LOCKED IN SALOON -- HORRORS!
Terrible Fate, Which Confronted Tom
Morgan When Rescued by Police.
One o'clock has so broken up the practice of spending the night in saloons that when Tom Morgan, 616 East Fifth street, had a chance last night to remain a lone guest among the intoxicants of Zimmerman's place, 719 Delaware street, he telephoned for help to get out. He didn't even take a drink before he resorted to the telephone.
At Home telephone headquarters the Western Union clock said 12:30 when a buzzer registered from the Delaware street saloon.
"Number?" purred Central.
"I want out," a husky voice came back.
"Out of where?"
"Out of here."
"Where is here?"
"Oh, I went to sleep in the back room of Zimmerman's saloon here on Delaware street and the bartender locked up without finding me."
Central held the line and called police headquarters. When she had got Patrolman A. O. Darbow on the phone and posted him she put on Morgan.
He was excited. Darbow didn't seem to be in a hurry, and after he had promised release and hung up the receiver Morgan called the station again.
"You didn't tell me how soon you'd come, officer," he said. "I'm lonely and nervous and cold"
"Well, see if you can't find something there to calm yourself with, and a liquid stove, perhaps, and something smooth and cheerful and friendly on the back bar."
"Good suggestion, old man. Hadn't thought of it. The time won't seem so long now, but don't tarry."
"Only waiting for a detective to blow in with a pocketful of skeleton keys and burglar tools and we'll be right up."
Twenty minutes later Darbow and Detectives Godley and Phelan liberated the prisoner.
There was the suggestion of a skate in Morgan's leg actions as he sought his bearings, but he soon was on a bee line for Fifth street.
