Get Next!
McHugh, Hugh
English
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Below is a summary of Get Next!
E-text prepared by Al Haines
GET NEXT!
BY HUGH McHUGH
AUTHOR OF
"JOHN HENRY," "DOWN THE LINE WITH JOHN HENRY,"
"IT'S UP TO YOU," "BACK TO THE WOODS,"
"OUT FOR THE COIN" "I NEED THE MONEY,"
"I'M FROM MISSOURI," "YOU CAN SEARCH ME," ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON H. GRANT
1905
CONTENTS
JOHN HENRY ON RACE TIPSTERS
JOHN HENRY ON BRIDGE WHIST
JOHN HENRY ON AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY
JOHN HENRY ON THE GRIP
JOHN HENRY ON COURTING
JOHN HENRY ON SUMMER RESORTS
JOHN HENRY ON GREAT MEN
GET NEXT!
JOHN HENRY ON RACE TIPSTERS
One day last week I was beating the ballast up Broadway when Pete,
the Piker, declared himself in and began to chatter about cinches
at the track.
"Get the saw, Pete, and cut it," I said; "it's many a long day
since I've been a Patsy for the ponies. Once they stung me so hard
that for months my bank account looked like a porous plaster, so I
took the chloroform treatment and now you and your tips to the
discards, my boy, to the discards!"
Pete isn't really a native of Dopeville-on-the-Fence, but he likes
to have people think he knows the racing game backwards.
And he does--backwards. In real life he's a theatrical manager and
his name on the three-sheets is Peter J. Badtime, the Human Salary
Spoiler.
In theatrical circles they call him the impresario with the sawdust
koko and the split-second appetite.
Every time Pete poses as an angel for a troupe if you listen hard
you can hear the fuse blow out somewhere between Albany and
Schenectady.
From time to time over 2,197 actors have had to walk home on
account of Pete's cold feet.
Pete can develop a severe case of frosted pave pounders quicker
than any angel that ever had to dig for the oatmeal money.
Pete is an Ace all right--the Ace of Chumps!
His long suit when he isn't dishing out his autobiography is to
stand around a race track and bark at the bookmakers.
Pete is what I would call a plunger with the lid on.
He never bets more than two dollars on a race and even then he
keeps wishing he had it back.
Pete had me nailed to the corner of Broadway and 42d Street for
about ten minutes when fortunately Bunch Jefferson rolled up in his
new kerosene cart and I needed no second invitation to hop aboard
and give Pete the happy day-day!
"Whither away, Bunch?" I asked, as the Bubble began to do a Togo
through the fattest streets in the town.
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