MODESTY DESERTED, JOE REVEALS FAMOUS EXPLOITS OF GREAT MEN IN FORECAST SAGA

There is a treat in store for you this week, dear readers. And this is how it happened. The Managing Editor, called me to his office the other day and said, Joe, did you ever stop to realize that you are at once the best known and least known man in Cambridge? Is it right that a name that is on every tongue should be a name and nothing more? Must our readers be content with only an occasional glimpse of the real Joe Forecast, with only a hint of the big, human Forecast circulatory system? Won't you let one of our reporters give all this to your public?

"It's the Heart that Counts"

But I, with characteristic modesty, was reluctant. "I have always shunned publicity," I said. "And I will continue to do so. But in answer to the hundreds, I could as truthfully say thousands, of scented letters asking for my photograph, I will allow you to print, on an inside page, of course, this likeness of me, which my admirers consider very good." And I gave him, the picture which you see above, not without some trepidation, for I have no desire to contribute to feminine heart break, and I realize that I am handsome. But I consider that as nothing. "It's the heart that counts," I've always said.

"As for my life story, however," I told the managing editor, "I have little it say of myself. But I will give you same idea of the stock from which I spring and how I come to be what I am which is very hard to explain. I am afraid that your reporter would be carried away by enthusiasm and admiration and present a distorted Joe Forecast to his public. And I would not have my self of my ancestors distorted. In order to make sure that no idolatrous hero worship creeps in, I will write the article myself." And that is how the Forecast Saga came into being.

Ours is an old English line, with a mixture of Scotch. In late years, it is only fair to say, there has been less and less of the English and more and more of the scotch. Why, only last night--but this is the story of my ancestors. I was speaking of those noble Forecast sires who, from generation unto generation, has passed the Forecast name to noble Forecast sons, and with never an incompleted pass.

Had Entree, in Tower of London

With natural family pride, I have traced my genealogy back to the days of Henry VIII and Baron Forecast, the first of our line of whom there is written record. And he was a great man. Contemporary chronicles show that he was much sought after and that once when he went to the Tower of London (even in those days the Forecasts had entree every-where) on a matter of business, he died very suddenly. We have all been very proud of the Baron.

Then comes the Forecast whom we call the Great Democrat (and the Forecasts have always been democratic). He voluntarily gave up his baronetcy and enter. Forecast Kant-leak Kote, the frst waterproof coal on the market. And he with the help of his advertising manager, a smart young chap named Raliegh, pulled the greatest publicity stunt that the cloak and trade has known, and the Forecast fortune was forthwith made.

Stop, Look, and Listen

Even then the Forecasts had the Wanderlust and before long Caution Forecast and his wife, Prudence embarked tourist third class, for Plymouth, Mass, on the May flower. Oh this voyage their three children, triplets, were barn. They would be known as The First Americans, for they were born within the three-mile limit, but unfortunately they had no passports and were not allowed to land. It was a sad day for the Forecast family when these three miles of humanity had to be thrown overboard. And that almost broke the Forecast line, for poor Prudence could not stand the rigors of the New England winter. The broken-hearted Caution survived harm, however, and realizing his duty to posterity he married an Indian miss named Did-You-Put-Out. That-Camp-fire. And to their first-born son, a direct ancestor of mine, they gave at his mother's insistence, an Indian name. He was called Keep-Your-Powder-Dry Forecast.

Too Fast for Minute Men

Then, though it is, hardly right, we will skip a few generations, stopping with that famous Forecast from whom I inherit my athletic ability. It was at the time during the Revolution when the British were besieged in Boston, and the Minute Men improved their idle moments in Cambridge by playing football among themselves at Soldiers Field. But Gamaliel Forecast was too fast for the Minute Men. He played on the Second Team.

After the war, Gamaliel turned to polities, and in due course of time he becam the right-hand man of our great left-handed president. Thomas Jefferson. And along about 1807 or 1808. King George, a great sport lover, got a prime minister of his named Pyle to induce several members of the Harvard and Yale crews to go over to England and now on an English crew in the championships at Wimbledon. And President Jefferson was pretty sore, too. "What is to become of amateur athletics in America if this impeachment business goes on?" he asked. And no one seemed to know. And the President got more and more provoked. "For two cents I'd declare war" he declared. some of the hot-headed cabinet members started to take up a collection, but with a coolness that has become proverbial in our family, Gamaliel Forecast stepped into the breach. "Why not wait, Mr. President, until the War of 1812 and get even with them for the whole business. Jim Madison will be president then and you won't have to worry about it. Wars are nuisances, anyway."

Gamaliel Was Right, Of Course

"Gamaliel, you are right, agreed the President, who was a big enough man to bow to a superior intellect. And later when Gamaliel ran for the U. S. senate, the president issued statement saying. "He has never failed me." Gamaliel was defeated.

I will pass over the Civil War, though I ought to explain what a big help my grandfather, Corp. Ephraim Forecast, was to General Grant. After the war, Ephraim, always quick to see an industrial opportunity, realized there was a fine opening for a man who could sign checks in a bold, clear hand. He learned to sign a great many different names--the Forecasts have always been of money at it. He alternated this work with several ventures in the stone-breaking business, in which he handled some big government contracts. He died in Ossining, N. Y., in 1897 in a great stone mansion which excelled in splendor even that of John D. Rockerfeller in the neighboring town of Tarrytown. It was a magnificent place they say. I hope to go there some day.

Joe Bounces form Pavement

But to get down to what you all are most interest in I myself, was born in Shemokin, Pa., just before the Panic of 1893 (this was pure coincidence), of poor but honest parents. (Father was poor and mother was honest). We were, in fact, so poor that for economic reasons there was nothing personal in it--my mother dropped me out of the window onto the concrete pavement. I was quite unharmed, however, and just as my mother was about to repeat the experiment from a window one flight higher our old Indian servant stopped her, Pont," pleaded the faithful red-man. "Can't you see that the Great Spirit is reserving him for a grand mission?"

That mission has been fulfilled in many ways. I cannot in modesty outline the stops in a career that has carried me from obscurity to the glare of fame's spotlight, from which I have ceaselessly tried to shrink. But fame is fame, and I belong to my public after ail. When ever I cross the Yard with my dog, I can see that everyone knows who I am. I have me privacy any more but I rather like it. What would life be if we were all on the same plane? We must have our heroes. I've always said.

But this is really the story of my ancestors, I am not yet worthy to take my place in this noble array (modesty again you see). I have attained some considerable note as a prognosticator of football and other sports. I am also ambitious as an author. I hope you will read my new book. It is due to appear late this afternoon. It is entitled. "The Roper Boys in a Foe or Walking Back to Old Nassan.