The old man blushed and blurted out: “Yes, and if that danged tailor had his way, you could see a whole lot more.”
The other evening I picked up my old neighbor, Bob Jaeger, for a flivver spin to see the sights of Minneapolis.
First of all we visited the National Dutch room to enjoy the cabaret. Bob was much astounded as he viewed the shapely dancers shimmying to the jazziest of jazz orchestrations.
“What do you think of it, Bob?” I inquired.
“I think you’d better ask the orchestra to play a wedding march, and play it quick,” he retorted.
Ignorance sometimes causes lots of trouble, and sometimes it falls upon the innocent. Witness the case of Gus, our hired man.
I went with Gus to the Shoe Palace in Robbinsdale while he purchased a new pair of boots. Now Gus suffers from a common malady—perspiration of the feet—and he’s very sensitive about it.
The clerk sprinkled some French chalk into the new shoes as he was about to try them on. Gus got up angrily.
“If I can’t try on a pair of your boots without having you sprinkle chloride of lime in them, I’ll take my trade elsewhere,” he bellowed.
It was with much difficulty that I pacified Gus and explained the use of the chalk. So now Gus has a new pair of boots, and without the lime disinfectant.
A few days ago, for the first time in many moons, I heard sweet strains of “Sweet Adeline” coming in a rich soprano, with bass accompaniment, from a passing automobile on the Whiz Bang farm trail, and it brought me out of my reveries and revived memories of bygone days.
Thoughts of the many times I had heard that song along the trail from town, just after the bars of Robbinsdale and Casey’s roadhouse would close, came to me sweetly.
This brand of choral singing has become a lost art under prohibition. “Sweet Adeline” as sung by a troop of celebrators who wouldn’t know whether they were standing on their feet or their heads, was very beautiful.
To enjoy it thoroughly, one had to be quite drunk himself. Jack would sing the tenor, Bob the bass and I would join in the chorus, in sentimental strain. It was all very touching. With it, nothing can compare.
In my memories I can still picture Jack’s tenor squawking “You’re the flower of my heart” and Bob’s bass refrain “Sweet Adeline,” after which came the grand finale. Ah, those were the happy days.