Edited by a Spanish and World War Veteran and dedicated to the fighting forces of the United States.
Drippings From the Fawcett
At the close of the recent war, on my way home to the Whiz Bang farm, still in uniform, I chanced on an old sea captain friend of former days down on New York’s Battery, old Jim Edmunds.
Later in the day, returning to my hotel with old Jim in tow, I found an invitation to a formal dance and card party awaiting me for that evening. I hit upon the idea that it would be well to take Captain Edmunds along; that his stories of the sea dogs would prove entertaining to the guests.
Accordingly I persuaded Jim, after much difficulty, to buy a dress suit for the occasion. The tailor couldn’t convince Jim that the vest should be cut down, and with only one button, but finally they compromised on a two-button vest.
All went well until we arrived at the hostess’ home and I introduced Captain Edmunds to her. Jim had on a medal he won for saving a ship at sea, and my hostess, at first puzzled as to whether he was an ex-army captain or a sea skipper, noticed the medal, and exclaimed: “Captain, I see you’re naval.”
The old man blushed and blurted out: “Yes, and if that danged tailor had his way, you could see a whole lot more.”