Ever watch a kid with his first pair of redtops? If you haven’t, you’ve missed half your life. And it you haven’t seen Cooney Werner with his on, you have missed the whole momentous era. They came, express prepaid, from Germany the other day, from an uncle who wished to present a token of remembrance to the nephew who bore the name of his brother. Cooney, or more properly speaking Conrad Junior, was the nephew, thereby the boots. Cooney’s pedal extremities would never accommodate themselves to Cinderella’s footgear, but the illustrious uncle wisely remembered the family characteristics—and the boots fit to a capital T.
Not only does the material show what the German can do with the American calf, but the workmanship of the German shoester would tend to make the quick-hurry American machines feel like a 10-cent peggin.-awl. What may have been the cost in the fatherland is a matter immaterial, but we notice a cheap imitation listed in a Chicago catalogue house at $14.99—the scent thrown off and the freight added. A dressmaker might describe the mouse-colored hue, the flap-doodle insertion and the bias trimmings—but you will never know what they are till you see ’em. After imparting all this information to the Enterprise reporter, Cooney left with the positive injunction that he would put the boots to the man who said anything detrimental to ‘us Yermans..
Source: Battle Creek Enterprise, Thursday, February 17, 1919, page 1.