{ title: 'The Rio Grande rattler. ([McAllen], Hidalgo County, Tex.) 1916-1917, March 23, 1918, Page 22, Image 22', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about NYS Historic Newspapers - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-03-23/ed-1/seq-22/png/', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-03-23/ed-1/seq-22.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-03-23/ed-1/seq-22/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn87030234/1918-03-23/ed-1/seq-22/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
Image provided by: New York State Military History Museum
20 GAS ATTACK PVT. RICHARD E. CONNELL. BY- D IV IN E Private Richard E. Connell, the editor, is here seen holding an irate- contributor at bay. The contributor, with his hands flung up in fear, has just submitted a poem beginning “ My Tuesdays are meatless, my Wednesdays are wheatless— ” Dick holds the gun* with a wicked clutch. The gun is the Gas Attack’s rejection slip. Dick learned his desperado methods at Harvard, Washington Square, Gramercy Park, Park Row, Hotel Cleveland, and the Military Police. GUN DELETED BY C E N S OR . PVT. FRED J. ASHLEY. Fred J. Ashley of Division Headquarters Troop, the sporting editor, ready to make a getaway. His chief means of escape from the local scrappers whose ability he picks on every week are the shaggy but dashing steed on Ms right and the windshields he sports in his left hand. After managing to slip through Fordham, he became a trooper and is still trooping. PVT. WALTER ADAMS DAVENPORT. BY CONNELL AND D IVINE He was known on Park Row as Bill. He came to Camp Wads worth with Company M, 107th In fantry, in which organization he was prepared for the Officers’ Training School From the latter he contributes stories of gassing, bayonetting and the like. He al most graduated from the Univer sity of Pennsylvania once, but, frustrated, he fled to an Atlantic Port that has an aquarium at one end, a large statue of a lady with a light in her hand in the middle and Sandy Hook at the other end. There he became the writer of the stories that were, he admits, the feature of that Atlantic Port’s largest morning daily.
