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Tales of the Trade 



A PROCESSION BY HIS LONESOME 



That distinguished German-Amoric-an lumberman of Philadelphia, 

 Emil Guenther, as is well known, is an ardent admirer and friend 

 of Rudolph Blankenburg, the reform mayor of the Quaker City, 

 who captured that job at the recent election. Mr. Guenther was the 

 leader of the Teutonic element which helped to elect the mayor, 

 and as every public event is celebrated in Philadelphia by a parade, 

 in due course one was pulled off in honor of Mayor Blankenburg. 



Mr. Guenther was made marshal of the German brigade, and 

 the Germans certainly did turn out. Eesplendent in decorations 

 and in dignity supreme, Mr. Guenther moved forth in state at the 

 head of the procession, the sole occupant of a carriage immediately 

 in the rear of a big bunch of German musicians, whose only ambi- 

 tion seemed to be to earn their money by making noise, and lots 

 of it. Originally, a few rods in the rear, was the gallant band 

 from the land of the Kaiser. In lofty pride the occupant of the 

 carriage advanced, following the band, until after passing several 

 blocks beyond the reviewing stand he cast a look behind, and much 

 to his consternation saw that his faithful followers had disappeared, 

 and he also found himself, to his deep chagrin, a conspicuous 

 figure posing in solitary grandeur as a trailer to a crashing brass 

 band. 



Where his cohorts disappeared to, the leader of the procession 

 never found out, but he took their vanishing into thin air as a tip 

 that the show was over, and gave orders to drive homeward with 

 speed. Mr. Guenther says that when he leads another German pro- 

 cession he is going to have the whole bunch roped together and 

 tied to the rear asletree of his carriage. 



HAD HIS REASON 



Two Buffalo clubmen, while the best of friends, are never better 

 pleased than when they can get some sort of a joke on each other. 

 One of them is a sturdy liunberman, but never talks shop at the 

 club. His friend met him one night recently and after descanting 

 on the surpassing merits of a play that was running at one of the 

 local theaters, urged him to attend. 



' ' You surely should go, ' ' he paid to the lumberman. "It is a 

 fine production. Besides the plot is laid in a region where you 

 formerly lived." 



The lumberman demurred, saying he had no use for the play. 

 Then the friend redoubled praise of it, and still further urged his 

 attendance. The big man was not to be moved under any cir- 

 cumstances. 



"At least tell me why you wouldn't go," asked the play's cham- 

 pion. 



•'Why, simply because I went the first night." 

 THE JOK£ FAILED 



One of the best financed lumbermen in the Buffalo market has 

 for years had the reputation of being rather critical in his ob- 

 servation concerning some of the boys in the business, on account 

 of their sporty inclinations. Some time ago, with the idea of putting 

 up a job on their critic, the boys purchased and sent him a ticket 

 to a prize fight. Much to the surprise of the bunch, when Ihey 

 reached their seats at the ringside, they discovered that their pur- 

 chase had not been wasted, but that their critic was on hand, 

 although it was well known that never before in his life had he 

 seen a prize fight. 



It is hard to say whether the boys were more i)leased or sur- 

 prised. Since that time the capitalist has become a regular at- 

 tendant at all fistic contests in Buffalo and vicinity. 

 THE REWARD OFFERED 



They tell a story in Buffalo about a millman whose boy was 

 constantly coming into the mill and lugging off a handsaw, which 

 he used as all boys find occasion to, but which he seldom returned 

 to its place when he was finished with it. The careful father one 

 day expostulated with the lad about his trifling character, and sug- 

 gested to him that if he would come into the shop and make a decent 

 use of his energies he would make it worth his while. The boy 



—38— 



was of the Missouri stamp and "had to be shown why," and in- 

 quired what his reward would be. Whereupon the cruel parent re- 

 plied that he would give him all the sawdust he made, with which to 

 play circus. The boy is still building wagons and sleds for his 

 own amusement. 



A MAN WITH A REMARKABLE MEMORY 



.■\ representative of Hardwood Record stood in front of the 

 Sinton hotel, at Cincinnati, a few days ago, when he was addressed 

 by a staff' man of a morning paper. 



"You are a lumber trade newspaper man, aren't you?" askea 

 the daily reporter. 



On replying in the affirmative, the inquirer continued: "You 

 know this man Crane?" 



' ' Certainly, ' ' replied the Record man. Whereupon he shook 

 hands with Mr. Crane, and introduced him to the reporter. 



After a few commonplace observations Mr. Crane passed on, 

 and the daily man said, "I suppose he has forgotten me, but I 

 had an assignment to interview him once on a laud suit in which 

 he was involved, and found him in his oifiee at eight o'clock in 

 the morning. He appeared much out of sorts, and I was thinking 

 of making a sneak when he stepped to the opening in the grill iu 

 his oflSce and said: 'Say, do you want to see me?' 



"I said that I did, as I was sent out by my paper to have a 

 talk with him on the case he had pending in court. 



" 'Well,' replied Crane, 'I haven't much time, but what do you 

 want to know?' 



"I told him. 



" 'Can you write shorthand?' asked Mr. Crane. 



"Yes, sir. 



"'Then,' Crane started: 'This case began over a dispute on 

 a boundary line of some pretty good timber land, etc., etc.,' and 

 without making a break or giving me a chance to ask a question, 

 he gave me columns of the most convincing facts and arguments 

 I had ever listened to, detailing every fact in logical sequence. 

 When he finished dictating he said, ' That is about all there is to it. 

 Did you get it all right.' 



"I told him I did. You know that story made three solid 

 nonpareil columns. I went back to the oflBce and transcribed it, 

 and at Mr. Crane's request before it was turned loose in the news- 

 paper, I visited him at the courthouse where the case was pending, 

 and let him review the proof sheets. I succeeded in getting the 

 proofs into his hands, and a duplicate of them into the possession 

 of his attorney. Both men went over them carefully. In the 

 meantime, court adjourned and Mr. Crane accompanied by his at- 

 torney, walked over to me with a smile and said : ' You got it all 

 right, young man.' 



' ' He insisted on taking me back downtown with him, and in- 

 vited me down to the Glory room of the Sinton, where we had a 

 few highballs. The article appeared in the next morning's paper 

 just as I had transcribed it, and the remarkable feature of the 

 matter was that the next day the jury rendered a verdict exactly 

 in accordance with Crane's statements and deductions." 



"He hasn't forgotten you," said the Record man. "He never 

 forgets anyone or anything. He keeps his books in his head." 



By this time Mr. Crane came out of the hotel, and the Record 

 man asked him, "Mr. Crane, don't you know this man?" 



"Why, sure," replied Mr. Crane. "His name is Mr. So-and-So, 

 and he is a newspaper man. He gave me the most perfect whiteup 

 I ever had in my life. Come on downstairs and let's get a highball." 



The story is printed simply to illustrate the remarkable memory 

 of a man who has passed the meridian of life, and who is able to 

 mentally carry every detail of a business involving millions of dol- 

 lars with him wherever he goes. I don't think anyone ever saw 

 "Clint" Crane make a memorandum, but he has the most mar- 

 velous memory for every detail of his business affairs, whether it 

 be a transaction involving thousands of acres of timber or the 

 sale of three hundred feet of chestnut culls. 



