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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, May 07, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 2

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1914-05-07/ed-1/seq-2/

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ican in Vera 'Cruz that 6ie navy i&
the servant, nf thfi AmM-lran -np.nnlfi
a.nff that the taxes of Mr. C. People
keep the navy going, and youlll be
laughed a"t. They've learned other
wise from the majestic bellowings of
the mustached Huae.
But there are .other "sights in Vera
Cruz and, having paid your respects
to headquarters, and been roared at
by Huse, you sally forth into the
town.
First you cross the ten-acre field
which lies between the American
Consulate and the water front. Across
this field fled the Madero family and,
later, Felix Diaz, from the wrath of
Huerta. The other day, in the fight
ing, it became a battlefield, baptized
with blood; dead men have lain on it.
But now there are the brown tents
of infantrymen on it, and the pas
tured horses of officers. In one cor
ner of the lot, soldiers are tossing a
baseball.
In the streets that skirt the field
the flags of five different nations
float over two-story business houses
as if to say: "This isn't a Mexican
house; don't shoot at it."
In an entry way, as you walk along
the street, you see two playful jackies
boxing, sinking their bare fists into
each other's ribs with many grunts
and "oofs." Around them stands a
ring of wondering Mexicans, who
can't understand what fun there is
in such rough play. Here are some
of the other things you see as you
walk along the street:
A group of jackies and marines,
reading a notice pasted on the wall
of the cable office; you discover that
if s a cabled report of the baseball
games of the day, in far away Amer
ican cities. Baseball follows the flag.
A street car loaded with unshaved,
begrimed American soldiers. They've
been out on the advance line, m the
sand hills, and they're on their way
to the beach, where they'll stack their
rifles within easy reach, strip down
to their underdrawers and plunge
Into the Cool surf with yells of de
light. A man in a grey felt hat, sitting at
a table before a cafe, writing. Be
hold, Richard Harding Davis! At
another table sits a group of men,
drinking beer. Look them over. '
There's Jack London himself, con-
suming beer from a moisture-dimmed
glass. TEere are other ( cor- .
respondents, American and English,
in the crowd. Some of them are tell
ing about their experiences in the
Balkan war; the point of their talk
is that war correspondents weren't
given a chance to get news in that
war and they hope that, they'll be
given a fair shake this time. Most
of them are very discontented " be
cause they arrived in Vera Cruz three,
days after the battle, too late for any
war-corresponding.
Here you are at the Plaza. Every
Mexican city or town has, in its
very center, a square park, criss
crossed -by gravel walks, and centered
by a bandstand, which, is called The
Plaza. Here, in the late afternoon
and early evening, the Mexicans
gather to listen tp the town band. It
is the custom for the senoritas, ac
companied by their chaperons, to
walk in one direction about the park
and for the lads to walk in the other,
and to flirt, with their eyes, as they
pass. They're doing it now. Tou
find the plaza full of Mexicans. The
band is playing. It's a band from the
Florida. The tune is one of the latest
hits in New York. The Mexican
senoritas like it. They can flirt to"
the tune of "It's Apple Blossom Time
in Normandy" just as well as to the
music of "Carmen."
Now you're in the very heart of
Vera Cruz and it will keep your eyes
busy to catch all the sights. Sit
down at a cafe table under the por-'
tales, or porches thatjine the plaza.
In the Cathedral spire across the park ,
there sits among the bells, a Jackie
in white, his feet dangling in space
Jackies have been on guard up- there
ever since, in the battle three days
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