Life — October 8, 1925 — page 12: what you’re looking at

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

10 - LIFE: The Strange Case of Wetherby Woggs A Tale of Home Life and Changing Skylines on Manhattan Island By H. I. Phillips ETHERBY WOGGS, a W frayed, shaken, agitated little man with plaster dust on his shoulders, a cut over one eye, one leg of his trousers missing and a six-inch splinter through the fleshy part of his left leg, rushed into the waiting-room of the Grand Central Station in short, uncertain jumps. “What time does it go?” he yelled at no one in particular, holding his arms over his head like a man warding off flying débris. “What time does it go?” “What time does what go?” asked a station gendarme, grabbing Wetherby by a loose fragment of underwear, “The train!” cried ~~ Wetherby, trembling like the windows of a Fifth Avenue bus. “What train?” demanded the police- man, “Any tra shricked Wetherby, looking about with the expression of a panicky rabbit loose on an ammunition testing ground. “Where?” snapped the policeman. “Anywhere,” replied — Wetherby. “Anywhere so long it takes me away from Manhattan Island. “Stranger in the city?” asked the officer, puzzled by the curious case. “That's it,” cricd Wetherby, jump- ing some more. “Stranger in city... only lived here thirty-six years...Hah! ..-Hah!” He giggled weirdly. “PLACE HAD BEEN TORN DOWN LATE SATURDAY AFTERNOON. ,.MAKE ROOM FOR SKYSCRAPER.” There was a sudden sound of escap- ing steam and a rumbling noise from the train shed. Wetherby Woggs, with a scream, hurled himself into the policeman’s arms and nestled to him like a frightened baby. “Say!” blurted the officer, struggling to break the stranglehold which Woggs had secured about his neck, “what's the trouble? In a jam or sumpin’?” “Nope!” cried Wetherby. asunmen after you?” ope!” fe chasin’ you?” Jope!” Whatcher running from, then?” “Steam shovels!” squeaked Wetherby. “Steam shovels 'nd crowbars 'nd picks! Lemme go!” Another hissing noise came from the train shed, followed by a sharp blast from a_ whistle. Wetherby Woggs shook like a flivver fender. “They're working here, groaned. “Who's working the cop impatiently. “Steam shovels!” he cried, “Y'can't get away from ‘em in New York. “Be yourself,” urged the patrolman, “There ain't no steam shovels here. This is the Grand Central depot. What would they be doin’ here?” “It's over five years old, ain't it?” gasped Wetherby Woggs. “Lemme go!” too!” he here?” demanded RUSHED INTO T WAITING-ROOM IN SHORT, UNCERTAIN JUMPS, ‘Sit down!" commanded the officer, pushing him onto a bench, “Now I'll see that no steam shovel touches a hair of your head. Cool off, man, and tell me what it’s all about. First of all, where's your home?” “HOME!” screamed Wetherby, jumping up and looking wilder than ever, “Hah!...Where’s my HOME? That's just it!...Hah!” ‘Just what?" demanded the officer, pushing him back onto the bench with the aid of eight startled porters. “Think hard, now,” he ordered. “Tell me where your home was when you left it.” “I didn’t leave it...it left me.” “Left you?” “Snatched right out from under me! ++-Half a dozen times....Can't stand it any longer...lost wife and whole family that way...Where’s that train? -++lemme go,” stammered Woggs. “There, there now,” coaxed the policeman soothingly as he patted Wetherby’s wrists. “Pull yourself together and tell me all about it. Maybe I can help you.” “The steam shovels!... And the men with picks! :++Promise me you won't let ’em catch up with me?” pleaded Wetherby. “Cross my heart,” as- sured the officer, taking the trembling Manhattanite in his lap. “Manhattan changing too fast...yanking down homes every minute,” re- (Continued on page 26), comicbooks.com