Life — May 5, 1910 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

“LDF E* An Interview With Halley’s Comet By WALLACE IRWIN (Lire BEG to report that the comet has now reached the secondary phase of his eleventh parallax and stands at forty-five de- grees of arc reiative to his apogee,” cried Mr. Ernest Snapper, my hired photographer, coming up, his lips pale with emotion. “Good heavens! if that’s the case, we must ascend without delay—immediately!"" I re- plied, turning impatiently toward Louis Bleriot Hoolahan, my hired aviator, who stood stolidly greasing the flywheel of his rakish little taxio- plane, which was busily ticking away extra charges. (Aviators’ rates are $1,200 an hour, I believe. Mr. Hoolahan had already wasted nearly two hours.) This tense conversation took place at mid- night on the roof of the Life Building. Be- sides Mr. Snapper and me and the sky-chauf feur, the editor was also there, but he stood apart in a gloomy mood. To aviate has been his life-dream, but his wife won't let him. The night was moonless, windless, cloudless. Far above the horizon line we could see Halley's comet faintly shining like a smear of chalk on a dirty slate. That smear marked our destination—for we were bent on the greatest journalistic exploit since the Return from Etah. We were planning to cut boldly zenithward by aeroplane, to intercept the distin- guished Heavenly Visitor and bring back for publication his first impressions of America after an absence of seventy-five years spent in touring the universe. Naturally we were eager to be off, for did not several enterprising yellow journals suspect our plan, and were they not even now conspiring to Mother Earth: LAND SAKES, YOU HAVEN’T CHANGED A Bit! Special Sky Correspondent) GETTING NEARER foil us in our attempt to pluck this wonderful " scoop" from the skies? No wonder Mr. Snapper, who has photographed over a thousand battles and has thrust his camera more than once into the cannon's mouth—no wonder he trembled now with excitement. “All aboard, messieurs!'’ Hoolahan spoke with that faint suggestion of a French accent so common among avia tors. We necded no second invitation. Mr. Snapper with his camera, I with my note book, we settled comfortably back in the broad tonneau. The machine trembled with potential flight, the able Hoolahan drew the reles other moment we were soaring grandly above the petty monu. ments of man, above the petty gas works of Hoboken and the petty vaudeville theatres of Broadway Up, up we shot. Earth faded like a cloud of steam. Darkness closed us se lever and in an round. During the space of several minutes there was nothing for Mr. Snap- per to photograph or for me to write about. “At this rate won't it take us some time to get there?’ I asked Mr. Hoola han, who was bending over the oil-cups. “Shut up!’ replied that talented aviator with the brevity so popular in his profession. Mr. Snapper and I cuddled back and went to sleep “Howly moons 0” Jupiter, pfwhat's that?'’ The words came in an intense staccato from our taciturn Hoolahan Earnest Snapper and I sat up in our places, our knees quaking in cadence with our beating hearts. The night had become intensely hot and brilliant. The unusual peril of our position was ob: vious, for we were gazing right into the face of a handsome middle-aged comet (Continued on page 832) comicbooks.com