NOTE--_How the same piece of news may be treated in different ways is illustrated in the following two stories._
Doubtless Michael Kennedy’s schooling never progressed to the point where he reaped the manifold intellectual bounties of McGuffy’s second reader. That venerable text book explains school ma’ams. Their purpose is to teach the young idea to shoot, it says.
Consequently there were those who believed Michael misguided when he opened up his shooting gallery in a basement on North Clark street near West Erie street. There Mike--for the consideration of 5 cents for five shots--taught the young idea marksmanship after a fashion of his own.
“Mike, the ne’er-do-well,” they called him for years. But a smile was Mike’s only answer. He went right on loading rifles for whoever came and painting out the bullet marks on the white targets in the gallery.
On May 23, 1913, Mike died. Public Administrator James F. Bishop took charge of the estate, hoping he would get enough out of it to bury the target tender. Mr. Bishop was surprised when he found that Mike, the “ne’er-do-well,” had a snug bank account--some $400.
Another surprise came yesterday when Administrator Bishop announced the result of his seventeen months’ investigation into Mike’s affairs. It was learned that the “ne’er-do-well” left a nephew in Blackburne, Lancashire, England, named as his sole heir. In a safety deposit vault Mike had $42,000 worth of bonds--the products of teaching the young idea to shoot.
“Mike” was a shiftless guy. Any of the bunch would tell you that. Of course he always had money. But then, too, he was always giving it away. He’d lend you anything he had if he knew you, and many’s the “bo” who got the price of a bed from him.
Mike at one time was known as Michael Kennedy, but that was not during the time he kept the shooting gallery in North Clark street. He was a rough fellow, and not very affable with strangers. But he’d go a long way for a pal.
He had his place of business in a basement room. He slept there, and entertained his friends there when not busy loading rifles for his patrons. And everybody said that he could have a good home if he were not so shiftless.
Well, “Mike” died a year ago last May, and it was found he had $400 in the bank. The county buried him and charged $106.75 to his estate. The fellows he had befriended went to the funeral and said “We told you so.” But they agreed that Mike was a good fellow.