anyways, down we went to the amateur white lights, and by the time
we reached Twenty-Third we begun to run into bunches of the boys. Bands
was playing and all, and--oh my Gawd, what's the use trying to tell
about it? There was plenty to tell, but ain't every one _seen_ it? If
not at N. Y. C., why in some town which may be more jay but with its
heart in the right place, and the heart is the thing which counted this
time as per usual. Believe you me, mine was in my throat and so was
everybody elses when they seen them lean brown boys with their grown-up
faces!

Well, we stopped down to Eleventh and Sixth and got out and commenced
walking around handing out the leaflets, and at first they weren't
taking 'em very seriously, but pretty soon they began to get on to who I
was and of course that caught them and a good many tucked the slips
inside their tin hats and all of them pretty near had seen me in "The
Kaiser's Killing" and I got pretty near as big a ovation as I had tried
to offer them. And as for the parade they was very good-natured, but it
seemed to me that as usual the stay-at-homes in the grandstands was
getting the best of it and the boys doing all the work, for parading, no
more than a first-class dancing act, ain't quite the pleasure to the
ones that does it, that it is to them that only stands and waits, as the
saying is.

V

The crowds on the Avenue was something fierce, and the only ones which
had the right of way, outside of officers and cops, was the
motion-picture men. I seen Ted Bearson, my own camera man from the
Goldringer Studios, and Rosco, my publicity man, and they was talking
together. I stepped back in among the boys, because I wasn't looking for
any personal publicity myself on this particular day, wishing to leave
all that to the division and I knew that if Ted was to see me he would
shoot me.

But ain't it the truth that the modester a public person like me is, the
more attention they attract? My sweet, quiet voice, silent though snappy
clothes, and retiring manner have been in Sunday spreads and
motion-picture magazine articles practically all over the world and
America, and my refinement is my best-known characteristic. Publicity is
like men. Leave 'em alone and they simply chase you. Pretend you don't
want them, and you can't lose them. And the more reluctant I am about
being noticed, the wilder the papers get! Only, of course, without a
good publicity man this wouldn't, perhaps, be a