The recent effort by Philadelphia newspapers to crown their everlasting Mr. Keely and his motor with a new glory brings to mind a little trip I made one hot Summer afternoon a half dozen years ago to the domicile of that great man. I recall him as stout and talkative, with a big diamond in his shirt front to atone for absent suspenders and an invisible coat and vest. How communicative the genius was and how very confidential too! Possibly he was in an unusually generous mood and he may have taken me a little further into his heart than is his custom; at any rate he told me what I imagine he has told few if any others—told me of his chief ambition. That was what he called it—his “chief ambition.”
“I expect,” said he, enthusiastically, “I expect to scoop in a big fortune out of my motor. Then I will begin to enjoy life in earnest and realize my chief ambition. You can’t guess what that is, eh?
Well, it’s to run a newspaper and give folks fits. Shew! (that's Philadelphia for swearing) won't I get even with some folks in a hurry!”
The solitaire in the shirt front glistened, and the discoverer of new merits in cold water wobbled his charming countenance away. I have since heard that Mr. Keely is sometimes guilty of writing sentimental rhymes.
Published: November 9, 1884
Copyright © The New York Times
See Also