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NEW YORK HERALD, MONDAY, DECEMBER 18, 1922
“NIGGER MIKE” BURIED WITH DIMMED GLORY
Irving Berlin, Composer, Only One of Old Chinatown Friends to Appear. ECHO OF PAST IS HEARD
Pilgrim From Philadelphia Attends Funeral to Repay Debt of Gratitude.
It was just such a day as yesterday that Nigger Mike was a pallbearer at Big Hearted Johnny Gallagher’s funeral 20 years ago. Mr. Gallagher had come to an untimely end in front of the Pelham Cafe, 12 Pell Street, Nigger Mike’s place, a vagrant bullet taking him squarely between the eyes.
When Nigger Mike presented himself at the Gallagher home that raw morning to pay his last respects to Big Hearted Johnny he slipped a pint of rye into the lap of the bereaved widow sitting at the head of the coffin. Leaning over Mr. Gallagher’s remains and grasping both sides of the coffin, Mike began to speak in husky tone... “Well,” said Mike, “he’s gone: the poor old rum pot’s gone. Yes, he’s gone. I knowed him when he had a livery stable and started his business. I knowed him when he lost his livery stable and started another business. I knowed him when he lost that one. Yes, the old rum pot’s gone. The poor old rum pot. Well, you poor old rum pot. Well, you poor old rum pot: so you’re gone hey?”
Grief stopped the voice of Nigger Mike Salter. A wail from the bereaved window arose and Mike drew another pint from a hip pocket. Laying the second pint in the lady’s lap, Mike roared, “Lady, send the undertaker’s bill to me. The poor old rum pot’s gone and while I don’t know who cooked him the funeral’s on me.” The lamented Mr. Gallagher’s brother, Jesse, attended Nigger Mike Salter’s funeral yesterday, coming all the way from Philadelphia to do it. He came to find Nigger Mike lying in a plain pine box––not even varnished. Mr. Jesse Gallagher had to make financial sacrifices to attend the funeral yesterday, so he wasn’t able to do for Mrs. Salter what Nigger Mike had done for Mrs. Gallagher.
Irving Berlin Present
“But it certainly knocks me stiff,” said Mr. Jesse Gallagher, “When the Honorable Mike Salter buried my brother he was worth a half million. Today he’s planted with his family flat. Not a cent of insurance. Not a cent for next month’s rent. But he certainly did my brother proud.”