Tomorrow was the first day of the
convention, the day of the big parade: tonight was a night of riot.
Everything in town was free to ex-service men--and to all others who
could borrow or buy a uniform. The spirit of the occasion was set
forth in a notice published on the editorial page of the "Times":
"Hello, bo! Have a cigarette. Take another one. Take anything you
see around the place.
"The town is yours. Take it into camp with you. Scruff it up to your
heart's content. Order it about. Let it carry grub to you. Have it
shine your shoes. Hand it your coat and tell it to hold it until the
show is over.
"We are all waiting your orders. Shove us back if we crowd. Push us
off the street. Give us your grip and tell us where to deliver it.
Any errands? Call us. If you want to go anywhere, don't ask for
directions. Just jump into the car and tell us where you're bound
for.
"Let's have another one before we part. Put up your money; it's no
good here. This one's on Western City."
I saw that it was not going to be possible to drive through the jam,
so I put my car in a parking place, and set out for the City Hall on
foot.
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