WHAT CONEY ISLAND MUST BE LIKE
By Gene Morgan, Who Never Was There In His Life.
At the mere mention of Coney Is
land the heart throbs, the soulaura
turns purple and the imagination
grows red hot.
I mean what I say, sir RED HOT.
Coney Island is the summer play
ground ;of New York. As you may
know, it! is a very exclusive place;
only 1,500,000 persons being invited
at one time. It's different at Bar
Harbor, for instance, where the bars
are often let down to mere outsiders.
, The national bird of ' Coney Island,
I think, must be the Wienerwurst, and
I shall never have realized the ecstacy
of my life until I have sunk my teeth
into the haunches of one of these
Coney Island red hots. Some day,
through the-intercession of Mrs. As
tor and Mrs. Fish, I shall get an en
graved invitation to Coney. And the
first thing IH do will be to strain
my ear for the barking of a pack of
these savage sandwiches:
It seems that the Wienerwurst of
the island Is very docile and will learn
to sit tip. atid do tricks.' Only when
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