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Patrick, Warren A. (ed.) / Show world
(July 10, 1909)

Revell, Nellie
Nellie Revell: her own gabalogues,   p. 4

Page 4

New York, July 5.
Dear Bunch:
This is the Monday after the
Fourth, and its one of those holdover
celebrations-everybody you meet has
to have a balanc-
ing pole to help
carry all the pa-
triotism (that's a
new name for it)
that  they   ab-
sorbed yesterday.
That's why Iam
tip here in a bal-
loon, to get away
from   the  fire-
works. What a
pity  it  is  that
those idiots, in-
stead of shooting
off fabulous sums
of money, won't
spend it upon some
poor little chil-
dren  who   are
sweltering here in the city for a
breath of fresh air. I got up in a
balloon to get away from all the noise
one  of  ex-Policeman  Bingham's
"finest" giving the high sign to the
Knight of the White Apron for about
three fingers of third rail! Down the
line further, Grant's tomb stands out
bathed in the moonlight, while a lit-
tle way above sparkle the lights of
the Claremont Casino-the Quick or
the Dead.
A View of the Hudson.
On the bosom of the broad Hud-
son one of the Albany and Troy boats
is chug-chugging her way up by
Spuyten-Duyvel, seated on her upper
deck a band of merry minstrels are
making night melodious with "I Wish
I Had a Gal"; the broad searchlight
swinging from side to side, playing
peek-a-boo with the scenery along
the route, bathing the rocks in a great
white light and making the trees
stand out like dark sentinels in the
background. Gee! but it's good to
be way up here in the Pan Handle
of the Hemisphere, with nothing on
your mind but your hair and an un-
sprained disposition to drink in all
at the barge office. What thoughts,
hopes and fears are in the hearts and
minds of this motley throng can only
be surmised. Further down the bay,
the Statue of Liberty, made famous
by Bartholdi, waves aloft her flam-
ing torch, welcoming all to the "Land
of the Free and the Home of the
Frankfurter." The statue stands there
alone in all its grandeur and mag-
nificence, showing the world the
entrance into the promised land. In-
cidentally, she has a New Jersey to
her back.
Over Bayonne Way.
Below here we strike Staten Island
light, showing the waters of the Kil-
von-Kull, wandering lazily along to-
wards Bayonne, the headquarters of
the Standard Oil company in the
East, showing on their surface that
water and oil will mix if the Standard
is on the job. Standing out in the
moonlight are the docks of the Mu-
nicipal Ferry that will always be fa-
mous as the thing that made it pos-
sible, for George B. McClellan, the
present mayor of New York, to de-
feat Win. R. Hearst, for the mayor-
ality. The buying of this ferry by the
city under McClellan changed the
political future of this city, if not of
this nation. The little 1,200 majority
secured by McClellan in the Borough
of Richmond, was the majority he se-
will, Bunch, it seems good to be back,
A good old Bally-Hoo, with a smell
of the sawdust, will always be as wel-
come to me as the sound of the bugle
to a war-horse.    Who is the best
clown in the circus? Answer-A New
York town clown.       Send  me the
medal. Speaking of circuses, what do
we see on top    of   the  Dreamland
Tower? Nobody but Wells Hawks
press agent for Dreamland, standing
along side of Sam Gumpertz, the gen-
eral manager of Senator Wm. G.
Reynolds' big show by the sea. Ev-
erything new, but the waves, and they
haven't the price of admission-the
go broke against the bank. Crossing
the way, we see Luna Park, with its
towers,   merry-go-rounds,    swings.
loop-the-loops, shoot-the-chutes, tick-
lers, tea gardens and turrets. Fred
B. McClelland, with a smile that is
child-like  and   bland,   bids  the
strangers within the gates welcome
to Fred Thompsonville.
Further along, shine the lights of
Brighton, Manhattan and the Oriental
With the eye of the swinging light.
far off on the Highlands, bringing
up messages of joy and gladness from
the incoming liners, the lights o
Rockaway now catch our vision, while
further away, standing out like bea-
cons of peace and joy, may be dis-
tinguished the lights of Far Rock-
Examine the airship closely as it circles over the Astor roof and you may detect a woman at the helm, making a noise like Nellie Revell.
and racket. I can see a lot of funny
things from here. I wish I could see
the finish of this vaudeville mix-up. I
bet you the day we fathom    that
there'll be a lot of us going tip in
Say, Bunch, what do you think of
me way up here "over all the circuses
in the United States?" Guess Little
"Nell o' the Lots" is way up here
among the celestial pictures, saying,
"Hello" to the stars, and playing the
Milky Way circuit-guess I'll have
to send Fred Thompson the C. Q. D.
sign from this "hot air" route. This
is a good thing to push along-no
opposition on this circuit, but the
Wright Brothers, who are now play-
ing Washington time. Gee, but things
look good from here! Over in Orange
I can see Thomas A. Edison work-
ing on his new storage battery, way
to the North Palisade park, perched
high  on  the Jersey  palisades, I
can see a soubrette singing a comic
song that is so funny that the audi-
ence has all departed for the "juice
joint."  Over at Fort George kids
flying around on the merry-go-round,
Columbia crew rowing in the Harlem
river taking their last practice spin
for the big race that takes place at
Poughkeepsie, and, horror of horrors,
this loveliness! Off to the west I
can see the Hamburg-American and
North German-Lloyd piers, with the
big Kaiser 'Wilhelm de Grosse, the
Cleveland, the First Bismark, Kron-
princes Cicele and a long line of mon-
sters of the deep tugging at their
hausers, anxious to plow the billows
between here and the Fatherland. The
cool wind from off the Jersey marshes
brings faintly to my ear "Der Watch
am Rhine" played by one of the
liner bands. Silhouetted against the
sky, on Stephen's Point, stands the
old Stephen's homestead, now ten-
anted by the celebrated sculptor, Earl
Bitner; down in the offing, rocked by
the lazy tides, lays the yacht Cor-
sair, J. Pierpont Morgan's big pleas-
ure yacht; farther down  the line
sparkle the lights of the Lackawanna
Railroad station; while still further
on the lights of the Erie, Pennsyl-
vania and Central Railroad of New
Jersey bob up and down on the water
like so many fireflies or "jack-o'-lan-
terns."  A little further- on we see
Jersey City, of which rumor says,
"It is not a city, but a disease." Stand-
ing out against the sky-line, we see
the buildings of Ellis Island. From
where I am I can see one of the big
liners discharging her cargo of souls
cured over Hearst and was the key-
stone of George McClellan's success,
and the In Memoriam of the polit-
ical future of Win. R. Hearst. Way
up on the height of Stapleton we hear
the beautiful contralto tone of an or-
gan carried on the evening breeze,
whispering in our ear the soft tones
of Sir Arthur Sullivan's "Lost Chord,"
played by the velvet hand of William
Nelson Cromwell, president of the
Borough and father of the Panama
canal. Further along, we see the
waters of the bay racing along to
join the ocean, through the Narrows,
guarded on the Jersey side by the
guns of Fort Wadsworth and pro-
tected on the New York side by the
frowning monarchs of war situated
in Fort Hamilton. Standing out on
the skyline are Randall & Swin-
burne's islands like grim sentinels,
guarding the welfare of the city from
the skeleton of disease. Around the
bend we see Sea Gate, with its beau-
tiful cottages and villas, big hotels,
beautiful lawns, and  white  sandy
beach, reaching along until it joins
Coney Island.
The Land of Bally Hoo.
Here we are once more in the Land
of the Bally-Hoo, and say what you
away, Edgmere and Averne. Acros     I
the bay, Barren Island looms up lik
some huge, dark sea monster, whik
going along like a procession offir
flies, the Brooklyn Rapid Transit
trains can be seen making their wi
filled with noisy merry-makers c
the way to the beaches. Pat I1
Carrenville, bathed  in  moonligh
looks awful good from this little C
airship. The statute of Henry Wa
Beecher in the yard of the cout
house tells the assembled multite
that they are in the city of church
Down a few blocks, I can see groun
being broken for the    new Opet
house that Oscar    Hammerstein
building in the Land that God to
got, but Pat McCarren found.
The East River.
Now   we come to the bunch
"Carrie Nation cocktails," calledb)
New Yorkers the East River, with
multitude of bridges, ferry dock
sugar refineries, navy yards, and
home   of the   historical Gowa     U
Canal. While I was- looking a
jumped into the Kowanus Canal
drown himself, but bounced bact
land and was killed with a fraci?
skull. The Brooklyn bridge, with
(Continued on page 20.)
j11l%          i.

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