(Mr. Rogers’ articles on the Convention attracted more attention than perhaps any other humorous political articles. This one, in particular, brought him comments from all over the country.—The Publishers.)
“WILL ROGERS JR.” REPORTS THE CONVENTION FOR HIS FATHER, WORN OUT BY LONG SERVICE
Will Rogers Jr. attended the convention to take up the duties of reporter to replace his venerable old father.
By WILL ROGERS JR.
Papa called us all in last night and made his last will and testament, he called it. He said he had carried his work on just as long as he could and he realized that he was unable, on account of his old age, to go further with it. He put in the will that I being the oldest was to take up his life’s work, that of reporting the Democratic National Convention.
He herded us all and told us of how he had given all the best years of his life to this and out of respect to his name and memory that we children should carry on. And that our children were to do likewise and that we should raise them to always know that their mission through life would be to keep reporting the progress of the Democratic National Convention at New York. And it was in the will that if we didn’t we would forfeit any claim to any royalties that might still be coming due from books that he had written on the early life of the convention.
Mama wants to send him to the Old Men and Old Women’s Home for Survivors of this Convention, but he won’t go. Poor Mama is worried about him. He won’t talk rational. He just keeps saying, “Alabama” and “for what purpose does the gentleman arise,” and “if we can’t elect our candidate we will see that you don’t get yours” and “unfit” and “release.” We don’t know what it all means.
Now, Mr. Editor, I am only a little boy and I am not much of a reporter, but Papa told us we didn’t have to be very good; that all we must practice was endurance. But you will, Mr. Editor, please take my story, won’t you for Mama’s sake, for she knew how poor Papa hated to give up and how proud he will be if I can only keep his life’s work going?
Mama got our Dad’s old press badge and patched it up so it would stick together and I went down today. The hall was full of all those feeble people and it looked kinder like a church; everybody was sleeping. All but one man, who was standing and reading aloud out of a geography the names of States that are situated in the Western Hemisphere and that don’t belong to Canada.
Papa had given me an old worn and torn paper with a list on it that he had used to mark off the numbers on when this convention started. He told me to always keep it for comparisons. Also that a museum had tried to buy it from him. I go to school and our teacher had told us what a wonderful country this is we live in, and how it had stuck so well together and, sure enough, when this man kept reading these names and figures, why, on Dad’s old paper were a lot of the same ones.