Читать книгу Short Circuits - Stephen Leacock - Страница 13

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One's first impressions of Joe Brown, champion pie-eater, is that of a quiet, unassuming man, of a stature in no way out of the common, and having a frank, offhand manner that puts one at once at one's ease.

"Sit right down," he said to the group of us (we were reporting for the press), and he waved his hand towards the rocking-chairs on the veranda. "Sit right down. Warm, ain't it?"

The words were simple, but spoken with a heartiness and good will that made one at once feel at home. It seemed hard to believe that this was actually the man who had eaten more pie, more consecutive pie, than any other man alive--still alive.

"Well, Joe," we said, getting out our notebooks and pencils, "what about this pie?"

Mr. Brown laughed, with that pleasant, easy laugh of his, which makes one feel entirely reassured.

"I rather supposed you boys were going to talk about the pie," he said.

"Well," we admitted, "all the world is talking about it, Joe. Coming right on top of the news that a man has played golf continually for twenty-four hours and that a woman in Indiana shucked peas for three days, and that the huckleberry record has been broken, that a man in Medicine Hat, Alberta, stood on one leg for seven hours, and that the champion fat boy of Iowa passed four hundred pounds last week, this pie stuff of yours seems to be going over pretty big."

"Yes," said Mr. Brown, quietly, "there are big things being done to-day certainly, and I'm glad to be in it. And yet I don't feel as if I had done anything so very much after all."

"Oh, come, Joe," we expostulated, "in New York they are saying that your pie act is about the biggest endurance stunt of the month. It puts you, or it ought to, right in the first rank of the big men to-day."

"Well," said the champion modestly, "I'm afraid I can't take too much credit for it. I just did my best, that was all. I wasn't going to let it beat me, and so I just put into it every ounce of pep, or pepsin, that I had."

"What first turned you to eating pie, Joe?" asked one of the boys.

"It's hard to say," he answered. "I think I just took to it naturally. Even as a little fellow, before I understood anything about it, I was fond of pie and liked to see how much I could eat."

"How did it feel when you ate the first slice in the championship?" asked one of the boys.

"No," broke in another, "tell us about your training, Joe--how did you go at that?" "No," said a third, "tell us what was the most trying moment of the whole contest."

The great man laughed. "I'm afraid you boys are asking a whole lot of questions altogether," he said. "But the main facts are simple enough, and, as I see it, nothing so very much to boast about.

"As for the championship contest," he continued, and a look of quiet earnestness came over his face as he spoke, "I can only say, boys, that I'm glad it's over. It was a strain, a great strain. I'll never forget how I felt as we passed the twentieth slice and then the thirtieth and then the fortieth. I said to myself, 'Surely this can't last; there must come a time when it just can't go on.' Something seemed to make me understand that.

"I'd run into a burst of speed from the twentieth up to the thirtieth, with a stroke of two bites to the second, but I saw I couldn't hold the pace; I slowed it down to four bites in five seconds and just hung on to that, till I heard the big shout that told me I had won. After that, I guess I pretty well keeled over. I was all in."

"Were you laid out for long?" some one asked.

"No, just for two or three minutes. Then I went home, had a bath and a rub-down, and got something to eat, and then I felt dandy."

"Is it true you're to go over to the other side, Joe?" asked one of the boys.

"I don't quite know. My manager wants me to go over to England and eat pie there. There are some first-class men in England, so they tell me, that one would be proud to eat against."

"What about France, Joe?"

"Yes, France, too. The French have got some good men and some fine men. And their technique is better than ours. They're quicker. They've done more so far in jaw movement than we have. If I eat a Frenchman, my only advantage, if I have any at all, will be in endurance."

"Aren't the pie-eating rules in France different, Joe?" asked one of us.

"They were," said the champion. "The French used to allow drinking--up to six gallons--during the contest. As you know, we don't. But now that we have got the International Pie-Eating Association, we expect to have a set of rules the same for everybody."

"Where will you train if you go?" the champion was next asked.

"Most likely," he said, "I'll train at the lunch counters in New York and some of the big cities. But the station restaurants are good too; and I may tackle the cafeterias in some of the big hotels. Anywhere, in short, where I can get speed and atmosphere."

"When do you leave for the other side?" we asked.

"Oh, I can't get away just yet. I have to get my films ready for the moving picture people. I'm eating for them four or five hours a day now, and we're trying out the high-speed pictures."

"What about lectures?"

"Yes, I believe I'm going to give a tour starting next month and going right to the Coast, lecturing on 'Eating in Relation to Food.'"

"Doing anything for the schools, Joe?" some one questioned.

"Yes, I think I'm going to give a talk in a lot of the public schools."

"What about?"

"It will be on 'Food in Relation to Eating,' so you see I can't get away to Europe for a while yet."

We sat thus for over half an hour chatting with this latest and in some ways most interesting of the world's new champions. It seemed wonderful in talking with him to think of the improved attitude of the human race. The old-fashioned interest in wars, battles, economics, and industry is now obviously passing away. It is being replaced by the more human, more vital interests of eating pie, standing on one leg, and shucking huckleberries.

Looking thus at Mr. Joe Brown, we felt ourselves in the presence of a typical man of the new age.

Presently, however, the champion seemed to show signs of a slight weariness.

"Boys," he said," I guess you'll have to excuse me. I'm beginning to feel kind of hungry. I think I'll go inside and get something to eat."

"What do you generally take as your ordinary diet, Joe?" we asked.

"Pie," he answered.