Coin Machine Review (& Pacific ...)

Issue: 1935 June

June 1935
COIN
MACHINE REVIEW
~~':Boomerlt~1.the Ramblin' Op
~
~
The Sto ry T hu s F ar:
Giving up his trade as cook to become
a travelin{! operator, Bill Andrews hits the
road from New York and finds himself in
New Orleans, where he meets Rollo Skegg.s
and they become partners. After some in·
teresting experiences with Melia and Jerry,
a couple of Arcady night club girls, they
finally get around to placing a few ma-
chines on location. In a prospective loca-
tion one night, they sit in on a friendly
poker game with their last $26 and come
out with $97 when Bill smells dirty work
at the crossroads and by force of a threat
makes his honest pat full house beat four
very unnatural aces. Returning to their ho-
tel, they are waylaid on a dark street and
Rollo is knocked cold. Now continue with
the story:
CHAPTER IV
A
SHARP pain over my left ear was the
first thing that indicated there was some
life left in the old body yet. It was a
pretty blank old world I was gradually
coming back to. All I could figure out
was that I must have landed on my head
when I fell out of the hayloft, but I won-
dered where the cows were. Dimly my
eyes began to focus and I realized there
weren't any cows; there wasn't even a
barn! The street lamp at the corner, fad-
ing out of sight every time the pain
stabbed through my head, suddenly stopped
flickering and by its clear light I saw I
wasn't bac\<: on the farm at all; I was pi led
up in a doorway at the edge of an alley.
With the restoration of - my memory, it
slowly dawned on me what had happened.
Sure enough; the poker game, the phoney
hand, Bill cashing out that $97. . . .
Say, where was Bill? Was he doublecross-
ing me? Was he in with these thugs? I
had known him only a week or so. I
wanted to kick myself for being such a
sucker, but even kickinl! myself was too
much effort and my head was splitting.
I sat up against the wall, felt back of my
left ear to see if my brain was exposed,
and to my surprise felt no pain at the
touch of my hand. I felt around on the
other side of my cranium, and wow, what
a tender spot! There wasn't any cut, but I
must have had a fractured skull, no less.
No ordinary blow could have raised a lump
like that.
I rose to my feet weakly and looked
around for Bill. I fished in my pocket for a
match, and by golly, the pocket was turned
inside out. That dirty crook Bill. Not con-
, tent with framing me in a poker game, he
had had his filthy cronies do me in to see
if I didn't have a few more dollars on me.
And after the good times I had shown him.
Some partner he turned out to be.
A groan from the alley attracted my a t-
tention. Maybe it was Bill, I thought. They
probably had knocked him over, too. There
he was stretched out on his stomach. I
was sorry I had suspected him of treach-
ery, but I guess we were cleaned out of
our $97 for fair.
"Hurt bad?" I asked him. I rolled him
over and got the shock of my I ife. It
wasn't Bill. It was Rail, the Portuguese!
Thoroughly disgusted, I pushed him
Partly Pure Fiction
By ROLLO SKEGGS
over on his face again, convinced by now
that Bill and Red were in cahoots ami
probably right now were laughing together
over their $97 pure vel vet.
Rather shakily I staggered along to Ca-
nal Street and made my way to the Star
Hotel. I'd raise the dough somehow and
get out of here in the morning. Back to
the plantation for me. . . .
It was a hard job to get up those stairs
to my room, and once inside I thought I'd
fold up again. I fell across the foot of the
bed but came to with a start when I felt
my head resting on a pair of feet. Wrong
room? I switched on the light, and darned
if there wasn't somebody snoring away in
that bed! It was Bill.
"Well, you lousy so-and-so," I yelled at
him. "Wake up and do some explain ing.
How come you leave me cuddled up on the
concrete while you pound your ear on a
soft pillow?"
"Aw, g'way, I'm sleepy," mumbled Bill.
"Oh, that you, Bud? Tell me, how'd you
come out?"
"You big stiff, you. Go off and leave me
for dead, huh?" I retorted.
"Now, listen here, it weren't that bad,"
Bill explained . "Which's more important,
ninety-seven bucks or you? I took one cut
at Rail, musta broke his jaw. Then I lit
out fer Red 'n' never did catch him. Fig-
ured Rail couldn't do you no harm, and
that red-headed rat wouldn't dare go back,
and you didn't have nothing valuah:e Oil
you nohow. Besides, I was tired when I
got up here."
If I had had the strength, I would have
yanked that guy right out of his warm bed.
Instead, I said: "You're some great guy,
[ must say, Bill, leavin' my corpse out in
the street like that."
"Shut up and pile in bed," Bill grumbled
as he dozed off.
I snapped off the lights and turned in.
The pain had subsided somewhat, but as
luck would have it I slammed my head
down on a hard place in the pillow and
·, tatted it aching all over again. It felt like
a rock in the bed. I fished around under
the pillow and guess what I pulled out! A
number eleven shoe that couldn't belong to
anyone but Bill. Inside it was a roll of
bills. I threw the shoe, greenbacks and all,
at the far wall and went to sleep:
* • •
Within three weeks Bill and I had built
up a fair string of machines. Our best spot
was a coffee shop down on Clairbourne
Avenue that gave us a neat take every four
days. A couple of slots in a little dive off
St. Charles were bringing in a good net,
and our mechanical orchestra was coaxing
a steady stream of nickels out of the boys
at a pool hall on Paris Avenue. I was get-
ting quite a bit of satisfaction out of our
growing business when Bill started getting
itchy feet once more. The first sign of his
desire to be on the go again was over at
Melia's one night.
Bill and I had been seeing the girls once
or twice a week, and Jerry had been hold-
ing Bilrs interest about as long as any
one woman could. As a result of our queer
fow'some, Melia and Jerry had become
quite friendly in their work at the Arcady,
which is unusual for a top entertainer and
a mere check girl. Melia and I never
found the other two in our way if we want-
ed the cottage to ourselves. At the slightest
suggestion, Bill would yank Jerry by the
arm and say : "Come on, we're goin' for a
walk," or "Let's see some of the life in this
hurg." Needles to say, I had developed a
deep affection for the pretty, dark-haired
Melia, and she was regarding me each time
with an increased sense of posseooiv(ness.
Her invitations to drop in at the 'ottage
for a bite to eat after the midnight show
were becoming more frequent, and tonight
was just such an occasion.
Melia and I were s itting in front of the
fireplace, watching the flames lick at the
logs and saying nothing, while Jerry was
out in the kitchen helping Bill fix up a
platter of ham and eggs and a pot of cof-
fee. As he picked up four eggs in each
hand and broke them skillfully into the fry·
ing pan without disturbing the yolks, Bill
remarked:
"Reminds me of the time I stood galley
watch on a tanker bound for Honol ulu.
How those guys could stowaway the 'ham
and.' We had a funny little French deck
engineer aboard who used to turn out every
morning about 5 :30 and nick up the flying
fish off the well deck. He'd clean 'em and
bring 'em in for me to fry for his break-
fast. Sometimes I wish I was back out on
the old Harper. She was a good old sea-
goin' wagon and I was the best cookie out
of 'Frisco. The boys all said the Harper
was the best feedin' tub they ever shipped
on."
When Bill started reminiscing, it was a
sure sign he wasn't going to be content
to stay in this place much longer. The two
of them brought in ham and eggs and I
never tasted a better snack, with good
coffee to go with it. I was all for settling
COIN MACHINE REVIEW
down in a scene like this, and Bill's rest·
lessness rather disturbed me. You couldn't
quiet him.
"Yep, it's great to be out on the water
for a long stretch. And then to see a string
01 liLLie Islands cOme poppm' out ot the
water at you. ;:'ay, those hall·caste girls
down l'ago J:'ago way can't be beat for
looks or livelmess. Unly trouble is, the
government don 't hesitate to make a sailor
seUle down as head of a native family if
lie llappens to step outa line with one 0'
ttl em neauties."
"Come on, now, Bill," Jeuy cut in. "Keep
the grass skirts out of it, but I 'd sure like
to see lIlose places some Lime."
JViella was visibly concerned with the
tUlll ot the conversaLJon, apparently hop·
,"g lhat the footloose Bill wouldn't want to
I,UIl st>1kes and take me WIth him. Her
lCals uldn't subside any when .l:Sill an·
nounced:
--;:'ay, Bud, 1 got an id ea. There's a few
intercoastal ships on the gulf run. Why
(Jun t we see what we can do for our·
~e tves ?"
" How about our machines, Bill?" 1 r~.
plied. "You're not going to chUCk a good
l.dng now that we 've got It tarted, are
}ou '("
--Well, you know how it is," Bill side·
btepped lIle issue. '-The best place in the
world goes dead on you when you 've been
there too long."
--Go ahead and take a powder, but let
Rollo stay hel'e and run the business,"
Melia adVIsed, gripping my knee with one
of her tiny hands. l'll admit 1 was touched
by Melia's attachment to me, but there's
no denying I was somewhat fascinated by
Jji Il's talk of strange places.
"If you really want to get a boat," vol·
unteered Melia, "I've got an uncle over in
Gulfport who used to be mate on the gulf
run. H e might fix you up."
"Great," said Bill.
There were no two ways about it the
next day. Bill insisted we head for Gulf·
port, and so we headed there, on the
1:1:30 bus. Never took such a long way
around to go such a short distance in all
my life. Took us four hours and it was
more than a hundred miles by that road,
winding around the Pearl River swamp
country and down to the Mississippi coast
at SL Louis Bay. It was past noon when
we g'ot into Gulfport, whose sole claim to
fame in my mind was that it was the town
that gave the world Melia. in a little back·
wash we found the cottage of Francis
Fournabault, Melia's uncle. He was enjoy·
ing his after·dinner pipe and puttering
around with some fish nets that needed reo
pairs.
"Melia sent us over to look you up,"
Bill greeted the small Frenchman . "She's
a special friend of mine and was tellin' us
as how you could fix it (or us to ship out."
Fournabault didn't look up from his nets.
"So you know Melia, eh?" he asked. "Tell
me, is the girl happy these days?"
1 was assuring him that Melia was do·
ing right well in New Orl ea ns, but Bill
broke in again. "How long ha that steam
schooner been in? Look like a right smart
craft for a cookie like me!"
"You a ship's cook, no?" Fournabault
queried. "1 don't know about anything but
sea·goi ng stevedores, but maybe I can help
you. That's the Josiah M., in from
Brownsville last night with a cargo of
steers. Her skipper's a young fellow by
the name of Henry Cleese, one of the finest
sailors I ever broke in. Want to go over
and have a look?"
He led the way along the waterfront
three blocks and halfway out a long piel'
where the Josiah M. was moored in shal·
low water. 'fhe last 01 the steers had been
Inted out ot the hold and into truCKS, but
tnere were unmIstakable sIgns ot theIr pres·
ence on tile deck 01 the nlrty SChooner. 1l
was one of those coastwise boats with a
bridge that folds back so that booms can
be swung over the hatch. Obviously it
hadn' t been kept up; the deck house was
sadly in need of pamt, the rails were bat·
tered, and a soiled American flag tried
to muster pride as it sagged in the breeze
above the large letters, Josiah M., over tne
stern. A heavy·set fellow in grimy whites
and a greasy cap swung out of the galley
house munclling on an apple, and Fourna·
IJaulL sung out:
-'Hello, Captain! Well, well, Henry.
Haven' t seen you 101' tour trips. M.eet a
couple of friends who want to ship WIth
you. Didn't get their names, but this one's
a cook and the other-well, he didn 't say."
"Ain't this a piece of luck, though,
Frencny?" said the skipper. "Here 1 am
fixin ' my own mess ann feedin ' tne crew
ashore Sll1ce that no·good nigger cook went
on a teal' and ain't snowed up. 1 c'n sign
you on right quick," he addressed Bill. "AS
101' your partner, what's he do l"
Before 1 could say 1 didn't want a job on
this boat and hadn't shipped out befOl'e
anyhow, .Bill bal'ked:
--Him l He's a first·rate A.B., used to be
shipmates with me out on the Coast."
--Well, turn to tomorrow and we'll see
what we can do. Pay's not much, though.
And how's the fishin' fleet doin' these days,
Frenchy'?" was the skipper's reply.
1 looked at Bill in a stunned manner, and
got a kick in the shins for it.
"Thank, Captain, and we'll be seein'
you, Mr. Archibald or whatever the name
is," Bill shot back as we departed. "Any
message for Melia?"
"Nice trick you pulled," I reproached
BilL "Don't think you can get me aboard
that tub. I'm staying in New Orleans."
All the way back to the city Bill kept
insisting it was a great proposition, He
raved on abo ut foreign ports, and finally
1 asked him where that J osiah M. was
bound for.
"Come to think of it, they didn't say,"
Bill admitted. "But it must be Central
America or someplace. You can't back out
now, Bud. We'll hustle and crate up the
machines tonight, ship 'em to Houston, and
get back to Gulfport in the morning."
I knew Melia would never agree to any·
thing like this. But I decided I wouldn't
be gone very long, and the prospects of
an adventurous trip seemed tempting. By
the time we got a dray truck, picked up
our equipment and crated it, we were two
very tired fellows and in no mood to bid
farewell to Melia. 1 mailed her a note, and
we turned in wondering what the next day
would hold for us.
On the bus by 7 o'clock after a hasty
breakfast, Bill and I wel'e 01I for Gulfport
once more. I looked disgustedly at our one
uitcase on the rack and muttered to Bill:
"Suppose you think this is a good idea?"
"Wait 'n' ee," he answered.
By 11 o'clock we were back on the pier
alongside the Josiah IVI:. The boat looked
dirtier than ever, but I didn't have time to
look around for long.
"Come on, you guys," came C.aptain
Cleese's voice. "I'm signin' you on as
A.B. Dump your gear in the foc's'l and reo
port to the mate down in the hold. Bill,
you find a bunk up there too, and then stir
up something for the boys in half an hour."
The fo'c'sl had six bunks on each side
and was as smelly as the rest of the ship.
By the time I got into some old trousers
June 1935
and a blue shirt, a sailor appeared to get
me. The deck crew was just battening
down the hatch covers when I joined them,
and a tough·looking mate directed me to
clean up the mess left on the deck by the
boatload of steers. Five other deckhands
swung into the job with me and I was
too nauseated by the filth to eat much of
the meal Bill had fixed up by noon. By 4
o'clock we had lashed down a deck load of
lumber and were ready to get under way.
"You and Mex go down in the chain
locker and stowaway the lines," the mate
directed me.
. As the Josiah M. pulled out into the
stream 1 took a final glimpse at the town
behind me, noticed a large passenger ship
heading in from the gulf and followed Mex
down into the forward locker. It was stuf·
fy and dark down there, but we managed
to handle the heavy wet lines in fair fash·
ion, standing on top of the piles of anchor
chains to coil the big ropes.
"End, ho," came a shout from above to
indicate all the line was down,
Suddenly we were thrown off our teet as
the engin e was put into full speed astern,
Somethi ng was wrong! Without warning,
the roaring clank of chains resounded with·
in our small chamber-heavy chains tear·
ing out the very bowels of the ship. They
were dropping anchor to avoid collision
witr the incoming vessel!
I fell Ifgainst a bulkhead as the chain
was yanked out from under my feet. The
next thing I knew, I heard a terrific scream,
It was Mex! His foot was caught in the
chain, and he was being ' pulled forward,
toward the smal~ port outside of which the
two·ton anchor Hung. In a flash it would
be all over. . . .
(Continued next month)
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