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Caption: Book - Banks of the Boneyard (Charles Kiler)
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Alley L 69 exit. On the way around I came across a curved Turkish sword and a fan that revolved on a handle both of which I purloined. Finally I came to some ropes and pulled on one only to find that it let loose about half of the tent which contained a ton or more of World's F air dust, and that added everything but beauty to my appearance. By this time it was every man for himself and there were no police to help us. When I reached an exit I took advantage of it with all possible speed and started east for the Illinois Central station. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned and beheld two large, athletic-looking Turks who were without question bent on my extermination. I knew the keeper of the Midway Animal Show and threw myself on his mercy, begging him to put me in the cage with his man-eating lions. He raised the lid of a strongbox in which he moved his animals around, and I disappeared inside just as those demon Turks arrived. They demanded to know where that man with a bloody head had gone. My friend stalled a while and then said he had seen someone go through his cages very fast—so fast that he had lost track of him. That animal keeper was an upstanding man, with a nasty looking club in his hand, and those Turkish gentlemen had to believe him. When he let me out of that odoriferous cage, I thanked him and asked what I could do for him, and darn his picture, he said: "I always have yearned for one of them Turkish swords." So the only souvenir I have of that adventure is a fan that swings on the handle. I got down to the hotel on one of the Illinois Central freight trains with seats cross-wise of the box cars, and waited for my friends to show up. They finally all drifted in—the worst-whipped bunch of Halloweeners who ever started out looking for trouble. In conclusion all I have to say is that the Allies had better give the Turks anything and everything they want to get their help in this present war. Whichever side those birds take will win the conflict! The last names on our register were R. H. Stanhope of Toronto and P. L. Boynton of Pittsburgh. These gentlemen, together with my friends who had helped me clean up the Turks, also joined in the obsequies of the University Hotel. Both the lease on the building as well as the furniture were sold to men who never used them. And that's the story of our hotel.
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