Judge — November 16, 1929 — page 34: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

The Press Box (Continued from page 19) name and rate the night-side chaps who been risking sun blindness to play grim golf for revenue, always mindful of their handicaps, on the outlying acre- » of New York these last few years. Mr. Jack Kearns, late nius of the Dempsey adminis- tration, a much-traveled man of nocturnal tastes, fell in with some professional teacher on one of his tours and came back to Broadway witha sub-ninety game to inflict loss and confusion on several members. of his set before they came to and decided to readjust handicaps. 1 am told that Lew Clayton of the night-club shouting, bawling and hollering act of Clayton, Durante and Jackson, contrives to blink his way around a cham- pionship course, wearing smoked glasses against the glare of broad me cuts, and there was a yweight prizetighter around until recently, fighting generally in the semi-finals of Rickard’s major productions, who would have ranked higher, al- though he would have earned much less, as a professional golfer. This was Johnny Grosso, a boy who had been a caddy for some years. His manager, Uncle Will Gibson, after thirty years of book-making, saloon-keeping and prizefight promotion, was so fascinated by the flight of his own first shot on a golf course that he moved to a club in Westchester County and lived there five years to have the first tee and the nine- teenth hole handy to his door. Mr. Flynn learned his golf at much less expense. He bought his tools at a pawnshop and be playing on the public course at Van Cortlandt Park, always con- voyed by the same cadd who could play around tive. Mr. Flynn paid the boy ten cents a hole for instruction pro- vided he made the hole in par or better. In six months he shot an cighty and in a final round over the old instruction ground he won back more than the cost of his tuition, defeating his instructor in match play at a dollar a hole. Billy Wallace, the courtly young lightweight —prizetighter, shot a round of 75 on a stretch of rough pasture at Speculator, New York, and killed a lark on the wing with one of his tee shots before witnesses. Dave Shade, more zest for golf and onal eighty. Will Duffy, directing boss and mod- erator at one of the liveliest night- blooming play-rooms in town, and Jack White, another sun-dodger who hadn't seen the light of day for years, both have been footing it over pastoral scenes, constantly startled by cows, crows and other unfamiliar wild life. The boys of the night side seem to have this golf game yell- ing Uncle. Their scores run re- markably low, and no doubt there was smart observation in what Mr. Rickard said about the sensi- tive touch for golf that a chap de- velops after years of practise banking the nine-ball into. the corner pocket. as his fighting falls off, hs leisure and shoots an oce President Angell urges the students not to spend their week- ends away from New Haven. Hold ‘em, Yale! —Tur New Yorwer hing has been heard of the abs for some time and perhaps have decided just to sue. —N. Y. Evesixe Post —Sonpacsnisse-Staix | Ingenue Wanted (Continued from page 11) richly pancled office next’ day and a few minutes later Brum- berg greeted her cordially. ‘T have read) Mr. eming’s y," he said in his broken Yid I think it has splendid pos- sibilities. Would you care to play the principal réle?” Would she care heart leaped with excit Brumberg drew a cont his desk. As Piroshka salary, 00 a came to her eyes. Mr. Brumbe risen from his ¢ and h ped an arm around her w “Piroshk he muttered hoarsely. little witeh—" But already she had struggled to her feet cing him with blazing “Leave she said icil ne at which I must court fame, I pre- fer obscurity and my good name.” She moved s ly to the door, but Brumberg was there before her and had slipped the key into his pocket. Seizing her roughly he printed passionate kisses on her averted face. Piroshka was about to scream for help when the door flew in with a crash and Ted Fleming, his fists doubled, threw Brumberg to the floor with a well- directed blow in the solar ple “L followed you here expe something of this sort,” Ted. “Was—was I in time “Yes,” replied she. “He is a cad and we had best leave before further trouble ensues.” They were at the door when Brum- berg’s voice stopped them. “Vait, children,” he intervened, “T haf found out vat I nted to know. Miss DuBarry iss de girl for de part. Miss DuBarry. you haf talent and old Brumberg vill make your reputation.” Piroshka’s nent. Mr. ct from read the But what was doing? He had So he had only been play-act- ing! Piroshka laughed good-na- turedly a had been deceived by the shrewd old entrepreneur. The contracts were quickly signed and Ted and Piroshka exultantly left the of- fice. As they came out onto the glowing pavement of Broadway, with its fairyland of electric signs flashing above them, Ted's voice was tender and there was a new promise in Piroshka’s eyes. Youth had won its battle and the high road of fortune lay before them. BINTING €O., INC, JaMatea, & comicbooks.com