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PUBLISHED: 1912
PAGES: 233

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The Day of Days

By Louis Joseph Vance

On the eve of his thirty-second birthday and likewise the tenth anniversary of his servitude, the appearance of P. Sybarite was elaborately normal—varying, as it did, but slightly from one year to the other.

His occupation had fitted his head and shoulders with a deceptive but perennial stoop. His means had endowed him with a single outworn suit of ready-made clothing which, shrinking sensitively on each successive application of the tailor’s sizzling goose, had come to disclose his person with disconcerting candour—sleeves too short, trousers at once too short and too narrow, waistcoat buttons straining over his chest, coat buttons refusing to recognize a buttonhole save that at the waist. Circumstances added measurably to his apparent age, lending him the semblance of maturity attained while still in the shell of youth.

The ruddy brown hair thatched his well-modelled head, his sanguine colouring, friendly blue eyes, and mobile lips suggested Irish lineage. His hands, though thin and clouded with smears of ink, were solid and graceful (like the slender feet in his shabby shoes), and they bore out the suggestion with an added hint of gentle blood.

But whatever his antecedents, it is indisputable that P. Sybarite was most miserable just then and not without cause, for the Genius of the Place held his soul in its melancholy bondage.

The Place was the counting room in the warehouse of Messrs. Whigham & Wimper, Hides & Skins, and its Genius was the reek of hides both raw and dressed—an effluvium incomparable, a passionate individualist of an odour, as rich as the imagination of an editor of Sunday supplements, as rare as a reticent author, and as friendly as a stray puppy.

For ten endless years, P. Sybarite’s body and soul were thrall to that Smell; for a complete decade, he inhaled it continuously nine hours each day, six days each week, and felt lonesome without it every seventh day.

But today, all his being was in revolt, bitterly, hopelessly mutinous against this evil and overbearing Genius….

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Louis Joseph Vance

Louis Joseph Vance (September 19, 1879 – December 16, 1933) was an American novelist, screenwriter and film producer. He created the popular character Michael Lanyard, a criminal-turned-detective known as The Lone Wolf.

Biography

Louis Joseph Vance was born September 19, 1879, in Washington, D. C., the only child of Wilson J. Vance, a Medal of Honor recipient, and Lillian Beall. He was educated at the Brooklyn Polytechnic Institute. Vance was married to Anne Elizabeth Hodges on February 19, 1898. Their son, Wilson Beall Vance, was born in 1900.

He wrote short stories and verses after 1901 and then composed many popular novels. His character Michael Lanyard, known as The Lone Wolf, was featured in eight books and 24 films between 1914 and 1949 and also appeared in radio and television series.

Vance moved to Los Angeles to work with Universal Pictures on films based on his work, including The Trey o’ Hearts (1914) and a serial and film series (1914–1916) based on his Terence O’Rourke stories. In 1915, he founded Fiction Pictures, Inc., a motion picture production company whose films were distributed by Paramount Pictures. Its first release was The Spanish Jade (1915), with a screenplay by Vance based on his stage adaptation of a novel by Maurice Hewlett. Vance was president and general manager of the company; other principals were Wilfred Lucas (director-general), Gilbert Warrenton (cinematographer), and Bess Meredyth (scenario editor). Fiction Pictures operated in Glendale until a new studio in Hollywood was completed in April 1915. The studio was sold to Famous Players in June when Fiction Pictures went out of business.

Vance died alone in his New York City apartment on December 16, 1933, in a fire that resulted from his falling asleep with a lighted cigarette. His death was ruled accidental. A simple funeral took place December 20, 1933, at St. George’s Protestant Episcopal Church in Brooklyn, with honorary pallbearers including Marc Connelly, Will Irwin, and Samuel Merwin.[5] Vance’s widow received an estate of less than $10,000.

Louis Joseph Vance

Louis Joseph Vance