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6 E
ITEARST’S SUNDAY AMERICAN, ATLANTA, OA., SUNDAY, JULY 27, 1913.
Up and Down With
The Atlanta Dean
01 Elevator Men
Jeff Simply Wanted To Be Sure oi a Hearing-*
By
Bud Fisher
i Mutt and Jeff Appear Every Day in The Atlanta Georgian.
Copyright. 1913, .by the Stir Company, Great Britain Rights Reserved.
A LL persons who have ever l<een
In the Atlanta National Bank j
building, which means every
body In Atlanta from first to last. j
have seen Evander <1. Griggs. His,
particular private realm Is elevator,
No. 1, which he has o|>erate<l \
year after year, since the skyscraper |
first was laid down. In fact, he Is
the dean of the elevator toys of At
lanta. and he bns seen many Inter
estlng things.
As to personal appearance, he has
a tender eye and a bushy red mus
tache. His voice is soft as It drawls
out “Second Floor,” or whatever the
stop may to. But his hand has al
ways been true and firm in handling
the lever of his ear.
This charioteer of the skyscraper
has many stories to tell like these: •
• • •
I’ve had a lot of ups and downs.
In fact, 1 might say that my life In
the pursuit of my profession—please
remember that It is a profession—
has been just ups aud downs. But
with It all I’ve met doctors and law
yers and butchers and bakers and
candlestick makers—there are all
sorts of men in this building, and all
of them ride this elevator, aud all
are interesting.
Speaking of lawyers reminds me of
one who came here six years or so
ago. He was just a kid then, but
he’s getting along pretty well now.
But for a long time it was mighty
hard pickings for him.
Every afternoon when my car
passed his office late In the after
noon, 1 would hear a toll ringing
on the other side of the closed door.
I wondered what It was for a long
time, as I knew he had no telephone
—he couldn't afford one.
Finally I mel him one day with un
alarm clock under his arm.
“Taking it home, eh?” I said.
“Good thing at this time of the year.
Everybody is likely to oversleep him
self these mornings."
The young lawyer smiled.
“1 dvhc’1 buy that clock to wake
me up In tue uuttfatg*," he confessed.
“I keep It here to v. nss gw when
it’s time to go home."
* • *
There used to to a tailor up es
the eighth floor, and he was about
the best person In the world when
it came to jollytug customers. Some
of them would come up with a
grouch, and go hack smiling. They
told me their troubles, a lot of them.
As a matter of fact, many people tell
me their troubles.
One day a fellow went up cussiug
about the suit he had just bought.
He had it on, and it fit about as
well as a horse blanket—and looked
something like one. He said he was
going to take it hack, and not pay a
cent.
After a while he came back. He
was still wearing the same suit and
a downcast face.
“What’s the matter?” I asked him.
“Ain’t he going to fix the suit?”
“Oh, he said, dolefully-. “The suit's
all right. 1 just found out that I'm
too fat here, too thick here, and my
legs are too short.”
• * •
In one of the offices up three or
four floors, there was a visitor one
day whom everybody in the estab
lishment liked and joked with. Soon
after he came In, there entered a
woman sollcitihg for a charitable en
terprise. The proprietor, wishing to
play a joke on the visitor, told the
woman to “ask the boss,” pointing
to him.
But Mr. Visitor wasn’t a bit put
out by this. He turned quickly to
the proprietor, who is a little fellow,
and said:
“Boy, give this lady a dollar out
of the drawer.”
And he did.
* * *
One of the best known men in the
building Is H. M. I’atty, the lawyer.
The other day 1 heard them tell a
story about him, although I can’t
vouch for the truth of It. You know
Mr. Patty is always up to writing
poetry. According to the story, he
went to see a doctor one day, feeling
rather out of sorts.
“Now,” said the doctor, “you are
not in good shape, and 1 must abso
lutely forbid all brain work.”
“But, doctor,” insisted the lawyer-
poet. “may I not write some verses?”
“Oh, sure,” the doctor said, and
laughed. "You can write ail the
verses you want to.’’
* • •
Do you know, there is no limit
to good, hearty laughs in this world.
No class of people, no profession
among men, is without its jokers.
And I, riding men of every calling,
hear them all tell typical stories.
For instance, the other day there
were a number of ministers in the
building. And this is the story one
of them told on the eloth:
A convocation of ministers, he
|id, had just taken place when a
t went one day to buy some fry-
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Society Notes from'
Bugville
By HARVEY PEAKE.
Copyright, !9ia. by the 8Ur Company.
Great Britain Kigtiu Reserved.
M R. AND MRS. SLEEK-BLACK
BEETLE gave a dance on
Thursday for their debutante
daughter. Miss Lady Bug, in th»
parlors of the Pumpkin Hotel. The
rooms were lighted throughout
with new Incandescent fireflies and
the walls were hung with festoons
of cobwebs, held In place with clus
ters of mustard seed. All of the
smartest society of Bugville wae
present.
At the morning musical given by
Mr. and Mrs. Catterplller on Friday
the following artlBtB appeared:
Miss Katy Did sang a soprano solo,
Mr. Mosquito sang a tenor aria,
the Fly sisters were encored en
thusiastically for their buzzing
duet, Mr. Locust played an ex
quisite ’cello solo upon his hind
legs, Mrs. Bee gave a contralto
solo and a chorus of wasps sang a
stirring number entitled “Sting
Me to Sleep.”
Mr. and Mrs. Flea, who have so
long resided In the frame structure
owned by Mr. Towser, will, on the
first of the month, move Into the
Fido flats.
Mr. and Mrs. Centipede gave a
grubworm dinner on Thursday to
granddaddy Longlegs, in honor of
his eightieth birthday.
The wedding of Miss Spider and
Mr. Fly was solemnized last eve
ning at the Church of the Holy Cob
web, the Reverend Brown Moth
presiding. The church was beau
tifully decorated with bits of thistle
down delicately caught together in
the most unexpected places. A
choir, made up of the groom’s rela
tives, buzzed the wedding chorus
from "The Sugar Bowl.”
The beautiful ceremony of the
silken coil was used and was wit
nessed by practically all of Bug-
ville’s best society.
ing chickens from old Aunt Sally,
who generally had plenty for sale.
“Why tor’ me! All my chickens
done entered de ministry, sail!” ex
claimed the old woman when he told
iter wlmt he wanted.
• • *
One of the tost known men in the
building Is Lawyer E. F. Childress,
who has been in his present quarters
for years and years, almost since the
building was erected, and so long
that the corner on the second floor,
where his office Is placed, is gener
ally known ns Childress’ Crossing.
Anyhow, he tells u lot of stories, and
good ones. Here is one of his:
A woman was in a law court when
she was usked her age, and answered
“Thirty-five.”
“But," objected the Judge, “you
were before me two years ago, and
you said then that you were thirty-
five."
“Your Honor,” she loftily replied,
“I am not one who would say one
thing at one time, and another thing
at another time.”
* * *
As there are so many lawyers In
the building, a good bit of the talk
that we hear in the elevators is about
politic^. Nowadays they deal largely
In gossip and discussion of the wom
an suffrage question. The other day
1 took a party of lawyers up.
‘Here’s a good one,” said one of
the lawyers, “I heard It just to-day.”
It seems that three newly wedded
men were talking of their homes.
“I’ve a kitchenette in my flat.”
said one.
“That’s nothing," said another,
“1 hnve a cellnrette In mine.”
The third one sighed.
“I’ve .got n suffragette in mine,”
he announced.
* * *
The same party came down at
lunch time. They started again the
suffragette talk.
"Here’s one to match the story you
told this morning.” said one of the
bunch. This is what he told:
A rich woman who believed ar
dently in woman suffrage, allowed
her groom to go to town on one elec
tion day.
“Well, James.” she said, enviously,
when he returned. “1 suppose you
hnve been exercising the franchise?"
With a touch of hts forehead,
James answered: “Please, ma’am,
which horse ts that?” ‘
• • •
The next dnv the third member
of the party hud a suffragette story,
too. Here it is:
“What brought you here, my
man?” asked a Jail visitor of a pris
oner.
“I married a new woman, sur,”
was the reply.
“Aha! and she was so domineering
and extravagant that It drove to
desperate courses, eh?”
“No,” answered the -prisoner. "The
old woman turned up.”
H
Grim Fairy Tales
Copynght, 1913, by «o* BUr. Omnimny. Great Britain Rlfchta Rreerred.
AND laundries.
Warranted for one year.
“I’ve had a lovely time.”
Straight fronts.
“You don’t look a day over twenty-three.”
Private dining rooms.
All men are bom free and equal.
No place like home.
“Thank you, I’d just as soon stand.”
3 p. m. edition.
"We’d love to have you call.”
Cheaper than paying rent.
Boneless fish.
"I’d as soon have elder as champagne.”
’Till death do us part.”
"If elected I shall serve the common people.”
Official temperatures.
"I came unprepared to speak.”
Epitaphs.
* * * to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing
the truth.
but
Reduced from $1.50 to 69 cents.
Telephone Service.
“Oh, What a Pretty Baby!”
The Golden Rule.
Beauty Is Only Skin Deep.
Love in a Cottage.
Absense Makes the Heart Grow Fonder.
“I Do.”
It Was Only a Baby After All
Copyright. 1918. by tbo Star C<*np«oy.
E VERYTHING was as calm and serene at Gilthurst-on-the-Long-Green
as a Sunday afternoon on the Dead Sea.
Which was as it should be. There was never a ripple to dis
turb the dignified calm, the ultra-refined, super-arlstocratlc atmosphere
of till highest-priced Summer resort In the land.
Mrs. Doughby-Scadds reclined In a tapestry hammock, idly finger
ing a string of pearls as big as the lump of ioe the brigand puts in your
refrigerator.
There was absolutely no expression to her face. She could not
have gained entrance to this select place with any sort of an expression.
Claude Plunkster Bume motioned hie valet to bring him c cigarette.
Miss Waddsoffltt and Algeron Doughhedde were the liveliest ones
there. They were annoying the others because they were Carrying on
a conversation.
"Beastly, isn't It?" said Algeron.
"Beastly,” replied Miss WaddBOffltt.
There was a pause of ten minutes.
“It must be getting later," ventured Miss Waddsoffltt.
Algernon tried to think this out for himself, but gave It up.
“Ya’as," he responded.
And so their lively conversation went on.
Colonel Pilesoffltt exerted himeelf and tossed his cigar butt fully
seven Inches away.
Horace Blllyunns yawned and crossed his legs
Mrs. Horace Billyuns just yawned.
It was the usual Beene of activity at Ollthurat-on-the-Long-G-reen. In
fact it was at the height of the season. The proprietor could not re
member when he had seen it se active. At times as many as three
people were promenading the wide veranda.
A car approached the great hotel, hut being on the sdnny side no
guests saw It. Some people alighted. They walked through the great
hotel and out on the veranda.
Mrs. Doughby-Scadds stared, tossed her pearls aside, stood up and
ran to the strange group!
Miss Waddsoffltt and Algernon ran, hand In hand, to see.
Mrs. Dee Vhoo Say flopped out of a hammock, got up, gathered up
her skirts and ran to Join the party.
Colonel Pilesoffltt forgot his gout and hopped along with Blllyunns
and his wife.
" “Mercy!”
“What is itr
"How droll?”
"Why—why, I—I believe it is—it looks like—can it be?—It is! It’s a
BABY!”
Never before had a baby been brought to Gllthurstron-the-Long-
Green!
"I—I didn't know they got bald so early?” stammered Algernon.
“Why doesn’t it talk to tw?" queried Miss Waddsoffltt.
■Does—he—er—ehe—that Is—1L play golf?” Colonel Pilesoffltt
wanted to know.
"It Is a real, live babyr" chorused the crowd.
“I—think It must be,” declared Mrs. Doughby-Scadds. 'Tve seen
pictures of babies, you know, and the resemblance Is striking.”
“Why—er—does it—er—belong to some one?” asked Claude.
Great Britain Right* Reaarred.
"I think it does, you know eometlmes they do. I should fancy per
haps some one owns It," eald Miss Waddsoffltt, who had been to college.,
“Yes ma'am,” answered the nurse, “it belongs to Mrs. Allgould.”
“He's a little beggar. Isn’t she? Will It have a highball?” Inquired
the genial Colonel Pilesoffltt.
"I must give him his dinner,” said the nurse.
"Set his table right out here, my good woman, and let us watoh him
eat,” urged Algernon.
“Sir!” snapped the nurse, getting red.
“My word,” yawned Billyunns, “he must be a baahfnl little geezer ”
"I think.” said Mrs. Blllyunns, contracting her brow in deep thought,
"I think they—er"——
She paused and whispered something to Blllyunns.
"You don’t say!” he exclaimed. "Oh—ho, that’s It, eh? Algeron, come
hither, I would talk with you,” and they sat down.
The nurse went In with the baby.
Claude Plunkster Burne motioned hie valet to bring him another
cigarette.
Mrs. Doughby-Scadds called a maid to plok up her pearls.
Colonel Pilesoffltt settled back In a chair and went to sleep. Mrs.
Dee Vhoo Say resumed her pastime of looking out over the water.
Algernon Doughedde strolled over and sat down beside Miss Wadds
offltt.
Billyunns crossed his legs and yawned.
Mrs. Blllyunns yawned.
h !
S'ttj -
“Beastly. Isn’t It?” commented Algeron.
'“Beastly." affirmed Miss Waddsoffltt.
There was a deathly silence for ten minutes.
"I Just know It’s getting later," asserted Miss Waddsoffltt
"What, again?” ventured Algernon.
And once In a while the waves broke gently on the sands with »
muffled sound.
The Two Brightest Spots in Summer Fiction
r
ADAM’S CLAY
By the Celebrated Author
COSMO HAMILTON
Now running in The Sunday Ameri
can. If you have not started it, bet
ter do so in this issue. It’s full of
thrills and sex interest, handled
with up-to-date fearlessness.
N
The Plot for the Pennant
By HUGH S. FULLERTON
The Inventor of Inside Baseball
This great story of a titanic battle
in the national game will in the near
future be added to the many fea
tures which have made The Snnday
American the leading paper of the
whole South.