SEMI-MONTHLY MAGAZINE
The Big Ballad Hit
(Continued from Page S )
and I only want to win out on his
account, so so "
She stopped, observing him anx
iously. "I ain't one o' them mushy guys,"
said he shortly. "An' 1 'in married
myself; but others made trouble be
tween us, an she 's in vaudeville
now, though if she was n't so crazy
jealous we 'd be together today, an'
it 's her started me drinkin'. So it 's
all plain business with me. Come on
to the car an' we '11 hike for that
piano?"
TDEXNY VOX LINDEN sat in his
- private office, glooming upon the
advertising copy he had prepared for
vaudeville papers patronized by the
firm of Von Linden and Nolan.
Sammy Martin disconsolately re
garded the sour face of his superior.
Charlie Nolan, manager of the pro
fessional department, leaned against
Benny's piano, staring at the floor.
"We 've never let Howe and Ham
lin put one over on us before, and
here you sit as if it did n't matter,
when that story ballad of theirs is
takin' like wildfire. Can't you rouse
yourself and write an answer to it,
Ben?" entreated Sammy. "It's
killin' for me to drop in at shows an'
cabarets an' hear 'em playin' that
thing an' us with no comeback but
our 1912 numbers. Ain't I right,
Charlie?"
"I could n't stick to a meter if I
began anything. I 'm sick," said
Benny. "And since Charlie's been
writing with Alf Lawler he 's lost his
punch. I don't get any idea from his
words."
"Don't the thought of that masked
skirt drivin' the zebras East convey
nothin' to you, an' lettin' that mob
across the street twenty-four sheet
the whole country with their anon
ymous author junk, though she
probably can't write a lick, an' the
real one 's hidin' out an' coppin' the
change an' with your brains, Ben?"
demanded Sammy, almost tearfully.
Nolan groaned.
If Benny could not write the firm
was helpless. Money, money, every
hour, so money must come in steadily.
He went distastefully to his piano,
and struck a few chords, shaking his
head woefully. He hummed a little,
trying to goad himself into composi
tion. He might take some of his
earlier successes, and with a bar from
one, and a strain from something
else, fake a melody it was what
other writers did, and they stole from
the masters, or their best friend's
rag, at will. But he would n't. Softly
he played Was Xot Meant For You,
Howe and Hamlin's tragic ballad that
was the trail blazer for 1913.
"The music 's nothing much, very
ordinary, in fact. It 's the words
that sell this," he thought. "And the
public was ready for it. If Charlie
could only turn out stuff like It:
Who the dickens have they dug up,
anyway? It's not Ned Howe under
an assumed name, for he "d be mighty
glad to father it, and I don't recog
nize the style at all; but whoever
wrote it's got a future. If I could
get a look at their masked woman,
I 'd offer her a contract, by George!"
Howe and Hamlin were displaying
more than customary enterprise, and
the story of the masked beauty and
the zebras sent to her by an Oriental
potentate who had seen her picture
in a belated London weekly, and then
shot himself because she refused to
be his queen, was syndicated around
the country. Then followed the thrill
ing rescue at midnight by a "stalwart
Harvard football star," who mod
estly hid his identity, but was sup
posed to be in hot pursuit of the
zebraed lady. When the original tale
could get no more notice, Springfield,
Ohio, leaped Into the glare with a
startling yarn. An infatuated avia
tor had been flying above the lovely
traveller. Spurned innumerable
times, he desperately flew close to the
carriage, seized the screaming girl
and would have borne her into the
skies, but that the football gentleman
arrived in a racing auto, fired two
shots, and recovered the victim, who
although fainting, preserved her in
cognito by holding her mask tightly
against her face.
She was resting in a Springfield
hotel, the zebras had kicked a box
stall into splinters, and the masker
had risen in the middle of the night
to pacify them, later paying for all
damages and speaking a foreign
language . that no one understood.
She distributed copies 6T I Was Xot
Meant For You, and as she drove her
striped team out of the city, the rac
ing automobile was seen to shoot
from a garage and slowly trail the
zebras.
"Of course, it 's all rot, but it gets
the publicity, said Benny, still play
ing the ballad's chorus. "And Howe,
without brains enough to wad a gun
when you come down to plain facts,
will reaj) the benefit. Who is she?
That 's what I want to know."
THE telephone rang, and a voice
said that Sandowlina the Strong
oman was calling, and desired to
come up. Sandowlina had been
bridesmaid at Benny's wedding. She
was fond of Dollie, and since the lat
ter had vanished, Sandowlina came
in when passing, and tried to hearten
him with hopeful surmises. He rose
to meet her, expecting a smiling face,
for she was always lively, but San
dowlina cried out as she entered:
"Oh, Ben, I 've found out where
Walter is, and there 's another woman
in it! I feel like I can't keep up an
other second, and I could hardly drag
up the stairs, and as to playin' my
matinee today, my poor legs would
hardly hold me up, but just imagine
how a man can be that perfidious
when a person 's done their whole
duty, and willingly tossed cannon
balls when many a day her heart 's
hungered to be settin' in a quiet flat
readin' a good book. But did I ever
complain, except as to his four sis
ters bein" foisted on me as my maids,
so they could be took travelin' and
see the world, and what need has a
party, who only uses tights, with
even one maid, you know, Ben? Not
that I'm stingy, as he claimed; but
we fell out, and off he went, and Pa
said at the start I was a sucker for
iuarryin. She 's a small brunette,
and him claimin' he would n't look at
anything but a blonde! Some men
are devils, and that's all, I s'pose;
but I 'm a sick woman ! "
She fell upon the piano stool, and
Benny viewed her with concern. He
had been unaware of her domestic
sorrows. Trouble everywhere!
"I 'm mighty sorry, Sandy. Can't
I look for him and persuade him to
come back and have some sense?"
"She '8 fascinated him. He 's awful
easy led," said Sandowlina. "A mu
sician always is. My sister Lulu 's
married to a tuba player and he
makes their home dreadful, bringin'
pictures of 'em, and askin' her if this
or that one ain't a pippin. No one
realizes what that girl goes through.
Then later he's all over it and can't
remember their names, and calls Lu
his baby doll; but do you think she
can forget?"
Benny was shocked, and he grati
fied Sandowlina by showing it.
They sat in silence, reflecting upon
their wrongs.
"Take off your coat and be com
fortable," invited Benny, as Sandow
lina got up and paced the room.
"Guess I had better shed my over
coat," said she. When her topcoat
was removed, Sandowlina was re
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waistcoat and skirt of dull blue. She
wore a starched wing collar and a
well tied scarf, starched cuffs, low
heeled gentlemanly coltskin shoes,
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