BOWERY LIFE

By Chuck Connors

Mayor Of Chinatown

Illustrated

Richard K. Fox Publishing Company Franklin Square, New York City

1904

Original

Original

Original

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

$1,000,000 TO SPEND

CHUCK TRIES HEALTH FOOD

ONE WAY TO TRAIN

THE TRUE STORY OF KITTY

CHUCK AND SLATS IN SOCIETY

THE DOINGS OF DUGAN AND CLANCY

INTRODUCTION

Chuck Connors, popularly known as the Mayor of Chinatown, is without doubt, one of the best known of the many New York celebrities.

He was the original "Chimmie Fadden," a character in a series of stories and plays which have proved a gold mine for one enterprising writer on a New York daily. He is picturesque, and if there was such a thing as an American Coster Chuck would be the true type.

He is a philosopher as well as a story teller. He has been a prize fighter, and his appearances on the stage have been successful ones. When he fought, he fought well, as he does everything, and in the days when he was in his prime, and everything went, he put away many a man who was a great deal bigger than he was.

He has learned to read and write during the past few years, and has added those accomplishments to his many others.

"It was a pipe," he says, "to get next to doin' de act wid a pen an' ink, an' as fur de readin' gag, oh, good night. I wuz Johnny on de spot wid dat. But wot got me goin' was telling de time. On de level, it took me t'ree months before I got next. Wot twisted me up wuz the little hand always sneakin' by de big hand. Say, it was like a race between a thoroughbred an' a piker. But I'm on now, all right."

No tough boy in Gotham can equal his mannerisms and talk. His is the original tough dialect untouched by education.

Chuck's distinction is attributed in a manner to his style of dress. A blue flannel shirt, a short coat with white pearl buttons, a white tie and a very small hat; that makes the character you read about. In fact, his dress is as famous on the Bowery as himself.

It is in his talk that the remarkable qualities of the man are revealed. Men of all stations in life are held by his wit, his originality, the honest, forcible character of his mind, the uncompromising manner he knows best. The life of the Bowery, "de lane" he calls it, the streets he loves, he could not be torn from.

He is the supreme interpreter of Bowery slang. "De real ting,"

"Ah, forget it,"

"Go in under the table," and "Oh, good night" are phrases that Chuck invented.

His popularity with the Chinese is remarkable, and his honesty has never been questioned for a moment by anyone.

Original

He has many strong personal and influential friends, who keep in touch with him through correspondence, and among them may be mentioned Sir Henry Irving, the actor, Israel Zangwill, the author; Count Albert De Sichtervelt, of Bulgaria; Sir Thomas Lipton, Chauncey Depew, Admiral Von Dietrich, of the German Navy; Hall Caine, author of "The Eternal City," and Nat Goodwin, the actor.

He has escorted them and hundreds of others through the Chinese quarters, with which he is more familiar than any other man in that section of the city.

He is a famous character, and in the following pages you will find him at his very best. Read what he says, for it will be interesting, and you will find a lot in it that will give you something to think about.

$1,000,000 TO SPEND

A man who was seeing the sights in Chinatown one night, under Chuck's guidance, said to him as they stood in front of the altar in the Joss house:

"What would you do, Chuck, if you had a million dollars?"

"Nuttin'," replied Chuck, "fer I wouldn't hev to, see?"

I wuz out wid a bloke, showin' him de sites uv de Reservation, an' he asks me wot I'd do if I had a million bones. It nearly took me bre'th away t'inkin' uv it, an' I ain't got over it yet. Dat's a swell bunch uv money fer a guy to hev, an' dat ain't no mistake, either. Every time I t'ink uv it it makes me take a long bre'th, an' if I had it—say, en de level, I don't t'ink I'd ever be able ter get me bre'th at all.

But I guess blokes like Carnegie and Rockerfeller hez got more dan a million—I t'ink dey must hev two millions ennyhow. But if I had dere cush I wouldn't be buildin' no readin' rooms, en libraries, en t'ings like dat. Nixey, dey ain't no good. A guy wot's hungry can't eat de cover off a book, kin he, an' if he's out uv work how is a brown-stone front goin' ter put him next?

Dat's wot I want ter know.

An' besides, wot's de use uv holdin' on ter de coin. Yer can't only spend it wunce, an' w'en yer die, yer can't take it wid yer, kin yer? Dey ain't invented doze kind uv Mother Hubbards wid pockets in 'em yet.

Look et a rich bloke wot's bin workin' like a longshoreman all his life, pilin' up de dough. He's bin so bizzy gittin' it dat he ain't had no time ter hev fun—yer know, take it easy. An' de more he gits, de harder he hez to work—'cause he hez ter watch it fer fear sum odder bloke wot ain't bin so lucky, or ain't worked so hard, will put up er job on him an' trim him—yer know, rob him. And dere yer are.

Dere's nuttin' ter it; furst dey work fer it, den dey watch it, an' den dey die, an' den de surkus begins, fer everybody hez a mitt out ter git er