When death, as it must to all dogs, came to William Randolph Hearst's toy dachshund Helen, the aged publisher last week wrote an elegy.
In answer to a letter of condolence from his Editor Frank Barham (Los Angeles Herald and Express), who reminded the boss that he had been one of the rare outsiders acceptable to Helen, Hearst columnized:
"You know, Frank, a boy and his dog are no more inseparable companions than an old fellow and his dog. An old bozo is a nuisance to almost everybody —except his dog. . . ....
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