OCR Text |
Show LIVES OF GREA T MEN (Being the first of a series of intimate insights into the lives of those for whom things are so soft that they have "nothing to do till tomorrow.") William 'Spry. I now have a job that exactly suits me and I reciprocate with the job. I lie in ''I? j bed till G:30 every morning, don't have to get up .from the breakfast table till 7:05, then I have fifteen minutes to go over the crop reports from Tooele, -and get to my office at 7:30, after everyone every-one else is half through the day s work. All I do from then till 8 a. m. is to answer my mail, and at 8:05 I usually lay a corner stone. Sometimes Some-times I don't get back to my office till 8:15, then till 9 o'clock I spend the time honoring and dishonoring dis-honoring requisitions. At 9 I receive the different state delegations from St. George to Cache and at 10 I hear from Washington. You see, it's noon there then and Reed is half through the day, and getting his second wind. At 10:15 my secre- ! tary administers ether to me and then reads the Herald-Republican aloud from front to back. He ' is through at 10:20, I revive at 10:30, and then i receive the United Sisterhood, representing votes I foi women and to hell with the battleship service. ser-vice. Eleven o'clock finds me dictating my re- i grots for being unable to attend two hundred and , fifty-seven banquets to be given at as many points in eleven states the following week, and at noon 1 lunch at the Commercial club, and try to wash the coal dust out of my thorax while the directors direc-tors resolve against the smoke nuisance. From 12:45 to 1:00 I absorb the closing quotations of the eastern copper market, then rush to the daily meeting, where we decide what is best for the. state. From 2:00 to 3:00 p. m. I address all the school children of the city in the different wards, and from then till dinner time all I have to do is to listen to the qualifications of the office seekers seek-ers and other pie eaters from the bores them- ! selves. Jit six o'clock I change into the soup and fish makeup and then I eat a course here and there at the different dinners at which I preside until, by careful manipulation, I have secured a full meal by 9 p. m. From then till midnight, I either have to listen to the speeches or try to go over and approve of such matters as have been overlooked during the day and by 1:00 a. m. I have time to eat supper. The job and the ' public usually allow me to get home by three o'clock in the morning, and I spend a quiet hour with my family from 3 to 4, and then I can sleep for two hours and a half. Gee, Guv, you're a lucky guy. You know it, nothin' to do till tomorrow. Samuel C. Park. Up at G and he opens the si ore; in to it out of it, ten minutes more. Wakes Commissioners, goes to work, appoints a star and cans a shirk. Looks 'em over, revises list, next ten minutes, ventriloquist; speaks at a meeting, ' asks the crowd to ask for help but not out loud. Ho puts out fires, calls police, cuts down the pay or grants increase; turns on the water, turns it off, he makes the poll tax dodgers "cough"; he digs the sewers, paves the streets, he melts the snows and stops the sleets. He plants the trees and cuts the grass and cuts some ice and is the class; he's full of ginger, stuffed with speed, and speed's the thing we surely need. He holds the key that lifts the lid of "welcome to our city kid"; he stops the winter, starts the spring, and comes so close to the whole thing, that if he'd go an hour more, instead of sawing off by 4, instead of sleeping then till six; if he'd stay up and try to fix 'something he may have overlooked as mayor, wo would have him booked for life, but those two hours of waste are vital in this age of haste. You mean ejioh night ho stays in bed two hours, what a sleepy head. I n ! i' |