Silver Dollar (Warner Bros.) (1932)

fa SILVER By DAVID KARSNER : The Epic Story of a Man Who Was Made by Silver and Ruined by Gold. Adapted from Warner Bros.-First National, Sensational Edward G. Robinson Starring Picture. DOLLAR CHAPTER V FEW months later Martin had reason to recall Bryan’s prediction when huge headlines carried the headlines in the newspapers’ front pages, “PRESIDENT CLEVELAND SETS GOLD STANDARD; SILVER MEN IN PANIC”? Stock markets everywhere reacted as the pendulum of finance swung erratically, with the price of silver going down down... ! The Denver Stock Exchange was in an uproar that fatal morning. Excited-brokers ran about bare-headed, shouting, one to another, in a wild chaos of voices. It was a bedlam, comparable to our own stock market collapse of 1929. Through it all Yates Martin sat at his desk, vainly trying to shut out the shout and noises of the outside. His manager came in. ‘‘Look at this, Senator,’’ he said, shoving a paper beneath his gaze, ‘‘Silver’s down to forty-eight cents.’’ Yates straightened in his chair. ‘¢What do we care; we’ll dig twice as much,’’ he said. ‘But it costs more than that to mine,’’ came back the reply. ‘‘We need more margin.’’ ‘‘Draw on the Leadville bank,’’ Yates ordered. ‘‘Leadville bank closed its doors an hour ago,’’ said the manager. Yates Martin’s luck had turned. In the Martin mansion, on the hill, the huge hall clock intoned the hours until daylight. Mrs. Yates Martin, the once Lily Owens, moved from her station at the window, passing the table set for three. She looked worn one here to see you, sir. Shall I send her in??? ‘‘Sarah!?? It was all he could say, as he gazed at his visitor. ‘You... you came to see me?’’ he finished lamely. ‘“Yes, Yates.’’? Sarah put her hand on his arm. ‘‘I came to see if there is anything I can do.’’ Yates hesitated, and his thoughts fleetingly reverted to days gone by. ‘‘Sarah! It’s been a long time... What I mean is...’’ Then he brought himself up abruptly. ‘‘What is it, Sarah? What can I do for you?’’ It was almost briskly, but it did not fool the one who knew him best. ‘<Vates, I have heard what has happened to you, and I thought... she hesitated. ‘‘I thought I... could help ... ’? Her voice faltered. Somehow, Yates could not bear to be pitied—especially by Sarah. ‘‘ Why, Sarahooedese:: im alk tightede. 3 “] ... don’t understand ... I had twelve million dollars, now, everybody says I owe them.” (Bebe Daniels and Edward G. Robinson) and haggard. There came a step at the front door—a shambling step of a broken man. Yates Martin almost fell into the room. Wild-eyed, disheveled, collar open, clothes rumpled and disordered, he was sadly unlike the happy, carefree Yates Martin of other days. ‘‘Tt’s terrible! I... I don’t understand ... don’t see how it could have happened. My own bank busted up. There must be some mistake. I had twelve million dollars. Now, everybody says I owe them.’’ * * * Several days later Yates Martin appeared at his business office. His manager discreetly stepped in. ‘‘ Mr. Martin,’’ he said sorrowfully, ‘‘the new people are here with some things they want to move in.’’ Yates nearly crumpled, but recovered. ‘Tell them to wait. They can have this office tomorrow—when I’m through.’? ‘<Yes, sir,’’ said the manager as he withdrew. Yates sat stonily gazing into space, and then slowly got to his feet. He reached for his hat and coat, and was about to leave, when there came another interruption. The manager returned, and with a sympathetic glance at his employer, said, ‘‘ There is some Sarah interrupted. ‘‘I know you’ve had trouble, Yates and... well you gave me quite a lot of money. I’ve invested it...and there’s a lot more. Ethought-s <a could==."2 ‘«That’s mighty nice of you, Sarah, but I don’t need any help. I’ve lost a little money—in silver—but I’m not broke. No sir-ee! Silver’s coming back, too! ’? Sarah turned helplessly. She knew he was bluffing, and she was hurt, too. She turned aside, listening sorrowfully, as Yates continued, ‘‘I can take care of myself, Sarah. Always have, haven’t I??? Yates attempted a jocular manner as he walked beslde her to the door. “‘You all right, Sarah? How’s Mark??? Sarah replied, ‘‘He’s all right; he’s going to be married. I’m going to meet him now.’’ She stopped and held out her hand, realizing that if she remained a minute longer she would break down completely. ‘‘Good bye, Yates—and ... good luck!’ Yates stood for several minutes after she had got into her carriage. The driver, standing at the door, looked his pity for the lonely, pathetic figure. ‘‘Poor devil,’’ he murmured. (Concluded tomorrow) SILVER DOLLAR By DAVID KARSNER | The Epic Story of a Man Who Was Made by Silver and Ruined by Gold. Adapted from Warner Bros.-First National, Sensational Edward G. Robinson Starring Picture. CHAPTER VI A BACKYARD of cheap-looking houses—in a poor section of the city! It was Fall. Everything looked cold and drab. Debris of every description cluttered the space, in the foreground of which eclucked a hen with a covey of small chicks. A tiny tot babbled coaxingly to the brood—‘‘Silver Dollar,’’ the little daughter of Yates Martin and the former Lily Owens—now four years of age. ‘‘Nice chickie, nice chickie,’’ she, crooned. “Remember Lily . .. hold on to the Matchless Mine... silver is coming back.’’ (Edward G. Robinson and Bebe Daniels) The little girl looked up toward the back door as her mother appeared, wearing a cheap print dress, and carrying in her arms a basket of family wash. As Lily paused to speak of ‘‘Silver Dollar,’’ her gaze appeared fixed on a grocery boy who had suddenly appeared’ at the back gate. ‘‘Just leave the things on the stoop,’’ she said with a lightness she did not feel. The boy became embarrassed. ‘“Sorry, Ma’am, I was told you would have to pay today.’’ But he held the package out to Lily just the same. Footsore, with a pain in his heart, Martin returned to his his home empty handed after a fruitless search for work. ~ Lily had nothing comforting to of-} fer. ‘*The landlord was here today. We’re behind two months in the rent. He says if he doesn’t get it tomorrow, we’ve got to move. .’? “‘How much is it?’’ Yates tried to appear casual. ‘*Sixty dollars,’’ she replied, while Yates walked contemplatively toward the door. Pausing outside, he looked guiltily at the opening and slipped quietly into their sleeping room. Furtively he searched a bureau drawer and found what he sought. It was the gold-lettered album. He ripped off the gold letters, put on his hat and left the house. ‘“One and a half ounces,’’ the jeweler a few minutes later said. ‘‘ You know the market price of gold, Mr. Martin. Twenty-two dollars to the ounce.’’ Yates nodded sadly, and a sympathetic look came over the jeweler’s face. Along the brilliantly lighted street, Yates wended his way, until he came to the Windsor Hotel, the scene of many of his former triumphs. Coming upon Colonel Stanton, his former political advisor and mentor, Yates stopped hesitatingly. Stanton who was reading, did not look up. ‘“‘Can I see you for a moment, Colonel?’’ he said, nervously. Stanton apparently did not recognize the voice. ‘‘No, what do you want?’’ was his answer. ‘“T was going to ask you if you’d loan me a hundred ... just for a PeWes et Stanton, with his eyes still on the paper, grunted ‘‘No!’? Yates turned abruptly away. He was hurt at this blunt and discourteous reply to a request from an old friend. He stared at Stanton for a moment, and then started away. At the same moment Colonel Stanton looked up and saw his interrogator for the first time. ‘‘Senator Martin,’’ he exclaimed. ‘‘Good heavens, Senator, I did not know it was you. You want a hundred. MHere’s five hundred. ’? ‘¢That’s real kind of you, Colonel,’’ said Yates. ‘‘I’m in rather a tough spot ... only temporarily, though . .”’? He smiled hopefully into Stanton’s face. ‘“Say, Senator ... ‘Colonel Stan ton had a sudden thought. ‘‘How’d you like to be postmaster of Denver??? ‘“Why, Colonel . . .’’? Yates was dazed. ‘‘Postmaster? Why that’s sort of in my line. Used to be postmaster up in Leadville.’’ ‘Yes, I remember ... I’ll wire Washington tonight. Leaving the hotel, Yates paused for a moment to contemplate the sign spreading the important looking build ing on the next block. The Martin Opera House. It was late afternoon and the crowd had dispersed. He ~ slipped through the stage door and on to the stage. Yates looked at the familiar surroundings, living over again his triumphant night when he presented the Opera_House to the City of Denver. There was Lity’s—box;-and—was—it — his imagination? For surely chat was Lily! She was alone and she was smiling across the space at him. Soft music filled the huge auditorium. Once again he relived those ecstatic moments. ‘‘Ladies and gentlemen,’’ he began. ‘‘I’ve seen Denver grow from a mining camp to a city of ...’’ He paused. Yes, surely that was applause. ‘‘. . . thirty or forty thousand people, and I said that if Denver is to have an opera house it should have one worthy of the ClbY= execs Suddenly he gasped, clutching his breast. ‘‘Wait, I... can’t go on now ... there’s something IT...’ He choked. ‘‘Lily! Lily, girl! Sarah! Oh, Sarah, I need you ... Where are you, Sarah, Lily, General Grant ...1...’’ Yates staggered and fell to the stage floor. Two stage hands rushed toward him. Gently he was carried to a waiting ambulance—and home. In that cheap, tawdry home, Yates Martin, white and wan, struggled for a last breath. In another room, Colonel Stanton, Adams, Hamlin—other prominent citizens — had gathered. Colonel Stanton said in hushed tones, ‘‘The President has just appointed him postmaster of Denver, I hope it’s not too late...’ Yates, in a conscious moment, raised himself slightly. ‘‘Lily, don’t forget . ... Remember, Lily ... Hold on to the Matchless Mine. Silver is coming back . .. stick by me... buried ... Silver casket ...’’ Martin passed on. And then Yates, three days later, as the sun sank to its rest in the West, a casket of solid gold, reflecting a dull shimmering glow, was slowly lowered into a grave. As it disappeared, two women stood, with ‘*Silver Dollar’? between them. Their hands were clasped. As the last clod of earth fell, with the intoning of the man of God, ‘‘Dust to dust,’ Sarah and Lily turned and looked in each other’s eyes—in dumb sorrow— with no trace of bitterness. Yates Martin had been a good man, loved by both women. —The End.— Page Nine