“YOUNG AMERICA”

Waipa Post, Volume 44, Issue 3183, 28 May 1932, Page 6

“YOUNG AMERICA”

RESOURCEFUL BOY’S TRIUMPH. This story, which will be published in three instalments, was written for Spencer Tracy and Doris Kenyon, and produced as a Fox picture by Frank Borzage. The fi’m has had a remarkable success in America, and no doubt will be equally successful in New Zealand. CHAPTER I Arthur Simpson had the reputation of being the worst boy in town. At least this was the manner in which Officer Weems introduced young Mr Simpson to Judge Blake, presiding over the juvenile court. Mrs Doray, wife of the town’s druggist, looked at this nominee for top honours with much interest. When the programme committee of the Women’s Club assigned her to prepare a paper on the town’s juvenile court, she had sought out Judge Blake. He invited her to sit on the bench with him during one of the sessions in order that she could become directly acquainted with the work of his court. Her interest in the juvenile delinquents increased with each case that was brought up. By the time young Simpson came up before Judge Blake she was cognisant of the sympathetic manner in which the court dealt with the young offender. “ We find that most juvenile delinquents come from broken homes,!” explained the judge to Mrs Doray as he eyed the subject of the latest case, young Mr Simpson.

“You mean divorced people,” asked Mrs Doray.

“Yes, divorced, separated, or many times where one parent is dead and the other has to make a living so that the child is deprived of a normal home life. Now take this boy before me,” he said nodding at Arthur and glancing at the paper on his desk. “Here’s an orphan who lives with a poor family. He hasn’t gotten into any trouble yet, but he may be headed for it.” ”

Arthur squirmed uneasily before Judge Blake’s gaze. “Well, Art,” began Blake, “it looks as though you’re in trouble. Why were you arrested?” “He took a car belonging to Mrs Ramsey for a joy ride)” ventured Weems.

“How about it, Arthur? Is that right,” asked Blake. “No, sir.” “But you took the car, didn’t you,” continued Blake.

“No, sir,” repeated the boy. “I just moved it from in front of a fire plug.” «The car was found four blojks away, Your Honor,” interrupted the officer. “Seems to me you moved that car quite a distance,” said Blake. “Welfy it’s hard to find a place to park these days,” explained Arthur. Judge Blake and Mrs Doray exchanged smiles.. Turning to the hoy, Blake remarked, “Art, the law says it’s a crime to drive a car that doesn’t belong to you. Did you know that?” >“No, sir,” replied the boy. “Well, remember it the next time you see a car parked by a fire plug. Now you get out of here and don’t ever let me see you in this court again, because if I do, you’ll be sorry. Case dismissed. The court is adjourned for one hour.” * * * * As the order for adjournment was given, the witnesses, 1 court attaches and spectators began moving about. “Well, Mrs Doray, what do you think of it,” asked Judge Blake. “I’in very, very much interested,” she replied. “There they go,” he continued, nodding in the direction of a few of the boys who were leaving the room. “Young America. Boys from every walk of life. Young America at the crossroads. One road leads to crime and prison, and the other to respectability and usefulness. All we can do is try to set their feet in the right road.” * * * * The next day, young Mr Simpson,; rejoicing at his recent emancipation from legal entanglements, sat at the wheel of a disreptuable touring car as it wended its way through that portion of the city known as “Shantytown.” The car rattled and squeaked its way down the street, finally coming to a stop before a small, dirty shack. In the yard was a freckled-faced bespectacled youngster. “Hi, Nutty,” was Art’s greeting as he clambered out of the car. “Hi, Art,” replied the boy. “Where’d you get the car ? ” “Well, it was parked by a fire plug and I didn’t want the lady to get a ticket so I moved it,” explained Art. dam fire plugs in this town,!” said Nutty as the two boys exchanged an understanding grin. * * * * A short while later Art stood £>n a comer of one of the town’s busy intersections. His thoughts turned towards such subjects as fire plugs and police tickets as his eyes fell on

a couple close by a fire plug. Suddenly he heard a violent screech of brakes. Turning he perceived a small pup standing in the middle of the street. Confused, the pup started to run directly in the path of a big truck bearing down on him. Seeing his danger, Art dashed across the street. Just as the truck was about to crush the pup, Art ran in front of it, snatched up the dog, and leaped to safety. On the opposite corner, in front of her husband’s drugstore, Mrs Doray put her hands in front of her eyes and shreiked to the high heavens as she saw the beginning of this little drama. It wasn’t until Art dashed on the curb next to her that she dared look. When she saw her dog was safe she took it from the boy and hugged it. “That was a very brave thing to do,” she said to Art. “Why, you might have been hurt.” She stared at the boy for a moment and suddenly recognised him as the boy she saw in the courtroom. “You’re Arthur Simpson, aren’t you?” she asked. “ Yes, ma’am.” Her husband, perceiving the small crowd, came out of the store. “What’s the matter, Edie,” he asked Mrs Doray. “Why, this boy just saved Sandy from being run over by a truck.” “Much obliged,” said Doray, giving Art a curt nod. “Jack,” said Mrs Doray, “you need a boy here in the store. Why don’t you give the job to Art? I’m sure he needs the work, and I have a particular reason for wanting to help him.” “Don’t you know he’s supposed to be the worst kid in town,’ protested Doray. “I don’t believe it,” replied the woman.

“ Well, he’s no rose geranium,” countered Doray. “ Please, Jack, for me,” she pleaded. “ All right,” said Doray grudgingly. “ But you’ll see that I know what I’m talking about.” “Want a job,” he continued, turning to the boy. “Yes, sir.” “Report here to-morrow right after school. Six bucks a week. Threethirty at the latest. “ Yes, sir. Thanks very much, Mrs Doray,” said Art as he turned to go. “ I give him the job and he thanks you,” said Doray, looking at his wife with slight displeasure. CHAPTER IL When Art approached Doray’s Drug Store the next afternoon he presented a disreputable sight. His clothes were torn and dirty, his face cut and bruised. To make things worse, he had been officially notified by the principal of the school that his status as a student was a thing of the past. This, coupled with the fact that he was an hour late for his new job, didn’t serve to brighten his outlook. The eventful day had started out bad for him early in the morning. On his way to school with Nutty, they noticed one of their classmates, Mabel Wells, walking ahead of them. She was a pretty girl of twelve. From one of the street corners a larger boy, Bull Carron, stepped up to Mabel’s side and stopped her. “ Hello, cutie,” they heard .him say. “Want me to carry your books? ” “ No, I don’t,” replied the girl. “ Aw, come on. Don’t be like that.” With these words Bull put one arm around her waist and tried to take her books. Art and Nutty stopped and watched this scene. “Who’s that fresh guy?” asked Art. “That’s Bull Carron,” said Nutty. “He just got transferred here from the South Side. I heard he licked every kid there.” “I don’t care if he is tough,” said Art as he started forward toward the pair. “ He’s riot going to get fresh with Mabel. Come on.” Mabel was struggling with Bull who was trying to take her books. As Art and Nutty came up to them. Bull turned and let go of Mabel’s books. Art shouldered in between Bull and Mabel. She welcomed him with a thankful look. “Hello, Mabel,” said Art, at the same time staring at Bull. “Were you looking for me ? ” “Yes I was,” she replied. “I wanted you to walk to school with me.” With this Art took her arm and the two of them started walking away. Bull started after them but Nutty grabbed his arm. “Don’t get funny, you runt,” said Bull as he turned on Nutty. “ You want to make something big out of it,” challenged Nutty. Bull looked Nutty over and laughed, much to the latter’s annoyance. “ Well, well,” cried Bull. “ A tough guy. Battling Kid-Four-Eyes.” Bull suddenly snatched off Nutty’s glasses and held them up. “Now what can you see,” cried Bull as Nutty struggled to take the glasses from the larger boy. “ Four eyes, four eyes.” Bull’s chant was taken up by several other boys who

formed a circle about them. Hearing this noise, Art perceived Bull tormenting Nutty. He turned abruptly from Mabel and dashed away toward the group. Just as Nutty made another futile grab for the glasses, Art burst through the circle. “ Give Nutty back his glasses,” he commanded. Bull calmly turned around. “ Oh, yeah. Who says so? ” “If you don’t give ’em back I’ll show you who says so,” said Art, as he drew back his fist. Bull promptly put on the glasses. “ Aah, you can’t hit a man with glasses on,” shouted Bull, eager to torment this new victim. The other kids laughed at this bit of comedy,, but only for a second. Art.i suddenly lowering his head he butted Bull in the stomach. As the latter doubled up, Art took the glasses off and handed them to Nutty. Then Nutty took advantage of Bull’s bentover position to give him a smart kick. Bull straightened up and turned angrily to Nutty, who grinned at him and tapped his glasses. Art stepped up to Bull and grabbed him by the coat lapels. “ Now I’m just going to tell you one thing,” he warned Bull. “ You know Nutty don’t like to be kidded about his weak eyes so if you ever do it again, I’m going to knock the stuffin’ out of you.” The two stood eye to eye for a second. Bull dropped back a step and put up his hands. Art dropped back and squared off for the ensuing battle. Just as hostilities were about to commence the sound of the bugle call from the school was heard. Bull dropped his hands. “ I’ll wait for you after school,” he threatened. “ Okay,” said Art. The resumption of hostilities, scheduled for after school, was given an earlier start than anticipated. As the lines of students marched into their respective class-rooms, and stood at attention beside the desks. Bull, standing in back of Nutty, gave him a vicious poke in the hack as a final measure of retaliation for the combined assaults of Art and Nutty. Art, standing in the adjacent row, saw this< His face lit up with anger as he saw Nutty go sprawling into the next boy. In one leap he jumped through the intervening desk, grabbed Bull’s arm, whirled him around and knocked him down. The classroom immediately was in an uproar. The teacher rushed in and pushed Art away from the prostrate Bull. Suspended from school by the irate teacher who saw no justification for his conduct in the class-room, Art was in the proper mind for combat as he circled around Bull, while a large crowd of boys formed a circle about them on the athletic field after classes. After a few preliminary feints on the part of both combatants, the two finally came together midst the wild shouts of encouragement from the onlookers. Nutty, in the foreground, holding Art’s coat quivered nervously as each blow was struck. For a while Art held the upper hand in the fight until a wild swing by Bull caught him off-balance and upset him. Dazed, he slowly got up from the ground only to be floored by another hard blow. A third time he sprawled to the ground in a like manner. Seeing Art was hurt, the boys - crowded in and stopped the fight. The crowd followed the victorious Bull, leaving Nutty alone to minister to the injured loser. * * * * Accordingly, when Art entered the drug store shortly after the fight, Doray halted him at the entrance. “ Where you going ? ” he said harshly. “ Why you told me to come to work after school to-day,” replied Art, surprised at Doray’s tone. Yes, I said after school and I meant three-thirty, not four o’clock,” replied Doray. “ You don’t have to come to work here now. You’re through before you start.” (To be continued.)