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NEWSREEL XXX 8 страница

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then we went to hear Emma Goldman at the Bronx
Casino but the meeting was forbidden and the streets
around were very crowded and there were moving vans
moving through the crowd and they said the moving vans
were full of cops with machineguns and there were little
policedepartment. Fords with searchlights and they charged
the crowd with the Fords and the searchlights every-
body talked machineguns revolution civil liberty freedom
of speech but occasionally somebody got into the way of
a cop and was beaten up and shoved into a patrol wagon




and the cops were scared and they said they were calling
out the fire department to disperse the crowd and every-
body said it was an outrage and what about Washington
and Jefferson and Patrick Henry?


afterwards we went to the Brevoort it was much
nicer everybody who was anybody was there and there
was Emma Goldman eating frankfurters and sauerkraut
and everybody looked at Emma Goldman and at every-
body else that was anybody and everybody was for peace
and the coöperative commonwealth and the Russian revo-
lution and we talked about red flags and barricades and
suitable posts for machineguns


and we had several drinks and welsh rabbits and paid
our bill and went home, and opened the door with a
latchkey and put on pajamas and went to bed and it was
comfortable in bed




Goodby Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square
It's a long long way to Tipperary




to such a task we can dedicate our lives
and our fortunes, everything that we are,
and everything that we have, with the pride of those
who know




that the day has come when America is privileged to
spend her
blood and her might for the principles that gave her birth
and happiness and the peace that she has treasured. God
helping her she can do no other


It's a long way to Tipperary
It's a long way to go
It's a long way to Tipperary
And the sweetest girl I know




four men in Evanston fined for killing birds




food gamblers raise price of canned foods move for dry
U S in war files charges when men ignore national air




Mooney case incentive


Goodby Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square
It's a long long way to Tipperary
But my heart's right there.




the American Embassy was threatened today with an
attack by a mob of radical socialists led by Nicolai Lenin an
exile who recently returned from Switzerland via Germany






Eleanor thought that things were very exciting that
winter. She and J.W. went out a great deal together, to




all the French operas and to first nights. There was a little
French restaurant where they ate hors d'oeuvres way east
in Fiftysixth Street. They went to see French paintings
in the galleries up Madison Avenue. J.W. began to get
interested in art, and Eleanor loved going round with
him because he had such a romantic manner about every-
thing and he used to tell her she was his inspiration and
that he always got good ideas when he'd been talking to
her. They often talked about how silly people were who
said that a man and a woman couldn't have a platonic
friendship. They wrote each other little notes in French
every day. Eleanor often thought it was a shame J.W. had
such a stupid wife who was an invalid too, but she thought
that the children were lovely and it was nice that they
both had lovely blue eyes like their father.


She had an office now all by herself and had two girls
working with her to learn the business and had quite a
lot of work to do. The office was in the first block above
Madison Square on Madison Avenue and she just had her
own name on it. Eveline Hutchins didn't have anything
to do with it any more as Dr. Hutchins had retired and
the Hutchinses had all moved out to Santa Fe. Eveline
sent her an occasional box of Indian curios or pottery and
the watercolors the Indian children did in the schools, and
Eleanor found they sold very well. In the afternoon she'd
ride downtown in a taxi and look up at the Metropolitan
Life tower and the Flatiron Building and the lights
against the steely Manhattan sky and think of crystals and
artificial flowers and gilt patterns on indigo and claret-
colored brocade.


The maid would have tea ready for her and often there
would be friends waiting for her, young architects or
painters. There'd always be flowers, calla lilies with the
texture of icecream or a bowl of freesias. She'd talk a
while and before slipping off to dress for dinner. When
J.W. phoned that he couldn't come she'd feel very bad.




If there was still anybody there who'd come to tea she'd
ask him to stay and have potluck with her.


The sight of the French flag excited her always or when
a band played Tipperary; and one evening when they
were going to see The Yellow Jacket for the third
time, she had on a new fur coat that she was wondering
how she was going to pay for, and she thought of all the
bills at her office and the house on Sutton Place she was
remodeling on a speculation and wanted to ask J.W.
about a thousand he'd said he'd invested for her and won-
dered if there'd been any turnover yet. They'd been talk-
ing about the air raids and poison gas and the effect of
the war news downtown and the Bowmen of Mons and
the Maid of Orleans and she said she believed in the
supernatural, and J.W. was hinting something about re-
verses on the Street and his face looked drawn and wor-
ried; but they were crossing Times Square through the
eighto'clock crowds and the skysigns flashing on and off.
The fine little triangular men were doing exercises on the
Wrigley sign and suddenly a grindorgah began to play
The Marseillaise and it was too beautiful; she burst into
tears and they talked about Sacrifice and Dedication and
J.W. held her arm tight through the fur coat and gave
the organgrinder man a dollar. When they got to the
theater Eleanor hurried down to the ladies' room to see
if her eyes had got red. But when she looked in the mirror
they weren't red at all and there was a flash of heartfelt
feeling in her eyes, so she just freshened up her face and
went back up to the lobby, where J.W. was waiting for
her with the tickets in his hand; her gray eyes were flash-
ing and had tears in them.


Then one evening J.W. looked very worried indeed
and said when he was taking her home from the opera
where they'd seen Manon that his wife didn't under-
stand their relations and was making scenes and threaten-
ing to divorce him. Eleanor was indignant and said she




must have a very coarse nature not to understand that
their relations were pure as driven snow. J.W. said she
had and that he was very worried and he explained that
most of the capital invested in his agency was his mother-
in-law's and that she could bankrupt him if she wanted
to, which was much worse than a divorce. At that Eleanor
felt very cold and crisp and said that she would rather
go out of his life entirely than break up his home and
that he owed something to his lovely children. J.W. said
she was his inspiration and he had to have her in his life
and when they got back to Eighth Street they walked
back and forth in Eleanor's white glittering drawing-
room in the heavy smell of lilies wondering what could
be done. They smoked many cigarettes but they couldn't
seem to come to any decision. When J.W. left he said
with a sigh, "She may have detectives shadowing me this
very minute," and he went away very despondent.


After he'd gone Eleanor walked back and forth in front
of the long Venetian mirror between the windows. She
didn't know what to do. The decorating business was
barely breaking even. She had the amortization to pay
off on the house on Sutton Place. The rent of her apart-
ment was two months overdue and there was her fur coat
to pay for. She'd counted on the thousand dollars' worth
of shares J.W. had said would be hers if he made the
killing he expected in that Venezuela Oil stock. Something
must have gone wrong or else he would have spoken of
it. When Eleanor went to bed she didn't sleep. She felt
very miserable and lonely. She'd have to go back to the
drudgery of a department store. She was losing her looks
and her friends and now if she had to give up J.W. it
would be terrible. She thought of her colored maid
Augustine with her unfortunate loves that she always
told Eleanor about and she wished she'd been like that.
Maybe she'd been wrong from the start to want every-
thing so justright and beautiful. She didn't cry but she




lay all night with her eyes wide and smarting staring at
the flowered molding round the ceiling that she could see
in the light that filtered in from the street through her
lavender tulle curtains.


A couple of days later at the office she was looking at
some antique Spanish chairs an old furniture dealer was
trying to sell her when a telegram came: DISAGREEABLE
It wasn't signed. She told the man to leave the chairs and
when he'd gone stood a long time looking down at a pot
of lavender crocuses with yellow pistils she had on her
desk. She was wondering if it would do any good if she
went out to Great Neck and talked to Gertrude Moore-
house. She called Miss Lee who was making up some cur-
tains in the other room and asked her to take charge of
the office and that she'd phone during the afternoon.


She got into a taxi and went up to the Pennsylvania
Station. It was a premature Spring day. People were walk-
ing along the street with their overcoats unbuttoned. The
sky was a soft mauve with frail clouds like milkweed floss.
In the smell of furs and overcoats and exhausts and
bundledup bodies came an unexpected scent of birchbark.
Eleanor sat bolt upright in the back of the taxi driving
her sharp nails into the palms of her graygloved hands.
She hated these treacherous days when winter felt like
Spring. They made the lines come out on her face, made
everything seem to crumble about her, there seemed to
be no firm footing any more. She'd go out and talk to
Gertrude Moorehouse as one woman to another. A scandal
would ruin everything. If she talked to her a while she'd
make her realize that there had never been anything
between her and J.W. A divorce scandal would ruin
everything. She'd lose her clients and have to go into
bankruptcy and the only thing to do would be to go back
to Pullman to live with her uncle and aunt.




She paid the taximan and went down the stairs to the
Long Island Railroad. Her knees were shaky and she felt
desperately tired as she pushed her way through the
crowd to the information desk. No, she couldn't get a train
to Great Neck till 2:13. She stood in line a long time for
a ticket. A man stepped on her foot. The line of people
moved maddeningly slowly past the ticketwindow. When
she got to the window it was several seconds before she
could remember the name of the place she wanted a ticket
for. The man looked at her through the window, with
peevish shoebutton eyes. He wore a green eyeshade and
his lips were too red for his pale face. The people behind
were getting impatient. A man with a tweed coat and a
heavy suitcase was already trying to brush past her. "Great
Neck and return." As soon as she'd bought the ticket the
thought came to her that she wouldn't have time to get
out there and back by five o'clock. She put the ticket in
her gray silk purse that had a little design in jet on it. She
thought of killing herself. She would take the subway
downtown and go up in the elevator to the top of the
Woolworth Building and throw herself off.


Instead she went out to the taxistation. Russet sunlight
was pouring through the gray colonnade, the blue smoke
of exhausts rose into it crinkled like watered silk. She got
into a taxi and told the driver to take her round Central
Park. Some of the twigs were red and there was a glint
on the long buds of beeches but the grass was still brown
and there were piles of dirty snow in the gutters. A
shivery raw wind blew across the ponds. The taximan
kept talking to her. She couldn't catch what he said and
got tired of making random answers and told him to leave
her at the Metropolitan Art Museum. While she was pay-
ing him a newsboy ran by crying "Extra!" Eleanor bought
a paper for a nickel and the taximan bought a paper. "I'll
be a sonova . . ." she heard the taximan exclaim, but she
ran up the steps fast for fear she'd have to talk to him.




When she got in the quiet silvery light of the musuem
she opened up the paper. A rancid smell of printer's ink
came from it; the ink was still sticky and came off on
her gloves.




A matter of hours now Washington Observers declare.
German note thoroughly unsatisfactory.


She left the newspaper on a bench and went to look at
the Rodins. After she'd looked at the Rodins she went to
the Chinese wing. By the time she was ready to go down
Fifth Avenue in the bus -- she felt she'd been spending too
much on taxis -- she felt elated. All the way downtown she
kept remembering the Age of Bronze. When she made
out J.W. in the stuffy pinkish light of the hotel lobby she
went towards him with a springy step. His jaw was set
and his blue eyes were on fire. He looked younger than
last time she'd seen him. "Well, it's come at last," he
said. "I just wired Washington offering my services to
the government. I'd like to see 'em try and pull a rail-
road strike now.""It's wonderful and terrible," said
Eleanor. "I'm trembling like a leaf."


They went to a little table in the corner behind some
heavy draperies to have tea. They had hardly sat down
before the orchestra started playing The Star-Spangled
Banner, and they had to get to their feet. There was great
bustle in the hotel. People kept running about with fresh
editions of the papers, laughing and talking loud. Per-
fect strangers borrowed each other's newspapers, chatted
about the war, lit cigarettes for each other.


"I have an idea, J.W.," Eleanor was saying, holding
a piece of cinnamontoast poised in her pointed fingers,
"that if I went out and talked to your wife as one woman
to another, she'd understand the situation better. When
I was decorating the house she was so kind and we got
along famously."




"I have offered my services to Washington," said Ward.
"There may be a telegram at the office now. I'm sure
that Gertrude will see that it is her simple duty."


"I want to go, J.W.," said Eleanor. "I feel I must go."




"To France."


"Don't do anything hasty, Eleanor."


"No, I feel I must . . . I could be a very good nurse
. . . I'm not afraid of anything; you ought to know
that, J.W."


The orchestra played The Star-Spangled Banner again;
Eleanor sang some of the chorus in a shrill little treble
voice. They were too excited to sit still long and went
over to J.W.'s office in a taxi. The office was in great
excitement. Miss Williams had had a flagpole put up in
the center window and was just raising the flag on it.
Eleanor went over to her and they shook hands warmly.
The cold wind was rustling the papers on the desk and
typewritten pages were sailing across the room but nobody
paid any attention. Down Fifth Avenue a band was com-
ing near playing Hail, Hail, the Gang's All Here. All
along office windows were brightly lit, flags were slap-
ping against their poles in the cold wind, clerks and
stenographers were leaning out and cheering, dropping
out papers that sailed and whirled in the bitter eddying


"It's the Seventh Regiment," somebody said and they
all clapped and yelled. The band was clanging loud under
the window. They could hear the tramp of the militia-
men's feet. All the automobiles in the stalled traffic tooted
their horns. People on the tops of the busses were waving
small flags. Miss Williams leaned over and kissed Eleanor
on the cheek. J.W. stood by looking out over their heads
with a proud smile on his face.


After the band had gone and traffic was running again
they put the window down and Miss Williams went




around picking up and arranging loose papers. J.W. had
a telegram from Washington accepting his services on
the Public Information Committee that Mr. Wilson was
gathering about him and said he'd leave in the morning.
He called up Great Neck and asked Gertrude if he could
come out to dinner and bring a friend. Gertrude said he
might and that she hoped she'd be able to stay up to see
them. She was excited by the warnews but she said the
thought of all that misery and slaughter gave her horrible
pains in the back of the head.


"I have a hunch that if I take you out to dinner at
Gertrude's everything will be all right," he said to
Eleanor. "I'm rarely wrong in my hunches."


"Oh, I know she'll understand," said Eleanor.


As they were leaving the office they met Mr. Robbins
in the hall. He didn't take his hat off or the cigar out of
his mouth. He looked drunk. "What the hell is this,
Ward?" he said. "Are we at war or not?"


"If we're not we will be before morning," said J.W.


"It's the goddamnedest treason in history," said Mr.
Robbins. "What did we elect Wilson for instead of Old
Fuzzywhiskers except to keep us out of the goddam


"Robbins, I don't agree with you for a minute," said
J.W. "I think it's our duty to save . . ." But Mr. Rob-
bins had disappeared through the office door leaving a
strong reek of whisky behind him. "I'd have given him
a piece of my mind," said Eleanor, "if I hadn't seen that
he was in no condition."


Driving out to Great Neck in the Pierce Arrow it was
thrilling. A long red afterglow lingered in the sky. Cross-
ing the Queensboro Bridge with the cold wind back of
them was like flying above lights and blocks of houses
and the purple bulk of Blackwell's Island and the steam-
boats and the tall chimneys and the blue light of power-
plants. They talked of Edith Cavell and airraids and flags




and searchlights and the rumble of armies advancing and
Joan of Arc. Eleanor drew the fur robe up to her chin
and thought about what she'd say to Gertrude Moore-


When they got to the house she felt a little afraid of
a scene. She stopped in the hall to do up her face with a
pocketmirror she had in her bag.


Gertrude Moorehouse was sitting in a long chair be-
side a crackling fire. Eleanor glanced around the room
and was pleased at how lovely it looked. Gertrude Moore-
house went very pale when she saw her. "I wanted to talk
to you," said Eleanor. Gertrude Moorehouse held out her
hand without getting up. "Excuse me for not getting up,
Miss Stoddard," she said, "but I'm absolutely prostrated
by the terrible news."


"Civilization demands a sacrifice . . . from all of us,"
said Eleanor.


"Of course it is terrible what the Huns have done,
cutting the hands off Belgian children and all that," said
Gertrude Moorehouse.


"Mrs. Moorehouse," said Eleanor. "I want to speak to
you about this unfortunate misunderstanding of my rela-
tions with your husband . . . Do you think I am the sort
of woman who could come out here and face you if there
was anything in these horrible rumors? Our relations are
pure as driven snow."


"Please don't speak of it, Miss Stoddard. I believe


When J.W. came in they were sitting on either side of
the fire talking about Gertrude's operation. Eleanor got
to her feet. "Oh, I think it's wonderful of you, J.W."


J.W. cleared his throat and looked from one to the


"It's little less than my duty," he said.


"What is it?" asked Gertrude.


"I have offered my services to the government to serve




in whatever capacity they see fit for the duration of the
war.""Not at the front," said Gertrude with a startled


"I'm leaving for Washington tomorrow . . . Of course
I shall serve without pay."


"Ward, that's noble of you," said Gertrude. He walked
over slowly until he stood beside her chair, then he leaned
over and kissed her on the forehead. "We must all make
our sacrifices . . . My dear, I shall trust you and your
mother . . ."


"Of course, Ward, of course . . . It's all been a silly
misunderstanding." Gertrude flushed red. She got to her
feet. "I've been a damn suspicious fool . . . but you
mustn't go to the front, Ward. I'll talk mother around"
. . . She went up to him and put her hands on his shoul-
ders. Eleanor stood back against the wall looking at them.
He wore a smoothfitting tuxedo. Gertrude's salmon-
colored teagown stood out against the black. His light
hair was ashgray in the light from the crystal chandelier
against the tall ivorygray walls of the room. His face was
in shadow and looked very sad. Eleanor thought how little
people understood a man like that, how beautiful the
room was, like a play, like a Whistler, like Sarah Bern-
hardt. Emotion misted her eyes.


"I'll join the Red Cross," she said. "I can't wait to get
to France."






Over there
Over there




at the annual meeting of the stockholders of the Colt
Patent Firearms Manufacturing Company a $2,500,000
melon was cut. The present capital stock was increased. The
profits for the year were 259 per cent


The Yanks are coming
We're coming o-o-o-ver




many millions paid for golf about Chicago Hindu agi-
tators in nationwide scare Armour Urges U. S. Save Earth
From Famine




Labor deputies peril to Russia acts have earmarks of dis-
honorable peace London hears




And we won't come home
Till it's over over there.




there were priests and nuns on the Espagne the
Atlantic was glassgreen and stormy covers were
clamped on the portholes and all the decklights were
screened and you couldn't light a match on deck


but the stewards were very brave and said the Boche
wouldn't sink a boat of the Compagnie Generale anyway,




because of the priests and nuns and the Jesuits and the
Comité des Forges promising not to bombard the Bassin
de la Brieye where the big smelters were and stock in the
company being owned by the Prince de Bourbon and the
Jesuits and the priests and nuns
anyhow everybody was very brave except for Colonel
and Mrs. Knowlton of the American Red Cross who
had waterproof coldproof submarineproof suits like
eskimosuits and they wore them and they sat up on deck
with the suits all blown up and only their faces showing
and there were firstaid kits in the pockets and in the belt
there was a waterproof container with milkchocolate and
crackers and maltedmilk tablets


and in the morning you'd walk round the deck and
there would be Mr. Knowlton blowing up Mrs. Knowlton
or Mrs. Knowlton blowing up Mr. Knowlton


the Roosevelt boys were very brave in stiff visored
new American army caps and sharpshooter medals on the
khaki whipcord and they talked all day about We must
come in We must come in


as if the war were a swimming pool


and the barman was brave and the stewards were
brave they'd all been wounded and they were very glad
that they were stewards and not in the trenches


and the pastry was magnificent


at last it was the zone and a zigzag course we sat




quiet in the bar and then it was the mouth of the Gironde
and a French torpedoboat circling round the ship in the
early pearl soft morning and the steamers following the
little patrolboat on account of the minefields the sun
was rising red over the ruddy winegrowing land and the
Gironde was full of freighters and airplanes in the sun
and battleships


the Garonne was red it was autumn there were
barrels of new wine and shellcases along the quays in front
of the grayfaced houses and the masts of stocky sailboats
packed in against the great red iron bridge


at the Hotel of the Seven Sisters everybody was in
mourning but business was brisk on account of the war and
every minute they expected the government to come down
from Paris


up north they were dying in the mud and the trenches
but business was good in Bordeaux and the winegrowers
and the shipping agents and the munitionsmakers crowded
into the Chapon Fin and ate ortolans and mushrooms and
truffles and there was a big sign


les oreilles enemies vous icoutent


red wine twilight and yellowgravelled squares edged
with winebarrels and a smell of chocolate in the park
gray statues and the names of streets




Street of Lost Hopes, Street of the Spirit of the
Laws, Street of Forgotten Footsteps

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