OCR Text |
Show llliliii' mmmmm iiil8IJ lllllitl Iftllttfli New York Post. WNU Service. Guitar-Strumming Cards Practice Up on Victory Theme MORNING among the Mudcats: "I wonder," said the reporter, "If any of the Cards are up. I" "You woncter!" There was infinite in-finite scorn mingled with baffled rage in the hotel clerk's voice. "Ask some of those guys there. Ask" There was a pause while the clerk sought to soothe another sleepy-eyed gentleman who had come down the stairs, tooth brush in one hand, suit case in the other. The reporter glanced at the horde of other similarly attired and irate gentlemen galloping through the lobby. Now and then one of them would collapse exhausted on a lounge. A moment later tired eyes would close in grateful slumber. The reporter wished he had been built in the Richard Harding Davis mold so that he could get a line on such unseemly doings in the lobby of a great hostelry at the unearthly hour of 9 a. m. "Okay." The clerk's voice had lapsed into that sad, sweet resignation resigna-tion which comes to men who have encountered the worst and have resolved re-solved no longer to combat it. "Go on up. Where? Just get on the elevator and use your own judgment. judg-ment. That'll be them." The reporter did and it was. But even then he was surprised. It scarcely seemed, even judging from the increasing tempo of the advance warnings all the way from the first to the twenty-first floor, that all that noise could be made by a mandolin and three guitars. He hesitated in the doorway. After all if the Gas House boys could take on a 250-pound 250-pound journalist before dinner what chance would a little gee have Impelled by a blind loyalty to his masters he stumbled in. The If ' I I swarthy gentleman in cerise pajamas waved one languid hand while continuing continu-ing to pick energetically energet-ically at his mandolin mando-lin with the other paw. The unshaven and hairy chested gentleman made a similar gesture of greeting with a flat-tish flat-tish foot. It was not Pepper Martin that he meant to be impolite. Even Pepper Pep-per Martin has difficulty keeping up with the conventions when standing on his head playing a guitar. Would you mind playing something some-thing soothing," asked the reporter. ..j Frenchy Bordagaray patted his cerise pajamas. "We'll give you our theme song," he offered. They did. "We are mud cats, tough as wild cats. Our ears are made of leather And they Bop in windy weather. Cosb all hemlocks We're as tough as pine knots. We're irom Oklahoma, can't you see. "Nice song," the reporter interrupted inter-rupted by crashing a bureau to the floor after the forty-ninth repetition of the verse. "Got it all over those things Berlin and Gershwin do. Those birds handicap themselves by sticking to a special tune." "Shucks," Pepper . Martin, who ' had been trying to introduce a vari- I ation by playing his guitar with one hand while hanging from outside the window ledge with the other, ' chinned himself back into the room. "I can write 'em with one hand tied behind my back. I can. Say, I .think that's Frisch rooming below here. You gotta treat the manager right. I'm gonna serenade him." He disappeared over the window ledge again. "Well," remarked the reporter after a while. "It looks like you've lost a good guitar." "Tut, don't mention it," said M'sicu Bordagaray. "We can get plenty more of them. There's a music store that feeds 'em to us. This Bob Weiland he's up there now getting a left-handed guitar. That'll get us some place. What I say Is there's not a club in the league that couldn't use a good southpaw and" The phone rang. Pitcher Bill Mc-Gee Mc-Gee practiced playing the mandolin with one hand while picking up the receiver with the other. "Zut " hc screamed. "Canaille. Bourgeois " Ho slammed down the receiver and began playing the mandolin with both hands so ns to catch up with the others. "Probably the hotel comphini,,,, again," said the ever polite M'sion Bordagaray. "Those travolli,,,; salesmen haven't any appreciation of art Hu-y nlways want to sleet and" 1 A hand n.ul then a head re,. Peared on t10 wi,l(nv ''Wasn't Iriseh t ,.. ;,.,; Popper Marti,,. |