The Strength of the Meek
By C. S. Montanye
Author of “Glorified Golf,” “So This Is Paris,” Etc.
Ottie Scandrel enters the business of health for
wealth and runs into an epidemic of trouble.
ONCE upon a time, as they say when they're broadcasting the cute little bedtime stories via the radio, a big tramp called “Uncle Ottie” Scandrel, with more money 'than brains and more leisure time than a convict, bought a big, beautiful health farm called Five Acres, located in a place known as Wellington, New York. Now, Uncle Ottie, my dear girls and boys, thought he would pull a Muldoon, make the wealthy healthy and rent out rooms to any of the cast-iron leather pushers getting conditioned up for a mill. And so Uncle Ottie, who had more brass than a twelve-thousand-dollar motor boat, shot his roll to make Five Acres just the grandest place that ever was.
With an ex-welterweight known to the trade as “Tin Ear” O'Brien playing assistant manager, assistant trainer, assistant social secretary and with everything shaped up as nice as the “Follies,” he flung open the front door to the public and sat down to wait for the flies to walk in and onto his parlor flypaper.
Put on your rubber ear muffs and listen to what happened.
From what I gathered, the former owners of Five Acres, after a tough scuffle with Kid Mortgage, had thrown in a towel and stepped aside to wait for the count. Scandrel misguided optimist and all-around numskull, had heard a whisper about the place somewhere and had called around to do the counting out himself—from a bank roll that would have caused consternation in any livery stable where there was an epidemic of choking. The deed was done and hidden away in a safe-deposit vault along with his diamond cuff buttons, his first false teeth and other valuables.
After that Ottie blew up to the Bronx to break the news. Twenty minutes after stopping in the gym he had made arrangements with Looie Pitz, a fight manager and antique enemy, to condition “Dangerous Dave” McFinn, one of Pitz's light-heavyweights, at Five Acres.
The agreement arrived at and Pitz smiling a way out, Scandrel threw some tobacco wrapped in paper in a mouth that was big though small, thrust out his chest, dragged down his cuffs and smirked at me.
“That's business, Joe. Right away the
