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Show JIM LOIE HAD $5 "Native Son" Decided It Was Better to Pay Than Be Locked Up. "This Chinaman was selling his garden gar-den truck from his wagon to the people in the street in front of the stores on market row. The storekeepers wanted to mob him, and I had to bring him to the station. Charge him with violating the license ordinance by peddling in the restricted district." . It was Partolman Carlson who spoke at the desk sergeant's office in the police po-lice station Thursday morning. His prisoner was a saffron-hued descendant of Confucius. "What's your name?" asked the desk sergeant. "Me? My name Jim Lole." "Where were you born?" "Me? Callflonla. Me native son. Me bloned San Francisco, Dupont and Dixon stieets. Me Melican man, no bloned in China." "Your ball is $5." , "Fi dollas? Me no cetchum ft' dollaa today. Mo no got 'em." "Take him out and lock him up," said the desk sergeant. ' "Me got 'em ft dollas," rfaid the native na-tive son, as he dug down deep Into his capacious pockets and pulled out a bag of coin from which he extracted the desired de-sired amount. "Me no sellum to fam'ly man. Me sellum to glocely man, to lestulant man. Me no tly to sellum to fam'ly man. Glocely man come to me an' say, 'Me wantum bushel potato. Me wantum peck onion, me wantum celely. Me sellum sell-um and me get pinched." "You sabbe 2 o'clock?" said Carlson as he pulled his watch from his pocket. "Yep. me heap sabby 2 b'clock." "Go upstairs at 2 o'clock and see the Judge. Maybe he will give your money back." "Me gettum fl' dollas back me come 2 o'clock?" queried the offender. "Me be up st lairs 2 o'clock me gettum fl dollas back. Me tell Judge me vote flo him. He give back fl' dollas." Then Jim Lole vanished Into the recesses re-cesses of his truck wagon and chirruping chirrup-ing to his bony nag drove toward the residence section to sell the remainder of his stock. |