O.O. McIntyre
Dayton Daily News/July 12, 1914
New York, July 11. The shifting of the Western Union telegraph plant in this city from Broadway to Walker street was accomplished in two hours without a hitch, and for a lightning change beat anything ever done in vaudeville. At 10 o’clock at night the work was begun of “cutting over” three thousand telegraph wires coming from every part of the United States and Canada, from the old to the new building. An operator in Brooklyn was talking to a man at the old office and went to get a drink of water. When he returned he was amazed to find the change had been made and he was talking to the new office.
Montague Glass was a lawyer in a downtown law office, when his health assailed him and forced him to give up work of a confining nature. To keep the ever-howling wolves away, he wrote at odd times a few Potash and Perlmutter stories, and it is useless to relate what success they had. Montague is now living in a handsome chateau in Switzerland, with occasional excursions to New York. The last time he was here he met an old client of his law office days. The client had met with great material prosperity.
“I am building for myself a fine home on the Drlve,” he said.
“That is fine,” said Mr. Glass. “I am glad to hear it. Is it to be a big house?”
“Big? I should say so,” was the reply. “Why, the dining room alone will seat 20 guests, God forbid!”
Speaking of gray matter the real stuff, not dandruff, it is the opinion of blase Broadway that Jarnes K. Hackett has put over some shrewd strokes of publicity, following the announcement that he is to inherit more than a million from an aunt who didn’t even speak to him. The minute the win was announced, the press agent got busy. Hackett Is already being hailed as the millionaire actor; is being talked of for the baronetcy; is to live in a Spanish castle; is to give his fortune to disabled actors; to found a home for chorus girls, and many other things too numerous to mention. As a matter of fact, the public is about disgusted with the proposed things he is going to do.
Anyway, what’s a million? Nellie Revelle of the Morning Telegraph has tripped lightly from editorial work to press agency for a number of years. When she tires of one she tries the other. When Percy Williams sold his chain of vaudeville houses to the Kieth Interests, Miss Revelle came down to her office one day and saw a strange man seated at her desk. He had a bulging brow and tortoise-rimmed “cheaters,” and an air of just having copped the job. Miss Revelle circled around him several times, looked him over, and then went to the telephone and called up the managing editor of a Park Row newspaper, “Hello,” she said, in hearing of everyone in the office, “this is Nellie Revelle. I am coming down to chase scandals for a while. The cat has just dragged something into my office that makes me squeamish. I want to do something that will keep me out in the open air.” Then she flopped out of the office, to return no more.
There is an air of expectancy around the Rockefeller Institute following the announcement that the Oil King has opened up his purse for a little gift of $2,650,000 for medical research. It means a lot of promotions and new jobs. Great interest is being shown by the Rockefeller Institute in all forms of healing, and it is said that schools that were heretofore ignored are now coming in for close investigation. Only recently some Rockefeller Institute doctors visited Missouri, it is reported, to learn about some method used at the Temple of Health, a semi-philanthropic institution in Kansas City, which deals with psychic emanations. Special attention is being paid to drugless healing methods, too.
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