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MEXICO IS LEARNING "KLONDIKE SALOON'.
SERVES "COLDEST BEER IN TOWN"
BY FRED L. BOALT
Vera Cruz, Mex. Just around the
comer from the Church of the Black
Christ is the Kfondike saloon.
I came upon it suddenly and, of
course, unexpectedly and was filled
with wonder when I saw the sign
over the arched doorway "Klondike
Saloon" and beneath it, "The cold
est beer in town."
I was filled with wonder, I say, for
the sign made me think, not of palms,
but of pines. It made me think, not
of cacti-covered wastes of sand, but
of immense valleys and great moun
tains tusking the sky; not of dreadful
heat and torrential rains, but of bon
ny summers balsamic and tonic as
good as wine, and winters white and
What was a "Klondike" saloon do
ing in this tropic land of a mongrel
people? What "sourdough" had
"mushed" so far from Alaska in his
quest for gold?-
I went in. There was a small bar
with a name in tarnished gilt over the
garrish mirror P. Zaronio. Clearly
F. Zaronio was the proprietor.
At one of the tables sat two top
sergeants of the United States army,
drinking beer. They were grizzled
veterans, and they were quarreling.
One contended stoutly that Woodrow
Wilson was a bone-head, while the
other insisted, quite vigorously, that
this same Woodrow Wilson was a
blear-headed and far-seeing Ameri
can statesman and patriot.
I introduced myself and called foi
three bottles of "the coldest beer in
town." Then I explained my inter'
est in the "Klondike Saloon."
They laughed. They, too, had seen
the sign. They were old "sour
doughs" knew Alaska, indeed, from
Seward to Nome. They were in the
They made themselves known to
me Sergeant William H. Goede and
Sergeant John F. Murphy, both of the
"We've been pals for 20 years,"
said Sergeant Goede, jerking a thumb
toward Sergeant Murphy, "and we
always quarrel. It's because he was
born in Ireland and I in Germany, I
"I wouldn't argue with him," Ser
geant Murphy explained, growling,
"only he's so pig-headed and unrea
sonable." Then they went at it again, and the
argument lasted until the arrival of
the proprietor of the Klondike saloon.
Certainly he didn't look like a
"sourdough" this tall, thin, grey,
We asked him if he was a "sour
dough," if he had ever been in the
Klondike, and if so, when? He didn't
know what we were talking about.
The top sergeants knew only Filipino
Spanish, and not much of that. We
estulated, made signs, and finally
appealed to passersby. One -was
found who could interpret.
The light of understanding dawned
n the eyes of F. Zaronio.
"He says," repeated the interpre
ter, "that he has never been in the
Klondike. He says he read in a book
about Alaska and the Klondike. The
book said it was very cold there. . . .
And he says he thought 'Klondike'
would be a good name for his can
tina." "Fer th' love of heaven " from
J Sergeant Murphy.
"He says," continued the interpre
ter, "he thought it would bP a good
name because it is so cold there, like
ice ... . And his beer is also very
Wash cane chair seats with hot
water and ammonia 1 quart of wa
er and y2 cup of ammonia. If they
are stretched saturate well on under
side and turn chair upside down in
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