something. They squeezed out an extra day after there was nothing left at all, and then stared together anH with equal dismay at the ne<-ssity of more work for Ben. They stared at it all day, while they got hungrier and hungrier, and the following day—perforce— Ben returned to the marts. He earned another fortnight’s idleness, and found it sweet, spent in his adopted mother’s company. So sweet that he seriously considered the idea of thus using toil in small quantities, right along, like an qpicurean, for the purpose of improving the quality of his leisure. Considered it, turned it this way and that, and finally, with a good deal of inner violence, rejected it. tt tt tt THEY starved a day longer' this time, heroically. That night his bitterness and misery were made audible by the small sounds of her shifting and sighing in the other room. All his life he had been free. Lots of people praise freedom with their lips and typewriters, but Ben had gone cold and hungry in its service. His devotion would have been attested 99.9 per cent pure by the Bureau of Standards. “Workin’,” he said the next day, bitterly, “’s even worse'n I thought it was." Mrs. Benjamin Brunswick Sr. nodded her flossy boudoir cap and hitched her chair farther into her newly acquired place in the sun. “I never could understand it,” she sa‘d. “It don't seem right for folk to spend their time workin’. Not to me it don’t. Why any dog’s got the bulge on ’em! If only I had me ? dollar or two put by!” “Forget it!” Ben said and looked at her with a wave of emotion deeper than anything he had felt for years. What a woman! A woman who, if she had had it, would have coughed up money to save you, not from death, which no man could escape anyway and was, after all, reprieve from a world which never had appreciated you, but from work, which was the common curse, though there were few with the guts to admit it! For such a woman Ben would—even—work. tt tt tt HE sighed, groaned, hoisted himself to his great feet and said so. ' Mrs. Ben;amin Brunswick Sr. began to cry. Ben’s newly awakened capacity to feel touched anew high. “If you hadn’t taken me in,” she sobbed, her face working with such genuine concern that Ben's began to twist, too. “I’d have no talk like that from the Pope, himself! When I said ‘Mother,’ it was what I meant. I’m on my way ” Bu the little old. woman was sobbing hysterically and in deadly earnest. It took him a long time to calm her down. He could see that something fundamental was happening inside of her. She was in fact, being born again. At last she wiped her eyes, straightened her cap and sat up as one who says good-by to all that. An odd glint of jubilation came into her eyes. She seemed to swell with importance. She wagged her head with sudden and vast significance. She cocked it. tt tt a “T'D never ‘a’ done it," she said, X still sniffling a little and leaning forward dramatically, “for meself. For more years ’n you’ve been a-livin’ I’ve been pinchin’ it off here an’ scroogin’ an’ savin’ there an’ a-hidin’ it. Carryin’ it around with me in that old shawl. If folks had known I had it ! t It—it’s been what I’ve lived for!* In the bundle there, under the bed.” Well. Mrs. Benjamin Brunswick Sr. had $986.54 in bills and coins of many vintages, and staring at it misty eyed and shaken to the deep heart's core, Ben heard freedom ring. They've dwelt .together paradisically ever since. She may not be his physical mother, but Ben feels that she is truly the mother of his soul; and he, though he may not be any earthly good otherwise, is a good son. DISCUSS kagavwsT CO-OPERATIVE IDEAS H. L. Seeger to Lead Forum of Presbyterian Men’s Class. A round table discussion on the consumers’ co-operative theories of Toychiko Kagawa, Japanese Christian leader, is to be held at 10 tomorrow morning at the Second Presbyterian Church by the men’s class. H. L. Seeger is to lead the discussion. Subjects of round table talks for March include Dr. E. Stanley Jones’ bock, “Christ’s Alternative to Communism.” ELECTION TALK ON AIR Commissioner to Explain Laws Over WFBM Tonight. David M. Lewis, chairman of the County Board of Election Commissioners is to speak tonight at 8:30 over WFBM. His topic is to be “Indiana Election Laws,” and is to mark the 56th legal program in the “Law for the Layman” series, under the direction of Humphrey C. Harrington, deputy prosecutor. TAX OFFICE IS OPEN Federal Revenue Collector to Be on Job Extra Hours. Offices of the Federal internal revenue collector are to be open until 5 tonight and until midnight Monday to aid taxpayers, Will H. Smith, collector, announced today. Industrialists to Hear Dr. Slutz Dr. Frank Slutz, Dayton, 0., is to speak to city industrial! leaders on Tuesday at 6:30 in the Y. M. C. A. R. ff. Phelps, chairman of the committer on arrangements, made the announcement. 1

OUR BOARDING HOUSE

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FRECKLES AND HIS FRIENDS—

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WASHINGTON TUBBS II

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BOOTS AND HER BUDDIES

THE TARZAN TWINS

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With determined assurance. Doc now undertook the second phase of his plan. “Ukundo!” he snapped. The pygmy looked up. "Ukundo!” continued the white boy; “we must escape—tonight, as soon as Paabu brings the weapons.” Ukundo shook his head sadly : “Can not escape.”

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“We can,” Doc insisted. “While the cannibals are busy with their party, well get out of the village and . . .” “Can not go into jungle at night,” the pygmy objected; “jungle full of demons; demons kill!” “Oh. no,” grinned Dick; “demons run as soon as they lay eyes on Doc.”

—By Ahem

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“I’m a great witch-doctor, Ukundo,” Doc resumed; “but white man’s magic is no good to show me the way through the jungle. If you will do that, my magic will kill all the demons m sight.” The pygmy regarded the white boy with awe, "Ukundo will go with you bwana!”

OUT OUR WAY

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—By Edgar Rice Burroughs

But as soon as he had agreed, another doubt assailed his mind: “How we get out of village?” It was Dick who replied: “Maybe well have to fight, Ukundo. If we must die, let's die fighting!” With almost reverential awe Doc whispered: ' That’s the old Tarzan spirit!”

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