After Durborrow, I shifted to other swimmers. In addition to promoting Sandy Hook attempts, I organized swims from East 23rd Street to Coney Island, as well as Hudson River marathon feats. It was fun to get up at dawn and go out in a small boat for the day. But it was no fun to return to the newspaper office after dark, with the desk heaving with the waves and the typewriter doing all sorts of tricks. Here’s the odd feature of the Hook effort. The New York _Tribune_ picked up my idea and promoted an open swim. I believe twenty-six started and as many as three made the distance. Fighting against the tide, without any rivals, Durborrow and others had failed. But with many swimmers involved in a race against each other, the feat was accomplished. Many of my biggest assignments were covered with Dan Daniel, whose friendship I have always cherished. He was working for the _Herald_ at that time, but in later years, when I was sports editor of the New York _Telegram_, I persuaded him to quit and join my staff. He is now baseball editor of that paper. * * * * * Late in September, 1913, I called him on the ’phone. * * * * * “Dan, Rose Pitinoff of Boston and a woman companion are going to make an attempt tomorrow morning to swim from the Bellevue Hospital pier at 26th Street and East River through the Narrows to Coney Island. I’m going to accompany them in a motorboat. See if you can get the assignment from your paper and come along,” I said. Miss Pitinoff had already made two fruitless attempts to swim from the Battery to Coney Island, but now she hoped to make it over another route. Dan and I had accompanied her on her previous swims and I soon received a message from him that we would be together again on this one. The next morning at dawn all hands appeared, but to our surprise, there was no place where Rose and her friend could undress and prepare themselves for the trip. We tried to gain access to the Nurses Home of the hospital, but without success. Then we went to that section used as a morgue, and there, without asking permission, the girls quickly put on bathing suits. However, on all such long distance swims—this one was 26 miles—the body had to be well protected with a heavy coat of vaseline to keep out the cold. It was a cold night and Dan and I were none too comfortable as we stored hot coffee and sandwiches on the motorboat and waited for the girls to start on their journey. Soon word came to us that the swimmers required help. They had tried to enlist two nurses to rub the petroleum over their bodies but were turned down. Since we had to leave with the tide going out, I decided on the next step. I went into the building, removed my coat, rolled my shirt sleeves and began plastering Miss Pitinoff’s body with the jelly while Dan did the same for her friend.