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Until last year Peter Koss ran a filling station in Syracuse, N. Y. Then he decided that his lanky Son Simon Koss, 19, would have a better chance to get ahead in a big city. Down to Manhattan went the Koss family — father, mother, Simon and 10-year-old Gertrude. Determined to make a man of Simon, Father Koss got a little, open-front cigar & candy store on grimy First Avenue at 23rd Street, made Simon proprietor with himself and Mother Koss as assistants. To prove it he put Simon's name up over the door.
Father Koss, who always liked to put a few pennies on the races, bought an Irish Sweepstakes ticket for each member of his family. Electrified was he when Simon's was drawn on Wychwood Abbot. Sidney Freeman visited Simon Koss twice, offering $15,000 for the ticket. Simon refused to sell, and his father backed him up. "We're gamblers, we Kosses," said he. The second time Sidney Freeman shook Simon's hand, wished him luck.
Everyone in the neighborhood tried to jam into Simon Koss's dusty little store when news of his $150,000 winnings got around. Simon had run around the corner to get his Sister Gertrude out of school. (The teacher would not let her go.) Peter Koss bandied words with the crowd until Simon got back. "I feel good, gee!" cried Simon. Somebody called for free cigars. Father Koss held out until a photographer persuaded him to pose with an open box. Mother Koss trotted back to put on some rouge and powder and her sealskin coat. Then they all posed, with Simon giving his mother a kiss.
"Can Simey do what he likes with the money?" asked a neighbor.
"Oh no," replied Father Koss. "We tell him what to do. He's a good boy."
Every morning for a long time the same cabman had taxied Julius Hader, 42, from his home on Eastern Parkway, Brooklyn to his restaurant on Pitkin Avenue. Mr. Hader told the cabman all about his ticket on Commander III. On the morning of the race the cabman told Mr. Hader that he had dreamed Commander III came in second. The two tried to get the race on the cab radio, but it was still too early. Mr. Hader went into his restaurant, where Mrs. Hader was already at work. Few minutes later the cabman burst in, cried that his dream had come true. By telephone Mrs. Hader checked with a newspaper, fainted dead away. Mr. Hader kept calm. He was doing very well in the restaurant business. He would divide his $75,000 into four equal parts, give one to each of his three brothers who were not doing so well in the restaurant business.
William Mooney, 48, lives with his wife Anne, their three daughters and his wife's maiden sister on the second floor of a three-story house at No. 45 Clinton Ave., New Brighton, Staten Island. For 20 years he has worked as boilermaker in a Standard Oil plant at Bayonne, N. J. Last week he announced that he intended to keep on working there, despite the $75,000 he had won with his 13th sweepstakes ticket. But he would probably buy a nice home with land for a lawn and garden. He had always lived in a flat and he was tired of it.