From "The Citizen"
This article is from The Citizen, dated November 25, 1896.
Much has been said and written during the past week concerning the humorist and author, R. Pitcher Woodward, and his proposed donkey trip to the Pacific as a result of an election bet. The friends of the author are having lots of fun at his expense, but Mr. Woodward says it is no joke. It is evident that the donkey is of the same opinion. If not he probably will be later.
When "The Citizen" reporter called at Mr. Woodward's residence, No. 229 Garfield place, he was told that Mr. Woodward had retired, but the latter, on learning the mission of his caller, invited him to his bed chamber, where, after offering him a loaded cigar, he modestly crawled into bed, and began to apologize for his grotesque appearance.
"It is not 9 o'clock yet," said the humorist, "but I am trying to restore brain tissue by taking plenty of sleep. I fear that I shall be cheated of a good deal of much-needed rest on my overland donkey trip. I suppose that is what you have come to see me about -- for already I have received many enthusiastic invitations to visit certain towns and cities on my route where I am promised receptions and bouquets galore. One letter is from a silver town, and is signed by a committee of ladies. They say if I will come their way they will meet me in a body and escort me into town with a brass band and fete me for several days if I will stop over. You may read the letter -- the top one -- on the desk there."
"Then you are surely going, Mr. Woodward, and the bet is genuine?" the reporter asked.
"Most certainly so. I shall start from Madison Square, New York, either Friday or Saturday afternoon immediately after Thanksgiving. This is my first announcement of the date.
"As announced in the papers, I wanted to forfeit $300 and not visit the candidates, arguing that the winter would be severe and a Southern trip, though longer by far, would be milder. He laughs at my lack of pluck, so I shall visit both McKinley and Bryan, and go west through New York, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Nebraska, Colorado, etc., to California. I have been up to my armpits in snow in the Alps, and I don't propose to be scared out so easily. If I could omit these incidents of my journey successfully I would do so gladly, as well as my parade in Fifth, Madison and West End avenues, New York. Mr. Tillard lives in West End avenue, and I am required to pass his residence."
"And will you appear in absurd attire?" the reporter asked.
"It depends on what you call absurd," said Mr. Woodward, with a chuckle. "I am having spectacles made for my donkey 'Maccaroni,' and I shall wear a top hat and frock coat and spectacles, as has been stated elsewhere, and I must be a book agent and peddle my own books. I would pay a big profit, or owe it, if I could get of this condition of the bet. Since I cannot, I must praise my book as the most wonderful work ever written.
"A leading photographer has proposed to take my picture while on my donkey, and if I feel I can make money by selling the pictures -- of the two donkeys -- I shall do so. I must start with not more than 99 cents, and earn my feed and lodging. As for my poor donkey, Mack, he will earn his feed all right. I think him to be the worst sufferer of the two. I had him shod yesterday. It took a half dozen men to hold him."
"Have you ever arranged with the papers to publish your articles?"
"I have with a number, but my list is not quite complete," said Mr. Woodward. "I have received offers from a prominent New York publisher to publish my writings in book form when my journey is complete."
At this moment the reporter's cigar exploded and the interview was brought abruptly to an end.