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The Sunday Times - Akron Times Press

Akron, Ohio Sunday, April 29, 1928

Serial Number Seven

STORY  OF  TOM  DARE  AT  THE  MARBLE  TOURNEY

By HOWARD STEPHENSON

AN all-day and an all-night train ride provides one thrill after another, for an alert boy. And to Tom Dare, who had never been above 50 miles from home in his life, it was just like taking a ride on a magic carpet of Aladdin. Across the flat country the gigantic flier sped, and in the long stretches between important stations it frequently reached a rate of 65 to 70 miles an hour. The telegraph poles flew by the car window of the Pullman, at least they seemed to be flying by, but in reality it was the train flying past them.

     City after city they reached, places which in Tom's mind had always seemed just little black dot on the map. He almost wished that he had his geography with him so that he might pick out the places of which he had learned in school.

     For Tom Dare was on his way at last to Philadelphia, first gathering place of the 50 marble champions of America. There he was destined to board a special train for Atlantic City, the playground of the wealthy, where the championship was to be played off.

     With him rode Mr. Earl, the pleasant and friendly, newspaper correspondent. Mr. Earl was acting as chaperon for this lively lad of 13, and also was to telegraph the story of the championship game to the big newspaper which provided the tournament free for the boys and girls of the city.

*     *     *

IT seemed to Tom as if Mr. Earl read his thoughts, while he was trying to think of the map o Ohio in his geography, his chaperone pulled a railroad time table out of his pocket and spread it on his knee.

     The middle pages of the time table contained a big map of the eastern part of the United States, and in a heavy black line was shown the railroad, with all the towns, big and little, thru which they were to pass.

     "Gee," Tom exclaimed, "there's Youngstown, O. My Aunt Carrie used to live there."

     "We'll be in Youngstown just before dinner tonight," Mr. Earl said. "I guess. we'll have no trouble in knowing which place it is, for all thru that section of Ohio the blast furnaces and foundries make a red glow like a series of beacon fires - a pretty sight at twilight."

     By "dinner" Mr. Earl referred to the evening meal. Tom grinned to himself. He knew that. His mother had reminded him not to say "supper" just before she kissed him goodbye.

     When a man came thru the train with magazines and candy, and fruit, Mr. Earl loaded down the other seat of their Pullman section with purchases. Soon he was absorbed in a story in his favorite magazine, and Tom was left to his own devises.

     The afternoon passed quickly, and so did the evening, with dinner served aboard the train in the dining car. Tom later saw a Pullman porter transform his seat into two berths. He was worried for a moment, until Mr. Earl assured him he would have to sleep on the "shelf," the upper berth, but had a lower compartment reserved for him.

     Thru Pittsburgh, over the Allegheny mountains, across Pennsylvania rushed the flier while they slept. In the morning they had just a convenient time to dress and have breakfast before the train reached the outskirts of Philadelphia.

*     *     *

TOM thought they would never reach the station in the great city. Mile after mile, first of factories, then of houses and business buildings, they passed. "Philadelphia," called the brakeman, coming thru the train, "Philadelphia."

     A porter scurried up, brushed them off carefully and seized their grips. Mr. Earl handed him a crisp bill.

     Tom whistled. "Jimmy, Mr. Earl," he remarked. "I have a whiskbroom in my suitcase. Why didn't you ask me for it?" His chaperon laughed. "You're traveling like a' big nabob now, Tom," he said. "Nothing but the best for a marble champ, you know."

     At the station in Philadelphia a crowd of thousands of persons, each one hurrying, hurrying, filling the train shed and the waiting room. Tom very quietly flowed Mr. Earl. He wasn't going to get lost here. At first he thought all these people had come down to the station to see the country's marble champs arrive. But nobody paid any, particular attention to anyone else, so he decided that must be wrong. A big sign said: "Marble Tournament,'' and in that direction Tom, and his chaperon made their way.

     They were cordially greeted by the national officials and immediately found, themselves amidst a crowd of some 50 boys and as many adults. Tom was rather relieved. These boys were just as timid, just as anxious as he was. True, some of them were a good deal bigger, but then some were much smaller than he. A marble champion he had always thought, ought to be somebody with a lot of cocksureness.

*     *     *

TOM always considered himself a very ordinary boy, but he had not realized that these champs were just like him. In a minute he had made friends with the champs from Boston and from St. Louis. It seemed that almost every city he had ever heard of was represented there - Cincinnati, Milwaukee, Rochester, Pittsburgh, Wilmington, Louisville - he could hardly realize that these lads were the marble kings of America: To Tom it was a keen surprise to discover that any of these lads might have been a pupil at Lincoln school back home without causing special comment.

     Tom had had his breakfast, but some of the champs had not. He waited around till all returned to the rendezvous and then was bustled aboard a special train for Valley Forge, the historic spot near Philadelphia where Washington and his brave army spent the winter of 1777.

     Guides, furnished thru the courtesy of the Philadelphia paper took the boys thru the Valley Forge Reservation during the pleasant afternoon.  Tom enjoyed this opportunity to stretch his legs and play with his new-found friends. Toward evening the train returned to Philadelphia with the noisy crew and at once they were transferred to another train, for the short run to Atlantic City.

(To Be Continued)