Life — November 23, 1928 — page 25: what you’re looking at

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

READING MATTERS) Ir, as has been said, the re- cent election was a lesson in Perry geography for denizens of New 5 York, then “Broadway Racket- Githens cers” (Liveright), by John O'Connor, is a lesson in big town topog- raphy for the outlanders. ‘To most natives of Manhattan and to out-of-town correspondents of Prof. Win- chell, this inside story of the more suc- cessful metropolitan rackets comes as something less than a complete surprise. Many of these methods of separating the sucker from his money have received in- dividual attention in the daily papers, sometimes as fiction features, but very often as actual news stories giving names, dates, and street corners. But never before have all the details of all the many clip-games beer gathered together in one place; never before have they received reportorial treatment from an expert—and John O'Connor of Variety and the Morning Telegraph has been dimbing up and down the Main Stem for twenty-odd years. The low-down on “sheet passers,” “I want a ride in a Zeppelin—” “glim droppers,” “‘fire-proofers” and| When he fell ill with gall stones, he others of the nimble-witted gentry makes interesting reading. There is rich humor, too, in many of the incidents described. Consider “English Jack,” who had the look of a cop or a fireman. As “Captain Williams” of the New York Fire De- partment, he met with great success in shaking down business men who had com- mitted minor infractions of the fire laws. First Susway Worker: We'd better duck, Pete. Here comes a train. Stooxo Susway Worke: : More interruptions—always interruptions. That’s the trouble with this job—a man can’t concentrate. told the hospital authorities that he was a captain in the police department, and swore them to secrecy because he was “up for promotion” and knowledge of his ill- ness would hurt his standing. “His secret was kept,” says O'Connor, “and the staff of the hospital probably believe to this day that when lish Jack failed to re- spond to treatment following the opera- ton, the City of New York lost an hon- ored member of its police department.” Ir you are a fairly consistent reader—and I can think of no other reason for your being here today—you have a great mo- ment ahead of you in the pages of John Riddell’s “Meaning No Offense” (John Day). As a matter of fact, you have many great moments. Twenty, to be exact, or one great moment for each item in the table of contents. It is no secret (or it isn't now) that John Riddell is Corey Ford, or, I should say, Corey Ford with a beard. As Trader Riddell—of course you re- member the Trader—he stoeps through most of the big books of the past season. “The Bridge of San Thornton Wilder,” “Strange Interview,” and “Poems Ap- praised at Practically Nothing” are par- ticularly juicy burlesque. A medal, please, for Corey Ford, and a fig for those who are not convulsed by this collection of sarcasm and satire. The Confidential Guide to current books will be found on next page. comicbooks.com