“Dead Man” High, Not Dry.
“There is a dead man on the roof of City Hall,” was the telephone message to Mayor Mitchel’s office, in New York City, the other afternoon. Like alarms followed from tenants of skyscrapers around City Hall Park. Peter Chieffo, the janitor, was sent aloft to investigate.
The janitor found a man stretched out asleep on the sunny side of the clock tower. There was an aroma of rum about him and a spirit of rebellion in his heart. He protested volubly at being awakened.
“’Snice’n’ warm up here,” he said; “lemme ’lone.”
Chieffo helped him down, first by the ladder which leads from the attic to the skylight on the roof, then down two flights of spiral stairs, and lastly down the three remaining marble flights to City Hall Park. How he got up there with the bundle he was carrying is a question which puzzles the members of the board of estimate. The visitor was unable to explain or even to give his name.