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Show "THE FIGHTING EDIT OB." That a man who has been cowhided. beaten, shot full of holes, carved by bowie knives and "left for dead" should die at 80 In bed was the late Col. Dan Anthony's way of illustrating "life's little lit-tle ironies." Anthony, a brother of Susan B., was a Kansas editor. He went to the State fifty years ago, when it was one big fighting field. Once his paper, the Leavenworth Leav-enworth Times, bitterly assailed a local editor. The men met on the street, pistols pis-tols drawn. Afterward people came from behind the trees and picked Anthony An-thony up. His aorta was cut and as no one had then survived that wound or so it was thought the doctor said ! he would die soon. The bitter cold of winter checked the flow of blood, however, how-ever, and he was put to bed. After a good sleep Anthony awoke to ask the nurse what time It was. "Six." she replied. "Say, that's a good Joke on 'Doc,'" chuckled the editor. "He said I'd be dead by 5:30." Once.;in 1875. a rival editor, Mr. Im-bry, Im-bry, "shot Anthony up." He throve on the treatment. During the war he was knifed while trying to rescue a slave, but lived. As Mayor of Leavenworth, years ago, he was a favorite target for the turbulent. Cowhidlngs and beatings beat-ings with heavy canes were Incidents. Anothony's last encounter was In 1899, when he was 76 years old. Ex-Sheriff Bond, a giant in stature, helped by another an-other man, got the old editor down and beat him and stamped on him. He drew a revolver, but the friend saved Bond by knocking the weapon up. Tm going go-ing to die of disease or old age," he said. Anthony wasn't always bloodthirsty. An actor, angered by Kansas criticism, came to his office one day to "lick the editor." He turned, the hose on the visitor vis-itor and went back to his desk. Once he was arrested for carrying a revolver wrapped up in paper. The lethal weapon wea-pon turned out to be a piece of lead pipe, bent plstol-fashlon but a bad defensive de-fensive weapon. Curiously enough Anthony wasn't a good shot. He never killed any one but a man named Satterlee. Once a gang of some fifteen men opened Are on him, and he emptied two six-shooters in their direction. "I'pon my honor," he said. "I never touched a man. I concluded that bricks were much more deadly weapons than pistols." New York World. |