Coin Machine Review (& Pacific ...)

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