Baltimore Evening Sun (22 October 1912): 6.


The boomers! The boomers! Committeeing once more! Oh, ring the whistle, blow the bell, and pray for Baltimore!

The endless competition of the platitudirians:

It is quite conceivable that an individual may find it impossible to agree with every one of the planks of a political party and yet support the party.--The Maryland Suffrage News. Your plan to write a book will profit neither you nor the world if the book is never written.--The Rev. Dr. Polemus H. Swift.


This week’s prize for the sweetest, saddest platitude launched in Baltimore will be a half litre bottle of Pittsburgh mayonnaise, guaranteed under the pure food and drugs act. Prominent Baltimoreans, leading lawyers, newspaper editors and ministers of the gospel are invited to compete. No entrance fee is required.

Last week’s prize, an authentic hair from the Galways of the late Samuel Smiles, LL. D., was forwarded this morning to the prizewinner, the eminent Mr. Wegg, of Belair, Bishop of Havre de Grace in partibus infidelium. A portrait of the prize is herewith appended:


Welcome to the Trades-Unionist, the latest recruit to Baltimore’s growing list of weekly papers. It comes forth in clear type on honest wood-pulp paper, and to the extent of four pages. In the last column of the editorial page is a department headed “The Free Lunch,” a title strangely reminiscent. I quote:

All hail to Sonny Mahon,
We’ll attend to all his wants:
Jobs for his sisters and his
Cousins and his aunts!

And this extremely tabloid one-act play:

The Trades-Unionist, it appears, is for the union label and against local option. Its only editorial, aside from the Salutatory, argues that local option is a gross and heinous invasion of personal liberty, and among the delicatessen on the Free Lunch counter is this:

Purity purveyors and morality mongers have decided that the beer keg in the fountain of all evil. No more of this exhilarating fluid may be indulged in at dances attended by the working class. We can suggest the following advantages that water possesses to Miss Hanaw and Mr, Anderson: water rots leather, rusts iron and inflates stocks.

Long may the Trades-Unionist wave! But have things come to such a pass that it is impossible for any paper in Baltimore to publish a single issue without some reference to the Hon. Satan Anderson?

Dr. Howard Kelley in explanation of the Vice Crusade:

I myself and those who are associated with me propose to continue for the next 25 years or so.

Obviously, very few of the girls now being saved will still be in need of saving 25 years from now. But does Dr. Kelly admit thereby that, despite the gallant efforts of himself and his friends, a constant supply of recruits will be maintained?

The more the members of The Evening Sun staff look at the beautiful new Hansa Haus the thirstier they get. But in vain, in vain!--Adv.

Late bulletin from Sydenham indicate that Young Anderson is doing as well as may be expected. Kid Chafin’s gloves, it appears, were loaded with horse shoes and stopper looseners, and so they produced a number of extensive and appalling lacerations. But beyond a compound fracture of the skull, running from the crown to the Adam’s apple, Anderson has no really serious injury. Doc. Carroll announces that he will be on his legs again in two or three weeks and ready for a return engagement. Meanwhile, there is talk among Rum Demonists of giving Kid Chafin a diamond stud.

Three cheers for Woodrow--but don’t risk no more money!

The unspeakable Democratic Telegram, in defense of its immoral refusal to grant the feudal title of “Hon.” to the Hon. S. S. Field, LL. D.

We have received the best of legal advice and know what we are talking about.

The best of legal advice? From whom? Obviously, from the Hon. Mr. Field himself. As city solicitor, he is chief legal adviser to all city departments, and the Democratic Telegram is a city department. Remembering this, think of the man’s courage, and of his agonies no less! As a lawyer--compelled to produce advice justifying and even glorifying his client’s crime! As a man–the chief victim of that crime! What becomes of Lucius Junius Brutus? Here, at last, is his master!

So far nothing from the Maryland Anti-Vivisection Society about the award of the Nobel prize to Dr. Alexis Carrel, that murderer of dachshunds.

If Woodrow wins like a house afire, all the credit will belong to Harry, but If W. scrapes through by the skin of his teeth H. will not be to blame.--Adv.

The Anti-Sewer-Rental Federation, of which the contumacious Mr. Fred. Wright seems to be camerlengo, is distributing a little pamphlet contra in answer to the Hon. Aristides Sophocles Goldsborough’s masterly argument pro. Thus treachery rears its hideous head and genius is flouted in its own house.

The unspeakable Wegg, the Havre de Grace Hegesippus, took me to task in yesterday’s Letter Column for stating that prohibition would make outlaws of all dealers in liquor. His method of proof was to show that prohibition would make outlaws of all manufacturers of liquor. Obviously, this would leave the dealers virtuous. And meanwhile it undoubtedly makes the Hon. Mr. Wegg the greatest, or, at any rate, the most original logician since Aristotle.

A Russian novel of 838 pages and high merit, lately done into English:

“The Brothers Karamazov,” by Fyodor Dostoevsky (Macmillan).

A little masterpiece now to be had in separate form, at 50 cents:

“Object: Matrimony,” by Montague Glass (Doubleday-Page).

Colonel Roosevelt lately submitted to a protective inoculation of anti-tetanus serum. According to the anti-vivisectionists he will now develop measles.