We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.
Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.
THOUGHTS WHILE STALLING
» » »
Jerry’s crack about there being four dummies in one projection room now — two mechanical and two running them .... Those midnight bathers at Chapter Seven’s weiner bake — I got the shivers just watching them. .... Bro. Lucas, who is president of the scar-belly club, was among those present .... There is a boy who has had some operations .... They must have cut the right thing out the last trip — he looks great .... Bro. Victor A. Welman of Cleveland is a real live wire, you know the type .... Gets things done and all that sort of thing. .... Waiting at the Grand Central Air Terminal for visiting delegates
who didn’t visit Bro. Clyde
Shuey, the radiator plaque magnate, has returned from an extended trip East .... One might say, “the trip
that plaque bought” .... Hope Bro. James J. Graham will conduct the initiation of the candidates recently accepted by Chapter 7 .... If he does we’ll have a lot of fun — even if the
candidates don’t It’s marvelous
what Jim can do to ’em and have ’em still live .... Spring or summer fever has sure got me going — I’ve been wishing the society would hold an extended convention in Hawaii — and send me as a delegate .... I’m sure I’d lose my return ticket .... and become a beach comber or something else equally shiftless .... Which reminds me of the projectionist who declared that he was so dumb he thought Manual Labor was a Mexican .... Please excuse the yawn .... Ho hum .... I might as well go on back to sleep .... So long.
(Continued From Page 17)
furthermore, Jones, I want you to pay especial heed to this matter in the future. Er, good evening, sir. How are you this evening, sir?”
“Tut !” interrupted the man of eminence, jerking his thumb in the direction of the ticket-tearing employee, “May I for a few minutes replace that man at the door?”
The manager gasped. The assistant gasped.
“Er-er, certainly,” finally replied the manager.
“Er-er, certainly,” instantly echoed the assistant.
“Thank you,” snapped the big little man, turning upon his heel and heading for the doorboy.
“Can you beat it?” breathed the manager as the new doorboy avidly reached for a couple of tickets.
“Can you beat it?” double-checked the assistant as the new doorboy deftly tore the pasteboards apart and returned the stubs.
Many patrons entered, tendered their tickets to the big little man and received their stubs. Fifteen minutes
passed ; twTenty minutes ; a half hour. Then, as though suddenly satiated of his desire, the big little man motioned the doorboy to resume his position and trundled his one hundred and ten pounds of business sagacity to the gaping manager and also gaping assistant.
“That, sirs,” said he, “was a pleasure. I thank you.” He started to leave when a choking sound from the manager halted him.
“Please, sir, if-er-” stuttered the manager. “That is — what I am attempting to say is — ”
Suddenly the big little man understood. He laughed, the muscles of his face making crackling sounds of protest at being forced into exertion after years of leisure. “Gentlemen,” he said, “those minutes at the door were the happiest ones I’ve had since the stock crash in ’29. If there is no objection I will indulge again tomorrow evening. Being an optimist, sirs, I desire to keep in trim. Clipping coupons is not — must not be — a lost art!”
T nventy-one