Life — November 25, 1926 — page 15: what you’re looking at

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

Life As One Fan to Another WELL old timer, if I had ambi- tions for a literary career and was a young man, I know no better way I could forward my aspirations than by becoming a professional ath- AT LAST WE KNOW WHAT THE THINKER THOUGHT ABOUT. lete. It is an axiom of literature to- day that a hard-running back makes easy reading; and another is that a home run in the pinch is worth three best sellers. The amazing thing about this con- dition is the fidelity with which busy prizefighters, World Series players and home-run kings attend to their literary duties. You remember the time when Babe Ruth was stricken and had to be rushed from a Southern training tour toa hospital? There was that sturdy soul, in the fell clutch of painful cir- cumstance, scarcely able to draw breath; but do you think he failed his readers? Not at all. Even as he lay on the operating table, he pushed the ether cone aside long enough to dictate his daily story. Even greater triumph of mind over matter was accomplished by Luis Angel Firpo. You will recall, old timer, how frequently the Wild Bull was sent to the canvas by Jack Dempsey; and how forceful was his final fall. Yet, while his handlers were applying the restorative salts to his gaping nostrils, he remembered his duty. He struggled out of the haze that shrouded his brain and not only dictated the story of the com- bat, but performed the amazing feat of dictating it in English, a language with which, at the time, he had no acquaintance at all. The world seldom has seen a_ greater mastery of self than this, And surely you do not doubt the truth of his achievement? Dozens of papers were on the streets of the land, within an hour after the fight’s finish, with an account of the proceedings signed, “By Luis Angel Firpo.” You could ask no greater proof than this; well, maybe you could, but you shouldn't. Beside the Wild Bull's magnificent ef- fort, all others seem tame. Yet they are not without merit. Foot- ball players, between plunges into the line and making ferocious tackles, somchow manage to put run- ning stories of their doings on the wires. Tennis stars, clipping the lines with service aces, still can detach themselves long enough to pass im- partial and witty comment on their present games. Golfers, during im- portant tournaments, devotedly keep newspaper offices advised of their success or failure, even before they are quite sure themselves whether they are successful or not. On second thought, old timer, I’m not so sure that I have the equip- SHAKESPEARE ON THE RADIO POOR GENTLEMAN, TAKE UP SOME OTHER STATION; HERE’S NO PLACE FOR YOU. Coriolanus. "TILLIE, WE WON’T NEED You ANY More. You CAN PACK Your THINGS AND Go /” RADIO TO THE RESCUE! ment for a literary career to-day. It would bother me no little to try to kick a goal from placement and to write a story while I was doing so. Maybe I haven't the genius for it; and genius is needed for the modern school of quick-lunch reporting of sports, while engaged in them. James Kevin McGuinness. With the Engine Running ARCIA: Honestly, I was all a-quiver when the fellow I was out with last night proposed. Mauve: He must have had you out in a Ford, Useless Information It has been quite some time since a well-informed author has had his heroine stop a train with her red flannel petticoat! comicbooks.com