The Sunday Oregonian., May 21, 1922, Magazine Section, Image 89

. Pagazme Section
VOL. XLI
PORTLAND, OREGON,' SUNDAY MORNING. 3IAY 21, 1922
NO. 21
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It Isn't Always Just Luck
As Witness the Case
of. the Actress Willed
$ 1 00,000 by a Teacher
She Befriended; the Wait
ress Who Got a $10,000 Tip, and
the Manufacturer Who Remem
bered the "Cop" Who Staked Him
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SgHabeth Hill, Iowa Waitress, Refused Tips from an
Ethical Standpoint and Cot ft Fortune from a
Rich Patron '
PERHAPS Grimm, the fairy tale manu
facturer, was right, after, all. May
be there are good-hearted fairies
who reward those who have done unto
others as they would be .done by. Per
haps some guiding spirit directs those
grateful souls who, years after a kind act,'
return to reward the benefactor who may
long since have forgotten his benefaction.
The news columns during the past few
weeks have recited remarkable instances
of rewards for kindness, showing that the
age of chivalry and decency toward one's
fellow men is by no means' dead.
Episode One.
Passaic, N. J. George Conroy, Brie
conductor, on the main line, about to
raise his hand to start the train out of
Passaic, N. J. He sees an elderly man
hastening down the street. He waits.
The man makes the train. The train
pulls out.
"Mighty decent of you," the man gasps.
"You seem to make a habit of being
decent, anyway."-
"It's all in the day's work," laughs
Conroy. "I know, Mr. Adams, that a man
of your years wouldn't be running for a
train unless he had a good reason to
catch it. Anyway, I like to treat people
the way I like to be treated."
"Yes, a big reason," replies J. J.
Adams, rich shoe manufacturer. "If I
had missed it I might have lost several
thousand dollars on a big deal."
Conroy, as Mr. Adams observed, is
known for his kindness to commuters.
He is a cheerful fellow, too, with a sym
pathetic word for people in trouble. Years
later, Conroy breaks the news that J. J.
Adams has died and left him a fortune
of $15,000. Every commuter rejoices
and says he is sorry he can't do as much
himself.
Episode Two.
New York City, evening, October 12,
1912. Miss Marie Shotwell, actress, is
walking along Fifth avenue. She is in
rather a bad frame of mind. A dinner
engagement which promises a pleasant
evening has been broken. At Thirty
ninth street she stops and listens to a
woman spellbinder talking politics. Ab
sorbed by the theories of. the speaker,
she does not notice that a woman, dressed
in somber fashion, has edged close to her
until she becomes aware that the stranger
Is actually leaning against . her for sup
port. Conversation opens. The woman in
the drab raiment confides to the actress
that she is Mary Pierson, a school teacher.
Sho says it in a voice of utter hopeless
ness, as if teaching New York school chil
dren were a sad and depressing task. But
when the actress introduces herself, the
tired look goes out of the eyes of the
teacher and she extiaims:
"Eh, I just love all your kind!"
Friendship is established between the
actress and the teacher. The actress
takes the teacher for frequent visits into
her sphere into the world of high
priced dinners, and brilliant isettings and
merry living. The school teacher gives to
the actress the soft speech of refinement
and education and astonishes leaders of
the stage, to whom she is introduced, by
the brilliance of her conversation. The
plainly dressed teacher is often in the
lavishly appointed apartment of the ac
tress . .......
Ten years pass. ' Mary Pierson, the
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Marie Shotwell, Whose
Solicitude for a Lonely
Old Woman's Welfare
and Happiness Has
Brought Her a Rich
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"They Leave the Place and Kidd Convinces Her That '
Decency Is the Only Safe Course."
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where the ceiling is low, the cigarette
smoke is thick, and the women come to
one's table at a wink or a nod. David S.
Kidd, a tea salesman, slumming it.
A girl witn the face of an angel, a girl
whose life has not yet blotted out retme
nent and the earmarks of gentle rearing,
conies to the table. Kidd looks at her
face, then at the hard faces of the ether
women.
"I want you," he says to the girl.
She throws her arms about his neck.
But she Is a neophyte at this game.
They leave the place forever. Outside
Kidd convinces her that decency is the.
only safe course and he stakes her to
nough to make another try.
Fifteen years pass. W. G. Byrnes,
father of Lucy Byrnes, whom Kidd res-
(Concluded on Page 3.)
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"t Like to Treat People the' Way '
Like to Be Treated," George
Conroy, Erie . Conductor, Often
Said. He Was Left a Bequest.
Patrolman Francis E. Caddelt of
New York City, Made fiich by a
Man He Befriended in His Youth.
school teacher, dies. Miss ShotweU finds
herself sole beneficiary ' and ' executrix
"The Plainly Dressed Teacher Is
Apartment of
under the will of her friend, the drab,
little school teacher. Mary Pierson
whom she believed to be poor, leaves her
a fortune In real estate appraised at
$100,000.
Episode Three.
Council Bluffs, Iowa. Elizabeth Hill,
waitress, 24 years old and pretty, is at
tending to her duties in the quick-lunch
establishment in the railroad station. A
stream of men pours in and out. Most
of them are on the way to the Chicago
stockyards. They've come from long dis
tanpes But she knows nearly every one.
Seldom does a face elude her.
An old man enters, one of those old
men "whose age is as a lusty winter,
"frosty but kindly." He gets a bite to
eat. He nods to the girl. She smiles
recognition. He is "Old Man Dexter."
Everyone knows the 78-year-old traveler.
He's on the way to Chicago to sell cattle.
His bite finished, his check presented,
the old man takes from a slim roll of bills
a new dollar and proffers it to the girl.
"No! ' You know I never take a tip,"
she says. "Tips are not fair. Some day
1 might take a tip from a man who needed
Often in the Lavishly Appointed
the Actress."
the money for a wife, children or mother
I get my meals here and a salary and that
Is enough."
"The same old story. You've told me
that many times," laughs the old man.
"And you also returned that check for
$100 L sent you. Well, I'll get you to
take something yet."
Old Man Dexter boards his train.,
A month later. The waitress receives
a bulky letter, registered mail. She opens
it. A note reads:
"You deserve a better fate than work
ing behind a restaurant counter. You are
a real American and the only person who
ever refused my tips. In the hills of
Devonshire I have a wife and daughter
buried. . In memory of them and with my
best wishes for the future I beg you to
accept this remembrance."
Attached is a certified check for $10,
000 and the deed to 1000 acres of
Nebraska grazing land.
Old Man Dexter returns to England,
leaving no address. After finding this
out, Elizabeth Hill accepts the gift.
Episode Four. . .
' Toronto, Canada One of those places
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No! 1 li ever Take a Tip I Tips Are NCtJFairi
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