O.O. McIntyre

Dayton Daily News/July 3, 1914

NEW YORK, July 3.—Frank Case, proprietor of the Algonquin Hotel, dropped into one of his banquet rooms the other night and found a group of medical men dining and swapping stories. Dipping in his oar, as it were, Colonel Case told this one:

“An unfortunate man was seized suddenly on the street with the cramps. He was hurried, despite his protests, to a hospital. The physicians there looked him over, poked him and said:

“We may as well remove your appendix.”

“Is it necessary?” asked the trembling victim.

“It’s not necessary,” said one physician, “but it is customary.”

The physicians laughed but it was not one of those hearty from the chest out chuckles.

Joe Weber and Lew Fields are talking of coupling up again in a musical melange as yet unnamed. This time they are to be under the management of Al Woods, so the prophets say. Neither of the comedians has prospered to any great extent lately—although they are not on the way to a poorhouse either, but it is becoming more and more apparent to the comedians that they need each other. It is whispered that Weber and Fields, if left alone, could get along forever without a word of discord but their families, some say, are not overly congenial—hence the inharmony. Weber and Fields together again means money for any manager, for no two comedians are so popular on Broadway.

It looks like the peg post in New York will have to go. Aside from making 1,000 patrolmen flat-footed it is believed to be limiting their usefulness by confining them to one spot. The peg post was inaugurated by Waldo and kept hundreds of policemen confined to an ascribed area, instead of patrolling their beat, so they would be found when wanted. Commissioner Woods does not believe the idea is practical and he is arranging to do away with it.

Ach, Louie! No concert mit our beer in Hoboken. Those who remember the Over the Rhine district in Cincinnati in the good old days will realize what a blow has befallen Hoboken. River Street In Hoboken was just like Cincinnati’s famous district and now because the church people have kicked, Mayor Cooke (who is not a German by the way), has ordered that no more concerts shall be given and all the pretty maidens who sung and danced are hunting for other jobs.

New York diners-out are wondering if the Bustanoby’s—Andre and Jacques—will get away with their Paris Boulevard idea on Broadway or rather Columbus Circle. The brothers have put little tables out on the sidewalk with a red and white striped awning running out over them and real honest to goodness, waxed mustached garcons in attendance. A few brave souls have shied at the tables, one couple sat down and let the crowds in the offing trip over their feet, but there has been no grand rush. The Bustanobys smile when it is suggested to them that the idea won’t go. It is such a knowing smile that the Rialto wonders if they really know they will put it over.