Image provided by: University of Oregon Libraries; Eugene, OR
About The Oregon daily journal. (Portland, Or.) 1902-1972 | View Entire Issue (Aug. 21, 1921)
THE OREGON SUNDAY- JOURNAL, PORTLAND. SUNDAY MORNING. AUGUST 21. 1C21; Wa (;T JLLUSTRATION -.:vr'l.TWO.SlCY:sCRAPERS AND MRS CASEY - JHE LITTLE BOOSTBl. ADVISED BY BETTY SFEtfCHMVOBICS HIS REAL KTATE DEALS BY STRANGE METHODS TTAD, Leonldas advertised for a lady - helper to assist in defending: the pass " at Thermopylae against any number of invading: Persians, he could not have done better than to have " chosen Mrs. Mary Casey. Also, she would have been useful for holding; bridges with Horatius: for it was she who, by her single-handed prowess, held a gap between two tall r buildings against. the strongest army of real estate speculators ever assembled in the city of San Bruno, state of California. No name In the directory was more hated : by land brokers than was hers, no ground more coveted than the 100x160 foot plot ; on which her tiny, shabby cottage crouched stubbornly between those lofty " commercial towers which, like fabled ' giants, had suddenly risen out of nothing to overcome her. On the right it was the new Insoluble Trust building, on the left the sky-aspiring apartment store of Na than Rosewasser. , ! These buildings were the commercial pride of booming San Bruno, and that Mrs. Casey's lot was wanted as the site for a still more imposing structure was a -secret so open that it was shouted dally over every other telephone In town. Yet Mrs. Casey continued to raise chickens on her priceless holdings. -two dozen scrawny Plymouth Rocks, whose daily. , egg songs vied with the click of typewrit ers in the offices on either side. Every little while some undiscouraged . agent would entef her domain prepared to offer her as high as a quarter of a million dol lars for "her place; and, like the hero in, the ballad, said agent -would always -, "walk right in, and turn round, and walk right out again." W. KETCHUM. from his window on " the tenth floor, cast an evil eye upon the widow's roof. He knew how to clear half a million by buying that lot ( within thirty days, and he could have murdered the big woman for her mulish ness. . Like many another great' sinner, ' " he ; was an eager stone thrower. He hated Mrs. Casey's stubborn resistance; yet his own dog-in-the-manger attitude concerning the sale of certain property to the city park was common talk among the honest Boosters. But it was Ketchum's way. And, as he yearned for" Mrs. Casey's lot with a great passion, he " resolved to make life so miserable for ' her that she would have to move. So Brian Coru Blaney happened upon her . persecutions. - . Anybody wpuld have noticed Brian crossing Central Square that morning, because he wore a suit that rivaled fhe blue Jay in its vivid color. ; - , "Somp'n burnin'," said Brian, sniffing, ' the odor of hot rags, Looking across the square he saw a vast smudge of smoke rising from the street and pouring through the gut between the Insoluble and the Rosewasser buildings. A wom an's voice hurled invective in the tone of outdoor suffrage oratory. "They're smokin Mary out again, said Policeman Jones of the park squad. Brian pulled his green velvet hat over his eyes and raced across the square in the direction of the smudge. The gap between the two vast buildings formed a natural flue which drew the ' smoke straight across Mrs. Casey's house. A seedy workman, going about it with all the dignity of a high priest perform-. Ing a sacred rite, stood shoveling street litter on the pyre. Another workman, smoking a pipe, stood amusingly receiv ing the volleying abuse that flamed from the lips of a huge Irishwoman who car- ried a bucket in either hand, setting one down occasionally to add a telling ges ture to some lofty flight of Billingsgate. "Who sint ye here on this divil's er- r rand?" she demanded. , ' 1 . "Orders from the board o' health, lady." said the workman., x "Th board o pesthouses, ye mean!1 I know who's back o this Job Ketchum an' Sellers, bad cess to ther black sowls!" Her red forefinger pointed to a gilt sign on the tenth floor of the Insoluble. "May the mold rot ther dirthy money an' th itch come to thlm that counts it!" ' she shrieked. And, as a sort of emotional climax to her curse she seized a bucket of water and turned it over the head of the near- est workman. Taking advantage of the confusion, she made for the fire with the other bucket, and was about to empty it ." when the second workman Jumped for-, ward and defended the sacred flame with a shovel held bayonet fashion. Mrs. Casey gripped him by the hair, the work- man rapped her knuckles with the han dle of the shovel, and the crowd laughed. Brian Boru Blaney, a bright-bued streak of wrath, shot forth, from the crowd and wrenched the shovel from the man's hands. The embattled foemen stood aghast at this unexpected appear ance of the Blue Knight: "Look here, Neroo." said he, his Celtic eyes showing gun-metal blue as he held . the spade like a basefall bat a convenient " distance from the workman's nose, "I guess this burlesque show's gone about an act too far. Chuck the douse on Little Vesuvius, Mrs. Casey!" "God bless ye for a man!" sobbed the fat woman, as the water struck the smudge with a great hiss. "There's a rale gintleman alive saints be praised for th"' miracle!" ' The big woman advanced on Brian with arms outstretched. ; His blushes vying with his carroty hair, he escaped through the mob and hurried away to the offices of Ketchum & Sellers. ' . , ,. . r W. KETCHUM, the Big Booster, was r still at his window on the tenth floor when the Little Booster came in. ' "What rwere you mixing up in that for?" asked the i Big Booster savagely, pointing to the blakened scrap heap in front Of the cottage below.- "A couple hired gunmen were tryin to smoke the -old lady out of her home, and I did the Doug Fairbanks act," said .-Brian. .- . - " "Those gunmen were hired by me. - snapped C W. Ketchum. "Keep your NEXT SUNDAY "THE PUYBOY" ? BY hands off. They're my gunmen see? not yours. ; . , "Gee!" almost whispered Brian . Boru. "And you call yCtirself a Booster! A fella like you's enough to drive the tour ists back to Los Angeles." "Get out of my office!", bellowed Ketchum. . - "In a minute,", said the Little Booster, shifting the cigar to the, other side of his . mouth,, but making no 'Other" move. "I suppose you got lots of time, now you're out of a Job," Ketchum said. , - "I ain't out of & Job." "What darn fool are you workin for now?" : ... . , "Mrs. j Casey," replied Brian, calmly. "She don't know I'm working for her, but I am." "I hope you'll begin by teaching her some public spirit. For the self ish whim of, a female mule, she's ' blocking the progress of the whole town. It's a hold up." ' ' . "She ain't got a corner on the. hold-up business." Brian suddenly stood and leaned over Ketchum. "Now look here. old kiddo, I happen to know that you're . tryin' to hold up the park commission for 550,000 on six lots that ain't worth three. Because the city - wants that strip for their gateway on Ocean boulevard, you think you can stick 'em like a porous plaster. -.Tou're spoilin a public park by your graft but I ain't goin to let you do that. Before the week's up 111 make you give that property to the city for what it's worth." AS MRS. CASEY had never given any . sane excuse for resisting the offers of plutocrats' and sticking to her miser-v, able hut. Brian set forth to find an ex- 7 planation;, and he took the most direct course by applying to Mrs. Casey herself. It was not without misgivings that he " swung the little picket gate between the two skyscrapers and approached . the dwarfish house. . . "Who are ye V suddenly ' inquired a harsh" contralto from the screen door. "A friend." said Brian, halting dead In his tracks. . t "?-. ' t. "Ar-r-e ye a real-estater ? Tea, ma'am." "Then that for yer friendship!" The :. screen doof suddenly popped open, and a mop, hurled Javelin fashion, ; whiszed ; less than six Inches from his right ear. A flying teakettle smote him In the- el bow, and Brian halted the advance long enough to nurse nil wounds and consider the advisability of carrying the door by assault, when hostilities suddenly ceased. , and Mrs. Casey, her great arms akimbo at her broad waist, stood before him.. "Ye wud be com in" afther " she began, i Then her expression suddenly cleared. "Head o Saint Dinnis!" she cried. Tit I alnt been tryin to kill the only gintleman in San Bruno!" . v - "Mrs. Casey." r Brian " began, standing within easy dodging distance of a tree trunk, yet removing his hat with consid erable grace. "I value your appreciation!. He picked up the mop and handed it to her. . ... .. "Come to." oried Mrs. Casey, opening wide the door. The room he entered was a broad, neat redwood kitchen. An " advertisement representing a pretty child playing with a cake of soap was pinned to a beam- beside the window. An insur- - ance lithograph shewing an. Impossibly Idealized Infant picking daisies occupied place of honor over the stove. . "Have a cooky! Mrs. Casey proffered a wooden bowl filled with crisp, golden disks, replicas of a batch now baking In the oven. "Yum! Grandma's ginger map! ; Oh you childhood!" Brian ' seized six and smacked ecstatically. "It's manny'a th' day since Tve had a man to ate me cookies," .mourned Mrs. Casey.- sitting ponderously -in a kitchen chair and covering her red hands with, her apron. "Lonesome I am the per secuted av spalpeen, wld niver chick nor v ' child " ' She raised both hands to. the towering skyscrapers on either side. ' "Here I set in me withered home be tween thim divils crags like a sick clam ; In the Giant's Causeway. -Wirra th day!" She began to weep loudly into her -checkered calico apron. Brian rose and laid a sympathetic hand on her5 shape less shoulder. "Honest, it's too bad." he said;, "But you're playin' an .awful long shot Mrs. Casey a million to one against you. . But it means a fortune to you tomorrow if you move. Why don't you beat it to pastures new? Me?" Mrs. Casey bounced to 'her , feet, a mountain of - indignant fire. "Niver will I move not till their feet rot r away wid waitin. D'ye think I'd sell out an' give him. the dirty Scandinavian Swade, th haf o' me . profit ?".' . "Who's the Scandinavian Swede?" asked Brian, leaping to the crucial ques tion. '-" ' ' .' ' "Te're a gintleman, though In a bad , business,", answered Mrs. Casey. Be that' token. Ill tell ye what no man knows. Siventeen years ago. I was married be th ( - priest to wan Martin Casey, and come to live in this, house.- Martin was a good man except whin dhrunk. which was most o the time. Five years we lived widout child, whin wan day Martin, who was drivin a sprlnklin cart more . shame to th wather! fell from th seat an expired in his alcohol."' . "MTN THIM days this house stood to'th midst o fields.. I owned no more than th lot I live on, wid th little shack out back, now used as a hincoop; Wan day along comes a fella name av Oscar . Hansen, a white faced divil av a hand- some Swade. thin worrukin as motorman on th San Pedro trolley. Th shack . where me hlns now roost I sold him for th price of wan hundhred dollars great wealth to me In thlm days. Th' deed fer th whole lot was still in me name, but we. made a conthract be th lawyer that ' we was to share th profit half an' half If we Iver sold it. Thin what did that divil Oscar do but come a-courtin' av ' me. wid his- china-blue . eyes an' white heart. Crazy fool that X was for lovin . him they're wonderful ladies' mm, thlm : S wades. So we was pledged to be mar ' ried be th priest - u "Me an Oscar waa to wed on a Thurs dah. HinrV Eagan av th' Gripman'a union to stand for th' groom. . It was on Wed nesday marnin whin alpng comes Hinry Eagan wld a face longer n' me father's " chimney. Mra Casey.' he says, says he, - ' p re pare for th' wor-r-rst. , "I am that,' says I; .Tm preparin to git married.' Naw. ye ain't. says Eagan. 'Explain yer- ' tAlt,' I says, says L ' At which wor-r-ruda Hinry Eagan stands twlstin th rusty brass buttons av his coat. - "Mrs. Casey.' says he. if It's th 'truth ye most know,' Oscar Hansen ran -off last night wid a V gilt-roofed biscuit-shooter from th Trol- ley's End restaurant; an they was mar ried be th' Justice.' I hurled th lie In his ' face, an followed It wld a pan o hot v mush, , But it was th God's truth he told aw.". - .. "So Oscar "flew his kites with the blonde? asked Brian. ' "Where he wint God knows, and how long heU shtay th dlvfl cares, she mut tered. "But wan thing I know.- White coward that he is, he'll niver dare show .his mushroom face at me door to) claim th' half av his property from th Widdy 1 Casey." . . "So that's why you won't sell! Tou're holdln on to spite Oscar.? - ' ( , . PHE coaxing out of Mrs. Casey, during the few days following, was a process involving much roundabout - diplomacy, which Brian finally accomplished by lay-, ing siege to her better nature. Although she had known few children in the flesh, her love for childhood as an idea amount ed to a monomania. So Brian called fre quently, bearing gifts catering to her sav ing .weakness. Once it. was an ostenta- tious gilt-framed chromo labeled "Tiny Toddlers." Brian patiently scanned the daily papers for bright sayings of chil dren with which to interlard his conver sation. - Mrs. Casey's ' garrulity, corked up for years, gushed forth in a flood of com plaints and confidences. At last when she lamented her sleepless nights and fits of depression, Brian saw his chance, and . said:. " . "What you need's fresh air." - "Fresh air don't rcure a sick - heart, she moaned. . " "California alrll cure anything from ' corns to cancers," he replied, with op timism. "Come.' take a Jog in my auto.., "I ain't got no clothes." she objected. "Wear a tablecloth and be comfort able," he suggested. . T11 be around in an hour with a runabout built for two. , "A beau at my age!" exclaimed Mrs. Casey. r - . , Prompt to the minute, Brian drove his hired 'car up to the gate. Mrs. Casey had . attired herself in an alpaca dress of other, slimmer days. The sleeves clung sausage-tight to her fat arms, and a compll- cated series of ruffles climbed her circu lar skirt like a winding staircase around the Tower of BabeL - "I alnt in style," she announced, tim-" Idly, straightening her tiny plush hat . which ' perked up at the cornera, In the manner of a Chinese pagoda. , "Cheer up! Tou will be next year!" her guardian reassured her. So they were off with a honk. Mrs. ' ' Casey in a palsy of nervousness, and Brian never looking up ' as they drove down the main street of San Bruno. Their passing constituted a serious flurry in the real estate market Clerks in the windows of various offices ex-' claimed: ''Mrs. Casey!" in dread unison. C Pitman Pike, standing under the gold sign bearing his name, dropped his cigar and forgot to pick it up. . And in the of fice of the Sualand Improvement com pany. C B. Brlnkhaus. president, rushed to the telephone and shrieked to his , Junior partner: "Blaneys running off with Mrs. Casey. For gosh sake " ' Then he dropped the receiver, dumb with the thought that the precious widow had already disappeared in a cloud of dust wearing toward the declining sun.- To avoid publicity. Brian purposely took his course througL bumpy and illu sive by-paths. Th Inside av me la churned antirery," moaned Mrs. Casey, holding on, "It gives you that wealthy feeling. re plied her esoort at the wheel. "There do be some pleasures m pov " erty," she philosophized. - - But " as they swung Into the smooth State road she expanded Into "P, her face assuming the hypnotized expression peculiar -to the chronle. motorist. The - ocean breeze stirred old desires in her heart She pointed out a broken wharf where her husband had taken her to flab HUGH v McBIAIR In their courting days. A flock of pell cans swung across the mists In Imita tion. of a Hokasal print . "I well remlrnber th' time me husband shot wan ' thim bur-r-rda an" "Something's wrong with the engine," said Brian, grimly. The car was. notice- . ably slowing down. A-few hundred yards ahead appeared the desolate, box-like shanties of Ocean Terrace. They were approaching an untidy, ragged tent which ' rjtood. like the outcast of. beggars, a re spectful distance from the settlement The car stopped dead. "What's th matter av It?" asked Mrs. Casey. "Differentials tangled In the hub." said Brian, vaguely, gazing into the hood. " M'WO towheads peeped curiously out - from a flap in, the. tent beside the road. A baby's cry could be heard from behind the canvas. "Th little dartlnts!" cried Mrs. Casey, raptuously. "Come here, childer, an talk, to yer Aunt Mary!" A barefooted boy of about ten ap proached the car and turned a pair of scared eyes upon the big woman. "Ma's awful sick." he said, pointing to the tent Brian -Jumped suddenly, and knocked his head against the flap of the hood. "Sick!" said Mrs. Casey, getting down I ponderously. "She's got ' a little baby, an she was took with a spell when she got up to do the washin, an pa's dead." "I'll run and hustle a doc," exclaimed Brian, cranking up the supposedly help- .less car and starting away in a miracu lous Jiffy. The boy took Mrs. Casey's big red hand and led her into the tent. A thin woman lay moaning on a con . fused pile of .bedclothes .in a corner. A very small girl was attempting to lift a red-faced bundle of squalls, while the boy stooped to tuck a blanket around his mother. "Doctor!" said-the woman faintly, as Mrs. Casey leaned over her. "There's wan on th way, dearie," the widow reassured her. as she raised the. woman's head -on the pillow and ar ranged her faded yellow hair. ,' When Brian returned with a doctor ' from the village, he beheld a strange sight Mrs. Casey . heating water on a , stove in the yard, while with her good right forearm she supported a sleeping child against her brpad. sterile bosom. "This places makes the fresh air smell kind o close." said Brian, indicating the rubbish that surrounded the tent. "A widow with three kids down and out 'ain't it fierce!"- . "There's groceries in the cupboard." Mrs. Casey informed him. "But what do the cherub know about eookin?" . . Brian branded two- dollars to the boy. . .."Rush the milk can to the'.grocer's." . :' he said, "and brace Heine Schmajx for a dozen lamb chops." . ; - The doctor, with the usual offended air bf needy country doctors on charity eases, emerged from the tent. "Why wont these women stay under orders?" he snapped. Out of the county hospital three weeks : what does she want to get up and do a day's washing - for?" "Because she dont know how to play golf, maybe." suggested Brian. v "Perhaps," said the doctor, dryly. "I dont think she would have enough to - eat, except for an order of groceries - someone sent her from town last week. Her husband was drowned off the wharf Fourth of July. At any rate, she's, got - to stay in bed and - be nursed fer a month.' KAH1J3R NEXT ' SUNDAY TH be th nurse." Mrs. Casey volun teered. .. "You're on! 'said Brian. - "I'll have a word with you about the ease," remarked the doctor, beckoning Mrs. Casey Into the' tent. "Twenty-eeven acres of ripe tin cans and the happiest tribe o flies I ever' met!" Brian iriused. as he hunted up an old shovel and began digging a trench to bury the litter In the yard. - " . f lum doctor administered an opiate to J- the mother and left her sleeping. Two visitors, assisted by the .small boy. performed the labor of Hercules In mak ing, the place habitable. Brian held the baby In various attitudes, while Mrs. Casey washed clothes and the boy turned the wringer. Then Mrs. Casey would snatch the baby from Imminent death and set Brian to sweeping, repairing holes in the tent and splicing the clothes-line. "If I was rich, what a home I could give these childer an ther ma!" She pressed the baby savagely against her shoulder. -you'd be richer n Hetty If you sold your lots." Brian hinted. "Tea An' if I cut off me feet I could walk on, me hands." she sniffed. "Mrs. Casey, do you know why you're here?" Brian replied. ' - "Yer car-r-r busted down and'" "It busted accidentally on purpose." he confessed. "I've got you on this Job because it's your last call to the kinder garten. Do you want to help these kids or don't you?" "Mary Mother knows how I want to!" "Mary Mother wants you to have-'em, Mrs. Casey. But you're a blind and stulr born woman now dont blow up till I finish my spieL To spite the memory of Oscar Hansen you're making yourself and everyone else miserable. If you did the right thing by these purps, you could send that boy to college either Tale or business; you could buy those two babies ' silk petticoats, give the mother a home with all the refinements from Paris to pianola. But no! Tou prefer to raise hena" fWha't can I do?" she asked, humbly, lifting the sleeping girl. Brian promptly unfolded a typewritten paper before her eyea "This is an option on your property, sale price $250,000. Sign here, please. Tonight I can. offer it to any one of twenty deal era" "Will they take It? " "Will a cat steal fish?" Brian shook - out a fountain pen. - "For me babies!" whispered Mrs. Casey, as she knelt under the candle light and affixed her scraggly signature. She was silent like the southern stars as. still carrying the sleeping child, she followed Brian out to the car. He took his place at the wheel. "Be th way. what's th name o that sick woman in there?" she asked in a low tone. , "She's the widow of Oscar Hansen." said Brian, distinctly. . . "God's will!" whispered Mrs. Casey as she turned awav. The little girl, half waking, threw her . arms around the big woman's neck. v . r T IGHTS glimmered from bedroom win dows in' a prosperous residence dis trict of San Bruno as Brian stopped his car in front, of a white stucco villa and rang at the oaken door! "Who's there?" The voice of C. W. . Ketchum grated from above. "B. B. vTBlaneys my name and every" B In it stands for Business." the voice be low bubbled. "Can't your business wait till tomor row?"' "Sure. It can wait till Alton Parker's elected. Tou're the one that's got to get a' move on." . Brian started to stroll away. "Hey!" 111 be down!" " . The Big Booster himself opened the door. He wore pink pongee pajamas. "What's the fool proposition now?" He rubbed his eyea "A ten-day option on Mrs. Casey's property at two hundred and fifty thou'." announced Brian In a small, tired voice. "What!" Ketchum's hands clutched Imaginary values.. "Sell It to me!" "It's got strings on it ol man. "Ton know what I told you the other day I'd smoke you out of your property be fore you smoked the widow out o hers. Well, here' comes the tar-boiler!" "What do you mean?" Til sell you this opUon dirt cheap, provided you're a good boy and do what I say. I want you to sit down and write a fetter to the park board, offering that park strip for $000." ' "It's an outrage!" said Ketchum. "Sure 'it is. The strip's only worth three." Ketchum- went to a desk and wrote the letter to the board. . "Ill take It with me." said Brian, reaching for the letter. "The board meets tomorrow at ten. "111 get Bobbins to rush It through, and when the bill of sale is in my hands, I get my commission $5000." v . '- "Tou might trust me a little." said the Big Booster. "I might," agreed the Little Booster, putting the letter safely away. And next day, after the deal was closed for all parties, Ketchum handed Brian his commission, and laughed in rare good .humor. . . "Ton might have asked five times that amount." - "I know." rippled the optimist, "but 1 got my money's worth." (Ooprrisfct. . Al rfcht ' rrA. Frinat sy nwmot with VMropaXUn X Tort.) .
