WHAT HAPPENED TO DENMEAD
"Several years ago I found myself in New York; penniless, weary, and heartsick. I wandered one morning into a tiny park, mouldering in the shadow of the huge skyscrapers with which Manhattan is everywhere defaced. I sank upon a bench, pulled a soiled newspaper from my pocket, and scanned for the fiftieth time the 'Help Wanted' columns. Work I wanted of any kind, and work of any kind had eluded my tireless search for days—ever since my arrival in New York. The benches about me were filled with bleary, unshaven men; some asleep, others trying hard to keep awake; each clutching a paper which presently it seemed they might devour, goat-like, in sheer hunger. The stamp of cruel want convulsed each hopeless face, and crowsfeet lines of despair lay as a delta beneath each fishy eye. About us in all directions towered huge monuments of apoplectic wealth—teeming hives, draining the honey from each bee, tearing from thousands their best years, their finest endeavors, their very hearts' blood—all to swell the wealth of a bloated few! And we, the drones, sat mildewing in the little open space below!
"The man next to me, his head hanging over the back of the bench in ghastly jointlessness, awoke with a snort, stared about him stupidly, and something like a sob bubbled up from his Adam-appled throat. He wiped his eyes with the back of a grimy paw, and diving into a greasy pocket pulled out a short black pipe. Between consoling puffs he jerked out, 'A man's a damn fool—a damn fool, I say, to come to New York to look for a job! That's why you are here. Oh, I know. I can tell. You're a stranger all right; that's easy to see. You look the part.'
"'That's so,' said I, 'and worse. I am about down and out. Financially, I stand exactly twenty-one—no—twenty-three cents to the good.'
"'I am right with you, friend—only more so. I have nothing, absolutely nothing! You've twenty-three cents, hey? A bad number, that twenty-three. Give me the odd penny, and perhaps luck'll change for both of us.' I put the copper into his hand, and in chucking it into his pocket he dropped it. It rolled out to the center of the walk, and in an instant not less than a dozen men made a determined rush for it. There was a desperate struggle; others joined; it became a mad, screaming, tumbling, sweating mob. Instantly a crowd from outside gathered, and a free-for-all fight began. Hundreds flocked in from the adjacent streets. The affair quickly assumed the proportions of a riot. Knives and revolvers were brought into play. It was every man against his neighbor, and an unreasoning wave of frenzy and blood seemed to sweep over the crowd. The police rushed in from all quarters, but their efforts seemed powerless. My new acquaintance and myself, the innocent cause of all the trouble, managed to escape from the thick of the fray—he with the loss of a hat and a bleeding face; and I in much worse shape—physically sound, but—I had lost my twenty-two cents! We hurriedly entered a dark canyon which led to wider paths where quiet reigned. The tumult in the park, sharply accentuated by pistol shots, came to us like the roar of falling water.
"'What an astonishing thing!' said my companion. 'And all for a penny—a bloomin' penny! And to think of the fabulous wealth stored in the midst of all these tigers! Do you suppose that mere walls of steel and granite could withstand the fury of such a mob as this great city now holds, straining at its leash? Horrible things will happen in New York one of these days, and we will not have long to wait for it either. Discipline of the crudest sort, and a leader, is all that is needed to start a great army of destruction in motion!'
"'But how about the police, the Federal and State troops, supposed to be in instant readiness?' I urged.
"'They would count as nothing before the fury of an organized mob. A portion of the monstrous mountain of wealth stored here in New York City should be moved to a central, safer point; say St. Louis, Omaha, or even further west to Denver. It's piling up here is an ever-present menace and danger. It is a serious problem.'
"'Quite so,' agreed I; 'but there is a much more serious problem confronting you and me just at present, and that is a certain sickening emptiness which makes one weak and giddy. My few coppers stood between us and—and—well, serious thoughts of the future. I have never begged nor stolen, and yet——'
"'Oh, don't bother about that. The thing's easy,' said my friend; 'just watch me.'
"A fat, prosperous-looking man approached. His sleek face, garlanded with mutton-chop whiskers, was creased in smiles. Evidently a broker who had just 'done' some one, was my sour thought. There were but few on the street, and the outlook for business was favorable.
"'Pardon me, friend,' whined my companion, stepping out in front of him, 'but can't you give a fellow a lift? I'm a mechanic by trade, and——'
"'Oh, cut it out!' said the fat man, leering knowingly. 'I'm on to what you're going to say. Why don't you fellows vary your song and dance—just for luck? G'wan. Get out of the way!' And he tried to side-step us. With a quick glance over his shoulder, my new acquaintance shoved a revolver right up in the teeth of the prosperous one. Skyward the podgy, bejeweled hands, and we deftly went through him, securing his wallet, watch, scarf-pin, and then stripped his fingers of their adornment. It was over in a flash, and the fat man on his back by a dexterous push and go-down which the Japs might add with advantage to their much-vaunted jiu-jitsu.
