Mr. Dooley Says
Page 17
THE CALL OF THE WILD
"Well, sir," said Mr. Dooley, "I see me frind Tiddy Rosenfelt has beendoin' a little lithry criticism, an' th' hospitals are full iv mangledauthors. Th' next time wan iv thim nature authors goes out into th'woods lookin' f'r his prey he'll go on crutches."
"What's it about?" asked Mr. Hennessy.
"'Twas this way," said Mr. Dooley. "I have it fr'm Hogan, me lithryadviser. He keeps me posted on what's goin' on in lithrachoor, an' I doth' same f'r him on crime. I've always got a little something that'sexcitin' comin' to me, but this time he's made good. It seems, ye see,that a good manny iv th' la-ads that write th' books have been lavin'th' route iv th' throlley line an' takin' to th' woods. They quit Myrtlean' Clarence an' th' wrong done to Oscar Lumlovitch be th' brutalforeman iv lard tank nine, an' wint to wurruk on th' onhappy loveaffairs iv Carrie Boo, th' deer, an' th' throubles in th' domesticrelations iv th' pan fish an' th' skate. F'r th' last year th' on'ybooks that Hogan has told me about have been wrote about animiles. I'vealways thought iv th' beasts iv th' forest prowlin' around an' takin' aleg off a man that'd been sint to Colorado f'r his lungs. But these boystell me they're diff'rent in their home life. They fall in love, getmarrid an' divoorced, bring up fam'lies, an' are supported or devouredbe thim, as th' case may be, accumylate money, dodge taxes, dhrink toexcess, an' in ivry way act like human bein's. I wudden't be surprisedto know that a bear had a tillyphone in his room, an' that th' gophercomplained iv his gas bills.
"Ivry time I go up into th' park to see me old frind th' illyphant Iwondher what dhreams ar-re goin' on behind that nose iv his that he usesakelly as a garden hose, a derrick, or a knife an' fork. Is herecallin' th' happy days at Barnum's befure brutal man sunk an ice pickinto him an' dhrove him to th' park? Is there some wan still there thathe thinks iv? Is she alive, is she dead, does she iver dhream iv him asshe ates her hay an' rubs her back agin th' bars iv her gilded cage?There's th' hippypotamus. He don't look to be full iv sintiment, but yenever can tell. Manny an achin' heart beats behind a cold an' sloppyexteeryor. Somewhere in sunny Africa a loving fam'ly may be waitin' frhim. Th' wallow at th' riverside is there, with th' slime an' oozearranged be tinder paws. But he will not return. They will meet, butthey will miss him, there will be wan vacant lair.
"Well, sir, just as I'd got to th' frame iv mind whin I'm thinkin' ivaskin' that gloomy lookin' allygator in th' park up to spind an avenin'with me, along comes Tiddy Rosenfelt an' says there's nawthin' in it.It's hard on th' boys. They ar-re doin' th' best they can. Ye can'texpect an author to lave his comfortable flat an' go three or fourthousand miles to larn whether th' hero iv his little love storymurdhers his uncle be bitin' him abaft th' ear or be fellin' him with ahalf Nelson an' hammer-lock. Why should he? Who wud feed th' goold fishwhile he was gone?
"No, sir, he does just right. Instead iv venturin' into th' wilds an'p'raps bein' et up be wan iv his fav'rite charackters, he calls f'r sometea an' toast, jabs his pen into th' inkwell, an' writes: 'Vichtry wasnot long in th' grasp iv th' whale. Befure he cud return to his burrowTusky Bicuspid had seized him be th' tail an' dashed his brains out agina rock. With a leap in th' air th' bold wolf put to rout a covey ivmuskrats, those evil sojers iv fortune that ar-re seen hoverin' overivry animile battlefield. Wan blow iv his paw broke th' back iv th'buffalo. With another he crushed a monsthrous sage hen, at wanst th'most threacherous an' th' hardiest iv th' beasts iv th' wild. Paralyzedbe th' boldness iv th' wolf, th' camel an' th' auk fled fr'm th' sceneiv havoc, as is their wont. All that remained iv his inimies now was th'cow, which defied him fr'm the branches iv a pine tree an' pelted himwith th' monsthrous fruit iv this cillybrated viggytable. Now, it iswell known that however aven they may be in a boording house, th' wolfis no match f'r a cow in a tree. But this was no ordhinary wolf. As heheerd th' low cry iv' his mate he was indowed with th' strength iv athousand piany movers. With a gesture iv impatience he shed his coat,f'r it was Spring, childher, an' he shud've been more careful; he shedhis coat, swiftly climbed th' tree an' boldly advanced on th' foe. Hisinimy give th' low growl iv his hated thribe. How manny a time have Iheerd it in Englewood an' shuddered with fear. But th' dauntless Tuskyanswered back with his battle song, th' long chirp iv th' wild wolf, hiswife accompanyin' him fr'm th' foot iv th' tree on a sheep bone. Withwan spring th' inthrepid wolf sprang at his inimy. She thried to sinkher venomous fangs into his wish-bone, but with incredulous swiftness,he back-heeled an' upper-cut her, swung left to body an' right to pointiv jaw, an' with wan last grimace iv defiance th' gr-reat bulk iv th'monsther fell tin thousand feet into th' roarin' torrent an' took th'count. Tusky heerd th' soft love-note iv his mate. She was eatin' th'whale. He hastily descinded. An' so peace come to th' jungle.'
"That sounds all right to me. I like to see th' best man or th' bestanimile win. An' I want to see him win good. It wudden't help me storyto tell about Tusky goin' home with wan ear gone an' his eye blacked,an' tellin' his wife that he'd just about managed to put wan over thatstopped another wolf. That's what usually happens up this way, an' itain't very good readin'. When I want to tell a story that'll inthrest mefrinds I give it to thim good. Whin I describe me fav'rite hero, DockHaggerty, I tell about him throwin' wan man out iv th' window an' usin'another as a club to bate th' remainin' twelve into submission. But ifI had to swear to it, an' wasn't on good terms with th' Judge, Iwudden't say that I iver see Dock Haggerty lick more than wan man--at atime. At a time, mind ye. He might take care iv a procession ivJohnsons. But he'd be in throuble with a couple iv mimbers iv th'Ethical Culture Society that came to him at th' same moment. 'If ivermore thin wan comes at wanst,' says th' Dock, 'I'm licked,' he says.
"But that ain't what I tell late at night, an' it ain't what I want toread. Ye bet it ain't. If I wint over to a book store an' blew in megood thirty-nine cints f'r a dollar-an'-a-half book, I'd want some kindiv a hero that I never see around these corners. Th' best day I iverknew Jawn L. Sullivan had a little something on me. I won't say it wasmuch, but now that we're both retired, I'll say that I'm glad I niverchallenged him. But I wudden't look at a book, an' I wudden't annyway,but I wudden't let Hogan tell me about a hero that cudden't wear anovercoat an' rubber boots, have wan arm done up in a sling, an'something th' matther with th' other, blue spectatacles on his eyes, aplug hat on his head, th' aujeence throwin' bricks at him, an' th'referee usin' a cross-cut saw on his neck, an' thin make two hundher an'fifty Jawn L. Sullivans establish th' new record f'r th' leap throughth' window. Whin I want a hero, I want a good wan. I don't care whether'tis a wolf, a sojer, or a Prisident. It all comes to th' samething--whether 'tis Hogan's frind, th' Wolf that he's been talkin' aboutf'r a year, or that other old frind iv his that he used to talkabout--what d'ye call him?--ah, where's me mind goin'?--Ivanhoe.
"But Tiddy Rosenfelt don't feel that way about it. He's called down thimnature writers just th' same way he'd call me down if I wint befure th'fifth grade at th' Brothers' school an' told thim what I thought wudinthrest thim about Dock Haggerty. What does he say? I'll tell ye. 'I donot wish to be harsh,' says he, 'but if I wanted to charackterize thesehere nature writers, I wud use a much shorter an' uglier wurrud thinliar, if I cud think iv wan, which I cannot. Ye take, f'r example,What's-his-name. Has this man iver been outside iv an aviary? I doubtit. Here he has a guinea pig killin' a moose be bitin' it in th' ear.Now it is notoryous to anny lover iv th' wilds, anny man with a fondnessf'r these monarchs iv forests, that no moose can be kilt be a wound inth' ear. I have shot a thousand in th' ear with no bad effects beyondmakin' thim hard iv hearin'.
"'Here is a book befure me be wan iv these alleged nature writers. Thisis a man whose name is a household wurrud in Conneticut. His books areused in th' schools. An' what does this man, who got his knowledge ivwild beasts apparently fr'm mis-treatin' hens f'r th' pip, say; what ishis message to th' little babblin' childher iv Conneticut? It is thimthat I've got to think iv. Instead iv tellin' thim th' blessed truth,instead iv leadin' thim up be thurly Christyan teachings to anundherst
andin' iv what is right an' what is ideel in life, he poisonstheir innocent minds with th' malicious, premeditated falsehood--I can'tthink iv an uglier or shorter wurrud that wud go with premeditated--thatth' wolf kills th' grizzly bear be sinkin' its hidyous fangs into th'gapin' throat iv its prey. How can honest citizens an' good women bebrought up on such infamyous docthrine? Supposin' a bear shud attackConneticut an' th' bells shud ring f'r th' citizens to arise, an' theselittle darlings shud follow this false prophet an' run out in theirnighties an' thry to leap at his throat. Wudden't the bear be surprised?Wudden't the little infants be surprised? Ye bet they wud. I want thesehere darlings to know th' blessed truth, th' softenin' an' beautifultruth that th' on'y way f'r a wolf to kill a bear is to disembowel him.There is no other way. Th' wolf springs at his prey, an' with wanterrific lunch pries him open. No wolf cud kill a bear th' way WillumJ. Long iv Stamford has described. A bear has th' sthrongest throat ivanny crather in th' wurruld, barrin' Bryan. Why, I wud hate to have tosthrangle a bear. I did wanst, but I had writer's cramp f'r monthsaftherward.'
"An' that settles it. Fr'm now on ye can get anny wan iv these herenature writers be callin' up four iliven eight B, Buena Park. Th' wildanimiles can go back to their daily life iv doin' th' best they can an'th' worst they can, which is th' same thing with thim, manin' get whatye want to eat an' go to sleep with ye'er clothes on. But some wan oughtto bring out a new nature story. I've thought iv chapter twinty-eight:'With wan blow iv his pen he laid low, but not much lower, Orpheus L.Jubb, th' well-known minichure painter who has taken up nature study.With another he disembowelled th' Riv'rend Doctor Aleck Guff, whoretired fr'm th' Universalist Church because he cud not subscribe totheir heejous docthrines about th' future life, an' wrote hiscillybrated book on wild animiles iv th' West fr'm a Brooklyn carwindow. It took on'y a moment f'r him to inflict a mortal wound onSeton-Thompson's kodak. An' Tiddy Rosenfelt stood alone in th' primevalforest. Suddenly there was a sound in th' bushes. He loaded his pen, an'thin give a gasp iv relief, f'r down th' glade come his thrusted ally,John Burroughs, leadin' captive th' pair iv wild white mice that had solong preyed on th' counthry.'
"An' there ye ar-re, Hinnissy. In me heart I'm glad these neefaryousplots iv Willum J. Long an' others have been defeated. Th' man thattells ye'er blessed childher that th' way a wild goat kills an owl is bepretendin' to be an alarum clock, is an undesirable citizen. He ought tobe put in an aquaryum. But take it day in an' day out an' Willum J. Longwon't give anny information to ye'er son Packy that'll deceive him much.Th' number iv carryboo, deers, hippypotamuses, allygators, an' muskoxesthat come down th' Ar-rchey Road in th' coorse iv a year wudden't makeanny wan buy a bow an' arrow. It don't make near as much diff'rence tous how they live as it does to thim how we live. They're goin' an' we'recomin', an' they ought to investygate an' find out th' reason why. Isuppose they don't have to go to school to larn how to bite somethingthat they dislike so much they want to eat it. If I had to bring up aflock iv wild childher in Ar-rchey Road, I wudden't much care what theylarned about th' thrue habits iv th' elk or th' chambok, but I'd teachthim what I cud iv th' habits, the lairs, an' th' bite iv th' polismanon th' beat."
"Well," said Mr. Hennessy, "Tiddy Rosenfelt is right. A fellow thatwrites books f'r childher ought to write th' truth."
"Th' little preciouses wudden't read thim," said Mr. Dooley. "Annyhow,th' truth is a tough boss in lithrachoor. He don't pay aven boord wages,an' if ye go to wurruk f'r him ye want to have a job on th' side."