The Saturday Evening Post 1930-04-05: Vol 202 Iss 40

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RDAY Fd | eel lin Volume 202, Number 40 APRIL 5,1930 _ | Ba he ty Cl ona Budington Kelland—Thomas Beer—Don Marquis—Sam Hellman ernie’ M. oon gaa F. Marcosson—Hamlin Garland—F. Scott Fitzgerald

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—_ es | Zi ee a . . LIKE TWO PENS CONVERTIBLE FOR DESK TAKE OFF POCKET CAP—PUT ON TAPER for the Price of One —a Pocket Pen on Going Out, and a Desk Pen on Arriving—Guaranteed for Life! If you buy a Parker Pocket Duofold you now can have a Desk Set without buying a second pen. Or if you buy a Parker Duofold Desk Set you also now receive a Duofold Pocket Pen guaranteed for life. Either way, you save the price of a second pen—$5, $7 or $10, according to the model. This epoch-making development is another achievement of Geo. S. Parker, who has introduced more important writing improvements than any other maker. By adding a tapered end, you conyert your Duofold Pocket Pen to a Desk Pen in 10 seconds. By removing the taper and putting on the Pocket Cap you restore it to a Pocket Duofold on leaving office or home. Thus every owner of a Parker Pocket Pen owns half a Desk Set. Getting a Desk Base completes it. We now include pen taper free with that. And to every buyer of a Parker Desk Set, we now give a Pocket Cap with Clip. Thus his Desk Pen is also a Pocket Pen—like 2 Pens for the price of one Set. So be sure to ask for the Pocket Cap with your Desk Set. Parker’s new Streamlined Duofold Pens (and Pen- cils to match) set lower in the pocket than others be- cause the clip starts at the top—not halfway down the cap. This smart balanced shape feels “at home” in the hand, and the heavy, hand-ground point writes with our famous 47th improvement—Pressureless Touch. Go see this revolutionary Convertible Duofold at any nearby pen counter. Then if you mail us the name of the store that showed it, we'll send you De Witt B. Lucas’ booklet—*“ Reading Character from Hand- writing.” It is sold by the author for 50c—but sent to you free by us. THE PARKER PEN COMPANY, Janesville, Wisconsin Offices and Subsidiaries: New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Buffalo, Dallas, San Francisco; Toronto, Canada; London, England; Heidelberg, Germany ‘5 7 10 é CONVERTIBLE FOR POCKET = Be Sure You Ask For Pocket (ap When You Buy a Desk Set Two Little Newcomers in the Parker Duofold Family Each nestles like a latch-key in pocket or handbag. The new Vest-Parker Duofold Pen Guaranteed for Life, $5; Pencils to match, $2.50. Gift box included in sets. Streamlined Shapes, sets low in pocket—greater ink capacity than average, size for size—Non- breakable Barrels of Jewel-like Permanite—smooth, hand-ground points ne 5 Rie + oe. —

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ane * 3 5 F é ‘ n+ owe. Big Ben base model in nickel finish or in beautiful colors, $3.50 .. . with luminous dials, $1.00 more. Other Westclox alarms as low as $1.50. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST rn Sig Sen Daily of the Westclox Family Wakes the Wor Id In every civilized land on the face of the globe; densely populated cities, rural districts . . . everywhere that being on time is of importance, people rely on Big Ben. Millions have found him as dependable as the sun. His friendly call speaks a “language” that is universally understood. To all nationalities it means but one thing: “Time to Wake Up!” Big Ben is attractive in design, in finish ... strictly modern and a quality alarm through and through. He is dustproof. His cheery alarm sounds on a back gong . . . rings steadily or repeats. His large handy keys are easy to wind. The graceful, felt-cushioned base makes him stand firm and solid. Precision built in every detail and squarely backed by a Two Year Gold Seal Service Guarantee issued by the manufacturer. Baby Ben, just like Big Ben only smaller, carries the same positive guarantee. There is a variety of other Westclox, all bearing the customary Westclox one year guarantee. Alarms, pocket watches and auto clocks . . . some with plain dials, others with luminous dials that tell time in the dark. The selection of any Westclox assures the utmost of real value for your money and lasting satisfaction. Prices slightly higher in Canada WESTERN CLOCK COMPANY, La Salle, Illinois, U.S.A, Factory Peru, Mlit Western Clock Co., Limited, Peterborough, Ont., Canada Westclo y A 5 . s Gy ALARMS en KET WATCHE UTO CLOCKS a AUTO CLOCKS WW)

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(Come into a beauty with 10,000,000 babies they will give you = advice “free! We've persuaded a few of America’s youngest bathing beauties to pose on this page for you—without pay! Perhaps you think it would be difficult for them to take grown-up problems seriously —especially com- plexions! Yet really they are among the most eminent living authorities on this very subject. All rosy and smooth and contented from their morning baths, they gurgle and squirm and kick. They display their whole and perfect complexions to any and all beholders. But this is sot mere vanity. This is their way of saying a very simple truth— “Ivory Soap-and-water is a perfect beauty treatment for very sensitive skins.” And you'll find that doctors everywhere \ know this simple truth, too. They prescribe Ivory Soap for sensitive grown-up complexions just as confidently as they recommend it for the care of peach-blossom babies. And this is their whole reason, packed in one sentence— cae IVORY SOAP - kind to everything it touches - 99 *%co% PURE © IT FLOATS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST conference “Only washing with a pure soap and water really cleanses the pores.” Naturally, they advise Ivory Soap because they know it is pwre. So, while you're doing all the other things that make for skin- beauty (such as drinking lots of water, taking brisk outdoor exercise and sleeping eight full hours each night) don’t forget that a daily thorough cleans- ing is every bit as important! Every night, let Ivory’s pure cloudlike foam clear away every trace of powder and rouge that tends to clog the pores. Then when your face feels so fresh and smooth and silken, you'll know why Ivory keeps ten million babies from having a single complexion worry! PROCTER & GAMBI.E Free—A little book oncharm. What kind of care for different skins? For hair, hands, figures? The “why” of wrinkles. Send a post card for On the Art of Being Charming, to Catherine Carr Lewis, Dept. VS-40, Box 1801, Cincinnati, Ohio. DOROTHY HOPE SMITH April 5,1930 a ad —

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od I Published Weekly The Curtis Publishing George Horace Lorimer EDITOR Thomes B. Costein, A.W. Nell, THE SATURDAY { Cc . Wesley Stout, B. ¥. Riddeli ompany Merritt Hulburd, W. Thornton Mastin, | Cyrus H. K. Curtis, President f \ ; j NING P O S ‘ T Associate Edhore 4 George H. Lorimer, First Vice-President Entered as Second-C less Matter, November 1h. 1575, Joha B. Willicme, Second Vice-President at the Post Office at Philede’ehie, Under Act of Merch 3.1879. Additions, Entry ot Columbus, ©., St. Louis, Mo.. Chicego, Hl, Indiana elisa, Ind... Seginew. Mich.. Des Moines, le.. Portland, Ore Milweuhee. Wis. St. Peul, Minn... Sen Francisco, Cal.,.NensesC ity, Mo., Sevennsh,.Ge.. Denver,Colw.. Louisville. Ny... Houston, Tex... Omeha. Neb..Ogden, Uteh Jech sonville, Fle. New Orleans, Le. Portiend, Me.. and Los Angeles. Cal Wolter D. Fuller, Second Vice-President and Secretary. Philip S. Collins, Second Vice-President and Treasurer Founded A°D' 1728 Sy Benj. Franklin Copyright. 1930, by The Curtis Publishing Company in the United States and Great Britain. Tithe Registered in U.S Patent Office and in Foreign Countries. Entered as Second-Cless Matter at the Post-Office Depertment, Ottewe, Can Fred A. Healy, Advertising Director Independence Square, Philadelphie Volume 202 Sc. THE COPY $2.00 BY Subscription S2 issues) PHILADELPHIA, PA., APRIL 5, 19350 Number 40 é ONEY By Clarence Budington Kelland TLLVUSTTRATEDO Br ORISOWN MACPHERSOWNH } } | | ‘‘Mister,"’ Said Jan, ‘if You'll Let Me Have Some Samples, I Can Get a Better Price for You Than You'd Get at the Auction" HOMAS JEFFERSON, newly elected President of a country which did not know _ achieved his eighteenth birthday and celebrated it by eating a dinner such as on! its nature or whither it was bound, walked in democratic fashion across the Dutch housewife could have purveyed. square to the unfinished Capitol and climbed the steps to the accompaniment of If one travels backward along the historical road of any eminent family, he will con a discharge of artillery. This was at noon on March 4, 1801. to a woman. In a surprisingly great r.umber of cases she wili be found to be t He entered the Senate chamber and was seated between Aaron Burr, Vice President, mother of the man who lays the foundation for his descendants’ splendor. | and John Marshall, new Chief Justice of the United States. Whereupon the high gods son upon whom the eye of the historian rests, but she is there, to be discerned in thy sniggered, because, had the world been combed for the like of these three, it would have shadows while her offspring stands in full illumination. The Van Horns, who have erecte: } been in vain. Possibly three men have lived who detested one another and distrusted a statue to Jan in the city of New York, would do well if they al mmissioned one another as these three highest dignitaries in the new administration did, but, if so, sculptor to carve Anneke from granite. But these latter-day Van Horns show scar the fact is unrecorded and unauthenticated. to boast of any ancestor before Jan—and even Jan might have behaved himself The President, shy and stiff of manner, sat awkwardly cornerwise in his chair, with to their satisfaction in his social conduct. one shoulder elevated high above the other. The Vice President, dapper, well able to Anneke spoke no English, though she understood the language in a measure. T! conceal his reflections under a seemly mask of dignity, awaited events. As for the was not uncommon to the Dutch of the patroonship of Van Rensselaerwick, as they great Chief Justice, it would have been entertaining to read his thoughts as he held out _ still called it, though it had become a manor long since, and now Was anorhal; the Book for the inaugural oath to this man whom he regarded as a demagogue, a Twenty-four miles up and down the River Hudson it extended, and forty-eight mile crooked politician and a breeding place for unsound theories of statecraft. Not auspicious, from west to east, and Stephen Van Rensselaer was lord of the manor one would say, for the immediate future of an infant republic which did not know what The little farm of the Van Horns, which they had held from time immemorial in a to do with its arms and legs—and much less with its head! strange sort of tenure which bore more resemblance to the feudal than to any modert On this date when the three mistrusting gentlemen enacted their sardonic comedy _ form, lay some ten miles from Albany, and it was Anneke and Jan who worked it, for in the Senate chamber, Jan Van Horn, son of Claas and Anneke, tenants of the patroon, Claas was almost as much of an anomaly as the patroonship itself e was a Dutchman

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4 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 > “In Twelve Months From the Day, You Shall Be Repaid,’* Said Jan, and His Mother Could Not Doubt Him. If He Promised, He Would Perform with the itching foot, a man lacking in stolidity and steadi- ness, who was content only when his feet pressed the open road. A peddier, Claas Van Horn, who had traveled as far as the New Hampshire Grants and to the flourishing towns of New England, and up and down the length of the river, with pack on back and news on lips. A roaming Dutch- man, sharp at a bargain, and versed in the intricacies of paper money. Which he had need to be, for the currency of the country was in such a state as never before was seen on land or sea, and happy the man who had hoarded in stocking or clock or under the soil of his garden a little store of hard money. For men were born and came of age without having possessed once in their lives a piece of gold or silver coin! Claas, 2 chunky man with broad, good-natured face and blue eyes not without shrewdness, pushed back his chair and walked to the window, through which he looked out at the wet, dreary, March landscape. Anneke nodded briskly to her son ‘Soon he will be on his travels,”’ she said. “There is no ice in the river,”’ Claas observed. “‘The winds dry the roads. In two weeks I start.” ‘Before the spring plowing,” said Anneke, with amused eyes. “Your father does not like the spring plowing.” ‘My answer to that, wife, is: Look in the clock. Is it full or empty? What neighbor,” he demanded, striding to the tall timepiece and pulling open its lower door, “‘ could re show you that, el The bottom of the clock was covered with loose cur- rency-—-bank notes from Boston, from New York, from Virginia, from here and from there—and Anneke nodded ‘We grow rich,” she said. Sut this,”’ exclaimed Claas, with the enthusiasm of a pecialist, almost of a collector, “is best."” He held up a small box and rattled it proudly. They—all three of them-—were well acquainted with its contents: Moidores, pieces of eight, guineas, shillings, even dollars. Metallic money of a value which did not change from day to day or from place to place. It seemed as if every coin which passed aus money in the ihfant republic was represented there. “These,”’ said Claas, ““you can trust, eh?”’ “Of the value of more than two hundred dollars,” said Anneke. “‘But those papers—ach!—they make my head ache.” “But I know them, every one,” Claas said proudly. “There is no merchant in Albany, no banker in Phila- delphia, knows them better than I. Seethis one. Its home is Boston. If you ask me, I tell you its value in New Haven or in New York or in Baltimore. I need no book. It is all here in the héad.” “Aye. But corn growing in the field will be grain in the bin,” said Anneke practically. ““And rent day comes, with the patroon to satisfy.” ““Some day we buy land,” said Claas. “From whom?” asked Anneke ironically. “‘From the patroon, maybe! Does he sell his land? Does a mother sell her babe?” Then Jan Van Horn spoke for the first time—a lad taller than his father by two inches, though that gave him no great height, with features not so round, but sharper in the angles, as were his mother’s, and eyes which were gray rather than blue. Not large eyes, but not small and greedy; rather pleasant in their keenness, but apt to set, to become cold with the coldness of polished steel when his mind was set and opposition presented itself. His hair was a curious shade, not fair, not red, but almost an orange in its color- ing. As he aged, his face would be broader at the base than across the eyes, for he was one to whom a heavy jaw had been given, with promise of jowls. ‘There are things to buy,”’ he said, “besides land.” “Eh?” asked his mother. “And what would you buy with my savings, son?”’ It is to be noted she said “my” savings, not “our” savings. ““Money is money,” said Jan sententiously. ‘How, then, does father make his profit? Is it by selling from his pack? No. I watch and listen when he comes home. His profit is from money.” “You speak true, my son,” said Claas. “He will sell a piece of cloth,”’ said Jan, “‘in Peekskill, but does he ask to be paid in bank notes of New York? No, he will take what is offered at a great discount. Boston notes, it may be. And these he lays aside until he reaches that part of the country where their value is almost what is printed on their faces. Then he will buy.” “True,” said Claas. “‘I make two profits—one on the merchandise I sell, but a bigger one on the currency I sell it for. I take in Pelham a dollar bill of Providence for 60 per centum of its value. I put it in my wallet, nor does it come out again until I am in Rhode Island. Then it comes out and it is worth, maybe, 90 per centum. Eh? So the clock fills itself.” “Van Horn: have been upon this land since the first patroon,” said Anneke, with troubled eyes. She was watching her son as she spoke, with a sort of bated anxiety, searching his plain face for indication of what thoughts exercised themselves behind his half-closed eyes. “Has it done the Van Horns good?” asked Jan. “Their stomachs have been full and a roof has covered them,” answered his mother. “But the patroon has taken the rest,’”’ he said without resentment. ‘“‘Me—I would rather keep what comes to me from my work than give it to the patroon.” “It is not well tospeak such thoughts abroad,” said Claas. “We can hire a man for the spring plowing,” said Jan, and then his mother knew that what she feared was true; she knew as well that there would be no changing it, for once her son’s mind was made and set, there was no turning him from his purpose. “Do you also travel with a pack?” she asked, not in the voice of one whose hopes had come to disaster, but cas- ually, bravely, accepting the inevitable. “I must listen to men talk,” Jan said. “About what, my son? About wars and women?” “About money,” said Jan. “The countinghouses are full of such talk,’”’ said Claas, with a sneer, “and the Congress in Washington is full of it, and the streets and wharves are full of it. But nobody knows.” “T shall know,” said Jan. “Then,” said his father tolerantly, ““you can run and tell Mynheer Gallatin how he should conduct the finances of this country.”

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 5 “When will you go, my son?” asked Anncke. Having accepted the fact of his departure, she did not plead with him, did not reason with him, or, most of all, did not command him. Her part was to speed his going, to give aid and comfort to lessen the discomforts and perils, and to contribute to his success. “When I have bought sails for my sloop,” he said, “and the river is fit.’’ Through the winter months Jan had been building the hull of a river sloop; an enterprise watched by his mother with apprehensions, but with pride. Upon it, her son had slaved. He was not afraid of work. No son of hers would be afraid of long hours or of toil. “And then?” she asked. “I shall sail to New York.” “To work in a countingroom?” “To be my own master,” said Jan. “I need my sails and I need one hundred dollars.” “For what, my son? It is a great deal of money.” “TI borrow it,” he said. “‘ You will lend it from the clock, and I will repay it in one year, with interest at the honest rate.” “But the man to plow and to plant the crop?” asked Anneke. “‘Also I will pay him,”’ said Jan, and his mother smiled. “Your ideas are not small. How will a boy earn so much money? Are you as skillful in buying and selling, in barter and trade, as your father, who has spent his life at it?” ‘In twelve months from the day, you shall be repaid,” said Jan, and his mother could not doubt him. If he promised, he would perform. That he had learned from her. “‘Give your word sparingly,” she had taught him. ‘Promise less than you can do, but never do less than you promise.”’ From early infancy that had been her word to him. To redeem his word, to pay what he owed on the hour! It was as much a part of him as the sturdy bones of his body or the sinews of his arms. “New York is a great city. How will you fare among so many strangers?” “Who,” said his father, men.” “Do I not speak English well?” asked Jan. “As well as any,” said his mother. “Why should I fear an Englishman?” Jan asked with a shrug, for in his heart he knew that the Dutchman was a better man than any other. That also had been taught him from birth. So it was that on the first of April, Mr. Jefferson having been President for a month and the Federalists already suffering from the bloodless revolution which had deprived them of power, Jan Van Horn provisioned his little s!oop amply for the voyage, kissed Anneke good-by, not without moisture in his gray eyes, and hoisted his sail. A tiny craft, Jan Van Horn’s first venture in affairs of navigation upon the great river! A beginning inconspicuous and not auspicious, but accompanied by sturdy self-confidence and followed by prayers. “are English and not Dutch- “Promise less than you can perform,” was Anneke’s last word to him, “but perform never less than you promise Be trusted, my son. The shirts are new and the stockings warm. God go with you.” With an oar he pushed out into the current-—that cur- rent which in years to come was to bear great ships pro- pelled by a power as yet undreamed of by him, which ships were to owe their being in large proportion to his vision, to his confidence in the future of steam and in the prosperity of the United States. A tiny sloop not thirty feet from stem to stern! A lad of eighteen years! Anneke Van Horn, standing dry-eyed upon the shore and waving her apron as long as the sail remained in view, could not guess at the significance of this voyaging. She could not foresee that this fledgling, not a little through the soundness of her ad- vice and the wholesomeness of her guidance, would grow, before her death, to be the most amazing financial genius of his era; that he, with two others, a German and an- other Dutchman, would accomplish more for the develop- ment of the United States, for its expansion territorially and commercially, in wealth and in world importance, than any dozen statesmen who can be named. These three, “4 Jan Van Horn, Cornelius Van der Bilt, now a lad Island much interested in the ferrying trade, and Johr Jacob Astor, who arrived in New York seventeen years on Stater before, with an argusy of seven flutes, were destined to mare Van der Bilt the bui adventurer, who, with a touch of statesmanship added to his forward side by side jer. Astor th acquisitiveness, might have been an empir: Van Horn the financier! builder, and Anneke waved her last adieu and returned slowly to her kitchen. Strict justice demands that her name be added to those of the trio of young men, and also that of Phoebe, the mother of young Van der Bilt. Three boys and two women! Each possessed of qualities which, combined wit! the opportunities of a marvelous and unexplored continent, wrought results which fall but little short of miracles iI OUNG Jan Van Horn sailed down the little craft, undiscouraged by the hours by April rains which wet him to the skin, or by contrary winds which compelled him to lay up on the shore for days at atime. He was not impatient; always he wait and to occupy his mind as he waited. He was un- conscious that to right and left of him as he progressed lay the most gracious flowering of aristocracy that ever had Hudson in his if adverse tide was able to come to blossom on this continent ar now in its ultimate phase and soon to disappear from the world Not even the aristocracies of Virginia and the Carolinas, which were to outlast it by more than half a century, could compare with it in grace, in dignity, and one usefulness. From the patroonship of Van Rensselaer on the north to Van Cortlandt Manor on the south and inward from the river fifteen to thirty miles, the countryside was studded with manor houses and residences of as splendid, and happy a cousinry as any country has ever Cousinry because for upward of a century aristocracy may say, in carefree contained Lnese jovial, hospitable, public-spirited quasi noblesse had intermarried so repeatedly that the region seemed populated by one big (Continued on Page 100 “t/a ‘“*Most Men,’’ Said Phabe, “Talk a Great Deal About Love, But a Very Little About Marriage"’

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6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Ji Kew Kind Word By BERNARD M. BARUCH S T*> inter-Ally debts to America, many, like myself, feel that loans which the Allies used for direct military operationsshould have been called a contribution to a common cause, and so forgiven. Some— critics abroad and apologists here—understand neither the spirit in which we entered the war nor our plans and effort to prosecute it. They insist that we should write off the whole debt in recognition of what they call the tardiness and unimportance of our effort. Finally, there are those who, hearing claim and counterclaim, may feel discomfort in the absence of certain knowledge of just what we did contribute to the conclusion of the war. This narrative is written for the benefit of all three classes. There was a period when we had no armies to send and ynly our dollars went to our Allies’ aid—literally to be burned up or otherwise expended for military purposes in the form of explosives, shells, guns, military transport, and like munitions. These things were hurled at a common enemy—whether by Amevican or Allied hands seems un- important. Because of this unimportance, I have never been able to distinguish our own later expenditure for these things from the outlay thus made by our associates out of money acvanced by us, except, perhaps, the legalistic dis- tinction that payment is “so nominated in the bond.” The latter phrase was the essential brief of Shylock’s fatal law- suit, and it has given rise to a rather common European comparison of us with that sour financier of Venice—not asto debts for munitions alone but also on the whole foreign loan. In Europe, and even at home, we frequently hear this broad indictment. There is much talk of balancing bur- dens, with a.clear implication that—relatively, at least— the war was a small matter with us; that it was our war from the first; that, in addition to escaping the heat and burden of the day, we somehow profited even while we were in the war, and vastly since; and, therefore, that it would be no less than fair for us to set the whole debt aside and forget it, as a tale that is told. In outpouring of blood and agony of spirit the Allies’ ordeal was many times more bitter than our own. For three terrible years they held in check an enemy that later became our common foe. All this we shall ever remember and respect, but to say that it makes the spirit and the —even worse—for letter of our effort matter for apology, or cARTOOWNMN ie HERBERT fiscal offset, carries an unpleasant suggestion that we did less than we ought to have done in the face of the enemy. Having had contemporary knowledge of the circum- stance of incurrence of these debts, and even some personal responsibility for what we did and stood ready to do in prosecution of the war, I know that if the facts can be adequately marshaled, we shall find much comfort in the array and may even hear less of Shylock from our friends across the sea. The sinews of war are five—men, money, materials, main- tenance [food] and morale. As we were coming inte the conflict, both Allied strategy and these elements of Allied strength were failing fast. The Central Powers, which, in 1915, had been almost completely ringed by a hedge of hostile steel, were systematically clearing three quadrants of the circle, with the declared purpose of an overwhelming and conclusive concentration on the Western Front in 1918. The Gallipoli attempt had failed. The Allied effort to create new and decisive fronts in the Balkans and the Near East promised nothing. On the other hand, Macken- sen had erased the Rumanian Army from the battle maps. Russia was no longer a military factor. In five months German submarines had strewn the wreckage of more than 3,000,000 tons of Allied shipping along the bottom of the sea, and there was no relief in sight. In October, 1917, came the catastrophe of Caporetto, which temporarily rendered Italy a strategic liability. The Allies had passed the peak of their man power. Their supplies were running low. Their credit was exhausted. The morale of their armies and of the civil populations supporting them was showing the effect of staggering losses. Says Ludendorff in his review of the war: The military situation was more favorable to us at New Year's, 1918, than one would ever have expected. We could think of deciding the war by an attack on land. Numerically, we had never been so strong in comparison with our enemies. pers meAICAN oa £ / Foop AND Fue, =) RATIONED — DIVIDED EQUALLY JOHNSON Fae ran ISNT Yo S$. PAID oy ON say oF wonay Wap 949, 100, 000,09 / " ctl sccas Zz, 7. ¥y 9900, 000 ian FOR . April 5,19350 Incle Sam The United States was distant by 3000 miles of submarine-infested sea. We were unorganized for war. No major oVer-sea military operations had ever been con- ducted so far from base, and high military authority doubted the practicability of such an attempt. Ocean transport was at a minimum and, as against the submarine, even Great Britain could not claim the mastery of the ocean lanes so essential to an over-sea campaign. It is in- contestably true that both friend and foe believed that we could do little more than strengthen the resources of the Allies in money, food and such products of our industries as we had hitherto suprlied. There was a later request that we send a few regular divisions as earnest of our effort, and also recruits to fight under Allied battle flags. They asked no more and in their early counsels they advised no more. Indeed, I think it not too much to say that there was a dis- tinct feeling among them against any effort on our part to create a great American army in France, because they thought the proposal impracticable and visionary. We were to lend then: money and sell them unlimited supplies. Our effective contribution was to be economic rather than military. It is heartening to recall the very different determination which seemed instantly and spontaneously to grip our whole country. I have never entertained a doubt that its inception and growth were largely due to the leadership of our great war President, Woodrow Wilson. He had held out for peace until there was no peace. When he at last reluctantly turned his face toward battle he revealed him- self as one of the greatest lords of war that ever trod the earth. His vision was accurate. His proclamations and state papers ring like brazen bugles. His profound knowledge cf the history of statecraft in war enabled him to avoid the great blunders of the past. His high purpose and in- flexible will pointed the path and led the nation along it in a single unfaltering march to victory. DER: S OSH HIN, = maT It ANNED ke IN cee JB 900; ig AMERICANS fitted hl lf? . A. : LOSI PD Pee DIGG, CIEL “7 47 >

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“Tt is not an army that we must shape and train for war; it isa nation,” he said, among other terse but wise and in- spiring things in his early proclamations and speeches. “The whole nation must be a team in which each man shall play the part for which he is best fitted. i “This is a war of resources. Men have thought of the United States as a money-getting people. Now we are going to lay all our wealth, if necessary, and spend all our blood, if need be, to show that we were not accumulating that wealth selfishly. “Every power and resource we possess, whether of men, of money, or of materials will continue to be devoted to our purpose until it is achieved. : “Germany has once more said that force shall decide. . There is, therefore, but one response possible from us: Force, force to the utmost, force without stint or limit, the righteous and triumphant force which shall make right the law of the world, and cast every selfish dominion down in the dust.” This was his interpretation of our motive, and this be- came the slogan of our effort. He avoided Lincoln’s early error of assuming the réle of military strategist. Yet he was a fierce protagonist of the doctrine of attack. He insisted on the North Sea mine barrage. To the Navy he said, “‘ You are not sent to avoid battle and to save ships. You are sent to destroy the ships of the enemy.” He was impatient of piecemeal assaults against the submarine menace. He demanded operations against their bases. ‘Run the rats to their holes and go in after them!” was his word to our sailors long before the gallant British attack on Zeebrugge. He was the first American to divorce politics from war- time military preferment. Professional fitness and not pull was his single rule for promotion. He espoused conscrip- tion fearlessly and immediately. He cast aside all outworn Civil War precedent and insisted on scientific perfec- tion in organization, administration and logistics of our armed forces. A mere mention of some happy war omis- new in our history—will briefly suggest organic re- forms with which none credits him: Ne political generals. sions 955099,0 Q ENAOLLED As | ARMISTICE Day j ? | 4727, 98% | PLANNED INCREASE To / FOO, goo. 19/3, O Amenican’ ‘TING CAbY AMERICANS . THE SATURDAY EVENING POST No draft riots. No military bounty or bonus. Expendi- ture of $49,000,000,000 without even one accusation of graft or peculation. No embalmed beef, misfit shoes, dud ammunition, shoddy uniforms, sleazy blankets, or tin bayonets. No failure of hospitalization or blundered ex- peditions. No typhoid, typhus or camp scourges, hitherto more deadly than bullets. And, above all—-so remarkable that it deserves a pan in itself—practical eradication of social diseases from an army for the first time in history and no return of recruits taken fresh-faced from home and returned a peril to themselves and their communities. No untrained levies under ignorant officers rushed to slaughter and shame, and no taint of scandal or incompetency in the whole conduct of the war. He had the leader’s gift for choosing men, an inspired ex- ecutive’s talent for outlining what he expected of them and for fitting their tasks into a codrdinated whole and, most important of all, he showed genius—rare even among the world’s greatest commanders—in leaving his chosen lieu- tenants alone with their tasks, except to support them against all annoyance by timid friends or jealous foes. The First Liberty Loan ERSHING’S letter of instructions was as broad as the Constitution, but it was also as concise and sufficient, and Pershing is witness that, through all the pulling and hauling of inter-Allied politics and military uncertainty, he felt the strong and constant hand of that great but little- understood man at his shoulder. It was the same with Hoover, Baker, McCormick, Daniels, Hurley, McAdoo, Garfield and the writer. From the day of the declaration of war to the day of the Armistice, there was no backward step. The ringing language was not empty oratory; it was a directing voice which organized and inspired the nation into a compact military and industrial unit more com- prehensively and accurately conceived for victory than that of any other nation engaged in the conflict. It is difficult to schematize any narrative of the progress of America’s conversion from a peaceful industrial com- munity to the most potent instrumen- tality for war the world has ever seen, but the alliterative prescription of , “*men, money, materials, maintenance food] and morale’ is more than merely facile; it is true. / j i Money was the first thing we could furnish When Congress met in April to declare war the Allies were close to the end of their fiscal resources. To some ex- tent, they had pooled their strength and, borrowing or buy- ing American securities owned by their own citizens, they had been able to get vast sums from our bankers by using these dollar securities as collateral. In this way Great Britain had borrowed more than $1,000,000,000 here, and France $774,000,000. The possibilities of further financing of this kind had dwindled to next to nothing. Asa high British authority is quoted: ***. the British Government, with commit- ments in the United States running into hundreds of mil- lions of pounds, was at the end of its tether. It had no means whatever of meeting them,” and again supplies of securities which could be used as collateral were becoming exhausted.” On April sixth we declared war. Five days afterward there was introduced in the House of Representatives a bill authorizing a bond issue of $5,000,000,000, of which $3,000,000,000 was specifically authorized to be extended as credits to Associated Powers. This was the first of the Liberty Loan Acts, under the terms of which our country was eventually to become a creditor to our war associates in an amount which, by November 15, 1927, had reached the tremendous total of nearly $12,000,000,000.t This is more than a quarter of the entire direct cost of the whole war to either Germany or Great Britain. It is also more than a quarter of the aggregate cost to all the Allied powers up to the day of our declaration. It is over half the cost of government of the United States from its inception through the year 1913, including the direct and continuing costs of all wars America ever fought, including the Civil War-—the cost of building through a century the very gov- ernmental structure which loaned this treasure. Though these crude yardsticks give some idea of the sum advanced to our Allies, the actual meaning of such great figures is beyond human comprehension. Looking back at April, 1917, one is impressed not only by the promptness with which we opened this vast un- secured credit —by all odds the largest transaction of that kind ever undertaken—but by the spirit in which this act was done. *The Inter-Ally Debts, Harvey Fisk. Letter from Ambassador Pag to President Wilson, May 4, 1917 t Ibid., p. 326 (Continued on Page 209)

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‘ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Josephine Sat Motionless for Some Minutes; Grief Was Suddenly Gone ”" REMEMBER your coming to me in despair when Josephine was about three!"’ cried Mrs. Bray. “George was furious because he couldn't find anything to do, so e used to spank little Josephine.” “T remember,” said Josephine’s mother. “And so this is Josephine.” This was, indeed, Josephine. She looked at Mrs. Bray and smiled, and Mrs. Bray's eyes hardened imperceptibly. Josephine kept on smiling. “How old are you, Josephine?’ “Sixteen.” “Oh-h. I would have said you were older.” At the first opportunity Josephine asked Mrs. Perry, “Can I go to the movies with Lillian this afternoon?” “No, dear; you have to study.” She turned to Mrs. Bray as if the matter were dismissed, but “You darn fool,”” muttered Josephine, just audibly. Mrs. Bray said some words quickly to cover the situa- on, but, of course, Mrs. Perry could not let it pass pub- icly unreproved “What did you call mother, Josephine?” ‘I don’t see why I can’t go to the movies with Lillian.” Her mother was content to let it go at this. ‘Because you've got to study. You go somewhere every lay, and your father wants it to stop.” ‘How crazy!” said Josephine, and she added vehe- mently, “How utterly insane! Father's got to be a maniac, I think. Next thing he'll start tearing his hair and think he’s Napoleon or something.” “No,” interposed Mrs. Bray jovially as Mrs. Perry grew crimson. “Perhaps she’s right. Maybe George is crazy I'm sure my husband's crazy. It’s the war.” But she was not really amused; she thought Josephine vught to be beaten with sticks. They were talking about Anthony Harker, a friend of Josephine’s older sister. “He's divine,” Josephine interposed—not rudely, for, lespite the foregoing, she was not rude; it was seldom even that she appeared to talk too much, though she lost her temper and swore sometimes when people were unrea- sonable. “He's perfectly a “He's very popular. Personally I don’t see very much to him. He seems a little superficial.” “Oh, no, mother,” said Josephine. ‘‘He’s far from it. Everybody says he has a great deal of personality—which s more than you can say of most of these country jakes. Any girl would be glad to get their hands on him. I'd marry him in a minute.” She had never thought of this before; in fact, the phrase had been invented to express her feeling for Travis de Coppet. When, presently, coffee was served, she excused herself and went to her room. It was a new house, but the Perrys were far from being new people. They were Chicago society, and almost very rich, and not uncultured as things went in that city in the year 1914. But Josephine was an unconscious pioneer of the generation that was destined, by all the forces of Amer- ican life, to get out of hand. In her room she dressed herself for going to Lillian’s house, thinking meanwhile of Travis de Coppet and of rid- ing home from the Davidsons’ dance last night. Over his tuxedo, Travis had worn a loose blue cloak he had from an old-fashioned uncle. He was tall and thir, an exquisite dancer, and his eyes had often been described by female contemporaries as “very dark’’—to an adult it appeared that he had two black eyes, in the collisional sense, and that probably they were justifiably renewed every night. The area surrounding them was so purple, or brown, or crimson, that they were the first thing you noticed about his face, and, save for his white teeth, the last. Like Josephine, he also was something new. There were a lot of new things in Chicago then, but lest your interest be di- vided, it should be remarked that Josephine was the newest thing of all. Dressed, she went down the stairs and through a softly opening side door, out into the street. It was October and a bare wind blew her along under trees without leaves, past houses with cold corners, past caves of the winds that were the mouths of residential streets. From that time until April, Chicago is an indoor city, where entering by a door is like going into another world, for the cold of the lake is un- friendly and not like real northern cold—it serves only to accentuate the things that go on inside. There is no music outdoors, or love-making, and even the wealth that rolls by in limousines is not glamorous, but only embittering to those on the sidewalk. But in the houses there is a deep, warm quiet that is peaceful, or else an excited, singing noise, as if people were inventing things like new dances. That’s what people mean when they say they love Chicago, and one argues with them incredulously. Josephine was, indeed, going to meet her friend Lillian Hammel, but their plan did not include going to the movies. In comparison to it, their mothers would have preferred the most objectionable, the most lurid movie. It was no less than to go for a long auto ride with Travis de Coppet and Howard Page, in the course of which they would kiss not once but a lot. The four of them had been plan- ning this since the previous Saturday, when certain unkind circumstances had combined to pre- vent its fulfillment. Travis and How- ard were already there—not sitting he down, but still in : their overcoats, like symbols of action, a hurrying the girls i. breathlessly into the 4 future. Travis hada ‘ fur collar on his over- coat and carried a ‘ & gold-headed cane; he kissed Josephine’s | hand facetiousiy yet seriolisly, and she said “Hello, Travis!” with the warm af- fection of a politician greeting a prospective voter. But for a min- ute the two girls exchanged news aside. “IT saw him,’ Lillian whispered, “just now.” “Did you?” Their eyes were like blazing windows across a court of the same house. Isn’t he divine?” said Josephine. They were referring to Mr. Anthony Harker, who was twenty-two years old and unconscious of their existence, save that in the Perry house he occasionally recognized Josephine as Constance’s younger sister. “He has the most beautiful nose,” cried Lillian, suddenly laughing. “‘It’s ——-’”’ She drew it on the air with her finger and they both became hilarious. But Josephine’s face composed itself as Travis’ two black eyes, conspicuous as if they had been freshly made the previous night, peered in from the hall. “Well!” he said tensely. The four young people went out, passed through fifty bitter feet of wind and got into Page’s car. They were all very confident and knew exactly what they wanted. Both girls were expressly disobeying their parents, but they had no more sense of guilt about it than an English airman es- caping from a German prison camp. In the back seat, Josephine and Travis looked at each other; she waiting, he burning darkly. “Look,” he said to his hand. It was trembling. “Up till five this morning. Girls from the Follies.” April 5,1950 By F. Scott Fitzgerald ILLUSTRA TEDO Br #. R. BALLINGER “Oh, Travis!” she cried automatically, but for the first time such a communication failed to thrill her. She took his hand, wondering what was the matter with herself. It was quite dark outside, and he bent over her suddenly, but as suddenly she turned her face away. Annoyed, he gave several cynical nods of his head and lay back in his corner of the car. He became engaged in cherishing his dark secret— the secret that always made her yearn toward him. She could see it come into his eyes and fill them, down to the cheek bones and up to the brows, but she could not concentrate on him. The romantic mystery of the world had moved into another man. Travis waited ten minutes for her capitulation; then he tried again, and with this second approach she saw him for the first time in her life. It was enough. Josephine’s imag- ination and her desires were easily exploited up to a certain point, but after that her very impulsiveness protected her. Now, suddenly, she found something real against Travis, and her low voice was modulated with sorrow. “T heard what you did last night,” she said. “I heard very well.” ““What’s the matter?” “You told Ed Bement you were in for a big time because you were going to take me home in your car.” “Who told you that?” he said guiltily, but belittlingly. “Ed Bement did, and he told me he almost hit you in the face when you said it. He could hardly keep restrain- ing himself.” Once more Travis retired to his corner of the seat. He accepted this as the reason for her coldness, and in a meas- .ure it was. In view of Doctor Jung’s theory that innumer- able male voices argue in the subsconscious of a woman, Anthony Was the Object of the Saddestand Most Tragic Re: gard That Had Ever Been Di:« rected Upon Him and even speak through her lips, then Ed Bement, a patient and virtuous admirer, was speaking through Josephine then. “I’ve decided not to kiss any more boys, because I won't have anything left to give the man I really love.” “Bull,” replied Travis succinctly. “No, it’s true. There’s been too much talk already around Chicago about me. A man certainly doesn’t re- spect a girl he can kiss whenever he wants to, and I want to be respected by the man I’m going to marry some day.”

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Ed Bement would have been indeed overwhelmed had he realized the extent of his dominance over Josephine that afternoon. Walking from the corner, where they discreetly left her, to her house, Josephine felt that agreeable lightness which comes with the end of a piece of work. She would be a good girl now forever, see less of boys, as her parents wished, try to be what Miss Benbower, at her private school, called an Ideal Benbower Girl. Then next year, at Breerly, she could be an Ideal Breerly Girl. But the first stars were out over Lake Shore Drive, and all about her she could feel Chicago swinging around its circle at a hundred miles an hour, and Josephine knew that she only wanted to want that, for her soul’s sake. Actually, she had no desire for achievement. Her grandfather had had that, her parents had had the consciousness of it, but Josephine accepted the proud world into which she was born. This was easy in Chicago, which, unlike New York, was a city state where the old families formed a caste, intellect was represented by the university professors, and there were no ramifications—save that even the Perrys had to be nice to half a dozen families even richer and more impor- tant than themselves. Josephine loved to dance, but the field of feminine glory—which is to say, the ballroom floor—was something you slipped away from with a man. As she came to the iron gate of her house, she saw her sister for a moment, and a young man; then the front door closed and the man came down the steps. She knew who he was. He was abstracted, but he - recognized her for just a mo- ‘i ment in passing. ii “Oh, hello,” he said. She turned all the way round { so that he could see her face by the street lamp, lifted her face | out of her fur collar and toward him, and then smiled. “Hello,” she said modestly. They passed. “Well, now he knows what I look like, anyhow,” she told herself as she went on into the house. i EVERAL days later Constance Perry spoke to her mother about a se- rious matter: “Josephine is so conceited that I really think she’s a littie crazy.” “‘She’s very con- ceited,”” admitted Mrs. Perry. “Father and I were talking, and we decided that after the first of the vear she'll go East to school. But you're not to saya word about it until we know more defi- nitely.”’ “Heavens, mother, it’s none too soon! She and that terrible Travis de Coppet run- ning around with his cloak as if they were about a thousand years old. They came into the Blackstone last week and my spine crawled. They looked just like two mani- acs—Travis slinking along and Josephine twisting her mouth around as if she had St. Vitus dance. Honestly ——” “What did you begin to say about An- thony Harker?” interrupted Mrs. Perry. “Well, she’s got a crush on him, and he’s about old enough to be her father.” “Not quite.” “Mother, he’s twenty-two and she’s six- teen. Every time she and Lillian go by him, they giggle and stare ——”’ ““Come here, Josephine,”’ said Mrs. Perry. Josephine came into the room slowly and leaned her backbone against the edge of the opened door, teetering upon it calmly. It Was a Smile and Not a Smile—Two Big Gray Eyes With Bright Triangles of Color Under Them, and a Mouth Twisted Into a Lovely Pity That Seemed to Include Both Him and Her: self THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “What, mother?” “Dear, you don’t want to be laughed at, do you?” Josephine turned sulkily to her sister. “‘Who laughs at me? You do, I guess. You're the only one that does.” “You're so conceited that you don’t see it. When you and Travis de Coppet came into the Blackstone that afternoon, my spine crawled. Everybody at our table and most of the other tables laughed—the ones that weren’t shocked.” “T guess they were more shocked,” guessed Josephine complacently. “You'll have a fine reputation by the time you come out.” “Oh, shut your mouth!” said Josephine. There was a moment’s silence. Then Mrs. Perry whis- pered solemnly, “I'll have to tell your father about this as soon as he comes home.” “*Go on, tell him.” Suddenly she began to cry. “Oh, why can’t anybody ever leave me alone? I wish I was dead.” Her mother stood with her arm around her, saying, “ Josephine—now, Josephine”; but Josephine went on, not hysterically but with deep, broken sobs that seemed to come from the bottom of her heart. “Just a lot—of ugly and jealous girls who get mad when anybody looks at me, and make up all sorts of stories that are absolutely untrue, just because I can get anybody I want. I suppose that Constance is mad about it be- cause I went in and sat for five minutes with Anthony Harker while hewas waiting last night.” “Yes, I was terribly jealous,” said Constance sar¢ tically. “I sat up and cried all night about it. Especiall because he comes to talk to me about Marice Whaley Why, you got him so crazy about you in that five minutes that he couldn’t stop laughing all the way to the Warrens.” Josephine drew in her breath in one last gasp and stopped crying. “If you want to know, I’ve decided to give him up,” she said. “Ha-ha!” ' Constance exploded. “Listen to that, mother! She’s going to give him up—as if he ever looked at her or knew she was alive! Of all the conceited ~ But Mrs. Perry could stand no more. She put her arm around Josephine and hurried her to her room down the hall “‘ All your sister meant was that she didn’t lik laughed at,” she explained. “Well, I’ve given him up,” said Josephine gloomily She had given him up, renouncing a thousand kisses she had never had, a hundred long, thrilling dances in his arms a hundred evenings not to be recaptured. She did not men- tion the letter she had written him last night and had not sent, and now would never send. “You mustn’t think about such things at your age,” Mrs. Perry said. “ You're just a child.” Josephine got up and went to the mirror “TI promised Lillian to come over to her late now.” Back in her room, Mrs. Perry thought: “Two months to February.” She was a pretty woman who wanted to be loved by everyone around her, and there was no power of governing in her. She tied up her mind like a neat package and put it in the post office with Josephine inside it, safely addressed to the Breerly School. An hour later, in the tea room at the Blackstone Hotel, Anthony Harker and another young man |! e lo see you I’m , nouse lingered at table. Anthony was a happy fellow, lazy and rich enough, and mildly pleased with his own current popularity. After a brief career in an Eastern university, he had gone te a famous college in Virginia and in its less exigent shadow completed his education. At least, he had absorbed there certain courtesies and mannerisms which Chicago girls found charming. “There's that terrible Travis de Coppet,” his companion had just remarked. “‘ What's he think he is, anyhow?” Anthony looked remotely at the young people across the room, recognizing the little Perry giri and several other young females whom he seemed to have encountered with some frequency in the street of late. Although obviously much at home here, they seemed to him a little silly and loud; presently his eyes ieft them and searched the room for a party he was due to join for e dance, but he was still sitting there when the room — it was of a twilight quality, in spite of the lights within and the full dark outside—livened to con- fident and exciting music. A thickening parade drifted past him. The men in sack suits, as though they had just come from portentous affairs, and the women in hats, as though they were about to take flight, gave a special impermanence to the scene. This implication that this gathering, uncalcu- lated, clandestine and free, would shortly be broken up into formal series, made him its iast mu anxious to seizé utes, and he looked more and more intently into the cr for the face of anyone he knew One face emerged sudder around a man’s upper arm five feet awa) {fora ment Anthony was the ect of the saddest and most trag regard that had er been d rected up nnin It was a smile and not a smile-——two big gray eyes wit! rignt tmangies of color under them, and a mout! twisted into a lovely pity that seemed to include thhimanad herself, yet, w thal, the expre sion not of a victim, but rather f the very demon of tender melar the first time he reaily saw Josephine Continued on Page 81

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10 THE

band, Hugh Cass. One might think there could be no more conventional way to meet a lady. But Sally managed at once to give the meeting a touch of the unusual and the informal without half trying ‘This is Mr. Wadleigh, Sally,” said Cass, as I came, puffing and panting, with him into their living room. I FIRST met Sally through her hus- It was the sweetest voice and the most musical giggle imaginabie, but there was a flicker in the girl’s brown eyes which d showed that it was a deliberate comment on my gait. I have no doubt that I was waddling. I am short and stout, and I had just toiled after the long-legged Cass up four flights of steep French stairs. Their apartment was at the top of a house in the Cour du Dragon, a picturesque re- mainder of an older Paris—indeed, across the street was a building in which D’Artagnan and some of his companion musketeers had stabled their horses, and the place was old even in D’Artagnan’s day; the hétel at one corner had been the town house of a noble of Louis XI’s un- easy court. “The name is Wad-leigh, not Waddle,” said Hugh Cass, with a precise dignity which verged upon anger. “Howdy, Mr. Waddle—ee!” said Sally, with the grin of a gamine. Cass had taken her by surprise. She was standing on a chair, when he burst in upon her, fixing with thumb tacks a water- color sketch over an ugly scar high up on the wall. She made me a curtsy like a child’s, and the rickety chair curtsied with her danger- ously. Having accomplished this demurely acrobatic feat, she jumped lightly to the floor with a swish of bobbed hair and slender legs. “Mr. Gerald Wadleigh, the nov- elist,”” insisted Cass, making the further presentation an added re- buke. The bridge of his high nose was red with vexation, “Why not Waddle?” said Sally, refusing to be rebuked. The grin on the creature’s vivid face turned to a smile as sweet as her voice, as she gave me her slim hand, and from that instant I was her slave. There was something in the girl’s quality that made me not only par- don her rudeness but want more of it, as if it were 2 sauce to cook- ery. The truth is, I felt compli- mented. I was forty and fat and bald, and this child—she looked seventeen and was actually nineteen at that time— had immediately taken me into a kind of impudent comradeship. After one frank, appraising stroke of her eyes, she had assumed that I was a good enough fellow to laugh over being called Waddle. I liked it; it took fifteen yeats off me mentally in an instant. But Hugh Cass scowled. ““Sally!"’ he cried. No one could have liked his voice. It lashed. She had obviously been about to give him a wel- coming kiss, but his tone and manner struck the intention from her. “Don’t be a stuffed shirt all the time, Mr. Hugh Cass!” she flared. “‘Can’t you ever forget you’re a great man and a great genius, and just be ordinary folks now and then?” it was too hard a blow. It struck Cass right where he lived. They stood and sulked at each other. But she was hardly done speaking before she was sorry. Her flare-up came from nothing deeper than a hurt that vould have been obliterated at once if he had gone and put an arm around her. But he did not. His anger grew. Stuffed shirt! The blithe, direct American slang crys- tallized for me all my doubts about Cass. I had known him a couple of months, and had been attracted to him by his appearance and his enthusiasms, and it had interested me to study one of my countrymen in that strange transitional ‘Mr. Waddle?” said Sally, and giggled. y;

“I Read One of Your Stories Last Week That Was Just as Lovey:Dovey as That Too!"’ stage toward a pseudo-Europeanism which so many with an artistic bent experience. For Cass was one of those Americans living abroad who have not yet made up their minds whether they are to be born again as French or as English. He had a French beard and he had an English accent, both a little too carefully cultivated. He was the son of a respectable upstate New Yorker who ran a grocery store, was proud of him, and sent him a check every month. But Cass—though accepting the check—shud- dered away from the paternal grocery store, from his bourgeois beginnings, from his early fame as class poet at a fresh-water college; he was beginning to shudder away from America generally. Nevertheless, he had shown me some verse and prose sketches that made me think the stuffing behind the shirt was not altogether cotton waste. He was big and hand- some, and although he was not yet thirty, he appeared to know more about all the arts than anyone who has ever lived, including Leonardo da Vinci, whom he generously approved. He talked artistic modernism with an elo- quence and fervor and, frequently, with a charm that must have convinced me if I had been able to understand what he was talking about. Why he bothered with me I was at first un »le to determine, for I make my living turning out mystery stories, detective tales, and sentimental he-and- she romances of adventure—everything Hugh Cass was SATURDAY EVENING POST TNA Wee | —

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I fell for him because he packed such a swell vocabulary. Waddle, you must have heard that big boy there make the parts of speech lie down and roll over and jump through colored hoops! The dictionary is just a tank full of trained seals for Hugeous, and ——” But the expression on Cass’ face was such that even Sally had to stop. She was swiftly remorseful again, and again she ran to him, and again he repudiated her. “Oh, big boy,” she cried, “you know I wouldn’t really hurt you for a billion berries!” Cass turned to me with the beginning of a sonorous apol- ogy, and his air toward both Sally and myself was more patronizing than anything Augustus Cesar, Doctor John- son and Mussolini, rolled into one, could have managed. “See here, Mr. Hugh Cass!” cried Sally. “If you're going to beg his pardon for the way I act, I'll crown you— I'll crown you with this samovar!” She reached for it. Since it was going to be used for that domestic purpose, rather than its more genial function of tea making—Cass had asked me home to tea with him—I thought the time had really come for me te go away from there. I heard the sweet brat’s voice rising into something like a wail as I went down the stairs—she was once more begging for forgiveness—and was tempted to go back. As I emerged into the cobbled street and glanced across at the place where the musketeers had stabled their horses, I re- flected that were I D’Artagnan, it would be the simplest thing in the world to whistle up Porthos or one of the other homicidal bullies and carry the girl off—her husband didn’t seem to want her very badly, anyhow. But this is the twentieth century—whatever that means—and I was not D’Artagnan; I was merely a bald, fat writer of lowbrow fiction. I sighed and mopped that brow, and went on. Just why Sally did not strike me as too rude to sigh over, as hundreds of her unlessoned sisters might, is something that I cannot explain. In one glimpse I had seen enough impertinence displayed to accouter a dozen militant flap- pers, but I have never been able to explain Sally, or to miti- gate her, or to excuse her, or to do anything but adore her. But I couldn’t understand why Cass himself should be so excessively annoyed. He wasn’t, I knew, when he found slang and spicy candor and rudeness among the women of his own little group of satellites; those qualities were all a part of the pose which they professed. But Sally got his THE SATURDAY EVENING POST And he could not forgive her for it. He didn’t even try. The fact that she loved him devotedly seemed only to irritate him more. I suppose Cass was already seeing himself as a celebrity at this time, and trying to fit Sally into his picture of what a celebrity’s wife should be, and Sally refused to fit in. A couple of weeks after our first meeting, I met her again by chance. She was sitting alone on a bench in the Luxem- bourg Gardens, sketching, and she hailed me cheerily. “Come and feed the pigeons, Waddle,” she said. “I want to make a sketch of a fat man feeding pigeons.” I posed for her, and she chuckled as she worked. When she showed me the sketch, I was obliged to confess that she had taken a good deal of liberty with me. She had drawn me as an egg, surrounded by a dozen pigeons, all bigger than the egg, who were looking with fondness at me—the egg was quite recognizable as me, for she had unmistakably endowed it with my features, and you knew that when that egg moved, it would move with my rolling gait. It brought home to me a little more clearly than I quite liked what my general shape is and how bald I am. The pigeons were all regarding the egg with a look that was the very essence of saccharine pride; they were proprietory and doting, and had the air of a bevy of Victorian aunts looking at the family hope. She had written under the sketch: Such a Good Little Egg! “You are, you know, Waddle,” she said. And then, with a devastating simplicity: “I read one of your stories last week that was just as lovey-dovey as that too!”’ She laughed and gave me a fugitive little pat on the sleeve. “Don’t get sore,” she said. “ Lots of people like that kind of tripe!” While I rubbed my head that it was naked to the fond glances of cooing doves accomplished one of her quick transitions of mood. “Ikey the Agent is dead,”’ she said. “He used to speak of you.” “Did you know Ikey?” I exclaimed. “Know him!” said she. “Why, that dear old Yid prac- tically brought me up—not that I ever was brought up.” Ikey used to be an institution in New York; he sold tons of thrillers, which he never read, to sensational magazines. He looked a little like Punch and a little like Walter Hampden made up for Shylock, but I think he was the goat, as she would have said herself. I should always feel afterward she most charitable man, Gentile or Jew, that I have known. His specialty was getting hold of broken-down newspapermen, discarded failures, taking them to his hous« on the Brooklyn water front, feeding them, resting them, instructing them how to write salable stuff, and handling their subsequent output as literary agent. He stable of wind-broken horses. ful, sometimes they were not; some of them even beat him out of their board bills. [key was the last hope of the des- perate, and he did his kind deeds simply and secretly. I have seen a story written between nine A. M. and three Pp. M. under Ikey’s auspices, sold and paid for before five Pp. M. and the entire proceeds lost at poker before midnight Ikey sold my first story, nearly twenty years ago, and I had always kept in touch with him since, but it had been years since I had visited his home. evel kept “4 Sometimes they were grate- “Poor old Woof-woof,” said Sally, giving Ikey one of hi: several nicknames. “They finally peeled the house off of him, too, before he cashed in.” She had lived five or six years at Ikey’s house. “The formative years of my life,” she told me with a self- satirizing grin. “One hell of a milieu for a jeune fille, what? “My old man died there when I was ten years old,” she explained simply. “T Band hooch. Old Ikey Woof-woof buried him and staked me to the eats. If it hadn't been for Ikey, I’d have gone plumb to Hades. But I scoffed and dossed there, and I learned to cook and mix drinks and wait on the table—I started in life dealing them off the arm. And that bunch of hamstrung has-beens knew al! about the fine arts, too, believe me, kid. They'd seen "em from the underside! Sometimes I wish I was back there listening to that outfit wrangling over how to write and draw —and helping Mrs. Ikey roast the goose fer the Sun- day dinner. We always turned on the phonograph and danced when I came in with the cocktails. We used to get bill collectors soused and have 'em stay to dinner and bor- row what money they had. It wasn’t Ritzy society stuff, Waddle, but it was friendly. Poor old Woof-woof!” She wiped her eyes, childlike, on the back of her hand I began to understand her better—her habits of speech and her direct, flippant attack. “I loved that buch,” sighed; “‘and I was everybody's little sister—I was raised she (Continued on Page 88 **Suppose it is Bad Work—it’s Work, Anyhow—and I Never Heard of Any of You Wise-Crackers Doing Any!"

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12 THE LL BRIDGE I Do Myself Rather Well on the Next Deat and Bid Three No«Trump. I Make it, Too, But it Would Have Been a Sad Story for Me if Brice Hadn't Muffed the Message Behind Y DEAR!” gasps Olivia. “Are you M intimating that the Streeters cheat at bridge?” “Of course they do,” I returns, “but they don’t know it. Two folks playing together as long as they have can’t help cheating. To them, every hesitation, every lip move- ment, every flick of an eyelid’s a signal painted on a white- washed fence in black letters ten feet high. Luke can tell in an instant whether Sadie’s three-heart bid’s a push-over, a gamble with the milk money, ora leap out on a limb for a force-up.”” “Maybe they do understand each other,” says the missis, ‘‘but there’s no law against that, is there?” “No,” I admits. “Any set game’s bound to become technically crooked after a while. That’s why practically every club compels the boys and girls to pivot.” ‘Perhaps,” suggests Olivia, “if you were to study me and my moods a bit raore ai “Wouldn't do any good,” I cuts in. “The Streeters can play rings around us to begin with, and besides, have too long astart. By the time we got as intimate with our inner thoughts as they are, the sheriff’d be out on the porch auctioning off the bird’s-eye-maple bedroom set.” “Well,” says the frau, “we can’t play against each other. There’s no percentage in that.” “True,” I comes back, “but where’s the pretty, pretty percentage in putting the bee on the bank roll for Luke Streeter and his sister? They’re not our friends any more— they're paid companions. Fifty-eight dollars last week, nearly seventy tonight, and there’s no telling when they’ll up and ask for a raise in salary.” “Our luck’ll turn,” predicts Olivia. “Yeh,” I grunts. “It’s been turning for six months now —like a pneumatic drill, getting us deeper and deeper in the hole. I’m afraid we'll have to pass ’em up and pick on somebody our size.” “How do you get that “I know more about forgotten our size?” demands the missis. contract than Sadie Streeter’s I mean One of Sadie’s Discards “Never mind what you mean,” I interrupts. “That eighteen-hundred-point wallop you took on the chin’s the tip-off.” “TI wouldn’t have been set at all,”’ she snaps, “if you’d "ve displayed as much intelligence as a gnat. The idea of you taking me out with only four spades to the queen!” “I was trying to show you weakness,” says I. “You don’t have to show me weakness, ever!"’ shoots over Olivia. “I can always see that just by looking at you.” “Even so,” I returns, sarcastic, “‘you can’t go to six hearts on my retreating chin and watery eyes. Anyhow, I’m through being a pay roll. If you want to play with the Streeters, get yourself another partner. I hear there’s an agency in town that supplies companions for lonely women.” “T think I'll try it,”’ says she. “Even if they send me a backward Eskimo, it’ll be so much velvet. He'll know enough, at any rate, not to lead me a club when I’ve been discarding high diamonds for an hour.” “Probably,” I agrees, “when he once fathoms your quaint device of discarding from fright or from a feeling that the Swiss tariff on Irish lace’s unfair to Uruguay. I.couldn’t tell by your sloughs this evening whether you wanted a diamond or a pair of onyx earrings.” “Of course you couldn’t, you dear,”’ coos Olivia. “‘That’s why you played a spade you'd reneged on and let Sadie get rid of the losing club that’d have set her.” “Oh, all right,” I growls. “Have it my way, but ——’ “Pardon me for intruding my aged personality at this point,” remarks Uncle Joe Brice, “but how long does this go on as a rule?” “Hours and hours. This hut’s pointed out by the sight- seeing busses as The House of a Thousand Post-Mortems.” “Do you have to play bridge?” inquires Brice. “No,” I replies, “‘I don’t have to. I do it naturally and with considerable skill, but that niece of yours is un- doubtedly ——” SATURDAY EVENING POST By SAM HELLMAN ILLUSTRATED April 5,1950 BY CHARLES LASSELL “Undoubtedly,” cuts in Uncle Joe. “but you never seem to notice it when you come home with the loot. You folks were probably taken tonight because you didn’t have the tickets—or don’t you have to have ’em in contract?” “The papers and the child’ll do you no harm,” says I “but it takes more than mere cards and spades to get the message to Garcia in this pastime. A pair of slickers’ll make a grand slam and the rent money out of the same lay- out that a couple of retailers wouldn’t get to first base with. You get only what you bid for in contract, and what you bid depends on the information you trade over the table.” “IT should imagine,” observes Brice, “‘that Olivia would make an excelient partner. She was never what you would call a reticent child ——-” “Says you and says me!”’ I interjects. “There never was a chattier chit, but it doesn’t help my heart make any to learn that Annabel Miffle’s do- mestic affairs have gone tabloid. What I want’s the scandal about her hand.” “Lots of good it’d do you,” sniffs the little lady. “T could draw it in pictures or put it in Braille and still it’d mean no more to you than a Mozart ma- zurka would to a deaf-mute Digger Indian. I cer- tainly did you a dirty trick, uncle, when I made you an in-law to this.” “That’sall right,” declares the big-hearted Brice. “The Seven Sutherland Sisters didn’t know any- thing about contract, either, but they still had beautiful hair. Pete may yet work out to be an in- dulgent husband and a credit to the community at large.” “IT wish he was at large,” says Olivia. “As far as I’m concerned, he’ll never be anything but a symptom of something chronic.” “Yeh,” I grunts. “A chronic casualty of your misplays.” “Better pipe down, you two,” suggests the elder statesman. “Remember the woman out West who shot her husband over a bridge hand?” “Well and favorably,” returns my wife. picks this as a good spot for a detour. “For my weight and age,” says he, “I used to wave a pretty red flag in auction, but contract’s a mystery to me ——” “You and Pete,” chimes in Olivia. “How,” inquires Brice, “would you like to teacl me the pastime—this greatest of American indoo: spats?” ““Sure,”’ I comes back. “T laugh immoderately,” announces the wife. “If you really want to learn the game, I’m the ——”’ “T laugh immoderately, doubled,” says I. “You don’t want to take lessons in revoking and leading out of turn, do you?” “‘Suppose,”’ offers Uncle Joe, “you both take me on. One of you can teach me the dance routine and the other the dialogue. After I get the hang of the game I'll cut in when you’re playing the Streeters. That'll bust up a lot of per- fect understandin:;s, and some not so perfect, and, besides, bring a glow of peace and benevolence to the bridge table. You might even win enough from me to ——” “But,” demurs Olivia, “I don’t want to take money from you.” “Don’t you worry,” says Brice, pulling her to his lap. “Anything I lose means only so much less residue for my residuary legatee, once you've buried me with simple honors.” Brice mu HE following Tuesday we again play with the Streeters, and we’re once more taken to the cleaners in a big way. Luke and his sister run shoestrings into tanneries by dovetailing their bids, while Olivia and I don’t get together as often as a couple of Australian sheep herders. There’s some difference of opinion as to where the fault lies, but at two in the morning the responsibility’s still unfixed. That night Uncle Joe shows up for his lesson. “Now, listen,” says he. “I’m here for contract, not con- flict. I’ve kept unmarried for a purpose. Please respect that purpose. All I want from you is the rules and regula- tions of the game, the simple rudiments that even you agree upon. There are some, aren’t there?” “The merest handful,” I returns, “but you can count upon a peaceful and instructive evening, unaccustomed as we are to such. We are not unmindful of the fact that you’re our wealthy bachelor uncle ——” “That’s the spirit,” interrupts Brice heartily. on the deck and let’s to our learning.” “Bring

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THE SATURDAY EVENING “Do I understand,” I opens up, “that you used to play a bouncing rubber of auction?” “TI always agreed with myself that I did,” he replies, “but then I never went to the altar for a real criticism. May I also add that I’ve seldom been called to the phone when Lenz or Whitehead was asked for?” “You're a very lucky lad,” I tells him, “to be getting that kind of service. I’m regularly called to the phone when Annie or the Aquarium is asked for, but that’s neither here nor in the operating room at St. Luke’s. We’re talking about contract, aren’t we?” “Are we?” inquires Uncle Joe politely. “Contract,”” I explains, “is no different from auction except in the bidding _"" “And the scoring,” contributes Olivia. “My dear,” says I coldly, “there are some buttons up- stairs that need shirts sewed onto them. Will you kindly attend to it and leave the menfolks to their mulled wine and walnuts?” “T’ll do nothing of the sort,”’ she flares. “It’s my uncle who wants to learn auction, not yours.” “Selfish!” I scowls. “Won't even split an uncle with me.” “Keep this up,” yelps Uncle Joe Brice, ‘“‘and there'll be no uncle to split. He’ll just disappear in a cloud of codicils. Come on. "Livy, you tell me how the game goes.”” The frau picks up where I’d left off, going into a detailed dia- gram of the bidding and the scor- ing, with side excursions into “vulnerability’”’ and the other features that distinguish contract bridge from a bad crop year in the Yakima Valley. “The points sure run high, loose and liberal in this pastime,” remarks the old-timer. “‘How do you keep from confusing the count with the 1930 census figures?” “That’s easy,” says I. “You put your fingers in the mouth of the census figures. If they bite you they’re con- tract scores. How’d you like to have the game really explained to you by one in the know?” “Shoot,” invites Brice. “I’m always willing to listen to both sides of any question.” “Suit yourself,” shrugs Olivia. “ You might learn shark fishing from what he tells you, but you won’t even get a faint clew to contract.” “That’s all right,”’ says Uncle Joe. “I’ve always been rather keen about shark fishing. Let’s go.” I decides to do my explaining with a couple of hands dealt face up. In my mitt are the ace-king of spades and the ace of hearts. The rest of the cards are so much riffraff. Brice has a fair bunch of pushers, but nothing you could bid on even if you were playing for matches and trying to save a rubber. “In auction,” I begins, “‘you’d throw this hand in the ash pit. But not so in contract. I’d say one club.” “A club!” exclaims Brice. “Why, you've only got four of ’em to the nine.” “Very true,” I admits, with a trace of condescension, “but I'd bid a club even if I was blank in’em. This is what is known to us adepts as the Vanderbilt convention. I’m merely telling you that I have three quick tricks.” “T see,” says Uncle Joe. “‘What am I supposed to do— blush prettily and pass?” “You can blush as prettily as you please,”’ I returns, “but you must never pass. With your fist two courses are open. You can either go to one without or ——” ““____ you can call a meeting of your creditors,” horns in Olivia. “Bid a no-trump on that mess and you'll sleep in the streets. Why waste your time with the Vanderbilt convention? It’s as passé as a poke bonnet. Nowadays nobody plays it but grocers’ adopted daughters and notaries whose commissions have expired.” “T rather like it,” observes Brice. “In fact, I’m for any- thing associated with the Vanderbilts. Look what they’ve done with the Grand Central Station.” “A noble piece of work,” I agrees, “but let’s sidetrack the Central and get back to our beagle hounds. Perhaps your hand is a bit weak for a bid. In that case, you say a diamond, which indicates you haven’t anything but a sunny disposition and a date with your dentist next Wednesday afternoon.” “T trust,” says Uncle Joe, “I’m not lef in it. After all, three square-cuts to the seven are nothing to parade the troops for.” “IT wouldn’t leave my worst enemy with the diamond,” I assures him. “The chances are I’d go to a no-trump.” “Sure,” cuts in the missis, “and if he was pressed any he’d go to seven of ’em. Ever since he heard of the Uncie Joe Vanderbilt convention he thinks he is Van- derbilt.”’ “Personally,” says Brice, “I think that club bid is the sliced sausage. I'll bet it gets you into jams seventy-five times out of a hundred like the double of a one no-trump. If your opponent has a good hand and you have a hot one, what can your partner have?” “Good gosh!” I exclaims. “ He’s just sat down at the table and is already criticizing the food!” I deals another sample hand, and this time I treats myself royally. I'’vea flock of spades Sadie with three honors, the ace-king of hearts and a peck of portraiture in the other suits. Uncle Joe has the two black aces, three other spades and a blank in dia- monds. “What would you bid with that layout?” he asks. “Three coal heavers?” “T would in auction,” I replies, “but not in contract. I'd open up with two, which is the strongest of all makes, and you’d have to keep the bidding open, going to a couple of no-trumps if you had no help. This is the way our hands’d work out: After my starter, you’d jump to three spades and I'd come back with four hearts to tip you that I had the top of the suit. You’d name five clubs, thus placing the ace for me. I'd then call five spades and you'd run to six diamonds - “Without a diamond?” demands Brice. “Because you’re without a diamond,” says I. “ You'd be telling me you had no losing tricks in the suit. There- upon I’d bid seven spades and we’d make a grand slam without any trouble. Wouldn’t we, honey?” “T doubt it,” declares the frau. ‘‘The material's there, but the chances are you’d block yourself or renege or something, and finish up with a handsome enameled set.” “She’s not a wife,” says I. “She’s just a pal. Beginning to get an idea of the game, Unk?” “Tt’s sitting on my lap and calling me papa,” he answers, “but I’ve been wondering what the result’d be if you happened to be watching a dog fight at the moment and left me in that six- diamond bid.” “T wouldn’t worry about that,” saysI. “The best hostesses are no longer featuring dog fights at bridge parties. There’s enough battling going on as it is.” “T should imagine there would be,” remarks Brice. “‘ Never have I seen a game where your part- ner could do you so dirty. You sure got to play it in cahoots.” . “Pete does,” of- fers Olivia—‘‘in cahoots with the opponents.” “T have to,” says I. “I can’t get any help from you. You wouldn’t throw me a deuce if I was drowning.” “Lay off, love birds,” growls Un- cle Joe, “and get on with the lesson. I expect to get a diploma and a scholarship before I leave. Where do we go from where we were?” We resume play with cold hands, Olivia kibitzing from the sidelines The old boy’s quick on the pick-up and in an hour or so he’s far enough along in contract to take care of himself in the clinches. I’m about to ring the bell and dismiss the class when the missis reminds me that we haven't in- troduced Brice to the goulash. “What's that?” he wants to know. “Oram I too young to be told?” “A goulash,” says I, “is to con- tract what spit-in-the-ocean is to a poker game—a pain in the neck, no matter who writes the nation’s songs. It’s got about as much business in sound bridge as a silk hat has at a clambake. It’s the a ’ POST 13 “All right,” cuts in Uncle Joe, “ but let's get to the meat of the goulash. How do you doit, and when?” “When everybody passes,” I explains, “all the hands are thrown together counter-clockwise and dealt without shuffling, five, five and three. Then the partners exchange cards, one, two and three The result is a lot of cock-eyed mitts and slam bids. It’s not at all unusual to gather thirteen of a suit and then have it topped a couple of times by bozos holding thirteen cards in a higher suit.” “The goulash doesn’t click so heavy with me,’ says Brice, “but I expect I’m going to like contract. It ought to be a great game when you once know your people.” “Yeh,” I grunts, “like the Streeters know each other, for example.” “Well,” opines Uncle Joe, “I don’t imagine it'll take ms long to tumble to their stuff. I’m a fairly good journeyman when it comes to reading folks’ faces.” “You can read Sadie’s between the lines,” suggests Olivia. “That’s just so much meow,” says I. “Sadie’s a looker in any league. She may not be eighteen again for quite a while, but she still puts enough it on the ball to talk traffic cops out of tickets.” “T’ve met Streeter,”” remarks Uncle Joe Brice, “but his sister’s an unknown soldier to me. How old do you think she is?” “About thirty,” I ventures. “About that,” agrees the wife, “not counting leap years and the anno dominis ending in odd numbers. Sadie’s been forty so long they’re thinking of using her for a’ par- allel of latitude.” (Continued on Page 142) ‘*How Do You Get That—Our Size?"’ Demands the Missis. “I Know More About Contract Than Sadie Streeters Forgotten"’

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 By Isaac F. Marcosson WISE observer of political conditions in Europe said toward the close of 1929: “It dictatorships that they make all changes difficult nd dangerous, and the more difficult and dangerous the nger they are deferred.” The overthrow of Primo de Rivera in Spain !ast January For at least two years the utterances of the dictator constituted a continuous promise to formulate But a promise in Spain, as a benevolent attitude toward the mnsideration of the idea, with no commitment of the will.” well-known majfana, ; a case in point a constitution and to retire. someone aptly put it, is “* In other words, the ‘tomorrow.”” In ecnsequence, government in a chronic state of crisis. peded the orderly course of economic events, as the even- More important was the Instead of wavering between conservatism and liberalism, or their equivalents, as ob- tains in most ether countries, the issue was between absolut- ism and constitutionalism. The sense of citizenship was tual fall of the peseta showed. decline in national morale. largely aborted. A unique reckoning was imposed. The mandate that made for Primo’s accession to power was pinned to the point of a bayonet, for he had the army’s support at the start. The time inevitably came when those bayonets, like the thumbs in the ancient Roman arena, were He rose by the sword, blood- pointed down. lessly to be sure, and figuratively he fell sword. hiefs, to whom he referred his fate, put out. He was doomed, however, long before decision. Like many another Napoleon, whether in the stock wheat or cotton pit, or in public life, he did not know when to quit. The transfer of authority in Spain may gnify much more than the fall of a ré- that fer six years and three months that final and fatefu! market, the gime the dictatorship became a day-to-day The decision of the leading military is the nemesis of had wielded an autocratic power. break in the chain of Continental dictatorships forged since the close of the World War. of the dictatorial gods is setting in. It registers the first Perhaps the twilight In any event, the shift has world-wide interest and significance. which means call a This, in turn, im- pended. tive motions. by the him ve: RE wee eu ae . » | | | | 438,008. 1} ( | | } | ite aes el unit mA TELEPHONE &@ TELEGRAPH ( mT GY THE (HTERNAT MPANY The American-Built Skyscraper That Dominates All Madrid A mere change of premiers does not mean that there has been a complete reversal in Spain. cessor, Gen. D’Amaso Berenguer, Moreover, he took over the Ministry of War in the new cabinet, which does not include outstanding represen- tatives of the old political parties. At best, it may be regarded as a transitional body—what the Spaniards “cabinet bridge’’—to function until the long- deferred election to name a parliament of the people. During the entire Primo adventure, the Cortes, as the national legislative body of Spain is known, was sus- A so-called Consultative Assembly, named by the dictator and therefore highly reactionary—it was merely a debating society—went through legisla- Its counterpart today is Mussolini’s Cor- porative Parliament, elected in the yes-yes election. Primo’s suc- is also a soldier. Knights Street in the ‘‘Spanish Village’’ of the International Exposition at Barceiona Four encouraging signs marked the beginning of the Berenguer ad- ministration. One was that the suc- cession was made without bloodshed and became a simple transfer of office without dramatic high lights. It is worth noting, in this connection, that the entire Primo period, despite spo- radic army revolts since 1926, to say nothing of endless student uprisings, was not marred by a single serious, sanguinary clash. The second was Berenguer’s im- mediate declaration of allegiance to the Constitution of 1876. This con- stitution, which had been effective until Primo came into office, is a lib- eral instrument guaranteeing ade- quate popular representation. Primo suppressed it completely. Govern- ment was by decree. Berenguer further declared that judicial nor- malcy would return. Under Primo, trial by jury was abolished. Third is a quasi-freedom of the press, despite the appointment of a new censor. Until four months be- fore he went into the discard, Primo clamped the lid down hard on free ex- pression of opinion. As in Italy, no criticism of the government was la pwoTos RTESY SPANISH TOURIST INF. OFFICE, § A pent Seems in Seville permitted. Frequently, at the end of an official statement by the dictator, you would see the words “obligatory inser- tion.” Toward the close of his dictator- ship Primo eased the ban to permit some degree of discussion of the proposed new constitution. When I was in Spain in De- cember, I was surprised to see adverse com- ment on the dictator and his doings in some of the Madrid newspapers. Various books derogatory to the régime were to be had everywhere. The dic- tator’s number was up. The weariness that I noted in his appearance when I went to see him shortly before Christmas was matched by a let-down in his one-time iron rule. Vocally and physically he gave evidence that his stern administrative race was nearly run. The fourth heartening evidence of change in policy was the broad amnesty declared on February sixth pardoning political and military offenders. The former list included numerous eminent philosophers and educators like Prof. Miguel Unamuno, former rector of the University of Sala- manca, who had been in exile in France for more than three years. On the other side there was former Premier Sanchez Guerra, who headed the abortive revolt against Primo in January, 1929. Every officer who had figured in the vari- ous uprisings since 1925 received a pardon. It meant a consolidation of the military arm behind the new order. A Three:Phase Dictatorship T IS worth noting that this amnesty was declared on the first anniversary of the death of the Queen Mother, Maria Christina. There was more than a sentimental reason be- hind this circumstance. The Queen Mother had a profound dislike for Primo de Rivera and objected to his method of government. It is no secret in Spain that she largely in- spired the revolt led by Sanchez Guerra. On the other hand, Spain, so far as strong and big- visioned leadership is concerned, has no windfall in Beren- guer. He lacks the indomitable will that drove the Primo autocracy through its years of stormy waters. As High Commissioner to Morocco during part of the ill-fated period of the war with Abd-el-Krim, he was a conspicuous failure. When Primo de Rivera assumed personal command of the African war shortly after his accession to dictatorial power, Berenguer had been tried by court-martial for his omis- sions in Africa and given a prison sentence. That sentence was never imposed. The king pardoned him and in 1926

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 15 appointed him to be head of his military household. This act on the part of Alfonso constituted the first rift in the relations between the dictator and his monarch, a breach that was to widen with each succeeding year. The history of the Spanish dictatorship falls into three periods. The first, dating from September, 1923, when Primo assumed authority, lasted until the close of 1925. It was dominated by a military directorate. Early in 1926, with the dawn of the second phase, a so-called Civil Di- rectorate composed of three generals, an admiral and five civilians was set up. The third commenced in 1927, when a civil cabinet with Primo as premier and president—his official title was presidente—was constituted. Then began Abd-el-Krim. Each succeeding month wit- nessed some fresh reverse. A committee of inquiry to fix responsibility held hearings both in Morocco and Madrid. It found that graft and corruption were rampant in the supply department. It recommended that various generals on active service receive death penalties. This report was promptly shelved and the ghastly affair across the Mediterranean went on. Spain’s foreign prestige became increasingly impaired. The whole country cried out for reprisal, yet, at the beginning of the autumn of 1923, the vacillating government was about to conclude what was con- sidered to be a shameful peace. Second was the acute situation in Catalonia. This province for many decades has been the cen- ter of astrong nationalistic move- ment which took two forms. rule in the of crisis autocratic moment Dur ing the preceding year, Mussolini and his Fascist cohorts had begun to bring order out of chaos in strike-ridden Italy. It set the precedent for a dis tracted Spain The Call fora Dictator OR some years it was widely that the Spanish dictatorship believed was instigated by Primo de Rivera on his own. It has lately been proved that this is not the case Various revelations last year show that early in One, under the banner of the ouor Separatists, stood for complete divorce from Spain and the establishment of a Catalan government. The Catalans are a proud and passionate people with their own language, traditions and liter- ature. Barcelona, the principal city, is the most important industrial community in Spain and contains more millionaires than the rest of the country combined. Catalonia provides 80 per cent of the national revenue. The other wing comprises the Regionalists, who are willing sa ). SUPPLIED BY INTERNATIONA NEWS PHOTOS, I~ General D'Amaso Berenguer 1923, King Alfonso asked Maura to assume the func- tions of dictator, but tie offer was declined. It is also known that early in Septem- ber the king invited various generals to take on the job, and they also side-stepped. Primo was fourth choice. In Primo de Rivera the king found a leader who by temperament, training and tradition was equipped to meet the troubled hour. A grandee by birth, and a gallant soldier, as he had proved in the Philippines, Cuba and Morocco, he was a loyal monarchist at heart. At the same time he had expressed such contempt for politics and poli- ticians as to feel the iron hand of the law on more than one occasion. When Spain’s political, economic and military affairs reached the lowest ebb, he was governor genera! at Barcelona, where he had succeeded in temporarily paci- fying both wings of the nationalist movement with a prom ise of eventual autonomy. The Catalonian job was the final preparation for the bigger task that now confronted him. Bluff, genial, hearty of manner, and always smartly turned out, he has a genuinely winning way. In this re- spect he is the exact opposite of Mussolini, who is sternness personified. Yet under that amiable exterior reposes the Continued on Page 20!) The Right Tower of the Patace of Spain in the Ibero: American Exhibition, Seville the stalling about a constitution which continued until the final act of the drama. During the entire dictatorship Primo enjoyed what amounted to undisputed authority. Government was by decree. The king signed the dictator’s mandates on the dotted line without a murmur. Save for instances such as the appointment of Berenguer to his household and the pardoning of army officers implicated in the various re- volts, he exercised no arbitrary rights. Primo was the whole show. Twelve Cabinets in Five Years N SPAIN, as in Italy and Poland, the contributory fac- tors to dictatorship were largely identical. All the iron hands seemed to have been invoked primarily by kindred parliamentary chaos aggravated, as was the case in Italy, by communist agitation. The red seed is always most ef- fective when planted in the soil of unrest. Spain was a welter of political parties. There were seven in all, headed by the traditional Conservatives and Libor- als. It reached the point where no single group could main- tain a government. Between 1918 and September 13, 1923, the date of Primo’s coup d’état, there were exactly twelve cabinets, each more inept than its predecessor. The rotative method of alternation in office, which had begun during the regency, when Alfonso was a boy king, dulled patriotism and made spoils the chief objective of many installed in high places. No wonder that Antonio Maura, who had been premier five times, once exclaimed: “Let those govern who impede government!” This impasse was intensified for two reasons which even- tually brought matters to a head. The first was the war in Moroccc, which had raged intermittently since 1909. It became, as one authority stated it: “A bottomless sea for the exchequer and an endless drain on young lives.” The crowning disaster came at Anual, in 1921, when Spain lost 10,000 men at the hands of a compara- tively few Arab tribesmen under that doughty old chieftain Primo de Rivera to continue as part of the Spanish nation, but with autonomy. In one respect, Barcelona is something like Munich, in that she is the seat of the two extremes of political thought. On the employer side, reaction is strongly en- trenched, while among the workers, com- munism has a firm hold. Between these two classes a continuous and sometimes bloody duel was waged. In the early part of 1923 the reign of terror—337 employers and workers were killed and 434 wounded in riots and strikes—reached the stage where it had to be ruthlessly put down by Gen. Martinez Anido, who subsequently became Minister of the Interior when Primo formed his first directorate. An ominous calm followed. September, 1923, therefore, found Spain about completely in the grip of dissension at home and increasing misfortune abrcad We now come to another similarity in the establishment of European dicvator- —=d ships. Without exception, you find that a nation almost invariably turns to The Street of St. Isabel in Toledo

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16 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MR. MOLE The Girt at the Information Desk Received a Pieasant Littie Nod of Greeting. Mr. Clark Was Her Favorite Partner in the Concern Edward L. Germaine, alias Arthur B. Luce, member of the investrnent concern of Dunbart & Clark, walked into the offices of the firm at ten o’clock on the morning of October twenty-seventh, in the joyous mood of an artist bout to apply the final high light to the masterpiece upon which he has labored for two long years. Mr. Clark did not look like a financier any more than he looked like a man whose firrn was due, in thirty-five min- utes, te receive an unfriendly visit from an assistant state’s attorney, a court writ and two husky policemen under the personal supervision of an equally bulky lieutenant. He was slim and dark, and looked five years younger than his thirty-nine years. He wore a dark-blue, double- breasted suit, a small black mustache which curled up—naturally—at the ends, a heavy mass of dark hair which curled—unnaturally— to either side of a sallow forehead, and a gen- eral air of happy unconcern. Even the whining whisper of warning which had been poured into the receiver of his telephone while he still lay abed had failed, beyond a sudden start, to pre- vent the enjoyment of a cold shower and the cold touch of steel as it cut across his blue jaw. The pressing urgency of the whisperer, receiving five hundred dollars for a single telephone call, did not hurry, in the least, Mr. Clark’s selection of a light blue broadcloth shirt and matching neck-wear and hose, or vary, to the extent of a single note, the cheery whistle which issued from his lips as he looked around his hotel home for the past two years and bade it a silent farewell. For Mr. Clark was an artist in time as well as money-—-a man that knew his Bliicher as well as his Napoleon The girl at the information desk received a pleasant little nod of greeting. Mr. Clark was her favorite partner in the concern. She liked men who had that extra little touch— such asa white carnation in the buttonhole. She watched him stop at the cashier's cage—where Mr. Mole, who never wore a white carnation and rarely smiled, was looking over the strong box which he had just brought up from the safe-deposit vaults of the bank on the first floor—for a word of greeting before passing into the big private office shared by both members of the firm. But Mr. George Dunbart, alias Morgan J. Anderson, alias E. J. Schwarz, alias George J. Morgan, Sr., swelling over his ornate chair of es PH L. CLARK, alias Ernest J. Dorrance, alias Trees ee S22 SF si@ yellow leather, did not share, on the face of it, his associate’s roseate view of life. His large flat eyes hung heavily on the smiling Mr. Clark, and a dry cigar rolled uneasily on the dead swell of his thick lips. “Hear anything from Berg- man?” he demanded abruptly. Mr. Clark arranged his light tan polo coat carefully on a hanger, and said pleasantly, ““Not a word.” His partner shook himself. “I don’t like it,”” he declared. “I’m nervous. This waitin’ for the last minute to steal the cherries ain’t in my line. Suppose Bergman gives us the double- cross? He knows the five hundred we slipped him is his whether he gives us the tip or not. Sup- pose he turns aroun’ an’ - ‘*Bergman will keep his word,” said Mr. Clark confi- dently. oe i > des FOR Dunbart wondered about it gloomily. “Maybe,” he concluded, “but I wish I felt as confident about him as you do. I’d sleep better.” “T sleep like a log, George.” “Don’t rub it in, Joe.” “TI dream,” Mr. Clark went on lightly, “of the seventy grand—all other people’s money—tucked away in nice negotiable securities and watched over by the faithful Mr. Mole. “I know I must smile in my sleep when I dream of step- ping out to Mr. Mole and slipping that envelope into my pocket on the pretext that I am going to make a loan for a new deal—and—and then leaving the upright Mr. Mole and the rest while I ——” “We,” corrected Mr. Dun- bart with a frown. “‘Crooks,’’ Mr. Higgins Was Saying, ‘‘Average Up Just Like Other Peopte"’ April 5,1930 By EVERETT RHODES CASTLE = F. VAUX wit sown “ “I meant, ‘we,’”’ his partner went on hastily. ‘“——— we make a nice quiet fade-out.” Mr. Dunbart sighed. “I hope it works out the way you got it planned, Joe, but ——” Just for an instant, Mr. Clark’s genial brown eyes took on an added twinkle, a fleeting glimpse of inward mirth. “It will,” he assured his partner. ‘“‘You just light that cigar of yours and sit back. I—I’m going out for a little while, and when I get back we'll sit down and talk this thing out. Not waiting any longer, I mean. I don’t want you going to pieces at the last minute.” Mr. Dunbart took a match out of his vest pocket. “‘ You hurry,” he urged. Mr. Clark looked at his wrist watch. It was10:20. He grinned at the puffed face of his associate. ‘‘I never hurry, George. You know that. Crooks hurry. Thieves run. Cheap dips beat it. Joe Clark goes his quiet, unhurried, honest way.”’ He reached for the topcoat on its hanger. “See you later.” In the doorway, coat on arm, he lingered for a moment. “You know, George, the next time I go into business I’m going to pick an honest man for a partner—a monument of righteousness that won’t know what all the shooting’s about until the patrol wagon has pulled up to the door. These clever crooks get too nervous.” The hot flame from the match twisted itself about Mr. Dunbart’s pulpy forefinger, and he dropped it with a curse— a curse that took in the smiling Mr. Clark as well as the smoking splinter of wood on the glass-topped table. “That goes for me too,” he concluded with a snarl. “I’m tired of these crooks that think the Lord gave them the only brain in the world since Napoleon crossed the Alps. I'll take a dumb hick of a crook for mine, after this. You But the door had closed. With another muttered curse, Mr. Dunbart lit another match and went back to his waiting. Out at the cashier’s cage, Mr. Clark was speaking to his cashier: “Give me the securities »nv-clope, Mole. Mr. Dunbart and I have decided to go i:to that copper syndicate. You know, that one I spoke 200ut a few weeks ago? It looks like a big thing. I'm going down to Treadman and see what sort of loan they will make us on the proposition.”’ “Yes, sir.” Mr. Clark hummed a bit from a popular revue as he watched the angular cashier turn from the win- dow to the long green steel box that rested on the top of the safe. As he hummed he thought that Mole, except for his length, was aptly named. Grubbing along on two hundred and fifty dollars a month, saving, pinching, like his hundred and twenty million brother and sister moles. Taking or- ders. Blind as a bat—or a mole. Neat but shiny in his blue serge suit and his black bow tie. Eternally worried about the pennies that dropped out of his balance sheet between the add- ing machine and the high desks. He almost said it as the cashier turned from the box with the large envelope in his hairy, bony hand. “Poor Mole!” Instead he smiled and nodded approvingly as he noted that the large wax seals which he had had affixed in his presence several days before were in- tact. Unlike most se- ‘ curity houses, Dun- bart & Clark did not approve of the hand- | ling of securities, ex- cept in the presence of one of the members of the firm. An odd rule, Mr. Clark had admitted to his cash- ier, but a sound one in asmall business where such a procedure would cause no de- lay—or where, he might have added, sudden subtractions would not be in- stantly noted by hon- est but dumb moles. “Here you are, sir.””

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THE SATURDAY EVENING “Thank you, Mole. If—if anybody should come in to see me, I'll be back in an hour.” “Yes, sir.” And then, hesitatingly: “Would you mind signing this—this receipt, sir? It’s for my own protection. In—in case anything should—er—happen to you, sir, they couldn’t say anything was wrong with the accounts. “"I—I do it with ali the salesmen, but this is the first time a mem- ber of the firm has ever taken anything from the office. Of—of course, if you’d rather not, sir ——” Mr. Clark nodded approvingly. “Of course I’ll sign. A member of the firm is no better than anybody else where money is concerned, Mole. You're the watchdog of the treasury.” “Thank you, sir.” Mr. Clark almost laughed in the old fool’s face. Laughed right out loud at his grubbing, persnickety honesty. But the “watchdog” suggested a final touch —a parting little brush stroke. “By the way, Mole; how much money have we got in the cash drawer?” The cashier blinked. ‘‘Seven hundred dollars, sir. I just checked it over.” “‘Give me five hundred of it,”” commanded Mr. Clark carelessly, ‘‘and put a white ticket in the drawer. I'll give you a check when I get back. I’m a little short of ready cash.” He flipped up his left wrist. It was 10:28. Mr. Mole’s lower jaw hung slack as he counted the money, and then, slowly and painstakingly, recounted it. His principal was amused by the slack, because he knew so well what caused it. Five hundred dollars was more than a “little ready cash”’ to a two-hundred-and-fifty-dollar cashier. It was two months of running adding machines and writing in ledgers and scratching the head with ink-stained fingers; a year, perhaps, of pinching and saving, eating cheap meals and living among cheap people and wearing cheap clothes until they fell apart. Mr. Joseph L. Clark barely resisted an impulse to toss a golden fifty back through the little opening, and with it the suggestion that Mr. Mole take his tired, polite, white face and his shiny blue suit and his black cloth spats out for a real time. Instead he nodded pleasantly, scrawled his initials on the white slip Mr. Mole shoved through the grille, and went past the information desk with its smiling attendant to the outer door. As it closed he kissed his fingers lightly to the lettering on the ground glass. “Good-by, my Chicago,”’ he murmured lightly; “‘fare- well, my Golden West.” It was 10:33 as the door of a descending elevator opened and .Mr. Clark stepped in. But in that brief period of opening and closing a white light flashed and an upward- bound car deposited a thin man in a black overcoat and a derby hat, two heavily breathing policemen and a burly velvet- trimmed lieutenant. “Perfect,” said the departing partner to himself, and smiled proudly. A patrol wagon was parked before the entrance of the building, surrounded by the usual pushing, peering crowd of onlookers. A beefy policeman lounged over the wheel. Mr. Clark saluted him airily as he stepped out to hail a passing taxi. “Wilton Hotel,” Mr. Clark directed the driver. Deposited at the main entrance, he strolled carelessly through the lobby and down the stairs to Randolph Street. “La Salle Street Station,” he told the cabman. At the baggage counter he presented a yellow stub and received a black leather suitcase that had seen better days. Though the gilt letters on the end were nearly obliterated, they still pro- claimed the owner of the suitcase to be P. J. M., of New York. P. J. M. sauntered slowly from the baggage counter to the men’s wash room. The room was deserted. Ten minutes later another P. J. M. stepped out of the room. A P. J. M., in a dark topcoat. A smooth-faced P. J. M., who mopped his shiny bald spot in full view of the hurrying crowd before making his way to the ticket window where he purchased a ticket and a chair to St. Louis. Sixteen minutes later, Joseph L. Clark, of Dunbart & Clark, had joined Ernest J. Dorrance, Edward L. Germaine and Arthur B. Luce in that limbo of names best forgotten, and there came into being Pelham J. Miller, to whom all things in life were good. Before boarding his train, Mr. Miller purchased a large manila envelope, and, after addressing it to Pelham J. Miller, General Delivery, New York City, New York, placed another brown package in it and mailed it. Seventy-four grand was on its way, and so was Mr. Pel- ham J. Miller. At St. Louis he boarded the Eastern Lim- ited and, as the train twisted along the muddy banks of the Mississippi, ne wandered back to Mr. Higgins Nodded. ‘‘Ai,’’ ‘Meet My Friend Miller" “Good+ by, My Chicago,"* He Murmured Lightly POST 17 the smoking con partment and to Mr Bernard Higgins, in vestigator for The J Bankers and Brok- ie / ers’ Protective Asso- clation a7 M®: HIGGINS 4 was a large pouchy man whose chin and neck surged over his collar like red breakers over a white sea wall. A black pipe stuck out of the corner of his mouth, and his gray soft hat came down almost to the level of his white brows. As Pelham J. Miller waar pushed aside the green curtain he was discoursing to a little man in a large derby huddled back into the far cor- ner of the swaying car “Crooks,” Mr. Higgins was saying, “average up just like other people. A few of 'em have brains an’ most of ‘em think they have. That's why we get the most of them before they get very far.” Pelham J. Miller took the smal] seat on the left and lit a cigarette. “Good evening,” he said pleasantly. “Good evening,” piped the little man. “Evenin’,”” rumbled the pouchy man Pelham J. Miller nodded brightly. ‘‘ Don't let me inter rupt,” he pleaded. “ You were talking about crooks?” “Mr. Higgins here,” the little man explained, “was talk- ing about the mental handicaps most crooks, like most honest people, labor under. Mr. Higgins is with The Bankers and Brokers’ Protective Association.” “You don’t say!” murmured Mr. Miller admiringly “Well, well. Just think of that.” “Sure,” admitted Mr. Higgins. “T’'ll bet it is an exciting life.” Mr. Higgins acknowledged the obvious respect his posi- tion in life had created in the mind of the new arrival with a wave of his hand Higgins was modest about it in a heavy way-——a way that reminded Pelham J Miller of that friend in another life George Dunbart. “‘The percentage is in our favor, though; like in life insur- ance tables.” Mr. Miller wondered just what Mr Higgins meant by that. “Bless you,” chuckled that gentle- man. “Why do honest people fail? Why, because they're dumb, or because they’re lazy, or because they think they’re smarter than they are. A lot of things like that. Crooks are no differ } ent. Most of them have their faults just like us that get them in the end just like they got Old George Morgan over in Chicago today.” Mr. Pelham lit a fresh cigarette. “I haven't seen a paper today,” fessed, “‘so I don't really know. Mor gan yousay? What did he do? Shoot somebody up?” “Not George.” Mr. Higgins puffed **So-80,"” Mr. he con- his pipe to eruptive activity. “No guts is George’s weaknes hat an’ dumb ness. He an’ another crook by th’ name of Clark was runnin’ alittle investment business when some omplained to the district attorney. They got Old George—he was goin’ under the name of Dunbart—but the her lad got away a minute or tv wefore the raid Got a tip an’ cleane ut the place leaving Old George t ke the raj “The rap?” puzzled the little man Mr. Higgins explained, “ Holdin’ the bag. Told the cashier he was goin’ out to make a loan, and took al! the secu rities with him and beat it. But they'll He Said, get him. He ain’t got any brains.” Continued on Page 12!

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Kriem viii chiefly in France after the seventeenth century down to my personal adventures, an insti- tution known as the salon played a N EUROPE THE SATURDAY EVENING POST dis: Ip April 5,19350 1th Roosevelt By OWEN WISTER “How very interesting, Mr. Presi- dent! And what did it cost? I went through too fast to calculate.”” Chanler was versed in that kind of mischief. leading part. Its influence—political, intellectual, social— pervaded the times and is recorded in many familiar mem- oirs. A salon was somebody’s drawing- room, the somebody usually being a woman with or without an important husband, but always herself ably equipped to draw the important about her. Charm was her magnet, seconded by tact, with worldly wisdom, brains, sometimes by imperfect virtue, and often by skill in flattering the illustrious. Basking in the climate of her adroit spells, generals, poets, statesmen smiled and expanded. Distinguished civilized men and charming civilized women came as a habit to the White House while Roose- velt was there. For that once in our history we had an American salon. It was not a woman, as in France; it was a man who drew them together; yet even such a man as this could not have done it without Mrs. Roosevelt. His clever and delightful sisters, Mrs. Cowles and Mrs. Robinson, helped. It was a combination such as Washington had never seen before and is unlikely to see soon again. Anybody from anywhere in the world, no matter how eminent or how hard to please, could dine at the White House, from 1902 to 1909, with- out having to make their private allow- ances for democracy. Ever since Thomas Jefferson, by way of asserting American simplicity, in dirty clothes received a foreign minister, he has had imitators in his kind of simplicity. Within the past decade one of these arrived at Washing- ton frum the Middle West, broadcasting PYRIGHT BY UNDERW the fact that he had never owned a dress suit. It was presently noticed that he had acquired one. The day is certain to come—though I shall not see it—when our whole democ- racy will really feel at ease, and none of us will offer bad manners as a proof that we are just as good as anybody. At the place and time for it, Roosevelt wore cowboy clothes, and put on his white waistcoat and swallowtail when the occasion called for them, and was at home in whatever he happened to be wearing. Both he and Mrs. Roosevelt took themselves as naturally as they did their re- sponsibilities, whether social or political. That is why the zest and pleasure with which they made their guests welcome at the White House marked their hospitality as an epoch. In one point my parallel between the French salon and the social White House obviously ceases—the hostess in France held herself in the background, stimulating the good talk lightly and imperceptibly; in the White House the host used to dash his opinions and challenges across the company much in the same manner that he served tennis balls in the court. During seven years it was my extraordinary good fortune often to be there when Roose- velt gathered round him both his familiars and his un- familiars. You could never tell what the unfamiliars were going to turn out to be, but youshared the President’s dread of them. They were perforce a part of his or any President’s job; they had to be entertained; they arrived with cre- dentials ef many varieties—political, educational, philan- thropic, scientific—and more often than not they stood for something-—a tropical commonwealth, a seat of learning in Nish, a medical mission to the hookworm belt, the street railways in Kansas City, votes for women, the war against cigarettes—and they ranged from ambassadors and cap- tains of industry to the lowest strata of male and female enthusiasts. Roosevelt would come hurrying in from his forenoon of work and say perhaps: “Dan, Emily Tuckerman is expecting you to lunch at their house at 1:30. I begged her to save you from the people who are coming here.” Or he would say: “I don’t know what lunch is going to be like today, and we've all got just to bear it together. I’ve put you at The Second Roosevelt Administration Cabinet UNDERWOOD, *. ¥. C in Regular Session Mrs. Roosevelt’s left, with my sis- ter Corinne next, and then Winty Chanler. There’s a celebrated engineer coming from Chiasso, who is the leading authority on boring tunnels, and I’m afraid he’s going to tell us all about it; and an equally celebrated econo- mist from Leeds, who wishes me to urge the British Empire to adopt the decimal system.” After remarks like this, made with a comic twist of expression and a plaintive touch of his falsetto, our de- meanor would be tremulous as we stood in the stately room, striving to keep a seri- ous face while the eminent strangers began to arrive. Perhaps Winthrop Chanler’s voice would be heard whispering from behind: “Bet you the bearded guy’s the tunnel borer. He’s going to bore us all.” Ceremonious introductions, with careful bows and well- worn syllables of greeting, followed, and presently we filed decorously in to luncheon. There we familiars would speak but little and behave with reserve, while Roosevelt, with a celebrity on each side, plunged deep into tunnels and the decimal system, and no social unity was possible. And once the celebrity had started on his specialty, Roosevelt’s inexhaustible curiosity about all well-presented subjects would carry him along. He would talk first as if a decimal and then as if a tunnel was the only thing in the world he had ever loved; he would refer to the Thames and Severn tunnels, and the incurable British dread of a Channel tunnel, and to the monetary system in China or the currency experiments of Frederick II, of Hohenstaufen. Sometimes, for unity, he tried to bring us in. “Winty,” he would call across the table, “you certainly must have been through the St. Gotthard tunnel. Signor Castellomaggiore says it could have been put through at precisely five-sixteenths of what it cost.” PHOTO. BY BROWN BROS., N.Y. C John La Farge “Yes, five-sixteenths,”’ Signor Castel- lomaggiore would utter in a foreign ac- cent, and with a cold eye for a moment on Chanler. Then he returned with determination to the President, who had worked at top speed all morning and would have so liked to play for an hour. When the celebrities were safely gone, perhaps he would burst out: “ Winty, how dared you! You nearly upset me.” Sometimes an unfamiliar would prove a delightful surprise, and this possibility did leaven our dread with a pinch of hope; but salons are not made so; they depend on the preponderating presence of familiars, and it was when none but familiars assembled that Rooseveit let himself go, that the whole company let itself go, that it became sheer luxury to listen to these distinguished and brilliant men turning their minds loose to play. Most of them came straight from taking an official hand in the day’s national or international doings. Meeting here in a sort of freemasonry, they dropped their caution; nobody was going to quote anything outside; therefore much inside was laid bare, «nd Secretary Root’s “‘shop,”’ or Secretary Taft’s, or Senator Lodge’s, became thrilling and alive, and sparkled with frequent comic relief. Nor was “‘shop”’ by any means all; it might be Henry Irving and what he acted best, or Wilbur Wright and the new portent of the aeroplane, or Pad- erewski’s concert, or jiujitsu, which the President was practicing with a Japa- nese instructor, or the German Kaiser and Venezuela, or the new conductor of the Boston Symphony Orchestra, or the sliding scale of honesty in a Central American government, or Tillman beating the face of a brother sen- ator, or the scene of Mrs. Minor Morris leaving the Executive Office, or which of Walter Scott’s novels was the greatest, or how much of Mark Twain was likely to live. Whatever it happened to be, it was skillfully tossed about in general conversation, everyone at his best through Roosevelt’s stimulating electric current; it was never a collection of mere téte-a- tétes, like today’s dinner parties, ex- changing puny personalitems. This, too, was a special point in the White House salon—-the women, civilized and cultivated as they were— Mrs. Holmes, Mrs. La Farge, Mrs. Lodge, Emily Tuckerman, Mrs. Cameron, Mrs. Chanler, for instance—did not take the lead; it was the men who set the pace, but the ladies kept up with them handsomely, and knew how to listen as well as how to reply. x HO were the familiars of Roosevelt’s Golden Age? Some, like him, are gone; some are still here; and when I close my eyes my memory can see them all. Here is evidently a great aristocrat. A soldier? Pos- sibiy; some hint of it. A dreamer? Probably; much hint of it. An intellect? Certainly; ne equal to it in the whole gallery. Austerity is present, and Imagination. Irony is not absent. A Stoic? Decidedly. A face shining with some noble, life-long aspiration. A lonely man? Not on the surface; rather tolerant and social. An eye equally able to be stern and understanding. It is Holmes, the judge. The Law his mistress since the Civil War. A captain in that. Three times wounded in those four years. Hurt in health for a while. Bearing in his soul forever the mark—which all of his generation that had souls bore forever—of our Union’s four years’ wrestle with death. Law student, attorney at law, teacher at the

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 19 Harvard Law School, Chief Justice of Massachusetts, As- sociate Justice of the Supreme Cour?, writing opinions in his ninetieth year. The most illustrious and beloved figure ever in that court; a great personage in its history. He was lean as a race horse when } first knew him, and had just finished making a cup with red wine for his three guests, informally asked to supper «n the South Shore. The ice tinkled in the pitcher as he brought it in. Art had gone into this, as into all else that he did. Throughout the evening it was my part to be seen and not heard, for I was the youngest there. Two brilliant listeners—handsome ladies both—set his talk going; and I was captured by it then as I have been captured by it since, through fifty years, often when he had no better listener than I. His talk would aiways bubble and sparkle from him, a stream of seriousness and laughter, imagination and philosophy, in which enthusiasm was undying; and the style paradox and the homely analogy. He was the first to quote me this ob- servation, which had delighted him: ‘“‘No generalization is wholly true—not even this one.”” He had a way of putting his thoughts so un- usually that they stuck: “It’s only when you mix your metaphors badly that it’s wrong.” ‘“‘You can strike illuminating flashes by the juxtapo- sition of the unrelated.”’ In his book, The Common Law, to push home, to make clear the early historic legal meaning of vengeance, he says: Vengeance imports a feeling of blame, and an opinion . . . that a wrong has been done. It can hardly go very far beyond the case of of a master in English marked his improvisa- ag tions, just as it marks his considered writing. Certain !adies in those Boston c.ays used to transport me beyond laughter by assuring me with concern that | certain other Boston ladies “were spoiling Wendell Holmes.” x > P| wi, 4 vt + _ a harm intentionally in- flicted—even a dog distin- guishes between being stumbled over and being kicked. That work, meditated by a man in his thirties, actually published when he was but forty, seems to hold the essence of him complete, his attitude toward law and his attitude toward life, then, and ever since. It has become a text- book in the law schools of the world. He says on the first page that the life of the law has not been logic, it has been experience; that the iaw embodies the story of a nation’s develop- ment through many centuries, and cannot be dealt with as if it contained only the axioms and corollaries of a book of mathematics. In addressing some young students a few years later, he tells them that in this universe, “every fact leads to every other by the path of the air,” and that, as thinkers, their business “‘is to make plainer the way from some thing to the whore of things.’”” But he warns them “that Sister “‘T hope they are,” I sometimes an- swered. Even in a Boston spinster there is a smack of the eternal feminine. In those Boston days we had many walks together, and by the time I was attending the Har- vard Law School I would ride into Boston to spend Sat- urdays and Sundays at his house in Chestnut Street. And we students would sometimes entice him out to dine with us in Cambridge. Once, on a walk, he stopped and turned to me with solemnity: “Young fellow, think of it. I am forty-five years old today.”’ The thought of it seemed to awe him. On another walk, as we were passing the Parker House, I suggested that he come in and have a drink with me. There was something not remote from embarrass- ment in the disclosure of his strict code which he then made, putting it a little like an apology. ““Come up to my house,” he said. “‘Before I went on the bench I didn’t mind, but—you can understand, I think—I don’t somehow cotton to the notion of our judges hobnobbing in hotel bars and saloons. The bench should stand aloof from indiscrimi- nate familiarities.” An aristocrat in morals as in mind, with a fortunate touch of both Puck and Ariel. During those same years the horrified ladies of Boston appealed to him for a judgment on the new French author, Zola. “Improving, but dull,” he said. He held realism to be a timely tonic for thin blood and happy endings. He was as impatient as Henry James with the genteel Victorian demand that a novel must be as comfortable as woolen stockings and as pretty as a Christmas card. But with the absence in Henry James and his disciples of all muscular action, he was equally impatient. “Fifty years of polite con- versation and nothing doing,”’ he styled it to me one day in 1929. He liked to meet and he liked to use the PROTO. BY BROWN BROS... N. ¥ Henry Adams. From a Drawing by J. B. Potter BAIN NEWS SEF Mrs. Cowles, the Presid to think great thoughts you must be heroes as well as idealists. Only when you have worked alone and in hope and despair have trusted to your own unshaken will—then only will you have achieved the isolated joy of the thinker, who knows that a hundred years after he is dead and forgotten men who never heard of him will be moving to the measure of his thought.” “By the path of the air moving to the measure of his thought.”’ It is by the eloquence both of intellect and of passion that Holmes strikes forth these phrases, ent’s BY GROWN BROS., 8 The Rooseveit:Longworth Wedding JCOPYRIGHT BY HARRIS & EWING, WASHINGTON wos The President at His Desk glowing not merely with the perfection of their art but with their embodied truth went from the swinging lamp at Pisa to the rotation of our planet, and today both astronomy and physics move to the measure of his thought. By the path of the air Galileo N« master so aptly as Frans Hals could have brought out the significance of the next face in the White House gallery of Roosevelt's familiars. A kind of jovial serenity seems articulate in the broad sweep of his mustache and the benevolence that sparkles in his blue eye. He does noi look as if he could be any man’s enemy long, and he en- tirely looks as if he could be a warm and constant friend Aggressiveness of no sort is indicated, nor anything of the abstract, but rather those gifts of balance, common sense looking at a thing all round, which make for taking life easily. And he might be imagined to say, “ Though we ars justices, and doctors, and churchmen, Master Page, we have some salt of our youth in us.” Onceashrewd physiognomist —a well-known figure whose name you would know if I could remember it the likeness of a person unknown to him and, after close scrutiny, said: ‘‘ He is either a great cook or a great critic.” It was Sainte-Beuve! What guess would such an acute observer make as to the man whose face I have been trying to present in words? He was never a doctor or a church- man, but he was a governor, a President and a judge. When William Howard Taft sat at that White House table the genial glow around even that board seemed heightened. Tolerant outlook, jocular comment, a readi- ness to listen and to enjoy—these were his particular con- tributions. “What would you do,” he was asked by a somewhat puzzled friend who was having him to lunch with a foreign Prime Minister honoring the United States with a brief visit, “if I sat him, instead of you, at my right?” “I'd go right home!” chuckled the former Chief Justice of our SupremeC yurt of course, where his host put him was shown andsat, What were precedence and Washington eti quette to him upon such an occasion? The point was to be pleasant and hel; make things go Not many months before this, when a great loneliness and darkness fe upon a colleague on the bench, it wa the Chief Justice who stretched bot! hands to him, lost no chance of any kind to take burdens from him and lift him along. Are there many st alive who remember a rtair is- trated edition of A Christmas Carol, by Dickens, in wi the S; f Christmas Present pictured? The Spirit sits high amid a e happy en blems of the season—it was then a ! day of peace, and good w plum pud ding, and punch, and children's games, and parlor theatricals, and parents romping wit! their children. I often used t f Chief Justice Taft as the very ma yme down from the bench and play the part the Spirit of Christmas Present; and then, after play, to go back and leaven with his broad and balancing seren ity the court over which he presided so admirably Perhaps the bitter time through which he to pass so soon after those cordial and laughing hours at Continued on Page 149

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anny ard vite Mrs. Aileen Worked Her Way to the Front Row, Where the Light Fell Full on Her Bandaged Face RS. ALLEN, her sunburned face aglow from the novelty of daily bathing, looked regretfully at the blue, sun-faceted waves of Salt Lake, and even more regretfully at the skeleton outlines of roller coasters, merry-go-rounds and piers where she and her brood had squealed and giggled for a week. It was time to move on. She put her fingers into her mouth and whistled, calling from the deep three skinny spirits in dripping underwear— Pete, aged fourteen; Bunny, eleven, and Buster, eight. Water had unquestionably changed the looks of the mi- gratory Allens, making their features more legible. But for their car, blazoned with wise cracks wherever there was paint to hold them, and Gambler, their large white goat, one who had passed them a week before would not have recognized them. Pete shook the dripping hair out of his black eyes. “What you want?” “We've got to get started. There’s a right smart lot of land between here and Hollywood, and maybe Bunny’s losing a chance to get into the movies while we're laying around here. Shake a leg, you kids.” Joyous confusion filled the air. The children whisked off their wet things without the formality of towels, and put on dry overalls. Mrs. Allen gathered up clothing and bed- ding, rolled them indiscriminately, and tossed them into the back of the car. Bunny dumped food and dishes into various boxes with one hand, while she held her harmonica in her mouth with the other. Buster poured water into the radiator, which promptly tithed to the thirsty earth in a rusty stream. Pete whistled as he commenced to pump up the flat tires. “No matter how nice a place is, it’s fun to start off for some place else,”’ said Mrs. Allen cheerily. “‘ Has anvhody saw my sun visor?” “Gambler ate it.” “Well, let’s get her into her trailer before she eats any- thing else.” “She won't go.” “Tip it down, then we'll shove her on; and, Pete, you be ready to jerk it up quick.” The two-wheeled trailer which was the goat’s wagon-lit having been lowered, Mrs. Allen added her considerable force to that of Bunny and Buster, and the entraining was accomplished. Gambler stood looking down on the scene with the bulk and dignity of a lady chairman on a rostrum. She bleated inquiringly. “Yes, Gambler,” said Bunny. fornia ncw.”’ “You are if it’s downhill the rest of the way,” amended Pete. He was squinting at a nebulous wall rising to the west above the farthest reaches of the plain. “Is that clouds or mountains?"’ he asked, with a troubled light in his dark eyes “Clouds, I guess,” said his mother comfortably. “I'll bet it’s more mountains.” “No, | don’t think so, honey. I was talking to a man out at Saltair yesterday, and he said it was mostly all downhill and devert the rest of the way.” “Where's that map we got in Laramie?” They found it finally under the old pillow which took the place of a cushion on the front seat where Mrs. Allen sat. Pete smoothed it out as well as he could. “You're going to Cali- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TLLUSTRATED “Here’s where we're at now,” said Mrs. Allen, setting her thumb down on Salt Lake. “And down here’s Los Angeles. All we got to do is follow this road that runs kattycorner.” “Yeh?” Pete pointed to an area heavily ridged and blackened. “How about them mountains? When this car sets her lamps on them, she’s going to lay right down in the road and bust out crying.” ““Well, there’s some way to get. there without mountains. That man said so, and he just come back. Maybe you go north instead.” “It looks a lot smoother that way. There ain’t half as many ridges.” “‘Let’s go that way, then. It will give us a couple more states to scatter pa in too.” She brought out a glass jar with a red rose pasted on the side, from under the back seat. It held a small quantity of powdery matter; the residue of the considerable bulk of the late Mr. Allen, which his family scattered dramatically at each state line they crossed. “‘ Leave that out where it will be handy,” she directed. ‘“‘We’re coming to Idaho pretty soon.” The next morning they stopped at a marker between Utah and Idaho, and having consulted their battered map to see how many states lay between them and their desti- nation, measured out what seemed to be a fourth of the ashes and sprinkled them on the sandy soil. Then they went on their way cheerily. After an hour or so, Bunny pointed to a large red car almost concealed by a clump of bushes in a dry wash some fifty yards off the road. “Let’s go see what that car’s doing over there,”’ she sug- gested. They bumped across a slope rutted with prairie-dog holes and stopped beside it. Across the back ran a platform with a gilt railing, and a large light was hanging above. “It’s a show!” exulted Pete. “‘That sign on the side says, ‘Doctor Higgins, The Singing Dentist.’”’ They leaped out and surrounded the intriguing vehicle. On the far side of it they found a tall youth in spectacles bending over a gasoline stove, cooking ham and eggs. He looked up at them with cold surprise, making no answer to their greetings. The door at the back of the car opened quietly and an older man stepped out on the piatforrn. He craned his neck around the corner to see them, and his black eyes darted here and there like a snake’s tongue. Seeing merely an un- tidy woman in knickers and a stocking cap, with three frowzy children, he spoke: “There’s no use hanging around. We never feed auto tramps.” “Who's auto tramps? We’re tour- ists.”” “Where are you going?” “Los Angeles.” “What are you doing up here in Idaho, then?”’ “Trying to keep away from moun- tains.” “Then you want to take the southern way.” “No, doc. There’s lots more moun- tains that way.” “Why, you’re crazy.” “T’ll just show you. . . . Petey, hand mamma the map. It’s under that pillow.” Doctor Higgins joined the group and she spread out the map. “There; ain’t them mountains?” she de- manded, pointing to the crinkled surface of the southwest. Doc Higgins rubbed his finger tip over them. “Madam,” he said, bowing ironically, “I’ve heard of women who made history, but you’ve got them beat. You’ve made geography. You’ve left your impression on the southwest.” “T don’t knew what you're talking about,” said Mrs. Allen bewilderedly. April 5,19350 § By ANNE CAMERON Br RAEBURWN VAN BUREN “Look, Archie. The lady has been sitting on the map!” Archie set down the coffeepot and burst intoaloud guffaw. “Do you mean those mountains are just wrinkles?” asked Pete. “That’s what they are.” “And we’ve got to turn around and go back to Salt Lake?” ah Mrs. Allen’s mouth dropped open in consternation. Then her eyes crinkled and she began to laugh. The chil- dren joined in shrilly, and even Gambler added a derisive bleat. Doc set down his coffee cup suddenly. “Who's that?” he asked suspiciously. “That’s our goat.” For the first time he noticed Gambler, standing in the trailer with that fine detachment that marks her kind. Her long horns gleamed in the morning sun. “What’ll you take for that goat?” “She ain’t for sale,” said Pete. “Well, ne~, Petey, if he was to offer a good price ——” began Mrs. Allen. Bunny and Buster burst into a wail. “Sh!” commanded doc. “She'll be better fed and looked after with me than she is with you.” “What do you want with a goat, doc?” asked Archie. “Parades. You don’t often see one that big. Touch up her horns with gold paint, and maybe dye her wool red or green. She'll make a grand flash.” ““Wouldn’t that be nice, kids?’”’ coaxed Mrs. Allen. But Bunny and Buster wept louder than ever, and Pete’s face was grim. “She’s not for sale,”” he reiterated. “T’ll give you ten dollars.” Pete shook his head. “Twenty.” Pete shook his head harder. Buster and Bunny wept louder. “*You see how it is, doc,” said Mrs. Allen apologetically. “Tf you want the goat you'll have to take the whole family.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “‘ Your teeth don’t fit,” he said abruptly. ‘‘Where did you get that job done?” 2

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ee ee “T like them loose,” said Mrs. Allen, “but I do wish they wouldn’t crowd up in my mouth like they was all trying to see out at the same time. Still, I can’t complain. They didn’t cost me anything.” “Darn those drug stores,” said doc bitterly. “They'll be giving away babies next at their one-cent sales.” “IT didn’t get these at a drug store. Mr. Allen found them in the washroom at a camp in Wichita. I guess somebody left them there the night before, and we was getting out early. I’ve used them ever since.” The Singing Dentist shook his head gravely. “T’m glad no dentist was responsible for marring the looks of as handsome a woman as you are. Now, what you want to do, Mrs. Allen, is to let me fit you here and now with teeth worthy of your beautiful mouth.” She looked at him archly. “Aw, I ain’t nothing now, but you ought to of saw me when I was a girl.” “It is like comparing a ripe, red, juicy apple with a green one.” “T was green,”’ she admitted. “Think what that smile would be over one of my porce- lite plates!” “Won't do me a bit of good to think about it. I’ve got enough to think about as it is, getting three kids and a goat to California without any money.” “T’ll make you a rock-bottom price.” “‘Rock-bottom ain’t low enough. If I bought your teeth I couldn’t buy any victuals to exercise them on.” The dentist laughed. “‘ You folks had breakfast?” “Yes, but it was a long time ago.” “Fix them some ham and eggs, Archie.” He watched them while they stood around the stove, their eyes on the frying pan. “You folks may as well keep on, as long as you've started this way,” he suggested. “That’s just what I was thinking,” said Mrs: Allen. “We're not in any hurry to get to Los Angeles.”” She looked at the dentist over her coffee cup with a light in her eyes that Pete had seen before. She had looked that way at old Schneller, the widower, and Flippen, the cowboy. “There’s too many mountains this way,” he demurred. “They're not bad,” said doc. “I think I can make it worth your while to trail me — on St kate Et through Oregon. I can use you. First of all, I want that goat.” “T told you she wasn’t for sale,” said Pete sullenly “T’ll rent her, then. And when we come to a town, one of you kids can lead her around.” ‘“*Lemme,”’ begged Bunny. “She’s my goat. I found her,” protested Buster, pushing himself to the front. “You can both do it.” Bunny and Buster joined their mother and Doc Higgins, but Pete stood apart, scowling and digging the dirt with the toe of his ragged shoe. “T’ve got a job for you, too, Mrs. Allen,” said the dentist. “All you'll have to do is get into a town a little bit ahead of us, with your face all tied up like you had a bad tooth. When I come in, act like you'd never seen me be- fore, see? Archie and I put on a show to draw the crowd, then we set up the operating chair and begin work. It’s hard to get them started. That’s where you come in. You're to be the first patient every night.” “If you try to pull one tooth out of my plate the whole thing will come down. It’s awful loose. Looky!” “I'll fix up a special plate for you, with loose pegs set into it.” “You're going to fool them!” “Think of her seeing through that, Archie!”’ said Doc- tor Higgins, turning to his assistant. ‘‘The minute I set eyes on her I knew she had brains as well as beauty.” “T’m not so dumb,” said Mrs. Allen complacently. “How much are you going to pay?” asked Pete. “Now, Petey, doc will do what's right.” » Seeing an Untidy Woman in Knickers and a Stocking Cap, With Three Frowzy Children, He Spoke: ‘‘There'’s No Use Hanging Around. We Never Feed Aute Tramps" THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 21 She Lay There in the Hot Saffron Shadow of the Tent and Thought ef Doctor Higgins “How about two dollars a night for you and the goat?” “Oh, doc!” “T'll give you a tryout tonight, and if you put it across you're billed through to Portland. We work back in the sticks mostly, where there’s one toothbrush to a family, and plenty of toothaches.” “Where do we start in?” He pushed back his breakfast dishes and spread out a map on the folding table. Mrs. Allen, leaning over his shoulder, followed his finger. “Your hair smells nice,” she said ” “There's a place called Boys. Let’s go there. “Boise. Hell, no. That's the capital. Dental board's hangout. Here’s a place called Buzzard, back in the hills Just an easy run from here. Let's try that.” He sketched off a map roughly on an en- velope and gave it to her. “Follow that And you'd better get started. No telling what that car of yours may do.” “Ain't we going to travel with you? “Certainly not. You're not supposed to know me at all.” — “You ought to make it before dark Where are you putting that map I gave you?” “Here in my hand bag.” “Well, don’t sit on it this time. When you get to Buzzard, tie up your face and try to look unhappy.” “It’s going to be pretty hard when I think of all this prosperity I've fell into, but I'll do my best.” She backed toward the car, waving her hand, almost trampling her offspring underfoot. “Say, how about them trick teeth?” “T’ll slip them to the kids tonight when they come after the goat. By the way, you'll have to leave the goat with us What's her name?” “‘Gambler.” The dentist advanced, holding out his hand persuasively. “‘Here, Gambler, Gam bler!” The goat lowered her horns and charged Doctor Higgins jumped behind Mrs. Allen Pete roared with delight “She’s an ugly brute. Archie, this goat.” Archie stopped his dishwashing and le Gambler back to the trailer. His eye meeting Pete's, winked me get i MISERABLE-LOOKING cavalcade drove slowly down the brief Mai: Street of Buzzard late afternoon Their hot, steamy faces were calcimined with fine alkaline dust mixed with per- spiration. So great had been the heat of the day, so violent the jolting over unpaved roads, so sharp the anxiety lest the time lost in repairing four blowouts should make them late, and so patent Pete's disapproval of Doctor Higgins, that it required no act- ing at all to write misery on Mrs. Allen's Continued on Page 76

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22 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By THOMAS CE flanks twitched and were still. Lupus lowered the rEeELUvuS TRA TBO - oe Shuttleworth's Writes You |: WOULD not need a second shot. The yellow “Boy, if That Hussy of revolver and some boy out among the hired men whimpered, “Ain't it a shame?” as if he might sob. And it was a shame. Lupus let the weapon hang in his hand, but the feeling of its polished wood in his palm turned him back into Sergeant Van Eck. “Murphy!” ‘Sir?” “Take four men an’ dig a grave out by the fence there, in the south lot. Wrap him up in these blankets. Get him buried fast. Hear?” “Yes, sir, Mr. Lupus.” Lupus walked from the shed into the sunlight, and the heat was a shock on his chest. He had been cold all over, waiting for them to fetch down his revolver from the house. This was not just the end of a good horse, but the end of his son's first horse. He looked at his son’s grandfather and saw that Mr. Van Eck had taken his hat from his black hair. “We done all we could, pop.” “T could ha’ told you it wasn’t no good last night, boy,’ said Mr. Van Eck, “but it satisfied Caro- lus. . . . Peterson!” A thin young fellow came among the grooms and milkers. He came thirty feet, although Mr. Van Eck had not raised his pur- ring, sleepy voice. Everybody gave back and left his victim standing alone before Van Eck’s unmoving amber face. The old man looked at the boy and spat casually to the left. “ Nick Shuttleworth’s daughter gave you five dollars togit Bullard saddled yest’day afternoon and fetch him out to her on the road?” “Yes, sir.” “Since you own up to it, some- thin’ like a man,’’ the voice purred, “and your mamma’s a widda, you needn't go to jail. . . Git off the place! . . . Murphy!’ “Yes, sir,” said the chief hired mani. “Pay the dirty dog off,” Mr. Van Eck commanded, turning. The brass ring at the end of his peg leg twinkled. He said to the rest of the men: “ You fellers, I want you to call attention to that black colt of Starlight’s when Mr. Carolus is ‘round. It's the likeliest colt on the place. Until he picks himself a new hoss, you ain't to bother Carolus for no reason. And you ain’t to men- tion Bully anywheres he can hear you.” He tapped his stick on the gravel. The sound seemed to rattle in the great yard and to echo from the ancient red stables of fine brick off toward the plebeian barns of mere wood where the lowly cows lived. “Lupus slipped the re- volver inside his blue shirt and stoou watching his father begin to walk away, not at all wanting to follow him. But he had to follow him. He nodded to the little veterinarian shoving things back into his bags, and tramped after the head of the tribe. Only, when he came to the alley between the two stables, he flinched, because Carolus was sitting on an oid bench against a wall, bent forward so that his black hair was shimmering, but his face invisible. “Carolus.” “Aw, pop, leave the kid be!” “Shut yer face, Lupus.” “Yes, grandfather,” said Carolus clearly enough, watch- ing a straw spin in his hands. “ Boy, if that hussy of Shuttleworth’s writes you a letter, you ain’t to answer it. If she or Nick Shuttleworth or his woman speaks te you downtown or tries to say anythin’, you ain’t to see ’em any more than they was air. Dirt’s dirt, an’ dirt fathers dirt. You could have that chit in jail. You're not to take an apology, nor a cent of money, nor , A al ph. A a Letter, You Ain't to Answer It. If She or Nick Shuttleworth orHisWoman Speaks to You Downtown J or Tries to Say Anythin’, You Ain't to See "Em Any More Than They Was Air" nothin’, boy. The Shuttleworths,” said the chief of the tribe, “don’t exist. Mind me!” Carolus looked up for a moment. His father got a thrill from the glimpse of a blank face. No Van Eck showed what a Van Eck felt in time of trouble. “Yes, sir.” “All right, boy,” said the sachem, and walked along. Lupus stood and blinked down at the top of his son’s head and the amber skin of Caro’s neck, The boy’s shoul- ders in a tight scarlet jersey were almost a flat table of muscles, he sat so stooped. After a while Lupus dropped a palm on the dark neck, kept it there a breath, then strode away. The red house and the thin limestone pillars of the porch all moved in an opalescence, as if the blue June sky had melted down on the Van Eck lands. He came abreast of his father and wiped his eyes on the back of a hand. “Git a bath, Lupus, an’ shave quick. If your English- man’s comin’ in on the three o’clock you ain’t got much time.” “‘An’ I wanted Colonel Beausire to talk tothekid! They’d ought to get on swell.” “Carolus’ll be all right, you dumb an’mal. Your woman’l] make him cry when he comes up to the house. Git shaved an’ washed,” said Mr. Van Eck tranquilly. “Anyhow, this Englishman’l! be lookin’ at the stock, an’ Mary. . . . How old a man’s he?” “Aw. He'd be about forty-eight now.” April 5,19350 BEER . w. ANDERSON “T’ll drive down to the station with you. Hustle.” Lupus ran up the porch and into the gray liv- ing room. His son Pieter Lupus Van Eck was industriously screaming in the lap of anursemaid out behind the mansion, under the oaks. His son Henricus Abram, who was recently two years old, stood in the upper hall pound- ing a black rubber ball on the gray paint below the painting of Fancy Girl, the Van Eck colt presented to President Grant by pop’s father in 1871. His wife, Mary, was leaning on the wall with her hands pressed on her ears. She took them down as she saw Lupus, and her red hair fell all every way on her shoulders. “Were you tryin’ not to hear the shot, honey?” “TI was afraid there might be two, Lupus. Oh, how’s Caro?” “He's all right, Red. I’d ruther he bawled his head off, though,” said Lupus. “It’s not in t e ethics of your race,”’ she said, to have him do that. Inhonor your ancestress, Cavorting T vise, the poor boy’ll hold it . . in. I don’t sup- pose you cried when your first wife died!” “The hell I didn’t, honey,” Lupus said, pulling his shirt off. The revolver banged on the floor. Henricus looked at it and fell over toward it. Just as the baby’s fin- gers got to the muzzle, Lupus picked it up. “‘The hell I didn’t, Red! . . . No, Henricus, this wasn’t meant for a fella your age. You stick to rubber balls, kid. Come an’ watch your old man shave.” Henricus sat with dignity in the bottom of the bathtub and pounded his black ball on his black head diligently. Lupus shaved. He had slept three hours or so while two veterinarians worked on Bullard. It was not until almost one o’clock that Carolus, driving out from a dance in town, stopped in the stable to tell his great horse good night and had not found Bullard in his stall. Miss Nancy Shuttleworth left hermount where it fell on the staked fence south of the Paramoye place, across the highroad. Lupus tried to think how any being could walk off and leave a mangled horse in a ditch, and shook his head. “What, dear?” “How could she do ’at, Red?” “Lupus, I adore you and you're the most extraordinary person who ever lived, but you are stupid! Haven’t you looked at the girl?” “Naw! Seen her drivin’ past a couple of times. All I know is she’s black-headed.” “Look at her mouth the next time you see her, my darling infant,” said his wife, “and vou’ll understand. She must have a charming mother!” “Nick Shuttleworth’s a hunk of tripe, Red. You wasn’t old enough to remember him when he lived home. What- ever this woman was he married down in Washington, she ain’t a lady. A lady couldn’t marry Nick.” ““Wasn’t she some senator’s daughter?” “Yeh. Only daughter. Dunno how Nick could get to meet a senator’s daughter!” “‘He’s handsome, Lupus.” “Him? He'd blow in two in a windstorm!” The red-headed woman drawled, “‘ My own Lupus, father of my children! Horse-breaker! You were forty in April, and you’ve a son twenty-one years old! You were a soldier, and women’ll go on making eyes at you until you’re dead. But you haven’t learned that some girls like pretty men

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Re a EE ai mag yet! It’s your Iroquois blood that makes you insensible to Mr. Shuttleworth’s elegant attractions!” “You could see through him in swimmin’, honey,” said Lupus meekly, lifting Henricus out of the bathtub. ““When his dad was drunk he’d heave Nick clean out over the front fence. ’N’ when Shuttleworth’s wife was drunk she’d lay the boy out with a broom. Nobody ever blamed Nick for runnin’ away. He’s forty-two or three. Gee, I’m hungry! Let’s have dinner early.” “You can’t, with an Englishman in the house. He'll probably think dinner at seven’s a ghastly solecism. . . . No, Henricus, you mustn’t eat towels! They don’t digest.” Lupus slung himself into a fresh blue shirt and wondered about a necktie, but couldn’t find one. However, he pulled on his best and newest boots, and slipped a spur on the right heel. They were wonderful boots. Even Carolus had said “Gosh!” when they came out of the box, and had undertaken to color them with saddle soap at once. Lupus saw them with satisfaction in the long glass beside his wife’s dressing table and beamed at her when he noticed that she was smiling. “Now brush your hair, my own, and you'll be quite per- fect. You look about twenty-four. Be sure to tell your Englishman that Caro’s your kid and not your brother.” Lupus brushed his black hair ae flat, and Mary kissed him under his left ear and let him carry Henricus downstairs onto the porch. Mr. Van Eck was planted in the back seat of the open car, watching a pup on the grass and occasionally spitting, his hands locked on the top of his cane. Nobody was supposed to know that pop’s left leg stayed in Cuba when the army came home in 1898; the matter was ignored. He always got into cars, though, privately, and did business along the main street of Couveris by summoning merchants out to the machine. **Powhatan, are you going down to receive this tourist?” ‘I got business in town, daughter.” ‘‘Well, many scalps, Sitting Bull. Henricus, wave to the big chief. You’ve oceans of time, Rain in the Face.” “T’ll git Henricus a tommy- hawk, daughter,”’ Mr. Van Eck purred. His head shifted a little. He had heard Carolus inaudibly climbing the four steps from the flagged walk without turning to see whose rubber soles those were. “Need anything down- town, boy?” “No, sir.” Lupus jumped down the steps and into the car, because some- thing would happen. Mary wouldn’t hear that tone from the tall boy’s mouth and not do something. Before he could start the machine, she cried out, “‘Oh, Caro, you poor angel !”’ and there was a terrible answering sound. The car started. Lupus found himself whirling the machine through the gates with Henricus in his lap. And then he found himself whistling as he turned down the highway. “Did you notice you got Hen- ricus still with you, you big fool?” “Yes, sir. He’s all right.” “Well, boy, if you want to show off your second son in just a bellyband downtown, it’s nothin’ to me. The weather's warm. Don’t it strike you Pete’s lighter complected than this one?” “Kinda, But he’ll darken up, pop.” “T ain’t complainin’ of Mary, boy. Your woman’s done hand- some by you. A Van Eck with three sons is pretty m’raculous. “She Spoiled the Hoss an’ Run Off an’ Left We could let Red make Pete a lawyer, or one of them things. I'll buy in some extry land pretty soon, so’s the kids can have equal shares. Of course,” said Mr. Van Eck, “you'll will the house an’ the old farm to Carolus, boy.” The car ran a quarter of a mile past the Van Eck pas- tures. They had been the Van Eck pastures, trodden by famous horses and prize cattle, for a meaningless time. Some English troops had camped there in 1777, near the round grove of oaks, and it was a legend that the Mrs. Van Eck in charge had refused to let some English officer inside the red brick house, thus causing it to be burned. But the next Van Eck built it up again. “It’s good Caro ain’t married young, like I did, pop. The babies’d get mixed up.” “It'll be compl’cated when he gits his woman,” the sachem purred. “Turn into Shuttleworth’s place, boy.” “Pop!” “Turn in,” said his father. Henricus leaned back and looked up with black eyes at Lupus. His face was still round, not lean and long, as it would be when he came to be fifteen or sixteen. Lupus took a hand from the wheel and patted his second son's knitted Him Like a Yetler Little Coward*’ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 23 stomacher, and then turned between gateposts of rosy concrete. Nick Shuttleworth’s architect and contractor had changed the old farm into what the newspaper called a Mediterranean villa last winter, but Mary and Carolus said the restless front of the house was vulgar. A lady of yellow marble hugged a swan on a low pedestal in the midst of a circular grass plot before the five steps which rose from the drive to a terrace of black-and-white stone The pink villa put a shadow on a lot of people in deck chairs. Lupus stopped the car before the steps and a girl stood sharply up in riding breeches from a litter of cush- ions. That was Nick Shuttleworth’s daughter. Lupus saw her mouth. Yes, there she was. And Mary was right about her mouth! “What a beautiful baby! Just like a bronze fountain piece!” a lady bleated. “TI say, he is a jolly kid!” said a man in white whose arms were sunburned. Lupus grinned at this young man al! in white, standing on the edge of the terrace. But Nick Shuttleworth was working among his guests in black boots and white pants, with a wide black belt hiding the band where his silk shirt and the starched breeches met. His hair had turned gray, but he was very elegant, and he looked pretty young “Well, hello, Lupus! And how are you, Mr. Van Eck?” “I’m in damn good shape,” pop purred loudly, “considerin I'm sixty-three years old, Nick. Come down here.” Shuttleworth had paused on the top step. His voice, high and nervous, came ahead of him: “But please come on in! Been meaning to run over and see you ever since we got here. But mov- ing into a new place is such a ghastly —ghastly job. Do come in for a minute!" A dozen people in the chairs or spread on pillows turned their faces “T haven't the time, Nick,” said Mr. Van Eck. “You come down here! I've got somethin’ to say to you.” His sleepy purr was still sleepy, but it had changed to a loud sound barytone insistence. Lupus »ked away from the ter- race and down at his son’s head against his blue shirt. Every- thing was now so quiet that Shuttleworth’s spurs clanged on the stone as he came down the steps “What—what was it, Mr. Van Eck?” He had always repeated a word in every sentence when he was a skinny kid. Lupus looked ahead and patted Henricus. Every- where paths stretched away among shrubberies, and little statues of naked people took the light. A groom was rubbing down a horse by the rosy stables, and some pigeons seemed to be fight- ing on the roof of a garage “Nick, I’ve been waitin’ a day for a sound from you or yer woman or that girl there.” “You've been yee! wait- ing—sir?” “You heard me. You,” the chief purred, “come of dirt. I've known your folk r three ger rations. But | thought you mig ha’ learned some manners away from here, an’ I've waited a for that chit ver there ft end word she’s ashamed of hersel! for you t pe a man and and say you're ashamed o You was fed in my kitchen when your f ixks were drunk to feed you, but you ain't man, Nick. You “Nicholas,” a woman called, turned out a “order that man to leave the grounds!” (Continued on Page 133)

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24 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST N THE CRIMINAL SIL By Richard Washburn Child OLEMN-FACED fact finders have been gathering statistics as to our prison population. This prison population represents in the main the element which has failed to pass the elementary examinations in the college of real American organized crime. Other fact finders have been trying to prove that instead of 10,000 murders compared with some other country’s twenty murders, there are really only 9480. Others may be engaged in the solemn task of proving that robbery, burglary and theft losses in the United States, borne by the consumers as a charge on doing busi- ness, should be defined and figured by a scientific survey, and at large expense to the taxpayers, down to cents and fractions; and that cannot be done in any case. Others have been trying to prove that prohibition and traffic have thrown a doubled burden on police and courts. Who, for patience’s sake, does not know that already? Worst of all, these solemn and innocent investigations, worthless compared with Charles Coe’s interpretations of modern organized crime in THE SATURDAY EVENING Post, or to Raymond Moley’s important books on the subject of crime and politics, fail utterly to understand that the breakdown of criminal prosecution and justice is no longer a question. It is a settled fact. What is not settled is the future of the uneven battle between shrewdly organized crime, up-to-date, armed, pro- tected, possessing huge investment, and, on the other side, a judicial system behind on its work, adapted to yester- day, preserved by the mutterings of a toothless legal profession to the effect that “the system is all right except for the human equation’’—a judicial system utterly ineffi- cient to give swift and certain punishment—a judicial sys- tem which, on the criminal side, is more calculated to cause disrespect for law than any attitude of a citizenry which fundamentally is law-abiding and desires to have respect for law. You can throw a great deal of mud at our police, but no one can counter the reply the police make when they say, “We catch some of ’em at least, and the courts let ’em go.” The New Criminal Alliance OW the courts let them go! Exclamation. And how do the courts let them go? Query. These are the two practical points for our attention. There is no gainsaying that several of the loopholes of the machinery of the law are due to human failings. No one can deny that many others, and perhaps the most seri- ous, are chargeable to the alliance of some court clerks, prosecuting attorneys and witnesses, with corrupt urban political machines and pull. This alli- ance is far worse in the presence of DECORA TTI OH B YF i Pe we EN he | bootleg and blackmailing gangs than ever heretofore. The fraternity and intrigue and alliance of racketeering and gangster kings, having the force not only of violence but of great wealth behind them, increased the sinister influence of corrupt political power in our criminal-law procedure. Usually it is only general knowledge which shows us that in the United States our criminal prosecution, compared with English or other foreign systems, is so feeble. Now and then we expose the real scandal by the work of state or local investigating bodies which have conducted useful surveys. The late Governor Hadley, in the Missouri Crime Sur- vey, drew a conclusion which I have often quoted: “Stated in terms of percentages, the result is that our system of apprehending and prosecuting those guilty of criminal offenses is only from 5 per cent to 10 per cent effi- cient; considering those apprehended and indicted for major offenses, it is only from 25 per cent to 30 per cent efficient; and including those tried for major offenses, about 50 per cent efficient. Such figures, stated in the ab- stract, oftentimes mean little to the casual reader, but if he should stop to consider a similar result in the conduct of a business such as banking, transportation or manufacturing with a percentage of efficiency from: only 5 per cent to 50 per cent, he could more clearly realize the seriousness of the problem that confronts society today, depending as it does for the protection of life and property upon a system of apprehending and prosecuting violators of the law which is from 50 per cent to 95 per cent inefficient.” The disclosures of the Illinois Crime Survey recently compiled are even more discouraging. In Illinois, out of 16,812 cases of felonies, 7340 were elim- inated at preliminary hearings. Say the police, “‘We catch "em and the courts let "em go.”’ Of those left, 2034 were set free by the grand jury. Say the police, ‘We catch ’em and ———”’ Of those entering trial courts, 3977 were elim- inated. Of the remaining 20 per cent of the first figure, 782 were put on probation. Seventy appealed. Of the total of cases, only about 15 per cent executed sentences at all. In Chicago, almost the same percentage executed sen- tences. Not much difference between urban and rural Illinois! The proportion of cases in which the plea of guilty was made to a lesser offense than the one charged is an ever- present hope to the criminal that even if he pleads guilty or is convicted, he gets off easy. In New York, the story is no different. About half of those arrested in felony cases are let off at preliminary hear- ings, and about 15 per cent are imprisoned or fined after the big sieve has done its work to the end of the extravaganza. The Cleveland Survey indicated that. only about 30 per cent of those arrested April 5,1930 were finally really punished at all. The police say, “We catch ’em and the courts let ’em go.” Raymond Moley,who has done more, perhaps, than any otherman to show by statistics the modern relationship between gangster and racketeering politics and our criminal-process paralysis, gives the Missouri figures for 1922-1924, showing in felonies a record of only approximately 30 per cent of the sentences executed, and heaven knows how many of these were sen- tences for lesser offenses than those actually perpetrated ! Say the police, ‘We catch ’em and the courts let ’em go.” It is no answer to reply to the criticized police that they, too, let a great percentage of criminals slip through their fingers. It is no answer to say that politics touch the police as well as the courts. It is no answer to say that we may have police systems as antiquated—and now overburdened by prohibition and traffic—as are the courts. What re- mains is a growing conviction, based not only on general public knowledge but also upon such statistics as we have, that the criminal courts, in the sense of the whole legal machinery after arrests, is justly accused when it is said, “We catch ’em and the courts let ’em go.” on a oe Prima Donna Investigators HE same kind of answer can be made to those who as- sume a professional monopoly of everything said or to be said about crime, and become prima donnas, and get them- selves into various crime commissions; their usual attitude toward the suggestions from public good sense is as follows: “Don’t listen to anything written or said about our crime and the failure of our criminal procedure until it has been surveyed by our own crime-investigation clique. Any out- side work is journalistic and sensational. If the question is whether more crime is committed in speak-easies or on children’s playgrounds, or whether criminals with political pull get off easier than those without it, such a question may be settled only when our brand is on our own con- tainer.” I do not refer to surveys like those of Missouri, Georgia and Illinois. Nor could any one of the able, effective, and journalistic as well as statistic conductors of such surveys feel envy or jealousy of these cloistered voices, with repu- tations gained from repetitions of pronouncements and the heavy manners of the learned. What bothers me is that the professional, philosophic, monopolistic attitude of such high priests tends to obstruct and to throw dust into the eyes of a public opinion which no longer is able to overlook the truth about our criminal procedure, and drugs public common sense, which is ready to recognize that something may really be done about our fiasco of criminal loopholes. It is equally senseless to turn the edge of public demand for reform in criminal procedure by making it appear that in some future Utopia no criminals will be in existence. When I wrote a series of articles for THE SATURDAY EVE- NING Post in 1925, I received hundreds of letters from good >=

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 25 souls and high-minded individuals suggesting that our whole law-enforcement system should be replaced by the removal of poverty, of ignorance, of adenoids and hard luck, and that other forms of social control should ulti- mately replace the deterrents of the enforcement of normal laws against violence to persons and property. More recently, the Editorial Research Reports has said: Leading jurists point out that, when all is said on the subject of law reform, there are other factors in the causation of crime which are of equal or greater importance. These are social and economic factors. Sweeping changes within the country in re- cent years, it is declared, have brought a breakdown of social control. Harlan F. Stone, Associate Justice of the Supreme Court, has said that reform in court procedure, however needed, will not of itself replace ‘‘the spirit of obedience to law and the zeal for en- forcement.” In an address, June 11, 1928, he referred to a ‘breakdown in social morale,” produced by recent striking changes in the nation’s life: (1) The movement from farm to city; (2) unrestricted immigration; (3) replacement of skilled performance by mass production. Dean Roscoe Pound has said that ‘‘law is but one agency of social control,” and that legal reform may not, of itself, check crime. Agencies of social control cited by Dean Pound and other writers include home training, religion, education, trade ethics and the internal discipline of clubs and associations. No intelligent person thinks otherwise, but, as I have often pointed out, the ordinary citizen whose house is on fire would not value highly a fire department which sent word that it could not come until it had finished a debate on the fundamental, histurical and psychic origin and cure of fire. Who are the Real Criminals? OR can any intelligent person stand against experimen- tation in the mental or neurological prevention or cure of criminality. The more exploration—unless it becomes a fad—the better. But no one but a fool would say, “Let our reform of criminal procedure wait until we diagnose and treat all criminals.’”” We would not catch and confine enough or sufficient variety of real criminals under our present system to furnish a decent laboratory supply. Our present prison population probably is about a twentieth or less of our real criminal population. In the main, it is the moron dregs of society which go to prison. Somewhere among the other nineteen-twentieths of the criminal popu- lation are the real representatives of the dragon we are really trying to catch—the one represented by gangsters, racketeers, gunmen, audacious organized criminals. They are the ones who slip through the holes in our criminal procedure. The crime problem in the United States is not found in asking who is in the prisons; the crime problem is raised by who is out. The crime problem is not even found by asking who is criminal now; the crime problem is found among those growing or coming generations who may choose the well- ordered business of crime and the strategic campaign of crime for their self-expression, because crime is smarter than law enforcement, is mentally alive while criminal pro- cedure is sodden and moribund, and is much more practical and in touch with living events than most of the solemn gentlemen who cast their gen- tle survey over crime through cul- ~~ tural lorgnettes. From the very start of any common-sense interest in crime suppression, there is raised the question of why we punish or confine criminals at all. At the two absurd extremes of the answers to this ques- tion we find at one end the revenge doctrine and at the other the reform-of-the-criminal doctrine. The first grew out of the desire of a feudal lord or a monarch, not only to show ’em, when subjects disobeyed, but an almost per- verted desire to torture and otherwise seek revenge. His- torically, much of old criminal law found its source right there. You will find sentimentalists and the soft-sobbers of to- day trying to make us believe that the alternative to their program of treating the criminal to an ice-cream soda and a visit to a psychopath can only be a grinding of the teeth of the law while it burns a violator of parking rules at the stake. This is merely silly. The revenge doctrine and the revenge practice are only as common among Americans as leprosy. Between these absurd extremes there is no choice as to absurdity; but for practical purposes, look out for the deadening influence of those who want to treat law enforce- ment as if it were only purposed for the benefit of the indi- vidual criminal—that is, to get him, experiment on his mental states, and cure him, if possible. This school of thought is the one we have all heard preaching the doctrine that severe punishment does no good, less punishment does more good. Perhaps, then, no punishment would be better yet, and since an unenforced law is no law, we can swallow anarchy at once, and thus please all the radicals. Whether in the garb of soap-box orators, or preachers and teachers, on crime commissions or off, they are trying to worm in that direction anyhow. Carried to its logical conclusion, a reward for the commission of crime would do what severity of punishment never could do—perhaps prevent it! Is that so? Severity of punishment does not always prevent the wrongdoer from doing wrong. No one can deny that. The fossil school of law-enforcement surveyors always bores us by pointing to the historic examples in England and else- where, when torture or death failed to prevent little boys and girls from stealing buns. Modern common sense, how- ever, is a better basis for our belief that severity of punish- ment is a real obstacle to convictions by judges or juries or witnesses. Capital punishment is an instance. Aside from the mis- takes which might be made, but seldom are, it is better to give three real murderers certain punishment than to hang one and have juries, reluctant to take life, acquit the others. Severity of punishment is not half so important as swift- ness and sureness of punishment, large or small. But since we have neither severity nor swiftness, and above all, no sureness, no one need worry about hardship to the real criminal. He usually experiences none of the deterrents of crime, nor even has the advantage of enlightened punish- ment, on the one hand, or correct institutional treatment, on the other hand. Dragging all these herrings across the trail of our national failure in criminal-prosecution machinery is the work of the impractical idealists and sentimentalists, or of those who, deep in their hearts, yearn for a disordered society, tolerant of misdoing and teeming with opportunities for radicalism and the deification of unfitness and of “some- thing for nothing” for the loafers. The facts to face are such as these: Less than twenty out of every hundred killers of men in the United States are convicted and, according to the President, even then “a scandalously small percentage are adequately punished.” Seven Out of Ten Go Free THER felons do not fare quite so well as slayers. There is the discharge at the preliminary hearing. Roughly, half of the arrested felons drop out there. The grand jury is the hole where “no bill” lets out 10 per cent more. Then about 10 per cent go free on court trials and appeals; and those who jump their bail must not be forgotten. Finally, without considering the common practice of allowing a prisoner to plead guilty to a lesser offense, we have a round average, in most of our communities, of some 30 per cent of those captured who have to take substantial punishment. In murder, it is a five-to-one chance to go free. And let us remember we are not considering those who are never cap- tured. How is it worked? We may consider this question first, and in later articles we may answer the question: How can it be stopped? Step by step in the usual procedure this happens, thus: The prisoner, after his arrest, goes before a magistrate or officer of like functions. The magistrate holds a political job. Usually he is not a part of any unified judicial system for the whole state, not a factor in any modern organiza- tion. Right there is the first instance of a ridiculous failure of the legal machinery. No business would tolerate such disorganization. But here is the magistrate. He may be an honest fellow. He seldom is either a successful lawyer or a great justice. If he were the first, he would not take (Continued on Page 161)

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AUL ran across the street on Monday morning, 2s soon as he caught sight of “Hello, Joan,” said Paul eagerly. “I called you last night, but couldn't get you. I wanted to see you.” “Did you?” said Joan indifferently. She was as cold and damp as the morning outside. Paul, however, was will- ng to take a little punishment. Joan had been such a the best he had in Hilltown—that he could not believe she would be cross with him for long. He knew he had been slow and stupid about realizing how much he iked her. He had taken her friendship and liking for granted, and rushed a silly girl; he couldn’t understand it now, but he was sorry, and he wanted Joan’s kindness more than anything else, and was willing to wait for it. “I thought we might go somewhere tonight,” he said. “What do you think? I'd like to have a good talk with you, Joan. We could go to the show here, or we could drive to Stone City and go to the Palace. I thought : “Did vou?” said Joan again. Paul felt a slight wilting of his spirit. It was not easy for nii: io be humble. “Are you really cross with me, Joan?” Joan smiled with amusement. = only cross with people I’m fond of,”’ she said lightly, and began to read the paper. Paul looked at it, for want of knowing what else to do, and saw that the page was opened at Dorothy Dix. “Do you read her column every day?” he said. “I do.” He felt that he was being silly, but couldn’t help it, in his effort to maintain the appearance of ordinary conversation. “If ever 1 get married, I’m going to go by the rules she lays down.” Joan said nothing, but she smiled again, patiently. Paul was weak- ening fast. He said, after a silence destructive to his morale: “Won't you go with me tonight, Joan, please?” “There’s a list here of the Hill- town boys and girls that have gone away to college,” said Joan, instead of answering. Paul flushed hotly. Frances had left that morning. He turned to go, but said feebly, in bis own defense: “I wouldn't be seeing Frances, even if she were here—if that is what you were thinking.” “T wasn't thinking anything about what you thight do,” said Joan with dignity. Paul went back across the street more slowly, un- conscious of the rain. He looked up, as he always did, at the fine electric sign that advertised the presence of the GROVER SALES AND SERVICE. He was very proud of his showroom, with its glittering new automobiles, of the special! floor space set aside for used cars, of the shop behind all this, where Walnut, the mechanic, did considerable general garage work, besides servicing their own new and used cars. Pau! found Wainut back in the shop. “You've got Joan wrong,” said Paul at once. ‘“‘ What- ever made you think she liked me? She is bored just to look at me.” Walnut regarded the young car dealer. “Naturally, she’s peeved at you for running after Frances Gilde the way you done. And now Frances is gone off to college, and Joan thinks you think you've only got to ask her. You should have waited a few days, you poor ninny, and not gone over there this morning. Joan doesn’t know that you and Frances are through. She thinks you want to double-date her.” Pau! shook his head. g od friend Pid GRE, THE SATURDAY EVENING POST By Margaret ye Jackson Joan Fox in the office of her oS & S22 €¢: 2 82.7 @:s Cot: Se father’s garage. He went inside, for it was raining hard and a cold wind was blowing up the treet. Joan was standing behind the counter, looking at the morning newspaper, which was spread out before her. “No,” he said, “Joan’s not a girl to hold a grudge. If she wanted to step with me, she would. She just doesn’t like me. That’s all.” “Listen,” said Walnut patiently, “‘you’re cuckoo. Of course she likes you! She’s showed she liked you every day since you came here last April. She’s been a friend. She’s not the one to change overnight. But what did you do? Did you ask her for dates? Did you ever take her to a show, or to the city to dances, or give her a chance to wear her nice dresses for you? ‘Joan, is That Why You Did It? Didn't You Do it Because You Liked Me, at All?” Did you eibow her around and show everyone in town you liked her? No. You just counted on seeing her and talking to her down here every day. And when you wanted to step, you took someone else. She’s got pride, ain’t she? Especially, if she did like you. You've got to give her a little time, boy. Let her cool off before you start rushing her. She'll forgive you, but she won’t do it this morning.” Paul looked at Walnut doubtingly. The mechanic had been gesturing with an electric light in a little wire cage, which he held in his hand, its long tape-wrapped cord half wound around him. He now turned on the switch and the light sprang up. and with this in his hand he retreated under the latest trade-in. Paul went slowly back to his office, his heart sinking lower with every step. He sat April 55,1930 down to go over his list of pros- pects and plan his day’s work, but he stared at the book un- seeingly. Of course, if Joan thought that he’d be dating Frances, if Frances hadn’t gone away ——— Naturally, Joan didn’t know that it had taken that frenzied week of Frances to make him appreciate Joan. And that was a thing he couldn’t tell Joan. Neither could he tell her that his dates had been of Frances’ seeking. Paul was even a little ashamed that he wished Joan knew that he had not been as aggressive about Frances as it appeared. He tried to look at things from Joan’s point of view, and that was very discouraging. From the time he had first opened up his dealership in Hilltown, six months before, Joan had been kind and help- ful. She had come across the street like a cheerful kid, to advise and consult with him. She had been anxious for him to succeed. He had not ap- preciated her interest at first, as he was too pleased with himself—he thought now— to appreciate anyone else. But after a trip they had made to the city where their respective cars were manufactured, to drive away new cars, he had begun to realize what a won- derful girl she was. And still he did not think of her, clearly, for himself. He had expected, always, to find his own girl in some beautiful moonlit gar- den, or at a wonderful dance, or in some romantic danger not in a garage across the street. And when she grew more gentle, her eyes deeper and more glowing, her very voice with deepened timbre, he had liked it and not known why. He knew now. If he had had the wit to make that liking something more, she would have been his girl now, and every- thing settled. But he had muffed his chance. Nothing is less comprehensible to a man than a burnt-out attraction. And now he had lost Joan. He had hurt her pride. He had shown him- self an unfeeling, unappreciative dolt! He sighed deeply. He felt quite sorry for himself. Joan came out of the office across the way to fill someone’s car. She wore, today, a short pleated gray skirt and a gray pullover sweater, with a scar- let silk scarf about her shoulders and a scarlet béret on her head. Her warm brown curls swirled out around the edge of the little cap, her cheeks, reddened by the cold wind, made her more attractive than usual. She wasn’t just pretty, like Frances. She was tall and vigorous—his wonderful girl—and he had lost her. His throat ached. He shook himself. “Snap out of it—snap out of it,” he growled at himself. “You have to go on; no pale loitering around here. The props aren’t right. Go on with your job and maybe you'll get another chance some day.” He chose a name at ran- dom from the list before him, and took his demonstrator out into the country. The farmer, who happened to be up in the yard, told him that he didn’t want a new car. “T can’t afford it. But if you have a trade-in, I'll listen to you. My son wrecked our old car, and I only got a hun- dred dollars from the insurance company. It was a 1919 model.” “You were lucky,” Paul assured him. He knew all about the wreck. GReEFE

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‘*There’s a List Here of the Hilitown Boys and Girts That Have Gone Away to College,’’ Said Joan, Instead of Answering “It was a good car,”’ the farmer, whose nafme was Jor- dan, told Paul indignantly. “It went. That was all we wanted of it. But I might buy a used car. What have you?” “T’ve got a real nice 1926 Wood sedan. The upholstering is good, and the rubber is good, and it has a new starter. The battery needs charging. It’s a real buy at a hundred and seventy-five dollars.” “T’ve only got a hundred dollars.” Paul wished to sell the Wood, and they talked about it a while, and Paul drove the farmer in town to the showroom, and got him to try the Wood, offering to have the battery charged. The car acted nicely, once it was started. “Walnut takes trade-ins and goes over them carefully, cleans and adjusts the carburetors and the timing, tightens everything, and gets the cars in running order. We guar- antee the car to be what we say it is. You can see the mile- age on the speedometer.” “‘I’ve only got a hundred dollars,” said the farmer. ‘‘I told you that. But I’ve a flock of twelve big geese I'll turn in to you. They’re worth five dollars each at any market.” ““Geese?”’ said Paul. “‘What would I do with geese?” “Sell them.” “To whom? Why don’t you sell them and pay me the money?” “If I sell the geese myself, I'll still have only a hundred dollars for a car,”’ said Mr. Jordan obstinately. He added: “They weigh from twelve to fifteen pounds each—that much dressed. They are worth about fifty cents a pound, this time of the year.” “And there are twelve of them?” “An even dozen.” “T’ll take them,” said Paul. me the hundred dollars and take the Wood, and bring the geese in to me, crated.” It was a deal, but after the farmer had gone with his car, Paul looked up the price of geese in the paper. Live geese were not quoted — dressed geese only. He had al- ~ lowed one hundred and seventy-five dollars for the Wood on a new Grover. If he could get fifty dollars clear for the geese, he would be all right. He called the poul- try house, but they were notshipping anything un- til the middle of the week, and would not handle and dress the geese. “T can take them alive in crates by Wednesday after- noon,” the man said; “‘can’t take them before.” Paul wished he had known this before he parted from Mr. Jordan. But within un hour the farmer had returned, and dumped four crates, with three screaming gray geese in each one, on the sidewalk in front of the Grover showroom. The geese immediately attracted an amused crowd. Paul did not know what to do with them. He knew only that if they were not fed and watered properly, they would soon depreciate in value. “You give THE SATURDAY EVENING POST He said to Walnut: “I’m going to take them to the city market tonight. We'll take them in that flivver truck.” “Blondy, it will never get you to the city—-never!” “Tt may have to.” “The cream truck goes up tonight. Maybe Gus’ll take them for you.” Paul went to see if he would, and made the necessary arrangements. The screaming geese were removed from the front walk, to his great relief. Six months ago he would never have taken them, but now he was learning to take in anything from livestock to wed- ding silver. The next morning he went down to his showroom, to find the four crates of geese on the sidewalk, the geese wet and much subdued. They needed feeding and watering immediately, and needed to be taken from the crates, in which they had now spent twenty- four hours. Paul looked at them malevolently. the office and telephoned Gus. “Why didn’t you take the geese?”’ he demanded. “T did,” said Gus. “They wouldn’t have them. They say they’re sick. They’ve got the roup. More’n half of them have one eye shut already.” “They were all right yesterday.” “Tcan'thelpit. I didn’t giveit to’em. They wouldn't even let me unload the crates. . You owe me five dollars.” “‘Come around and I'll pay you,” said Paul. He called the farmer on the telephone. “Hey, what’s the idea of giving me a bunch of sick geese?”’ he demanded. “Sick geese? What geese are you talking about?” “I’m talking about those geese you brought in here yes- terday. They’re sick. They’ve got the roup, or the croup, or something. I can’t sell them.” “Tf them geese is sick, they got sick after they left here. They was running around as lively as all get-out when I put them in the crates. And I want my crates back. They're worth a dollar each.” Paul put up the telephone before he lost his temper com- pletely, and looked out at the sick geese. They certainly looked dispirited. He made up his mind that he wasn’t going to keep them. He wasn’t going to be cheated in this way. He had stayed by more than one bad deal, but in this case he was going to be stubborn. He went out and told Walnut what had happened. “You can’t prove a thing,” said Walnut. “ Maybe he knew they was sick, and maybe he didn’t. You took them without looking at them, didn’t you? Anyhow, chickens and geese don’t die of roup. Not al- ways, that is. Why don’t you pen them up somewhere, and get the vet to give you some He went into “Tf You Want Advice Now, Repossess it Without Delay. Get Your Money Out" nN ~J dope for them, and keep them clean and dry, and maybe they'll be all right in a few weeks. You can get more for them around Thanksgiving or Christmas, anyhow.” “I don’t know where I could keep them.” “Mrs. Ferguson's got an empty chicken run. Ask her.” Mrs. Ferguson was interested and helpful. She liked her quiet neat young roomer, who had never before asked a favor of her, and who was prompt and regular in paying Also, she was sympathetic, and not amused, as everyone else was. Paul had the geese taken to his landlady’s and they had the local veterinarian examine them. He tock two out to be destroyed, and treated the rest. He left elaborate instructions for their care. with languid interest. He felt the loss of his luck as he considered the geese. But he tried to bolster up his spirit. He was haunted by some superstition that he was in wrong generally, because Joan had withdrawn her kindness from him. If she knew about them, even if she laughed, he felt he could take it all in his stride. But in the geese that were moping in Mrs. Ferguson’s chicken run there was the equivalent of seventy-five dollars’ worth of automobile, and seventy-five dollars was a lot of money to Paul He was awakened in the morning by the cackling and screeching of the geese, who were exceedingly noisy. He got up and looked out of the window. His room was at the back of the house, and he could see the geese out there in the softly falling rain. One of them was sitting on the ground, huddled up in a corner. The rest should have been in the house, but had not the wit to stay there. He went to town in a low frame of mind. Everyone he met was helpful about the geese, asking solicitously after their health, expressing the grave hope that they would soon be up and about again. Lew, the mechanic at the Spate garage, stopped him in all pretense of seriousness, and said he had a cousin who would like a new car “*He has a big gray cat with five kittens—beautiful cat. Thought you might allow him something on her.”’ “Yeah?” said Paul. He grinned good-naturedly, but his ears were red. “ Mustn’t get the wind up,” he cautioned himself. “I rate a kidding.” And, evidently, he was to get it. There was no one in the showroom, but Walnut was in the shop in the back of the garage, and he could not resist sticking his head up over the radiator and making a& un- pleasant noise. “Yonk-yonk,” he said Paul ignored him. Paul looked at his mail, at the bul- letins from the Grover factory, at a folder revealing a sure way to organize a used-car sale successfully, at a model (Continued on Page 180) Paul looked at them That's the Onty Way I Can See for You te

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28 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST wii April 5,19350 By Fanny Heaslip Lea ILLUSTRATED HENRY RALEIGH HERE was no one in the dining car at breakfast who Eve considered might be Jed Traill, University of Virginia, 1915, who would, ac- ording to the unsigned wire of the night before from Provi- dence, look her up, upon whom she was to go easy, and who ised to be aswel! guy. The wire sounded like Howard West Howard's especial brand of hu- mor. Also, she reflected, with a certain fleeting warmth about the heart, that it would be en- tirely like Howard to put out a hand and direct someone across er way who would, in case of emergency, be available. Eve ad the Southern woman's ine- radicable instinct that it is bet- ter, in any state of affairs to which it has pleased Deity to call one, to have a man at hand. She had, as well, the Southern woman's deep-rooted convic- tion that while men concern themselves with her comfort and welfare, Deity will not be too far off. Nevertheless, she did not, glancing up and down the car, between casual attention to her breakfast and newspaper, see anyone who seemed likely to be amed Jed Traill. The name aught her fancy. The men in the dining car did not. A hot- faced, heavy man in a brown suit, eating sausage and hot cakes; a stocky curly-headed young man in a green shirt and collar, drinking coffee in deep healthy gulps, crunching toast like an Airedale with a puppy biscuit. If there were anything n a name, Jed Traill would not crunch toast. He might, she fancied, be tall and very slender, with smooth blond hair and light cool eyes Prosperous, of course. All Howard’s friends had money. Nothing amused Howard ex- cept things it cost money to do—polo, speedboating, night clubs, races; New York, Miami, Deauvillie—that was Howard’s routine. The kindest creature on earth, and the most easily bored. If the wire had Paris, "a be Traill man won’t find me. It’s bad enough to be so low as this, alone.” When he did find her—some- time around one o’clock—he was not in the least what she had expected; he was even, be- cause of his absolute unlikeness to what Howard might have been supposed to select for a friend, distinctly interesting. He was not, in the first place, blond or cool-eyed, although he was tall and slender. His hair and his eyes were dark. But it was his mouth that made him peculiarly different. It was set upon his face awry. Obviously, when he was a little boy he had not had braces put upon his very white teeth by an ex- pensive dentist. Because now his teeth were crooked—not at all unpleasingly, but very defi- nitely—and so was his mouth. It gave to his rather sad smile an engaging semblance of mock- ery. It gave to his more serious moments a look of deep skepti- cism, reluctant but ingrained. It wasn’t the twisted smile of the artist in whimsy; it wasn’t even the crooked one, long ago gone stale, of sentimental fic- tion. It was merely a physical defect which happened to be pleasing. For the rest, a dark-blue suit, sufficiently well tailored, the correct tie, hands well cared for. Eve sensed at a glance that he would send a woman gardenias rather. than orchids, that he would prefer Tristan to Tosca, seas to mountains. He wore a heavy seal ring with the look of a crest. His shoes were black. Women are as intuitive as po- licemen should be, and for much the same reason defenders of society. Eve sensed at a sec- ond glance a sort of diffidence in him. To approach her and pre- sent himself embarrassed him. His smile was a facial gesture; no more. Even at that, she found it strangely appealing. He said, stopping beside the timeless green velvet seat she sat on: “‘Are you Miss Adams? If you’re not, I’m sorry.” really come from Howard, Eve knew pretty well what to expect f Jed Traill. She didn’t deeply care; she merely expected. Not seeing anyone who corresponded in the least to her expectations, she devoted her entire attention to paper and breakfast, and returned to her section. Except for herself, the section was empty. A piece of luck! No one in the upper berth. Nothing but Eve’s two black bags under one seat. Nothing but Eve’s hat and limmy Sutherland’s two books on the other. Jimmy had presented her with poems by Elinor Wylie and a novel on Hollywood. Intentional, if friendly, malice. Eve turned the pages of the novel and put it down again. If Hollywood were going to be all sawdust and whip cracking, she didn’t want te dwell on that before she got there. As she had said to Jimmy, between his warnings about Timberlake and di- rectors in general: “I’ve got to keep going, haven’t 1?” lerself, she found that unanswerable. Life wasn’t a thing you could arrange for yourself. Things broke—that was all. And you met the breaks as best you could. You kept going, as she had said to Jimmy, and some day you turned corner, or crossed a room, or opened a letter, or picked up newspaper, and maybe for a terrifying moment you saw the pattern take shape. Something in which you had been set down here or picked up there, completing a design of He Loosened His Hold, Went On Singing, Very Low, With an Undertone of Weariness which you were, perhaps as well, quite ignorant. For the sake of your own self-respect, you kept going. You put up the best fight you knew how, with such weapons as you could lay your hands on, but not for a moment did you deceive yourself as to the authorship of the pattern. That came from higher up. As if Eve were not alone in her knowledge, the thin smoke-and-rose book of Elinor Wylie’s poems opened in Eve’s fingers at a page which said: Therefore die when you please. It’s not very wise to worry; I shall not shiver and freeze ; I shall not even be sorry. Strange for Jimmy to have brought Eve a book like that. Or not strange? Maybe all one saw of Jimmy, or anyone else, was the pattern he walked in. Maybe, inside the windings of the pattern, Jimmy struggled and rebelled, and surrendered, and rebelled again. Who didn’t? Noth- ing in the landscape between Chicago and New York turned Eve’s thoughts a livelier iris. She sat with the book in her lap, staring out at fields defaced with billboards, at towns defaced with smoke. She thought, even: “I hope the “Yes, I’m Eve Adams,” she told him quickly, to bring his sorrow to an end. He said, “I saw Howard West in Providence yesterday.” “Do sit down,” said Eve. “I was sure it was Howard.” He sat down in the seat facing her. He piled the rose-and- smoke book absently on top of the red-and-purple-and- yellow book which was the novel about Hollywood. “Oh,” he said politely, “did he ——” “He sent me a ridiculous wire,” said Eve, unable to wait for that pleasant Virginian drawl to complete a ques- tion. She had forgotten how lazy a drawl could be. Or did his embarrassment communicate itself to her? Was she herself laughing out of sheer nervousness, helping him get the first moments over? “Wait,” she said. “You are Jed Traill, University of Virginia, 1915.” “IT don’t know why West shculd have bothered to go into that,’”’ he said, “unless you’re from Virginia too.”’ “Atlanta, Georgia,” said Eve, “and a long time ago.” “Couldn’t be longer than 1915,” said Traill somberly. Eve began, “Funny thing about the wire ——” At the same moment he began, “ You’re on your way out to ——”’ They both stopped short. They both laughed apolo- getically.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “Let me!” said Eve, feeling any unease in the meeting suddenly dissipated. “‘The wire wasn’t signed.” “You're on your way out to Hollywood,” he said. “Now,” said Eve, “we can go on from there. I guessed it was Howard, because I knew he’d been in Boston, which is near Providence, and I didn’t know anyone in Provi- dence.” “Well,” said Traill, “I knew you were on your way out to Hollywood because West told meso. He said you had a wonderful contract.” “Howard,” said Eve sweetly, “is a darling and a per- fectly unscrupulous liar. He told me that you ——” She stopped. She sat looking at Traill and wondering. “‘ Used to be swell guy.” Why “used to be”? He seemed, to a casual female eye, sufficiently swell, as he stood. Sat rather. One might have expected, taking Howard’s phrase for it, to find him tottering upon a stick. He was thirty- five, Eve fancied, at the outside. Probably less than that. She began an intricate mental computation. If he’d fin- ished at the University at twenty-two or three, say; and that was in 1915—and this was '29 “What did Howard tell you?” he inquired at that mo- ment with extreme courtesy. A trace of defiance, Eve thought. She laughed. “How old are you, by any chance?” He said, “I’m thirty-four. Did he teli you that?” “T think,” said Eve, “he might if he’d thought of it. He’s a great gossip.”” She opened her bag lying on the seat beside her, and inspected herself in the sniall square mirror which it held, among other things. “One does get so in- candescent on trains,’’ she murmured, powdering her nose absently. “It’s quite obvious to me why Howard’s thrown us across each other’s paths like a pair of red herring. He meant you to see me safely across the continent, so to speak. In case I get left in Arizona, buying post cards.” “Or lose a trunk in Oklahoma,” he suggested. “Why, there you are!”’ said Eve. ‘You have only to upset your entire schedule— whatever that may be—taking care of a lost lady. Howard,” she sighed amusedly, “‘is al- ways so thoughtful.” Jed Traill had been watching her out of his dark, rather melancholy eyes. Suddenly something seemed to take wing from him—something released, starving for freedom. Eve couldn’t be sure just what it was—the look that flashed into his face, as, sometimes, from under a heavy cloud, a shaft of light escapes, lancing a darkened sea. “Miss Adams,” he said abruptly—abruptness in that drawl!—‘‘do you know people in Chicago?” “Not a soul,” said Eve. “‘Not even a hijacker! “Neither do I,” he said. “Isn’t that luck?” “You're fond of desert islands?”’ asked Eve. “Desert islands d deur!” said he. She shouldn’t have supposed he had it in him. “ Well, then, why can’t you go for a ride with me in a taxi?” “Howard would be grateful to you,” said Eve sedately. “Of course,” said Traill. “I was thinking only of that. And we're there until eight o’clock tonight, you know. We might have dinner too—some nice little place. I suppose,” he conjectured hopefully, “there are nice little places in Chicago.” “Where they check their sawed-off shotguns at the door,” said Eve. ‘Oh, yes, I think there must be.” “Then do!” said Traill. “Will you?” Howard, Eve reflected, had really done her a very pleas- ant turn in sending that wire. She liked Jed Traili. For one of Howard's friends, he seemed extraordinarily real. And he seemed in some hidden way extraordinarily lonely. Which spoke to her own loneliness in its own language. The world is so full of desert islands, at which ships do not call, on which shoes do not step, where sealing wax does not crimson, cabbages do not grow, nor kings wear crowns. “T’d love a ride in a taxi,” she said. “‘ We're almost in now, aren’t we? Suppose I put on my hat.” Ph viii OR a party embarked upon on impulse obviously, for a party restricted to two so briefly acquainted, the ride in the taxi, and even the dinner in the nice little place, later discovered, unfolded extremely well. The taxi was yellow, its driver dark-visaged, but on the whole not without un- derstanding, and the lake, whipped by a shrewd spring wind into yellowish foam, smearing a stained harsh shore the lake had, as all lakes have, the prisoned mysterious beauty of water, inland. Eve said, her dark eyes wide, watching the white caps crest and fall: “It’s an ugly town, but it has a queer sort of strength, hasn't it? New York is proud. This place is heavy and sullen and powerful. It’s like a thunderhead or a black bear on his hind legs.” She could talk to Jed Traill, because he didn’t laugh at her. Even when his crooked mouth seemed to his eyes were almost tender. smile, He said, “‘Chicago’s a cavalry saber. New York's a sword.” It sounded as if he had been in the Army, but Eve didn’t ask him. There was a reticence, a dignity about him which kept one from asking him questions. And she didn't day in the taxi, particularly desire to know either his an- tecedents or his anticipatione. He was, for an empty day in a strange town, an unex, ctedly pleasant She had expected to be alone, vo be perhaps a trifle forlorn, to kill time as best she could. Instead of whic! herself delightfully taken care of, amused. Eve asked no more to so much. that companion she found interested and She had not looked forward even Traill was quite apparently the sort of man she had known from her childhood, with whom she was at once on terms of social intimacy. They spoke the same tongue When they had ridden for almost an hour along the lake and about the town, Traill suggested a movie; the quasi-seclusion of dark-velveted divans, with a violin fretted twilight enfolding them, they made further progress into friendship, assisted thereto by the naive grotesqueries of an unsmiling comedian “T feel,” said Eve, coming out into waning daylight be- tween steep walls of smoky stone, under a smoke-gray sky—‘“‘I feel as if we had gone to dancing school together. I have laughed till the back of my head hurts.” Impulse descended upon her in turn, stopped her in her tracks, turned her, facing him on a crowded sidewalk “Let’s find a place for dinner. I’m dining with you, aren't I?” “If there’s any justice in life,”’ said Traill solemnly. “Then let's find a place where we can dance,” said Eve He slid a hand within her arm, turned her toward a taxi. “Those birds,”” he assured her, “know everything. Let's ask him where's a good place.’ They interpreted each other's gestures correctly and in yet Continued on Page 124 **You’ve Got the Sort of Voice That Women Go Mad Over and That Doesn't Mean a Thing"’

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30 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE SATURDAY EVENING POST *EG. U.S. PAT. OFF FOUNDED A‘D‘! 1728 PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY INDEPENDENCE SQUARE PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA, U.S.A. GEORGE HORACE LORIMER, EDITOR in the United States and Possessions: Five Cents the Copy . $2.00 the Year (5) weekly issues), Two Years for $3.50, Three Years for $5.00. Remit- tances by Postai Money Order, Express Money Order or Check. In Caneda and Newfoundland (including Labrador): Ten Cents the Copy, $3.68 the Year, Two Years for $5.5, Three Years for $8.00, in Canadian or United States Funds. ta Continental Europe and the British Isles, Argentina, Bolivia, Brazil, Chile, Colomble, Costa Rica. Cuba. Dominican Republic, Ecuador, Guate- mala, Haiti, Isle of Pines, Mexico, Nicaragua, Panama, Paraguay, Peru, Republic of Honduras, Salvador, Uruguay and Venezuela: $6.00 the Year. No reduction for longer periods. Im all other localities: $16.0¢ the Year. No reduction for longer periods. Remittances from outside the United States and Canada by Postal or Express Money Order or by Bank Draft, payable in United States Funds. PHILADELPHIA, APRIL 5, 1980 Bed-Rock Institutions HARLES EVANS HUGHES has been Chief Justice of fe the United States for some weeks now, and presides over our highest court. But the opposition which developed in the Senate to his confirmation wili long remain one of the startling flare-ups of American political history. The out- burst was comparatively brief, as well as sudden, but it shocked a large proportion of the sensible people of the country. In one respect we feel that the importance of the episode was exaggerated at the time, although its serious implications are not to be overlooked. It is significant that Mr. Hughes’ nomination was the first of major stature to come up since the Senate abolished its executive sessions. It is a question whether such vio- lent attacks would have been made upen Mr. Hughes and the Supreme Court in private session, where they would have been unavailable to the sensation-loving section of the syndicated press, Nor would the fireworks have been so brilliant if the elections for Congress were some months be- hind instead of ahead. One-third of the members of the Senate will be up for election next November, and owing to last year’s extra session, Congress has been in continuous meeting in Washington for an extraordinary length of time; members have been unabie to return home to placate their constituents or to repair broken political fences. Their noses have been held to the grindstone of du!l, hard sub- jects like farm relief and the tariff. With a certain type of senator, radicalism is a regular stock in trade. Unable to attend to his political affairs at home, he must produce a stronger brand than ever to get the desired effect. It shows one’s independence to denounce the most eminent in the land; that is the way to the headlines. In the earlier and somewhat rougher period of American history it was common sport to oppose the nomination of chief justices. In fact, until comparatively recent years our history was full of bitter attacks upon not only the ap- pointment of justices but against the conduct of the court itself. Yet we are certain that the public generally felt a painful surprise at the reappearance of these violent pas- sions. The country at large regarded Mr. Hughes’ appoint- ment with almost universal approval. Not only was he first in general esteem; there was no second. Possibly a few Old Guard leaders, with smarting memories of Mr. Hughes’ lack of clubbiness as a professional politician, may not have defended him so vigorously as they might. As for the charge of the insurgents that Mr. Hughes has at various times represented corporations in his law prac- tice, people with common sense will merely ask, What is wrong with that? Even the lowest of criminals and degenerates have a right to their day in court, and we pre- sume that business enterprises have the same right. In- deed, the higher type of corporation lawyer spends more of his time telling his clients what they cannot do within the law than what they can do. But far more suggestive is the fact that Mr. Hughes’ whole tradition is a liberal one. He is a member of that great group of moderates, to which most sensible men be- long, who believe in gradual progress and the adaptation of institutions to liberal ideas. He was the pioneer in estab- lishing state regulation of public utilities, and he advocated a workmen’s compensation law in New York even before Wisconsin adopted it. Many progressive labor laws were passed when he was governor of New York, and Governor Alfred E. Smith frequently referred to the progressive principles of his great predecessor. As a judge, several of his decisions favored labor groups or welfare provisions. It was he who struck at the life-insurance scandals and, by stirring necessary reforms into life, laid the foundations for the present greatness of one of the most helpful of human institutions. Again, it was he who raised his powerful voice in behalf of a group of Socialists elected to the New York legislature after the war, but whose right to their seats was questioned in the prevailing hysteria. But the serious aspect is that old and many times dis- carded effort to subordinate the independence of the judi- ciary to the transient ideas of some senators. Time and again the people of the country have rejected this attempt, and more than one presidential candidate has gone down on this issue. The idea that the type of economic or political mind shall be determined in advance of appointment by the shifting politics of Senate biocs and coalitions is un- thinkable. It would mean the destruction of the Consti- tution. A small but vociferous minority of senators insist that the Supreme Court has made itself the arbiter of social and economic questions and has become the oppressor of the people. This attitude is based largely on the fact that a number of majority decisions of the court have been op- posed to what was regarded as confiscation of property. Therefore the court is accused of being the friend of prop- erty rights and the enemy of human rights. Those who say this belong mainly to that brilliant school of economic thought which holds that the road to social welfare and justice is to reduce the profits of corporations to the pov- erty level. Their theory of prosperity is first to establish as general destitution as possible. It is true that many unsolved and intricate questions of valuation and rate making in respect to public utilities con- front the country. In a fast-changing industrial civilization it is difficult for any court to satisfy all elements. Perhaps we need new methods of preventing corporations from be- coming too powerful, but certainly the rhetorical senators who denounce the Supreme Court have contributed noth- ing of a constructive nature to these problems. The Con- stitution may be old, but who dares say that its guaranties are outworn? What would become of our very existence without the inviolability of contract? It can be said in all soberness that the people have rea- son to be proud and are proud of their highest court. Stu- dious histories of the supreme tribunal! point out how it has refused as a cardinal principle to review questions involv- ing the policies of Congress. Indeed, in a comparatively re- cent decision of Justice Brandeis it is expressly stated that no principle is more firmly established “than that this court may not, in passing upon the validity of a statute, inquire into the motives of Congress.”’ Then, too, the court has re- fused to pass upon questions except in the form of concrete cases presented to it. Coupled with this is its refusal to take cognizance of questions regarded as strictly political rather than judicial. Another feature which a history of the court shows is the way the hopes of those who expected a judge to follow the political views of the President appoint- ing him have been disappointed. April 5,19350 The only result which can flow from undermining or tak- ing away the independence of the court is loss and suffering for the whole people. Gold Movements in 1929 OLD movements during the year 1929, judged by the gold holdings of the central banks, exhibited interest- ing changes. The chief gainers were France, the United States and Belgium, in the order mentioned. The gold gain of France was no less than $390,000,000; the gain of the United States was $273,000,000. The chief losers were Argentina, Germany and England, in the order named. Argentina lost no less than $165,000,000, Germany $100,- 000,000 and England $35,000,000. The reported gains were around $765,000,000; the reported losses were around $335,000,000. The difference between losses and gains was a gain of around $430,000,000, which represents the new gold production of the year. The mobility of gold illustrated how well reéstablished has become the gold standard. During the year there de- veloped, however, three instances of restraint of movement of gold—in Argentina, Australia and Canada. In Canada the dollar, in November, passed the export gold point without gold going out; in Australia the restraint of ex- port of gold was determined by legislation; in Argentina the gold payments were suspended. In all three countries the same explanation was given—a too-heavy excess of value of imports on account of low prices and low volume of agricultural exports. Under the proposed operations of the Bank of Interna- tional Settlements, international gold movements are sup- posed to be restrained. It will be instructive to observe the workings of the proposed bank in this regard. The Farm Board Tackles Production HE Farm Board has come to grips with what the agricultural economist calls “overplanting.”” The heavens determine the yield, but the farmer determines the area planted. The Farm Board has issued a friendly admonition to cotton growers and to wheat growers not to expand their acreage, but to contract it. The winter wheat was planted last fall, before the Farm Board was fairly or- ganized, and the acreage is relatively large. There were indications that farmers in the spring-wheat belt might be tempted to overplanting, hence the warning. The crop year was half over before the Farmers’ National Grain Corporation was organized for operation, and the wheat- stabilization corporation was still more recently authorized. It is understood that wheat growers’ codéperative associa- tions and farmers’ wheat-marketing organizations are being rapidly developed. This augurs well for the handling of the 1930 crop, and it is, therefore, all the more important that the problem should not be aggravated by an excep- tionally heavy crop due to overplanting. In the case of cotton also there were indications that cotton growers, especially east of the Mississippi, were be- ing tempted to expand their acreage. In urging cotton growers not to expand acreage, but to contract it, the Board also pointed out the advantages which lie in the raising of a larger proportion of the farm family’s food supply. Rais- ing more of his food supply and less of cotton, the farmer stands to achieve a double gain—the reduction of his pur- chases and elevation of the price of cotton. * Two things are becoming clear to the agricultural popu- lation: There must be some adjustment of supply to demand if better prices are to be hoped for. Certainly a Federal Farm Board can operate better with an adjusted supply than with an inflated supply. Second, adjustment of supply, involving restriction of planted acreage, cannot be accomplished through advices extended by the Farm Board to the individual grower. An intermediary organization is essential, and this is the codperative association. Not alone for the marketing of the crop is the coéperative asso- ciation essential; it is even more essential in the adjust- ment of supply to demand in the control of planted acreage. It is not an easy task the Board is undertaking. But sooner or later farm relief must get down to bed rock, and the Farm Board has decided to do so at once. col

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69t & FO IX months’ residence in Hollywood does not qualify me as its historian, but I am able to report—and feel moved to report—on certain phases of its life which are seldom spoken of by those who are merely visitors, and who write influenced by precon- ceived notions. I am not without such preconceptions myself, but I shall begin by saying that Hollywood is not a village built around a group of moving-picture studios, but a part of the city of Los Angeles, which contains more than a million inhabitants. All the studios of which you read are in or near Hollywood, but they are submerged by open-air markets, banks, hotels, branch shops of Los Angeles department stores, and all the other customary enterprises of a city. The Hollywood post office is only twenty minutes from the public library—which, by the way, is a beautiful building, designed by Bertram Good- hue—and the fine tower of the city hall is visible from Hollywood hills. Asa matter of fact, the stranger cannot tell where Los Angeles leaves off and Hollywood begins. In writing of Southern California in general and_ of Hollywood in particular, I shall report them neither from a real-estate office nor from a seat in the lobby of a Los Angeles hotel, but from the standpoint of a citizen who waters his own lawn and drives his own car. As I did not come here to meet moving-picture stars or to sell a scena- rio, I have had abundant opportunity to study the normal and busy life of my fellow fugitives from the cold and snow of Eastern winters. Midwesterners of the Far West IRST of all, I observed that the men and women on the streets and in the shops were American. I took pleasure in their blond, familiar, cheerful faces. Whatever their private woes, they appeared genial and prosperous. They were good-humored and neighborly. They under- stood English and were a blessed relief from the swarms of immigrants in New York City. The people of Los Angeles are familiar in type. They speak my language. Their faces resemble those of my neighbors in Wisconsin and Iowa fifty years ago. Southern California is largely Midwestern. The thread- bare joke is that—just that. “‘Los Angeles is the largest town in Iowa,” paragraphers write. “‘When an Iowa picnic is announced at Long Beach, Los Angeles By Hamlin Garland of these citizens appear to be living on limited incomes, tak- ing it easy after a life of hard work on the level lands of the blizzard belt. They are mostly middle-aged, with sandy complexions and blue or gray eyes; and the telephone direc- tory is filled with Scotch or Irish or English names. The proportion of elderly folk and widows is very large, and they all drive cars! Every man, woman and child appears to own an automobile, and the broad avenues glitter with long lines of polished windshields, nickel-plated lamps and shining fenders. Endless streams of luxurious sedans come and go from the beaches, the hills and the fruit-land suburbs; while the men who do not possess a set of wheels or do not care to drive may be seen loafing about the parks, well dressed, placid, social, endlessly recalling the days when they were imprisoned in Eastern shops or wallowing in the snows. If you listen you will hear them bragging of the severe storms, the deep snows and the blistering heat they once endured— experiences which give added charm to the serene and perfumed air in which they bask. Meanwhile their wives are shopping in the spacious and beautiful de- partment stores. This atmosphere of leisure pervades even the shops, which are also Midwestern. Prosperous as the merchants seem, busy as they undoubtedly are, they have time to be neighborly, and their clerks are minded to employ a pleas- ant word. They show little of that spirit of remorseless warfare with which the Orientals of New York often con- front their customers. If the salesman in Los Angeles cheats, it is more in the humor of the frontier horse trader. He interests me and comforts me, even as he overcharges me, by speaking my own language. neighbor when selling me a bag of oranges. He is essentially a Naturally, these retired farmers fill the moving-picture theaters, and their taste is not high—that I must admit— but they are well-mannered even in the cinema. They gape at passing movie stars, but are not entirely befooled. They do not take the actor people as seriously as some writers imagine. They also read books, but the books they borrow from the library are not mine. They prefer, quite properly, Zane Grey and Edgar Burroughs; they are tireless con- sumers of detective and adventure stories. Gorgeous THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 31 women's clubs abound, and in these, discussions of the latest novels and reviews of the latest plays draw large audiences. And they go, they all go—father, mother, bub and sis—to the Hollywood Bowl, where for a season they hear fine singers and a noble orchestra. This Bowl, a civic triumph, deserves a paragraph by itself. It is an enormous, open-air theater hollowed out of the foothills just above Hollywood, and seats thirty thou- sand people. No other climate known to me permits so many nightly assemblies as take place for months at a time in this amphitheater. Here is a Hollywood not usually depicted. To sit in an immense and reverentially silent audience in this Bowl, an audience so silent that every note of the violins can be heard, while the moon rises over the near-by hills, is to feel something both nobly Greek and grandly American. No other people, and ao other city, can furnish, month after month, a finer form of restorative entertainment. The prices are not high, the night air gloriously humane. This is Hollywood at its best Shopping From Your Running Board and here With six months of residence, from January to April last year, and again from August to November, I can say that I have en- joyed every day of my stay; but I have discovered that what is true of Los Angeles, Hollywood and Beverly Hills is not true in detail of other cities farther from the sea According to the daily weather report—which I studied with care — the difference in temperature between the coast and the interior during August runs from ten to twenty degrees in favor of the coast. For me, each morning the sun rose over a still grove of eucalyptus trees just above my study. The air, deliciously cool at dawn, gradually became warmer, till at noon the mercury touched seventy-five, and on some days eighty- five, degrees. Then, regularly at four, as the inland vaiieys became heated, the air from the ocean swept in, bringing a delightful coolness. Although the citizens complained of the heat, to me, August was the kind of weather I had expected to find here. By six o’clock each afternoon the temperature wus delightful, and sunset brought a genial air which made it possible to linger out- of-doors till late with- DISCUSSION of the climate is inescapable I must deal with another preconception shuts up shop for the day!’’ True, there are a few from Wisconsin and other Midwest States, but they are almost in- distinguishable from the Iowans. Texas has sent its quota of blond folk, who use a peculiar intonation, but are English or Scotch in their physi- ognomy. It is this predominance of Midwestern, middle- conditioned people which leads San Franciscans to call Los Angeles a hick town. Decidedly it is not aristocratic. It is made up for the most part of those who dwell in the middle of fortune’s favors. tawet $b ag B. ia fi \ Grane Reever s out wraps. Only on one night during the summer did I suffer from the heat. But all this refer only to “the fortu- land nate coast” along the seashore from San Diego to Eureka. The marvel of this coastal region is the equableness of its climate. You can | depend on freedom from frost and snow, as the beautiful drive markets | in amply prove. Their doors are never closed, and as you drive your motor car into them, - you can shop from Hh your running board . These markets, which are to be found all over the western parts of the city, make DRAWN BY GRAHAM HUN | E> My second obser- vation is that many Doctor: ‘‘H’m:m«m! Up Two Points!"’ Patient: “‘Sell it Out!’ Continued on Page 189

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32 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST POST SCRIPTS Panhandler Plus N MAKING this request for the purchase price of a cup of coffee,” said the hobo, “I want it distinctly understood that I am a victim of civilization and a martyr to progress. Strange as it may sound, my predica- ment is the result of constructive and enlightening forces.” “What's the racket?” I asked impatiently. “No racket,” said the hobo. “Every dot and dash that a radio aerial spouted into the air helped to bring me to my present state. Every telephone line that was strung on poles was a noose around my neck. Every new mile of railroad track decreased the need for my talents. The drone of aeroplane motors was a swan song for my calling. Behold in me a man defeated by invention, a victim not only of my own bravery but of other men’s bravery as well.” “The speech alone is worth a dime,” I said, handing him the shiniest one in my pocket. ‘Now, tell me, what is your line?” “Explorer,” said the hobo— “Arctic, Antarctic, tropical and general utility.” —ARTHUR- L. LIPPMANN. April 5,19350 Te, ie Poe should have analyzed her trend ; An utter infantile romantic. For Wordsworth, ignorance’s slave, I feel contempt (or synonym), Who said of Lucy in her grave It made a difference to him. No stuff today could be so bad When we who know our Freudian essence Are certain Mr. Wordsworth had But necrophilic adolescence. Jane Taylor fills my soul with scorn, Who wrote—you know the verses well Of her who every night and morn Would run to catch her when she fell; And Tennyson, whose Queen of the May Implored for sleep’s extermi- nation, Were victims, we are sure today, Of absolute mother fixation. Today no Keats and Shelley rise, “There's Something Pagan About Dance Music, Don’t You Think?** See You Later OU'RE very bad for me, and I Am very bad for you, And so I think I'll say good-by, But, darling, if I do Will you be good enough to swear You'll slip up from behind And resolutely pull my hair Until I change my mind? — Margaret Fishback. The Unanalyzing Poets Analyzed Alas for those who ne'er enjoyed The freedom's battle cry of Freud! Old Song. GRIEVE for Edgar Allan Poe, Who, writing of his Annabel Miss Lee), did not appear to know The things today we know so well. “She was a child,”’ he sadly penned ; Her love obsession drove him frantic; No neophytes in psycho schools. Our feelings we can analyze ; We have emotions by the rules. And when the sentimental show That poetry is in regression, We laugh, we bards who do not know The meaning of the word suppression. —Franklin P. Adams. Ain Examination in Business English I. QuEsTION: Turn the following sentence into business English: “Please ask Mr. Schlupp to ask the salesmen what they think of the new box.” ANSWER: “It is requested that you approach Mr. Schlupp with the request that he approach the customers’ contact men with the request that they report their angles and slants on the container for the organization’s product.” II. QUESTION: Translate into business English the fol- lowing dialogue: “Please, mister, buy my pencils!” “Like fun I'll buy your infernal pencils!” ANSWER: “‘T should like to interest you in our big new pencil proposition.” “I Like What You've Done Here’’ “‘Leave me your literature, and I shall be happy to have our research department make an exhaustive study and analysis of your proposition.” III. QUESTION: Translate the following dialogue into correct business English: “Do you like pie, Mr. Garnisch?”’ “Yes”; or “No.” ANSWER: “How do you react to pie, Mr. Garnisch?”’ “T react favorably”’; or “I react unfavorably.” IV. QUESTION: Give correct equivalents for the follow- ing vulgar words: tell, buy, sell, because, active, adver- tising leaflets. ANSWER: Advise, purchase, market—or merchandise— due to the fact that, dynamic, literature. V. QUESTION: When do you use the phrases: “In the last analysis’; “‘after all is said and done”; “conditions (Continued on Page 144) ORAWN BY A. 8. FULLER * ea Winter Bather: ‘‘Love It? Of Course I Love It— But Where are Those Roto and Movie Men?’’ ae

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Wholesome nourishing soups that are strictly vegetable Ste : ae SOUF $ ~ For use during Lent For vegetarians and the family table all year Satur | SOUF. N THE DAYS or in the seasons when meat is excluded from your diet, meal-planning: is especially puzzling. How you welcome the tonic, invigorating flavors and the wholesome nourishment of these four Campbell’s Soups —Tomato, Pea, Celery, Asparagus! They contain no meat in any form. Instead their strictly vegetable goodness is further enriched with choice butter. And they also make wonderful Cream Soups, with the addition of milk Tomatoes, asparagus, ss % Celery, peas— instead of water. (See the labels.) 12 cents a can. Enjoy them in Campbell's Whenever you please! TOMATO SOUP PEA SOUP CELERY SOUP ASPARAGUS SOUP Favorite of the world! Irresistible in As famous for its nourishment as_ If your taste takes a special delight The first green shoots of spring! its vivid, challenging color and its for its delicate, appealing flavor of in the tonic, refreshing flavor of How tender! How succulent! Enjoy racy, inimitable flavor! Isn’t it sugar-sweet peas. Campbell’s Pea crisp, snow-white celery, Campbell's them all the year in Campbell's wonderful that you never have to Soup is a pride to the hostess and Celery Soup is bound to be a favor- Asparagus Soup—that smooth, omit Campbell’s Tomato Soup! a veritable treasure of health and ite of yours. For here is captured tempting blend of the finest aspar- And you enjoy it all the more when goodness for the family table. How the very aroma, the choicest celery agus, so daintily garnished with your choice of foods is restricted. children enjoy it! itself! Serve it often! asparagus tips. — — EE — — — — —_ tc mast ee eR ee ee. a eye Pee ee LUNCHEON ; DINNER dele ea Oe RPE - @ 22. Se See

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 By CHARLEY MURRAY, WITH WESLEY STOUT ROFESSIONALbox- 1g endowed sport. If the news- ive up their rting pages tomorrow, I r s an ing is an papers were tog i have an ad in the Situations Wanted columns i the game rtly would be back to antern-iight homicides in rural barns, on barges an- yred in the lake, and such speak-easies. The sport writers make boxing com- mercially possible The best writing in the average metropolitan news- paper is to be found in its sport pages, and for a very good reason. The editorial page has been declining for The news writer is eld ta rigid restrictions in what he may say and hesays years time at East Aurora at the feet of Fra Elbert Hub- bard, but Freddie didn’t know astory and thus tossed away a birthright. And now we have the latest importation from Europe, Primo Carnera, not satisfied with his six feet, seven inches of height, 269 pounds of weight and Num- ber 20 shoes, calling in the reportersand admitting that grand opera is his passion. When he has disposed of a few vulgar heavyweights he proposes to surround himself with mezzos, con- traltos, coloraturas, bassos and piccolos and do things to Pagliacci and Rigoletto. I have a friendly warning for Carnera’s cabinet. Give a fighter a character and he will live up to it, sometimes with a vengeance. A Buf- falo boy was booked to fight at a smoker at Erie. Erie anonymously, as a rule Che sport writer not only is permitted to write pretty ich what comes into his ad, but his name is adver- NIGHT BY BROWN BROTHERS, ©. ¥. C sed, he travels widely at tice expense and his pay +} ee The sport department is an independent the newspaper organization. It offers the ung reporter a short cut. Inevitably, it attracts many of origntest he nighnest kingdom within The competition among sport writers to amuse the read- ers and to make a personal reputation is warm and direct. The newspapers are prodigal with the space they assign to hem and not always is there enough spot news to fill it. [he rest is gossip, free and untrammeled. It is the writers’ ngenuity in inventing striking nicknames, phrases, wise- racks and drama about fighters that furnishes the con- tinuous ballyhoo which turns the wheels. All profess an itter cynicism about the game, but not very convincingly. Once a sport writer, always a sport writer. It is ballyhoo that pulls in the fans, but make no mistake about this horn tooting and drum beating. If it is synthetic, is so much hollering down a rain barrel. Jim Corbett came to Buffalo once when Jimmie Slattery The Young Jeffries and Tom Sharkey in the Ring at Coney Island dramatized as the ‘Human Bear.” Jack Sharkey is gabby and egotistical by nature, yet not so much so as he pretends. Finding that brag was good box office, Sharkey laid it on thick. Corbett was a champion by right, but he was some- thing more as Gentleman Jim. A fighter who knew one fork from another was a good gag in 1892 and Corbett patented it. Tunney, a colorless fighter, went him one better and adopted literature as well as the higher social life with great success. I have wondered if Gene took the tip from Freddie Welsh, the original bookworm of the business. I shouldn’t have been surprised at any time to see Freddie pull a copy of Epictetus out of his bathrobe between rounds. I will take my oath that I once found him deep in The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire in his dressing room, and not a reporter or photographer around. He spent all his off was beginning to loom large. Every town has “‘an- ther Corbett” hatching, and Slattery was ours. imposing upon Corbett’s good nature, we arranged for the two to be photographed squaring off at each ther in a-room at the Iroquois Hotel. Slattery was supposed to be demonstrating his bewildering footwork. Corbett registered astonishment, but when the plate was developed Slattery’s nimble feet were found to be incased in overshoes and bogged carpet The thought of fast footwork | galoshes on a hotel carpet was a good idea for the funny page, but not for the sport columns. wh ina A Story in Every Fighter = RE must be something genuine back of your tub thumping. The wise manager or promoter waits for a story to break, then builds it up for all it sworth. Ni isi to fill up the newspaper will print his pipe dreams olumn; the staff can think up better ones if need be. I maintain that there is a story, good copy, in any fighter if you look for it. Fighting is essential iramatic, and when it isn’t iramat it is i is comi If a fighter lacks color in one form or another he a merchandising problem, for boxers do not sell strictly on their merits. Pete Prognathous, a self- flacing citizen and a methodical, workmanlike eather-worker, may be 30 per cent better than Machine Gun Mahoney, noisy in the ring and bois- terous out ef it, but the crowd will yawn at Pete and choke on his name, and come again to see Machine Gun. They may boo him, but to boo you You can yawn at ‘ must first buy a booing ticket yme for nothing What I call color has a thousand forms. Jeffries Pp ots i tote “ang Fe , a wrote back for his record, for purposes of publicity. He had no record, so his manager invented one. While he was about it, the manager made it good. The boy read it with gratification in an Erie paper. Thenext day he was back in Buffaloand waiting on me. “Say, they had the nerve to pay me $25 for that fight last night,”” he complained. “Well?” I said. “It was a regular $25 job, wasn’t it? That’s what they contracted to pay.” The Market Boy of Buffalo “TY KNOW, I know,” he brushed me aside, ‘‘but look at my record!’”’ He waved the Erie clipping. “‘Twenty- five bucks isn’t cigarette money for me.”’ He believed every word of it. A boxer needs a following as well as color and a good trade-mark. If he hasn’t attracted one of his own, a re- sourceful manager can find one for him. I knewa manager who left one of his orphans on the door- step, as it were, of the city markets. The market men, as he had ascertained in advance, were a spending, sport-talking lot and the markets never had produced a fighter. “I christen thee the Market Boy,’’ pronounced the manager to his ward, and made him drive a prod- uce truck every morning for nothing until the boy was permanently identified with the broccoli and squash jobbers. It was a smart move, for all the grocers for miles around came to market every morning, heard the ballyhoo and spread it far and wide, so that whenever the boy fought, the vege- table trade came in a body to huzzah him. I have known ballyhoo to backfire and to get out of hand; I have known it to be set off acciden- tally. When Terry McGovern was champion he came to Buffalo playing in The Bowery After Dark. Sam Harris, who, with Sullivan and Woods, was producing the show, wired me asking me to look after Terry, which meant seeing that he was comfortable and properly in the public eye. Automobiles being a novelty and Buffalo then the automobile manufacturing center of America, I borrowed a Thomas car with a back door, gathered in Terry, his sparring partner, Joe Humphreys and a photographer, and took them on a seeing-Buffalo | tour. We planned to stop at strategic points and have our pictures taken forthe papers. I pointed out the John G. Milburn home, where President McKinley had died not long before. There was a bronze plate on the house and Humphreys suggested that we take our first photograph beneath it. The Milburns had vacated the place and there was a for-sale sign outside. Humphreys, the same | Joe whose voice now rattles the girders of Madison was not picturesque, but he had size, power and as well as great ability. He was hairy chest SUPPLIED BY INTERNATIONAL NEWSREE A Baliyhoo Picture — Dempsey, Murray and Leo Fignn. The Fish Was From a Hotel Ice Box Square Garden, said, to be funny: “It wouldn’t be a bad idea for Terry to buy this place.” Continued on Page 36) 632 ager

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Centinued from Page 34) Thirty years ago a hackneyed press-agent device was to announce that the visiting iighter had fallen in love with Buffalo, or whatever the city may have been, and had con- cluded to settle down there and identify himself with the community. Actors employed a variation. They would claim each city on a forty-week route as their birthpiace and wangle a picture and interview in each. I was a brash cub and Humphreys’ jest set off an idea. The next morning my paper carried the news that Terry McGovern intended to buy the historic Milburn mansion as a home, and printed the photograph to prove it. The Associated Press picked up the story and sent it broadcast und I was delighted with myself. I was more so when good citizens, patriotic bodies and pulpits from Kennebunk to Petaluma denounced McGovern’s effrontery and passed resolutions Mr. Milburn had put the property in the hands of a law partner, e scholarly gentleman, aloof from worldly matters, who saw no reason why McGovern’s money was not as good as any. The opposition reporters pestered us too. To have confessed the joke might have caused a backfire, so we sparred and set Friday afternoon for the signing of the papers. By Thursday I was disturbed in mind and tele- phoned an appeal to Sam Harris. He arrived Friday y unperturbed and accompanied us, convoyed by the press, to the real-estate iffice mornil THE SATURDAY EVENING POST only the closest surveillance on the trip from San Fran- cisco had prevented Dempsey from slipping out of their Pullman compartment and playing peek-a-boo with the trainmen under the coaches. Runyon made it a good story and threw in the title, the Manassa Mauler, for boot, and I’ll warrant you that not fifty persons doubt it today. I know that I took it for granted. After Dempsey had won the championship I said some- thing to him one day about hoboing. He looked at me in disgust. “‘I was no tramp,” he protested. “That was ballyhoo. In the West where fares were five cents a mile and more, and distances were great, workmen usually beat their way and I did three or four times as a kid. But I never was one of those ginks who eat out of cans.” As an after- thought he added, ‘“‘I never rode on freights either.” Or again, a valid, important news story may break about a fighter and be hooted at by the reporters. It is the familiar case of the boy who cried wolf. I suppose that an actress might actually be robbed of a $100,000 string of pearls today, but if it should occur, she would do well to take only the police and insurance company into her confidence. ‘So many actresses have been imaginarily robbed of imaginary pearls that her public would surmise that she was slipping badly if she were so desperate as this for notice. Dempsey was the central figure in the best instance I know of such a situation. April 5,19350 I also know that every reserved seat and most of the general admissions to the bout already had been sold. Dempsey was the guest of his old friend, Harry Moore, Chicago hotel man, in Moore’s winter home. The town was crowded, and Floyd Fitzsimmons, arriving without a hotel reservation, was invited by Dempsey to share the room. Otherwise Dempsey would have been alone and the incident might have had another outcome. Dempsey always was in bed before his host and it was Moore’s habit on returning home to look in on his guest and say good night. Jack awakened about 3 A.M., saw and sensed a blurred figure in the doorway and took it to be Moore. But something was amiss. Moore’s way was to bounce into the room. Dempsey said nothing and froze into immobility for what seemed to him to be five minutes, while the figure in the doorframe remained equally still. Believe it or Not HEN Fitzsimmons woke and spoke. “Keep quiet or we'll drill you,” came from the doorway. Then appar- ently calling to a confederate, the shadowy figure said, ““Come on in, George.” Dempsey, thinking as fast as he did in the ring, realized that the intruder’s eyes, if not his attention, were not on him for the moment. Leaping catlike from the bed, he got behind the door and slammed it in the face of the figure, Harris examined the title papets, picked up a pen, then paused. “It has just occurred to me,” he said softly, “that this publicity may have beer distasteful to Mr. Milburn and that he may not care to sell under the circumstances. If such should be the case, we should be disposed to defer to his feelings, unjust though they be to Mr. MeGovern.” Mr. Milburn’s partner as- sured us that we, inferentially including Mr. Milburn, were | business men together, and pressed the papers on us. “Suppose that you tele phone your client and get his confirmation just to prevent the possibility of a misunder- standing “@ Mr. Milburn, being called, informed his partner that he would not consider the sale to McGovern for an instant. Harris, surmising as much, had called Milburn /rom New York the evening before and made sure of it You may remember a news photograph of Jack Dempsey working in a wartime ship- vard which, when examined, showed him to be wearing hurtling the latter back into the hallway. Fitzsimmons and Dempsey then dashed into an adjoining bedroom and stationed them- selves on either side of the door, expecting to be followed. They had no firearms, but Jack laid his hand on a black- jack and had it poised ready to bring down on the head of the first man through the door. Fitzsimmonsarmed him- self with a big water pitcher. When nothing happened after a long wait, the two began cautiously to reconnoiter the house. Dempsey, creeping to the head of the stairway lead- ing up from the reception room, bumped into the in- truderin thedark. Both leaped back, there was a flash of flame and a shot which went wild, and the man slipped through an opened window. Toward breakfast time Dempsey telephoned to Fred Tapscott, a Chicago detective who frequently had guarded Dempsey’straining camps and who was serving himat Miami. Tapscott was living at the hotel which housed the bulk patent-leather shoes and a silk The So. hirt while handling a rivet gun This was a curious example of backfiring ballyhoo. The only time Dempsey worked in a shipyard was briefly in Seattle in the first months of the war, while the photo- graph was taken much later in the Sun yard at Chester, Pennsylvania. The Philadelphia district yards were seri- isly short of labor and a recruiting campaign was launched Dempsey, who was in the neighborhood, was asked to help round up men. Delivering a party of recruits to the Sun yard, an enterprising photographer asked him to step nto overalls for a moment, pick up a rivet gun and be snapped for the good of the cause. That picture made Dempaey’s life miserable for years after. A Shot in the Dark ) prvecptnencd always having been indulgent of anything the reporters wished to say about him, short of crimi- nal libel, more fable has attached to him than any other man I know When he came East under Kearns’ management for the first time, Kearns, feeling that his charge needed some win- dow dressing, told Damon Runyon:that the boy was a hobo, snatched from a jungle. The blackness of his jowls was not hirsute, but imbedded layers of cinders contracted on the brake rods, blind baggages and top decks of railroad ns. The boy had traveled al fresco so long, in fact, that tral The Sparse Crowd Which Saw Fitzsimmons Win tae Wortd'’s Championship From Corbett at Carson City in 1897 Stribling and Sharkey were about to fight in Miami last year. Dempsey was the promoter for Madison Square Garden, having taken over after Rickard’s death. The ex- perts were not taking the bout with becoming seriousness and the impression was widespread that seats were selling slowly. One morning just before the fight, Vincent Treanor, of the New York Evening World, rushed to a telegraph office and put on the wire a story of a mysterious attempt to assassinate Dempsey. Two unknown thugs had invaded Dempsey’s room early that morning, fired one shot at him and escaped. The first news to reach many of the staff writers at Miami came through telegrams from their editors demanding details. They descended upon Jack and found him vague and un- satisfactory and a number wired their offices to disregard the story. It had every appearance of faking and pretty crude faking. Who would have a motive for breaking into Dempsey’s room and trying to kill him? He carried no jewels or money to speak of. No one but Dempsey and his roommate, Floyd Fitzsimmons, pretended to have seen or heard the thugs. Raw! Raw! cried the sport pages in unison. The fight was a bust and Dempsey, in desperation, had tried to revive the corpse by concocting the silliest cock-and-bull story of a decade. So ran the verdict. I was in Miami and much with Dempsey and I know to my satisfaction that the attack occurred just as described. of the newspapermen. Nearly all of them were at the station to greet the Friars’ Club spe- cial train. Treanor happened to be at the hotel, overheard snatches of the telephone con- versation, trailed Tapscott, got the story and beat the country on it. When the news got back to Miami from New York later in the morning, Steve Hannagan, Dempsey’s press agent, was furious and read the riot act to his boss. “Am I han- dling your publicity or not?” he demanded. “‘ You’re too old a hand to pull a brodie like this; any amateur could have done better. If you had told me what you were cook- ing up, I would have dished it out properly. But, no! You give it to one man and gum the works. You know as well as I.do that it’s plain murder to have the rest of the mob scooped. Now they won’t touch the yarn with a ten-foot pole, and they’re as sore as so many mashed thumbs to boot. Just what am I expected to tell them, anyway?’’ Jack explained the facts to Hannagan, and the press agent went away to try to convince the reporters. To me, the best proof of the story’s truth was Dempsey’s attitude. It was evident that he was both puzzled and alarmed. The only possible explanation that he could suggest was that someone bore him a grudge of a caliber to support murder and, to his knowledge, he had no such enemies. If he did, the sooner he discovered the motive, the better. There were underworld characters a-plenty in Miami at the time, and I rode about town with him several nights while he sought out such of them as he knew to ask if (Continued on Page 193) — Nadie i: SSS — ae ——==

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ofHI miles’ | Mobiloil-lubricated ear breaks world’s non-stop record by 22.461 miles! 53,711 miles of running without a stop, and still going strong at the finish! A stock Chrysler 65 recently broke all existing endurance records, after 69 days and 68 nights of continuous running at the Avus track in Berlin. The previous non-stop record was $1,250 miles. This Mobiloil-lubricated Chrysler was still going strong at 53,711 miles, when a heavy fog lowered the visibility, and the car ran off the track. On dis-assembly after this gruelling run, all mechanical parts of the Mobiloil-protected engine were found in excellent condition. This striking proof of the lubricating efficiency of Mobiloil is but another dramatic example of the superlative lubrication service Mobiloil gives to thousands of motorists throughout the world under every driving condition. Back of every quart of Mobiloil you buy for your engine stands the knowledge and experience of the oldest organization in the world devoted to the science of lubrication. Back of every quart of Mobiloil you buy for your engine, stands a record of proved performance no other oil has ever matched. VACUUM OIL COMPANY Makers of high-quality lubricants for all types of machinery GARGON, © Di rT |

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38 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HERE is no season when the motorist gets more downright enjoyment out of his car than in Spring — especially when it is a Fisher Body car. Now, inviting your inspection in the showrooms of General Motors car dealers —for only General Motors cars are equipped with Body by Fisher—there awaits your visit the widest variety of distinctive body types. All are endowed with still more grace of line, still more delightful new color combinations, more luxurious comfort and even greater durability than any Fisher Bodies ever before displayed — and any one of them will add immeasurably to your enjoyment this Spring, this Summer: and for many a season still to come. * * * CADILLAC + LASALLE + BUICK +» VIKING - OAKLAND MARQUETTE +- OLDSMOBILE + PONTIAC - CHEVROLET GENERAL MOTORS

April 5,19350

LOOK TO THE Cetiand Gar clay BODY!

a epee aa cteeanenen a IT SL <TD oe RRC RE

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: ee E _. neeee SEEN _e te e THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 39 sional woman in her middle thirties and she earns an income of five thousand dollars a year. She is supporting a mother who married young and is still in her fifties, and a seventy-year-old invalid father who broke down at sixty. The mother’s activities are devoted to keeping up the little house and garden Caroline bought for her parents in a near-by suburb. Caroline spends her week-ends with them, but as her job has considerable night work attached to it, she has a room and bath in the city. Her work calls for public speaking and for considerable travel. It is important that she dress well. Thus it will be seen that Caroline’s expenses are heavy. She carries her responsibilities as if they were a flag, and I have never seen her bent under them until now. She dropped into an easy-chair and closed her eyes with an effect of exhaustion. Tea and toasted muffins and straw- berry jam failed to revive her. My hospitable prattle found her irresponsive. “Tired?” I asked at last. That, too, would be new in Caroline. It appeared to be a point of honor with her not to concede that she was tired, even when she was. “The woman who is always com- plaining of being tired,” Caroline once remarked in my hearing, ““‘makes me a whole lot more tired than my work ever does. When a woman is tired she’d better keep quiet about it. Who cares?” On this occasion Caroline ran true to form. “No,” she said briefly, “‘not tired. Worried!” Y FRIEND, Caroline Blank, dropped in to see me the other day. She is a profes- ILEVUSTRATEDO ar ERNEST “Want to talk about it?” Usually Caroline doesn’t want to talk about it. Ac- cording to her Spartan creed, it is almost as reprehensible to be worried as to be tired. Either condition, she thinks, is strictly personal. This day, however, she was ready to talk, and little by little her story came out. Save in details, the general situation is familiar enough. We all see various phases of it working out around us. Caroline has two brothers. One is older than she; the other is younger. Both married before they were twenty- five, and they now have three children. They are young business men earning average incomes. With their do- mestic responsibilities, they were not able to contribute to the support of their parents when the father ceased to be a wage earner. Their contributions since then have been pipes, tobacco and occasional cigars to him, and a five or ten dollar bill, on her birthday or at Christmas, to their mother. Unaided by the two young men, Caroline has fed, sheltered and clothed her parents for ten years. Thousands of unmarried women with brothers are doing the same thing throughout our fair land. But here is where Caro- line’s case is unusual: Her two brothers live in the city where she lives. They are, therefore, within forty minutes’ train ride of Caroline's RASITES By Elizabeth Jordan FPUHR little country house, and Caroline's mother is a devoted parent and a hospitable woman. As soon as each of her boys married she warmiy invited him and his bride to come out to the country for dinner every Sunday; and almost without exception they have done so throughout the years, bringing their children, of course, as fast as the youngsters arrived on the scene. At present four parents and three children-—seven guests in all—sit down for their Sunday dinner every week with Caroline and her parents. That makes ten persons at the dinner table. The two sons and their families arrive about eleven o'clock every Sunday morning and leave about six in the afternoon, after the three children have had alight supper. Nothing but illness is permitted to in- terfere with this weekly visit. The daughters-in-law say, when they engage their individual maid of ail work, “You'll be sure of every Sunday off.”" The mother has an orgy of marketing every Saturday morning. She buys the best and the most expensive food she sees. Nothing is too good for the children. And Caroline pays the bills. “The point is,” Caroline explained with a sigh, “they are simply awful bills. Those Sunday Visits mean not only a big dinner for ten but a supper as well; for mother always gives the younger fry their supper, and, naturally, my (Continued on Page 165) In an Amazing Number of American Homes, Carried On by Unmarried Sisters, Those Sisters are Meeting Frequent Demands of Married Brothers Temporarily Up Against It

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40 for Econemscal Transportation The New CHEVROLET SIX ~ Sport Coupe The Seda be Sedan Deliver Deliver -at greatly reduced prices! $79 ie *495 5495 *555 $565 $565 $625 *655 5675, *595 $365 $520 $625 y $440 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST if) dt" CHEVROLET SPECIAL SEDAN -another Fisher Achievement in Beauty, Comfort and Style! Broadening the appeal of a line of cars that has already enjoyed an impressive nationwide recep- tion—Chevrolet now brings to the low-price field a distinguished new enclosed model—the Chevrolet Special Sedan. In style and individuality, in completeness and comfort, this new creation represents another outstanding achievement of Fisher and Chev- rolet designers. Its modern beauty is emphasized by the addition of six wire wheels, with large, chrome-plated hub caps. The two spare wheels are mounted in special fender wells. The exterior color scheme combines smart Boulevard Maroon on the body with a harmonizing shade of red on the wheels. CHEVROLET MOTOR And the interior is replete with all those luxuries of appointment usually found only in costly cars —arm rests, silk assist cords, combination vanity case and smoking set, rich upholstery fabrics, and wide, deep seats with form-fitting cushions. A Chevrolet dealer is only a short distance away. Visit him now and see this smart new Sedan. Lift the hood and inspect its great 50-horse- power 6-cylinder motor. Check over such new chassis features as the fully-enclosed 4-wheel brakes—the four Lovejoy hydraulic shock absorbers—the bigger rear axle. You will discover an infinitely finer, more com- plete, more luxurious car than you ever thought possible at so remarkably low a price. COMPANY, DETROIT, MICHIGAN Division of General Motors Corporation E a eS ee RANGE O F 1.848 April 5,1950 | ise} ow" FOUR

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 4) DISP { ! ’ } } ‘Will Next Saturday be Convenient, Now That You Have Mr. Peters? Then I'll Leave on Saturday. I Certainly Appreciate All You've Done for Me, Mr. Macabe" ' DWIN KILEY wrung out the last of the but only to find himself on the Rector Street white wash, pinned it to a ine that ie. OW Thomas McMorrow von zagged across the dark and steamy little Edwin, after being a member of the New York bathroom, dried his bony hands, and went into ILLUSTRATED BY RAEBURN VAN BUREN bar for eighteen years, had not yet his own shin the only bedroom of the Harlem flat to finish gle. He was, at the time of his admission to i dressing for business. He buttoned on a stiff two-inch col- by sight and hearing, and whose present business he sur- practice, and had been at all times subsequent theret« lar, size 14!., polished his spectacles purblindly and set mised. The gentleman was from a collection agency; managing clerk for Mr.Shelby Macabe. He marched now them again astride his nose, drew on his jacketand marched Edwin had heard him dun another tenant in a voice that to the Equitable Building and so to Mr. Macahe's office | toward the door. He had been mean and commonplace would have been just right for superintending the unload- he glanced in at the bare and shining desk in Mr. Macabe’ while his shirt billowed over his belt and his neck rose like _ ing of five tons of coal. And he was now waiting for Edwin. private room to assure himself that his employer had not that of an alarmed heron, but he was now an austere and With that expertness in eavesdropping that is honorable yet come, and went to his own heaped desk down the ha | reassuring figure, a proper figure for an office, a funeral or in process servers and bill collectors, he could not have l'o a man with a knack for reading character and a d | other social exchange where decorum was at a premium and failed to hear Edwin's name cried in the hallway above. dain for the layman’s way by observation of the subject romance wasn’t listed. He did not know Edwin and was relying on a description behavior, those desks were highly indicative; a man may He was forty years old, a time of life when most men so Edwin hoped—but he was looking with an accusing be judged by his office desk. The high-pressure execut have got their feet under them ai last, when they area bit stare at Edwin now as the latter hung vacillating on the or professional man sits behind a desk as bare and é shopworn but have no notion of going on the shelf, wher landing as his morning face, everything swept off, ready for ne they are more gallant than boys, though with a stop-loss He was abou\ to speak when Edwin forestalled him, business. He knows how to do; as fast as work alight hint of pretending; they pull in their loosening abdomens taking the words out of ni¥ "sath _“Mr.,wey!” cried before him he picks it up bodily and planks it down on | and walk with a swing, making the eyes of their wives Edwin, looking up. oom desk of some assistant, and again he ead shine with pride and jealousy. Edwin, slightly stooping, Edwin listened, shook his head, descendes.™e stairs and picture taken. That was Mr. Shelby Macat te walked with his knees, with dangling arms and atrophied passed the collector The assistant does not have his picture hips. Most men of forty are spark plugs, but Edwin was “Excuse me, friend,’’ said the collector, frowning. not calm the country in time of cr only a reliable peg. ‘*‘Aren’t you--I mean, is Edwin Kiley up there?”’ youth, would only be a sort of muggi: i h “*Good-by, lovey,” he called. “No,” said Edwin, opening the street door. “‘He’s just seated at his desk, looked too muct “*What’s that?” said a resentful female voice. “Oh.” left.” man amid his possessions. He He was descending the carpeted stairs of the old walkup Edwin went to the Subway, was taken hold of bya giant or compel awe Had he att when the agent called to him from a hallway above: employe of the I. R. T. and forced intoa train that already brooding, he could not have ‘Hello, Kiley! Edwin Kiley!” bulged with its human freight; he rode downtown quite There is the evidence of the et it be admitte Edwin glanced nervously at the doors of his neighbors’ flattened against a decor. Through the dirty glass against Mr. Macabe’s brothers of the r ind ar ! flats and waited until the agent had come down to him, which his nose was pressed he watched the iron pillars of without bitterness, “ I« f very f t t | when their business could be transacted with privacy. the tunnel twinkle by. If the door gave way, a valuable Edwin Kiley they said A thoroug wy Ag “T can give you half now,” he said in a low and hurried claim for damages for personal injuries would plausibly these pretended character witnesses we set the testimor tone, bringing out his wallet, “‘and I think I can promise accrue to Edwin, perhaps to his widow; at the very least, of the desks as rebutting « r you the other half about the twenty-fifth.” he would be classically sick, sore, lame and disabled from Qui facit per alin “Mr. Kiley, I don’t see why the rent m earning his livelihood. He was a lawyer, and the legal con Edwin plunged into the w hat Mr. Macabe had “Yes,” said Edwin, making quieting gestures. “I'll try sequences of the giving way of the door which seemed gently provided him. Almost submergs to be on time after this, but I've had very heavy expenses. imminent— were an interesting speculation. However,the bundles of ribboned papers, harassed ar Good morning; and thank you very much.” troubles of the I. R. T. were not complicated-and Ed- tudinous details as always, he dictated to Miss Monal He halted again at the head of the last flight. In the win's happily ended-—by a discharge of passengers in in the desultory intervals of a t hall below waited a burly gentleman whom Edwin knew fransitu; Edwin left the train like a pellet from a popgun, Continued on Page 43

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

Seiad cae cada a . reat a Sate, basi ee = oe ea

You always see him on PARAMOUNT NIGHTS Your Theatre Manager. He wouldn't be there if a poor picture had

spoiled your afternoon or evening’s entertainment. He’s always there to greet you on Paramount nighis because Paramount Pictures are consistently good entertainment. @ That does not mean the only good pictures are Paramount. It does mean that all Paramount Pictures are good, very often great, never any- thing but entertainment supreme. @ Just as with everything else, it pays to select your entertainment carefully and with pic- tures you need look no farther than the word Paramount to be sure of seeing the best show in town. @ Find out now when you ean see those listed on this page and make it a point to see them all. @ “If it's a Paramount Picture it’s the best show in town!” PARAMOUNT FAMOUS LASKY CORP., ADOLPH ZUKOR, PRES., PARAMOUNT BLDG., N.Y.

ON THE AIR! Para mount-Pablix Radic Hour, each Saturday Evening, 10-11 P. M. Eastern Time over the Columina Broadcasting System.

April 5,19350

“PARAMOUNT

ON Par: * ical aramounts musical com-

edy supreme with a cast composed of the greatest stars of stage and screen. Like ten big Broadway shows in one—riotous comedy, song hits galore, dazzling Technicolor scenes—in this star-studded triumph of The New Show World! PABADE” ‘\ YY | ALL A. STAR ~ MUSICAL & Somer € Apt

GEORGE BANCROFT **LADIES LOVE BRUTES” With Mary Astor and Fred- ric March. Directed by Rowland V. Lee from the play “Pardon My Glove” by Zoe Akins. Exciting, roman- tic melodrama with George Bancroft as the skyscraper king of New York wooing a beautiful society woman, played by Mary Astor.

<THE BENSON MURDER William Powell, as “Philo Vance,” is again called upon to solve the most baffling of all murder mysteries. How he does it is unfolded in this absorbing melodrama. With Jean Arthur, Paul Lukas, Eugene Pallette. Directed by Louis Gasnier from the novel by S. S. Van Dine. CASE”

Charles “Buddy” Rogers in ““WOUNG EAGLES” You’ve always wanted to see an aviation picture as great as “Wings.” Here it is, star- ring Charles“ Buddy” Rogers, hero of “Wings,” directed by William Wellman, who pro- duced “Wings.” 100% dia- logue throughout. Also in the great cast are Jean Arthur and Paul Lukas.

RICHARD ARLEN “THE LIGHT OF WESTERN STARS” Thrilling, romantic all- talking, all-outdoors melo- drama from the famous story by Zane Grey. Supporting Richard Arlen in the big cast are these great favorites— Mary Brian, Regis Toomey, Harry Green and Fred Kohler. Directed by Otto Brower and John Langan.

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— (Continued from Page 41) a court clerk, a complaint on a quantum meruit; dictated without halt or repetition, counting out the tried and trusty phrases like beads, all the way down the string to the rounded “‘ Wherefore the plaintiff demands judgment.”” He dismissed Miss Monahan to her machine, hung up on the court clerk, turned to his other telephone and launched smoothly into a discussion of procedure with an opposing office in a matter involving the bankrupt Universal In- demnity Company. Mr. Macabe arrived at ten o’clock, and Edwin was summoned as usual. He excused himself to his importu- nate telephones, promising to speak to them again, clam- bered over a rampart of New York Reports and went into his employer’s room. He stood, alert and sympathetic, while Mr. Macabe went through the daily agony of answering his corre- spondence. Even a little letter is a dangerous thing, com- mitting one; Mr. Macabe’s mentality was blurry; wherefore he hated to commit himself and say, “Here I stand!” He knew where he wanted to go, and he always got there, but by drifting. He was like, say, a man finding his way across town by chart and compass—blundering hither and yon, but going inevitably. Dapper and sallow little man of forty-eight, he clasped his hands behind his tight little gray head, fastened his bright hazel eyes on the ceiling, and said in a beseeching voice, “‘* Dear Mr. Peppard.’”’ He swung forward, dissatisfied with the phrase that was coming next to hislips. ‘Strike that out, Miss Monahan.” His gaze implored the ceiling again: “‘ Dear Mr. Pep- pard: If you feel—as I feel—that’—ah-h-h —— No, strike that out, Miss Monahan. “*Dear Mr. Peppard: If you feel, as I feel, after the conversation we had here last Wednesday—the conference we had-—ah—the conference was had by us last Wednes- day ah— last Wednesday. Last Wednesday! If we issue another two thousand shares— two hundred thousand non- voting shares—shares, common, of Peppo Bottling— Ah “*Tf this meets your reaction, I feel that—ah ——— Call on me tomorrow afternoon and we will go into the matter at length. Trusting that this answers your questions and meets your ideas, I beg to remain—ah, yes—I beg to remain _ Mr. Macabe came down from the ceiling, where he had been almost visibly wriggling and posturing, and glanced at Edwin for confirmation. Edwin nodded, signifying that the letter was quite all right and that he would be on hand to cope with Mr. Peppard. That was the overt meaning; a secret meaning of the nod, implicit and never put into speech, was that Edwin knew what Mr. Macabe wanted to say and would fix up the letter outside and make it say it. And, indeed, Edwin did fix up this letter outside later, turning it into, “‘Dear Mr. Peppard: Please call here at two P. M. Thursday in re Peppo Bottling.” THE SATURDAY EVENING “Mr. Kiley, how did we make out in Lankhorn against Universal Indemnity?” “Affirmed, Mr. Macabe, with opinion.” “Bully!”’ crowed Mr. Macabe, who had been young and imitative in the great days of Theodore Roosevelt; his hazel eyes were rich with liking for Edwin. “And an opinion too? You must let me have a copy of your brief. That makes eight times we've been to the Court of Appeals in Univer- sal Indemnity cases, doesn’t it?”’ “Ten, Mr. Macabe,”’ said Ed- win with honest pride. “And in four of the cases we didn’t have a leg tostandon. Wonthem all too. Forty-three litigated issues alto- gether, and won forty-two. You told me to fight every claim, but I can tell you that in a fair half of the cases we were no more right than a burglar.” ‘*Audi alteram partem, Mr. Kiley,” said Mr. Macabe, smiling tenderly at his beautiful desk. “Tt’s our duty as attorney to make for our client the best case we can, and we have no right to inquire into the merits. Bill the receiver two thousand dollars for services in the Lankhorn case.” “‘Lankhorn’s claim was for only eleven hundred.” “That,” said Mr. Macabe, “‘is res inter alios, Mr. Kiley.’’ He knew that Edwin was not ventur- ing to inquire into the merits, but was suggesting that the bill might be contested. ‘‘ We did the work. We—ah— conserved the assets for the benefit of the creditors. “Take this letter, Miss Mona- han: ‘To His Excellency the Governor, Albany, New York. Dear Governor—ah—His Excel- lency— Your Excellency.’ Ah strike that out, Miss Monahan. “*Dear Jimmy: In reference to our conference in re dear lamented Judge Huggins who had his toes run over by a motor vehicle which was complicated by a heart con- dition from which he suffered and which resulted in his demise— passing away—which left vacant his unexpired term, to which I requested you to appoint me in your best judgment — interests of justice—of the bench and bar. You asked me tostate what I have done—accom- plished—for this wor- thy purpose-— this great honor and oppor- tunity for service. “*T do not mertion my services to the party in city, state and nation, but complying, I beg to call your at- tention as follows , ‘Mr. Kiley, give Miss Monahan a com- plete list of the Uni- versal Indemnity cases. I’m depending on you, my dear fel- low, to get this up in first-rate style.” Edwin tried to pic- ture Mr. Macabe on Miss Monahan Looked Across at Him With Covert Admiration; Something Had Come Over Mr. Kiley Lately the Supreme Court bench, but failed to do so convincingly; whereupon he looked blank. And yet,if Mr Macabe had decided to sit on that bench, it was altogether likely that he would sit. Two years before, Edwin “You'll Find the Other Present in the Envelope on the Tabie. i Borrowed the Money forit, Levey” reminded himself chidingly, he had failed to picture Mr Macabe as attorney for the receiver of the great Universal Indemnity Company, but Mr. Macabe had secured the lucrative appointment. And who could have done better with it? The case books were now spangled with the name of Shelby Macabe— New York Reports, Appellate Division Reports, Supreme Court Reporter—“ Legion against Uni- versal Indemnity, Shelby Macabe for Receiver.”” Edwin, who, in the shadow of anonymity, had attended success- fully to the legal work, while Mr. Macabe sat behind his swept desk and projected new honors and profits make out a brilliant case for his employer the judgeship go with more grace than to a lawyer whose name rang through the books? And it could go to no one with less secret opposition than to a gentleman who had been of service in city, state and nation Excellency of New York was dear familiar Jimr would To whom could and to whom Hi But Edwin became aware that Mr. Macabe was looking at him keenly, was surveying him with the acutenes« and understanding that were back of his apparent ineptit wherefore Edwin looked believing and gratulatory, saying, “> Yes, sir—yes, sir!” Mr. Macabe, having thus silently rebuked Edwin for betraying his awareness of facts that bot them knew very well, clasped his hands again be! his heed and leaned back and viewed the past with pride and the future with confidence. He was not self-deluding; he knew his powers and limi tations. He would be appointed; he would be a successful and popular judge, famed for negotiating settlements on broad grounds of right and wrong; to litigants who i sisted on their legal! rights he would give law with every thorny technicality, for his secretary would be some suc! another as Mr. Kiley At the end of the term for whicl he had been appointed he would stand for election; until then, he would not sell his practice, but would take a partner who could not go wrong while he had Mr. Kiley Continued on Page 112

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44 i APELS THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WIL April 5,19350 By Mary Margaret McBride and Helen Josephy HIRTS and collars must tone in with suitings. Double- breasted worsted and gray flannels will be in demand th 4 slow revclu- tion is coming to a head in the matter of men’s evening more shoulders is year Lines are lothes military squarer, coat fronts shorter, apels higher, producing al- together a more broad- chested he-mannish effect. We obtained this infor- mation personally from Sa- vile Row, a short, rather crooked London street ined with squat, austere- king tailoring shops, in which are decided all inter- national preblems regard- ing gentlemen’s attire. When waistcoats add a button, or when braid on dinner jackets changes from narrow gauge to broad, you may know Savile Row has been busy. Which is , men to say that s fashions as well as women’s change. Savile Row sees to the one, the Rue de la Paix to the other. Being only women, we had abored, it seems, under Seca te oe eee * ” ae though he had changed coat, shirt and hat, he had not found time to change his lounge trousers. He was credited with setting a new style, but he has never since been seen in this particular combination. Creation of the vogue for Fair Isle Shetland sweaters was a different story. H.R. H. went up to Balmoral for a vacation, and the head of the industries in the Shet- lands wrote him that Fair Isle was a dying native in- dustry and wouldn’t he please accept a sweater as a gift and wear it to help the cause? The Prince was touched by the letter, for he is much interested in native industries, and bought a sweater, which he wore for golf and shooting. The Prince’s Preference AITHinhisstyle-setting ability was bountifully rewarded that time, for a boom developed in Shetland sweaters. Confidence in the royal influence was touch- ingly displayed last year when a French father wrote delusions For in- stance, we never, until re- cently, bothered to question the assertion of our men friends that men’s clothes are the same year after year. And we firmly believed that if here ever were any deviations, H. R. H. the Prince of Wales was ~esponsible. But Savile Row says that’s non- , and so does the Prince. the contrary, we now learn that the Prince himself is ruled by Savile Row. He gets his sports clothes from one f the Row’s tailors, his lounge suits from another, formal thes from a third, and so on. Once in a while, to be sure, he wears an unusual combi- nation of garments because he’s hurried, or hot, or cold; on which occasions cables all over the world hurry to an- nounce that the Prince has set a new fashion. many sense Un Eton Boys Celebrating the Annual Fourth of June Holiday Another time, the Prince went to a public luncheon at Mansion House, the Lord Mayor’s home, in trousers with cuffs, a morning coat, topper and other formal accessories. Now, wearing trousers with cuffs and a morning coat simultaneously is simply not done, so it was obvious to the public that a daring new style was being sponsored by the Prince. All the people who do what the Prince does imme- diately ordered trousers with cuffs to go with their morn- ing coats. But if anybody ordered such hybrids in Savile Row, they didn’t get them. Savile Row knew, or guessed, the truth, which was that the poor Prince had been so busy that, to the Prince begging him to start carrying an um- brella, thereby to save the lives of Paris young people who were going through an epidemic of influenza because they had left off umbrella carrying. A member of his household explained how the Prince ordinarily buys clothes. Every now and then the valet, who has been with H. R. H. for years, says sadly: ‘Sir, these suits you have been wearing so much lately are quite worn out. You need some new ones.” The Prince replies: “All right, telephone the tailors.” The valet telephones and in the next few days the tailors arrive with their patterns. The Prince picks out a few, they are cut, and then he is fitted. If there is one button more than usual, or an extra bit of braid, or a higher lapel, it isn’t really But Savile Row takes no notice. It merely goes on its serene and ordered , calmly certain that it and not any individual, be he ever so exalted, s the sartorial court of last appeal. This calm is always vindicated, for, sure enough, the Prince seldom ap- a second time in the freak he is supposed to be sponsoring. way pears Hybrid Styles rok instance, a while ago front had it that he was now wearing a sweater under his dinner acket pages 4 member of the royai household explained to us that this story origi- nated at a boxing match. The Prince’s party had been warned be- rehand that the hall would be cold, everybody took a sweater. Prince wore his under a dark ‘oat, not a dinner coat, and had on, , a wing with black tie. group wore dinner jackets, and a reporter, seeing them and observing the royal coiiar Lane and so T'} colar Some members of his the Prince’s responsibility but the tailor’s, for such details are left pretty much to those experienced hands. Materials and colors, how- ever, the Prince usually chooses for himself —he likes dark blue or dark gray for daytime. And in spite of the many tales about the size of the Prince’s wardrobe, his valet declares it isn’t any bigger than that of any other busy young man. He loves old clothes and particu- larly enjoys private shooting trips, when he can wear any ancient rag he pleases. He never buys new things for such expeditions. Official tours, of course, are differ- ent. For these, lists are made out by the valet and such supplies as are needed are bought. Sir Godfrey Thomas, secretary to the Prince, says the public prints always exaggerate the number of trunks the Prince takes with him. Usually he has along about half as many as reported, and many of those are filled with papers and equipment, not clothes. We reached London ata propitious T GRAPHIC PHOT and sweater, produced a tale without benefit of strict fact. MION, LONDON. FROM WIDE WORLO PHOTOS Prince Henry, Lord Crewe, the British Ambassador, and the Prince of Wales, in Paris After Attending Service at the British Embassy Church time for investigating the claim that Continued on Page 58)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST —= Announcing = the W CHRYSLER OIA et 4}-WINDOW 4-DOOR ROYAI = ‘845 SEDAN | ama f) The lowest-priced SIX ever to bear the Chrysler name tires; and typically Chrysler-styled all-metal bodies of The introduction of this new Chrysler achievement brings Chrysler performance, Chrysler style, Chrysler comfort, Chrysler safety, Chrysler quality and Chrysler prestige within the reach of virtually any- one who can afford an automobile. Here is Chrysler engineering—with such progres- sive developments as internal- expanding 4-wheel hydraulic brakes; 62-horsepower high-com- pression engine mounted on rubber; Iso-therm pistons; mechan- ical fuel pump instead of a vacuum tank; low-swung chassis; special BUSINESS type spring shackles and hy- rectal s draulic shock absorbers; small base wheels with large balloon ne and oadster . $835 M O L | R S Y F. O. B. Detroit (Special Equipment Extra) new design and rigid construction. Here is Chrysler craftsmanship—the precision crafts- manship characteristic of Chrysler Standardized Quality Here is Chrysler performance—all of that snap, speed smoothness and stamina for which Chrysler has been famous ever since its beginning To the motor car buyer who wants a new car on a real economy basis, low price no longer means a sac- rifice of satisfaction and enjoyment. You need no longer drive a “second choice” when you now can own a Chrysler Six just as easily—and aS Royal ¢ tp Royal Sedan . thereby enjoy the pride ot owner- $835 ; é ship that only a Chrysler affords. $845 ¢ O R §

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46 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BLOOD PRE “Se You are the Trambo Who Keeps My Husband Out All Night, are You, You Trambo?"’ T IS maybe eleven-thirty of a Wednesday night, and I am standing at the corner of Forty-eighth Street and Seventh Avenue, thinking about my blood pressure, which is a proposition I never before think much about. In fact, I never hear of my blood pressure before this Wednesday afternoon when I go around to see Doc Bren- nan about my stomach, and he puts a gag on my arm and tells me that my blood pressure is higher than a cat’s back, and the icea is for me to be careful about what I eat, and to avoid excitement, or I may pop off all of a sudden when I am least expecting it. ‘4 nervous man such as you with a blood pressure away ip in the paint cards must live quietly,"” Doc Brennan says. “Ten bucks please,” he says. Well, I am standing there thinking it is not going to be so tough to avoid excitement the way thirgs are around this tewn right now, and wishing I have my ten bucks back to bet it on Sun Beau in the fourth race at Pimlico the next day, when all of a sudden I look up, and who is in front of me but Rusty Charley. Now if I have any idea Rusty Charley is coming my way, you can go and bet all the coffee in Java I will be some- where else at once, for Rusty Charley is not a man I wish to have any truck with whatever. In fact, I wish no part of him. Furthermore, nobody else in this town wishes to have any part of Rusty Charley, for he is a hard man indeed. In fact, there is no harder man anywhere in the world. He is a big wide man with two large hard hands and a great deal of very bad disposition, and he thinks nothing of knocking peo- ple down and stepping on their kissers if he feels like it. In fact, this Rusty Charley is what is called a gorill, be- cause he is known to often carry a gun in his pants pocket, and sometimes to shoot people down as dead as door nails with t if he does not like the way they wear their hats—and Rusty Charley is very critical of hats. The chances are Rusty Charley shoots many a guy in this man’s.town, and those he does not shoot he sticks with his shiv—which is a knife—and the only reason he is not in jail s because he just gets out of it, and the law does not have time to think up something to put him back in again for. Then Charley Peeks Into the Hat and Says ‘‘Ten,"’ SSW Anyway, the first thing I know about Rusty Charley be- ing in my neighborhood is when I hear him saying: “Well, well, well, here we are!” Then he grabs me by the collar, so it is no use of me thinking of taking it on the lam away from there, although I greatly wish to do so. ‘tHeite, Rusty,” I say, very pleasant. ‘““What is the score?” “Everything is about even,’’ Rusty says. “I am giad to see you, because I ani looking for com- pany. I am over in Philadelphia for three days on business.” “T hope and trust that you do all right for your- self in Philly, Rusty,” I say; but his news makes me very nervous, because I am a great hand for reading the papers and I have a pretty good idea what Rusty’s business in Philly is. It is only the day before that I see a little item from Philly in the papers about how Gloomy Gus Small- wood, who is a very large operator in the alcohol business there, is guzzled’right at his front door. Of course I do not know that Rusty Charley is the party who guzzles Gloomy Gus Smallwood, but Rusty Charley is in Philly when Gus is guzzled, and I can put two and two together as well as anybody. It is the same thing as if there is a bank robbery in Cleveland, Ohio, and Rusty Charley is in Cleveland, Ohio, or near there. So I am very nervous, and I figure it is a sure thing my blood pressure is going up every second. “How much dough do you have on you?”’ Rusty says. “IT am plumb broke.” “I do not have more than a couple of bobs, Rusty,” I say. “I pay a doctor ten bucks today to find out my blood pressure is very bad. But of course you are welcome to what I have.” “Well, a couple of bobs is no good to high-class guys like you and me,” Rusty says. ‘Let us go to Nathan Detroit’s crap game and win some money.” Although He Does Not Let Anybody Else Look in the Hat April 5,1950 Jz By Damon Runyon ILLUSTRA TEDO BY ToNnr SARG Now, of course, I do not wish to go to Nathan Detroit’s crap game; and if I do wish to go there I do not wish to go with Rusty Charley, because a guy is sometimes judged by the company he keeps, especially around crap games, and Rusty Charley is apt to be consiaered bad company. Anyway, I do not have any dough to shuot craps with, and if I do have dough to shoot craps with, I will not shoot craps with it at all, but will bet it on Sun Beau, or maybe take it home and pay off some of the overhead around my joint, such as rent. Furthermore, I remember what Doc Brennan tells me about avoiding excitement, and I know there is apt to be excitement around Nathan Detroit’s crap game if Rusty Charley goes there, and maybe run my blood pressure up and cause me to pop off very unexpected. In fact, I al- ready feel my blood jumping more than somewhat inside me, but naturally I am not going to give Rusty Chariey any argument, so we go to Nathan Detroit’s crap game. This crap game is over a garage in Fifty-second Street this particular night, though sometimes it is over a restau- rant in Forty-seventh Street, or in back of a cigar store in Forty-fourth Street. In fact, Nathan Detroit’s crap game is apt to be anywhere, because it moves around every night, as there is no sense in a crap game staying in one spot until the coppers find out where it is. So Nathan Detroit moves his crap game from spot to spot, and citizens wishing to do business with him have to ask where he is every night; and of course almost every- body on Broadway knows this, as Nathan Detroit has guys walking up and down, and around and about, telling the public his address, and giving out the password for the evening. Well, Jack the Beefer is sitting in an automobile outside the garage in Fifty-second Street when Rusty Charley and I come along, and he says “‘ Kansas City,” very low, as we pass, this being the password for the evening; but we do not have to use any password whatever when we climb the stairs over the garage, because the minute Solid John, the doorman, peeks out through his peephole when we knock, and sees Rusty Charley with me, he opens up very quick indeed, and gives us a big castor-oil smile, for nobody in this town is keeping doors shut on Rusty Charley very long. It isa very dirty room over the garage, and full of smoke, and the crap game is on an old pool table; and around the table and packed in so close you cannot get a knitting needle between any two guys with a maul, are all the high shots in town, for there is plenty of money around at this time, and many citizens are very prosperous. Further- more, I wish to say there are some very tough guys around the table, too, including guys who will shoot you in the head, or maybe the stomach, and think nothing whatever about the matter. In fact, when I see such guys as Harry the Horse, from Brooklyn, and Sleepout Sam Levinsky, and Lone Louie, from Harlem, I know this is a bad place for my blood pressure, for these are very tough guys indeed, and are known as such to one and all in this town. But there they are wedged up against the table with The Brain, Nick the Greek, Gray John, Okay Okun, and many other high shots, and they all have big coarse G notes in their hands which they are toss- ing around back and forth as if these G notes are nothing but pieces of waste paper. On the outside of themob at thetable are a lot of small operators who are trying to cram their fists in between the high shots now and then to get down a bet, and there are (Continued on Page 48)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST DI 0000001010010010100101010101001000110101010001011 MORE THAN Six Million People GEN ERAL MOTORS is owned by more than 225,000 stockholders. They live in every state, in many provinces of Canada and in many overseas countries. An average of 210,000 men and women are employed in the manufacture of General Motors products. Through 20,000 General Motors dealers about 500,000 more are engaged in sales and service. Another 500,000 are directly employed by suppliers in the manufacture of materials for General Motors. Add the families represented by these people and by the stockholders, and the total is more than six million men, women and children who derive income directly or indirectly from General Motors. GENERAL MOTORS “4 CAR FOR EVERY PURSE AND PURPOSE” CHEVROLET - PONTIAC - OLDSMOBILE =. MARQUETTE =. OAKLAND VIKING - BUICK - LaSALLE - CADILLAC - ALL WITH BODY BY FISHER Generat Motors Trucks - Yerttow Coacnes anp Yettow Cass . FaiGipaAire——THE AUTOMATIC REFRIGERATOR Detco-LiGHT ELECTRIC POWER AND LIGHT PLANTS AND WATER SYSTEMS Generat Motors Rapio - GMAC PLAN oF CREDIT PURCHASE

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18 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Continued from Page 46) also guys present who are called Shylocks, because they will lend you dough when you go broke at the table, on watches or rings, or maybe cuff links, at very good interest. Well, as I say, there is no room at the table for as many guy when we walk into th joint, but Rusty Charley lets out a big hello as we enter, and the guys all look around, and the next minute there is space at the table big enough not only for Rusty Charley but for me too. It really is quite magical the way there is suddenly room for us when there is no room whatever for anybody when we come in “Who is the gunner?"’ Rusty Charley asks, looking all around. “Why, you are, Charley,” Big Nig, the stick man in the game, says very quick, handing Charley a pair of dice, al- though afterward I hear that The Brain is right in the middle of a roll trying to make nine when we step up to the table. Everybody is very quiet, just looking at Charley. Nobody pays any attention to me, because I am known to one and all as a guy who is just around, and nobody figures me in on any part of Charley, although Harry the Horse looks at me once in a way that I know is no good for my blood pressure, or for anybody else’s blood pressure as far as this goes Well, Chariey takes the dice and turns to a little guy in a derby hat who is standing next to him scrooching back so Charley will not notice him, and Charley lifts the derby hat off the little guy’s head, and rattles the dice in his hand, and chucks them into the hat and goes “Hah!” like crap shooters always do when they are rolling the dice. Then Charley peeks into the hat and says “Ten,” although he does not let anybody elise look in the hat, not even me, so nobody knows if Charley throws a ten, or what But, of course, nobody around is going to up and doubt that Rusty Charley throws a ten, because Charley may figure it is the same thing as calling him a liar, and Charley is such a guy 2s is apt to hate being called a liar. Now Nathan Detroit's crap game is what is called a head-and-head game, although some guys call it a fading game, because the guys bet against each other rather than against the bank, or house. It is just the same kind of game as when two guys get together and start shooting craps azainst each other, and Nathan Detroit does not have to bother with a regular crap table and a layout such as they have in gambling houses. In fact, about all Nathan Detroit has to do with the game is to find a spot, furnish the dice and take his percentage, which is by no means bad as one more very thin In such a game as this there is no real action until a guy is out on a point, and then the guys around commence to bet he makes this point, or that he does not make this point, and the odds in any country in the world that a guy y does not make a ten with a pair of dice before he rolls seven, is two to one. 7 Well, when Charley says he rolls ten in the derby hat nobody opens their trap, and Charley looks all around the ' table, and all of a sudden he sees Jew | Louie at one end, although Jew Louie 4 4 seems to be trying te shrink himself / P up when Charley’s eyes light on him. ‘4 “‘T will take the odds for five C’s,” Charley says, “and Louie, you get it’’—meaning he is letting Louie bet him $1000 to $500 that he does not make his ten. Now Jew Louie is a small operator at all times and more of a Shylock than he is a player, and the only reason he is up there against the table at all at this moment is because he moves up to lend Nick the Greek some dough; and or- dinarily there is no more chance of Jew Louie betting a thousand to five hun- dred on any proposition whatever than there is of him giving his dough to the Salvation Army. which is no chance at all. It is a sure thing he will never think of betting a thousand to five hundred a guy will not make ten with the dice, and when Rusty Charley tells Louie he has such a bet, Louie starts trembling all over. The others around the table do not say a word, and so Charley rattles the dice again in his duke, blows on them, and chucks them into the derby hat and says “Hah!” But, of course, nobody can see in the derby hat except Charley, and he peeks in at the dice and says “Five.”’ He rattles the dice once more and chucks them into the derby and says “‘Hah!” and then after peeking into the hat at the dice he says “‘Eight.”” I am commencing to sweat for fear he may heave a seven in the hat and biow his bet, and I know Charley has no five C’s to pay off with, although, of course, I also know Charley has no idea of paying off, no matter what he heaves. On the next chuck, Charley yells “‘ Money !’’—meaning he finally makes his ten, although nobody sees it but him; and he reaches out his hand to Jew Louie, and Jew Louie hands him a big fat G note, very, very slow. In all my life I never see a sadder-looking guy than Louie when he is parting with his dough. If Louie Y) A Pushcart Loaded With Fruit and Vegetables and One Thing and Another, Which Rusty Charley Tips Over as We Go Into the House April 5,1930 He Puts « Gag on My Arm and Tells Me That My Blood Pressure is Higher Than a Cat's Back has any idea of asking Charley to let him see the dice in the hat to make sure about the ten, he does not speak about the matter, and as Charley does not seem to wish to show the ten around, nobody else says anything either, probably figuring Rusty Charley is not a guy who is apt to let any- body question his word especially over such a small matter as a ten. “Well,”” Charley says, putting Louie’s G note in his pocket, “I think this is enough for me tonight,’’ and he hands the derby hat back to the little guy who owns it and motions me to come on, which I am glad to do, as the si- lence in the joint is making my stomach go up and down inside me, and I know this is bad for my blood pressure. Nobody as much as opens his face from the time we go in until we start out, and you will be surprised how nervous it makes you to be in a big crowd with everybody dead still, especially when you figure it a spot that is liable to get hot any minute. It is only just as we get to the door that any- body speaks, and who is it but Jew Louie, who pipes up and says to Rusty Charley like this: “Charley,” he says, “do you make it the hard way?” Well, everybody laughs, and we go on out, but I never hear myself whether Charley makes his ten with a six and a four, or with two fives—which is the hard way to make a ten with the dice—although I often wonder about the mat- ter afterward. I am hoping that I can now get away from Rusty Char- ley and go on home, because I can see he is the last guy in the world to have around a blood pressure, and, further- more, that people may get the wrong idea of me if I stick around with him, but when I suggest going to Charley, he seems to be hurt. “Why,” Charley says, “you are a fine guy to be talking of quitting a pal just as we are starting out. You will certainly stay with me because I like company, and we will go down to Ikey the Pig’s and play stuss. Ikey is an old friend of mine, and I owe him a com- plimentary play.” Now, of course, I do not wish to go to Ikey the Pig’s, because it is a place away downtown, and I do not wish to play stuss, because this is a game which I am never able to figure out my- self, and, furthermore, I remember Doc Brennan says I ought to get a little sleep now and then; but I see no use in hurting Charley’s feelings, especially as he is apt to do something drastic to me if I do not go. So he calls a taxi, and we start downtown for Ikey the Pig’s, and the jockey who is driving the short goes so fast that it makes my blood pressure go up a foot to a foot and a half from the way I feel inside, although Rusty Charley pays no attention to the speed. Finally I stick my head out the window and ask the jockey to please take it a little easy, as I wish to get where I am going all in one piece, but the guy only keeps busting along. We are at the corner of Nineteenth and Broadway when all of a sudden Rusty Charley yells at the jockey to pull up (Continued on Page 72)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST automobile is good business on the sller’s part only when it remains sold. High pres- itemeladelesteetaleMiluclete Ce ioemer tar lite lies tele. Vemelelatittioe at sue. That MohwbattliliiaiMit.) 42 mitts suggestion: hich may seem unusual,_but which, we. believe, i 1e long run protect al ncérned. First, etree hether you really Tas 1ew automobile. Perhay »uld be better business to drive your present car longes Next, temporarily f e hat you have a used car to trade in as part yme and look the mvar- ket over, uninfluenced by anything except the intrinsic worth of the new car itself. Then, we invite you, after having compared and driven other cars, to study and drive the Auburt Catan lel at offer more inherent value, and meet all your requirements better than any: other car, and do these things for less cost, you will not be asked to buy. It is in this manner that Auburis own- ers remain sold, confident the longer they drive thie Auburn cars that they have made wise investments, PE Ae ee” ee a Te Straight Eight $1195 NIBNIR POWERED BY LYCOMING 6-85 Sedan $1095; 685 Sport Sedan $995; 6-85 Cabriolet $1095; 895 Sedan $1295; 8-95 Sport Sedan $1195; 895 Phaeton Sedan $1395; 895 Cabriolet $1295; 125 Sedan $1595; 125 Sport Sedan $1495; 12 Sedan $1695; 125 Cabriolet $1595. Prices f. 0. b. Auburn or Connersville, Ind. AUBURN AUTOMOBILE COMPANY, AUBURN, INDIANA. Equipment other than standa vtra Airmail postage has been reduced to 5 cents for the first ounce and 10 cents for each additional ounce. Use Airmail daily for quicker communication. The developm« at ‘ ‘ \

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50 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST CORMAL architec- ture drives out at- mosphere. There It isn’t the old Washing- ton, for they have mur- dered that and laid it in may be art, but there is 10 heart in brick and stone. I cite you New York once a casually built and captivating place, but now merely a terrifying and unprecedented pile of ma- sonry. I cite you Lon- don—using for example, say, Regent Street, once picturesque and historical its diversity of build- ng, but now a methodical and conventional heap of similar stone from end to end. I cite you Washing- ton—once, and for a hun- dred years, a city different from all other cities, with a glamour and a gayety and a sentience all its own; a capital with a charm, but now a sky- scrapered, apartmented, hugely granited and heav- ily structurized place, which—save for its public buildings, its few parks where they have not yet succeeded in putting stone kennels for bureaus and clerks, and its L’Enfant plan of streets which, pecs IS ee) ) Rie Bits seal Be : BARARPARAK® 8 Ap?E GR PRA MEA its doleful grave. It isn’t New York or Chicago or Detroit or Los Angeles, for they haven’t got that far yet. It is a nonde- script, epicene thing, with all its old charm and at- mosphere eliminated, and only a portion of its planned up-to-dateness achieved. It is neither fish, flesh, nor good red herring. The Mall FF the main and sky- scrapered streets it is still a shabby and run- down affair. On its main and skyscrapered streets it is only a quarter—not more than a_ half—effi- cient and complete as to the towering structures that are required, it seems, to make an American city, that insensate thing of stone and brick and mor- tar that signifies real re- sponse to prosperity and progress. thank heaven, they can- not change; which, save for the fact that the Presi- dent is forced to live there by law, that Congress meets there and that the Executive Departments are housed there—differs little from any other American city of the day and is less interesting than several. In the Name of Progress AS OCCASION requires, I go back to Washington from 4 i time to time, glad to see old friends and interested in whatever job may be in hand, but gladder still that I knew the town before they spoiled it. I often wander about look- ing for some sign or semblance or symbol of the Washington of forty, thirty, or even twenty years ago. Instead I find a congeries of big hotels, bigger apartments, high office buildings and ::ew public structures, built, building and projected, all mighty fine, no doubt, but chiseled, austere and cold in their magnificence. They add to and abet the idea of progress. They impart a flinty splendor. They sig- nify prosperity and what we designate as the advance to greater things, but what they have done to my old and beloved Washington is calamitous to contemplate. They COPYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, WASHINGTON, D Pennsylvania Avenue, Where Presidents Parade have strangled the spirit of the town with the heavy hand of masonry. They have modernized the city and made it like every other city, save for its governmen- tal attributes. The old Washington is dead. Kindly omit flowers. Whether what we term progress is really progress or merely the idea of progress is a debatable point, but not to be debated here. We are a fast-growing and a utilitarian people, and we demand quick advance in our appliances for efficiency and comfort and luxury. We must have vast hotels, with imitation-onyx pillars in them. We insist on enormous apartment houses where people may live robotwise and feverishly. We protest if we are obliged to walk up a flight of stairs, and hence our prodigally elevatored office buildings. We care nothing for the atmosphere that is conveyed by the leisurely appliances of life, the old and cheer- ful and comfortable things, but tear down and rebuild in bigger, busier and better fashion. That is what has happened to Washington. At war- time, and even before, it was inundated by builders with an eye tothe main chance, by hustling Americans who had no « idea of the charm and quiet and real spirit of my Washington, but who demanded hotels with every mechanized apparatus, and homes with all modern im- provements, who ex- claimed when they found the leading lawyers housed in hundred-year-old brick houses, and business in the banks and stores conducted in structures that dated back to the time of Web- sterand Hayne. They knew nothing of the tradition, or spirit, or atmosphere, of Washington, and cared less. So they took the old town apart, and put it together WASHINGTON, ©. ¢ The Oid Arlington Hotel Babbitwise, and now look at the durned thing! THE NATIONAL PHOTO COMPANY, WARHINGRON, o.¢ Harvey's Restaurant, the Informal Gathering Pface of Washington's Great The transition is not accomplished, they say. The new Washington is in the making. Great bodies, like the Gov- ernment, move slowly. It will take years before the south side of Pennsylvania Avenue, if it is the south side—I have no sense of direction—is torn out and the old and historic buildings there replaced with great governmental struc- tures that have pilasters, and colonnades, and flying buttresses, and facades, and Ionic pillars, and monoliths, and so on, and before the Mall is all architectured and monumentalized up. However, they are working at it. And they are putting up mammoth office buildings here, there and everywhere. And apartment buildings and hotels are springing up as the crocuses used to in the circles before Washington became the flat and dreary and modern thing it now is. (Continued on Page 52)

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} a A 7 can yield so much tn quality _ VERY GOOD CARS AT LOW PRICES F you are momentarily out of touch with the immense progress which has recently been made in the manu- facture of moderate priced cars—give yourself the oppor- tunity for a truly enlightening experience by having a dealer drive you about in the new Graham Six four-door sedan which is listed at the very low price of $845. Here is the sort of a six-cylinder motor which was not even approached in liveliness and all-around efficiency a short time ago at thrice the price. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 51 EVERY GRAHAM SIX AND EVERY GRAHAM EIGHT IS COMPLETELY EQUIPPED WITH SHATTER-PROOF PLATE GLASS The new Graham Six four- door Sedan, $845 at factory ible that $845 It is a motor good to look at from an engineering stand- point—beautifully clean and simple in design and construc- tion, with a swift wizardry of response that is nothing short of a delight. This latter refreshing quality, which gives you a complete and lightning-like mastery of every trafic and road con- dition, results from a transmission system so fine that it would grace the costliest of cars. It is not always safe to say of anything mechanical that it is infallible, but there is no risk in saying that both the Graham three-speed and the very remarkable time-proved four-speed transmission are endowed with a measure of quality and reliability far above the accepted standards. The completely Graham-built bodies, with their equipment of shatter-proof safety plate glass; the new system of car- buretion and manifolding; the engine cooling system—each in its turn is worthy of study because they disclose a degree of engineering and manufacturing so high that the price of $845 for a four-door sedan seems almost incredible. Here is a car at a most modest investment which insures comfort of the highest order, always accompanied by the most brilliant sort of performance, consistent economy and endless endurance. Standard and Special Sixes, $845 up. Standard and Special Eight 44 GRAHAM-PAIGE MOTORS CORPORATION, DETROIT, MICHIGAN a “o -_ Graham Car wii ¢ v Glue 3 performan pienty Yr | for preferring them. Their crou g appeal is ti fer ft hatter Lp Le ree Sa that

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an t' THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1950 Continued from Page 50 They will do it too. They will have great piles of granite or limestone—depending on whether the Vermont or the Indiana boys can get their stone specified—all over the place; and the business lads will see to it that they tear out the squat ola brick houses that have been there a hundred years, and stick up per- pendicular and towering office buildings and rectangular and three-room-and-bath apart- ment buildings, and all will be progressive and American, and impressive and efficient. Yeah! ; But, when it comes to that, whoam I to voice a protest against the glorious march of prog- ress? Nobody. Absolutely nobody. Merely a man who has known Washington for more than forty years, and loved it; and who thinks, fool- ishly no doubt, that we have enough Detroits, and Indianapolises, and Des Moineses, and Los Angeleses, and St. Louises, and Chicagos, and Buffalos, and Omahas, admirable as these places are, in this country, and that we might have left one place uncontaminated by the sky- scraper infection, and the apartment-house reporter, Mr. Pres- ident,” I said. “Indeed,” said he, “‘and what do you wish?” ‘*T would like an interview,” I blurted at him. He smiled. “An _ interview about what?” he asked. “Anything,” I told him eagerly. “Anything at all, Mr. President. It would be wonder- ful if you would give me something I can telegraph to my paper.” “Well,” he said, with a sense of hu- mor that he later displayed in small degree,‘ youmight A State Dinner at the White House, March 9, 1871 vacillus, and the streptococci of progress; one place where there was an atmosphere, and a distinction, and a tradition, and a spirit and a feeling; one place where we did not use al] our devilish energy to make it look like, and act like, and function like every other American city —one place where there was some joy in living, some distinction and charm and atmosphere. An Interview With President Harrison | GO back forty years in Washington. I made my first appearance there on the night before Benjamin Harri- son was inaugurated President, March 3, 1889. It was raining, and I was hurrying through the rain to get my first look at the White House. I was a reporter, raw and callow, but a reporter just the same, and I had saved enough money to take a cheap excursion from my home n Western New York to Washington. I rode all night n a coach, and all day, and I didn’t wait for anything after I got off at the old Sixth Street station, but raced up to see the White House. I went up Pennsylvania Avenue and turned off in front of the Treasury Building, cutting across the place where the Sherman statue now stands, to get there as soon as possible. I had been hearing about the White House all my life, and it seemed to me the most important thing to see. I met two men walking, without umbrellas, in the rain. I had seen countless pictures of one of the men and instantly I realized this was the President elect, Benja- min Harrison, a short, sturdy man, with whiskers and a square-topped hat. The other man, whom I did not know until later. was Elijah Halford, his secretary. This was luck. Twenty minutes in Washington and ere I was face to face with the new President. With e nerve of my craft, instead of standing aside and etting this great man pass, I stopped him. “I am a FROM A ORAWING BY T. DE THULSTRUP The Inauguration. President Arthur and Mr. Cleveland Leaving the White House for the Capitol FROM FRANK LESLIE'S KL.LUSTRATED NEWSPAPER, MARCH 26, 187) A Matinée Reception at the Rus: sian Embassy in Washington. Count and Countess De Catacazy Weicoming Their Guests say that I think it is a nasty, rainy night, and that I hope the weather will be better to- morrow.” And he and Lige Halford passed on down the street, leaving me gaping and trembling in the rain. But if any of my readers think that I did not send in a dispatch to my paper that night that began “I saw the President this evening,” that reader has a small comprehension of the first working principles of the newspaper trade. Charms of Old Washington SAW the President. Sure! And I have seen and known them all since, and interviewed them, and observed them in various conditions of storm and stress and in fair weather; and not even when Woodrow Wilson gave me for THE SATURDAY EVENING Post the first direct quota- tion interview with a President ever printed in the United States did I get so great a kick as on that March night in 1889 when I ran onto Benjamin Harrison in the rain and braced him for a talk. That was my advent in Washington, a wonderful, unique, enchanting Washington, when they still had straw on the | floors of the horse cars; lady barbers on Ninth Street; two fine beaten biscuits and a mug of Jer- sey milk for nine cents at Ford and Graham’s; half a peck of steamed oysters for a quarter at George Har- vey’s; herdic cabs that started in Pennsylvania Avenue near the corner of Fourteenth Street, which you got in at the rear and trusted to heaven you wouldn’t fall out; ambrosial Tennes- see whisky at Shoomaker’s for fifteen cents a drink with comment by cock- eyed George Williamson, the bar- tender, thrown in; terrapin at John Chamberlin’s; mallards at Worm- ley’s; and wild turkey and possum at Mades’. That was the Washington where you could buy a big shad, in season, for fifteen cents; and negro pot hunters, festooned with canvas- back ducks, walked along the streets and sold the birds for twenty-five cents each. Let me call that Washington back to you—with ceremonious obeisance to the spirit of progress, with ade- quate conception of the fact that time does move, and with every concession to the demands of the present day’s methods, manners and magnificences. Let me revive for you, if I can, a city that was not so much the capital of the nation as it was an oasis in a great expanse of materialism; a city that had for its motto Dum vivimus viva- mus regardless of the Latin on the great seal of state; a city where there were good fellows, good living, good drinking, and good nature; where there were courtesy and kindliness and (Continued on Page 170)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 53 ust Pp ain folks at home... these glamorous successes find DATED Cottee luxuriously satisfying dated package. Careful mothers pour milk from a bottle with a dated cap. Now you, lover of good coffee, can get yours fresh from the roast- ing ovens .. . with the date stamped on the can. For sixty-five years, Chase & Sanborn’s Coffee has been a favorite in many sec- tions of the country. Now, through the same “Daily De- livery’’ system of Standard Brands Inc.,which delivers fresh Fleischmann’s Yeast, this extra fine coffee speeds to your grocer wherever you are, straight from the roaster. ie ‘of ~~ Y, “No Swedish dinner is complete with- IRVIN COBB, author, jovial and out a cup of good coffee,’ says NILS witty, his name linked etcrnmally ASTHER, Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer star. with laughter, states his prefer- “That's why I use Chase & ence for Chase & Sanborn's Coffee >» Sanborn’s. I know that it is “I think your coffee is as near to as fresh as it is pleasing to being perfect as anything in this the taste and one never imperfect world ever gets to be.” grows tired of it."’ No storage . . . no delay for re-handling. Two deliveries a week . the date that your grocer gets it plainly marked in large type on the label of each can. ERIC DREXEL, distin- guished sportsman, a noted figure in the hunt- ing field both here and abroad, has the direct, vig- orous preferences of the And no Chase & Sanborn’s Coffee can remain in your grocer’s store more than ten days. Any cans left over at the end of that period are regularly collected and replaced by fresh. Get Chase & Sanborn’s dated coffee from your grocer today. Know the delectable full-flavor that comes only from perfectly fresh coffee. outdoors man. He com- ments appreciatively on Chase & Sanborn's Coffee “Chase & Sanborn's is great coffee,” he says. ‘‘Has a tang all its own—be- I | | | | | HE fastidious buy “24-hour eggs” in a | | | cause of its freshness, _ GRAHAM McNAMEE and Radio grew up together. There are very few people who do not know his voice — his pulsing, eager voice which LOOK FOR THE date ON THE CAN makes words leap to glowing pic- tures. But few of us realize the man behind the voice. He is quiet, sim- ple, and appreciative of good things. } ‘*Chase & Sanborn’s Coffee,’’ he says earnestly, ‘‘reaches the top of coffee flavor. It is undeviatingly mellow and rich and full-flavored.’’ Chase and Sanborns Coffee -DATED Copyright, 1930, by Standard Brands lac.

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54 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 THE LOST ARTS IN BASEBALL TEALING signs is a lost art in basebali. In the old days teams made it a business to un- cover the signals of opposing clubs. Lynx- eyed sharpshooters on the coaching lines and in the dugouts kept a constant vigil on the players in the field to catch the intentional signs and to pick up the unconscious movements of pitchers, catchers and basemen that would tip off plays about to be made. Not so today. Teams pay little attention to the strategy of a decade ago. All that counts now is the boom-boom of the bat. There's little science left in baseball, with the lively ball making expert mathematicians of the score- keepers. And yet ulmost every pitcher and player at some time or other does something unknown to himself that will give away his intention of making a certain pitch or play. Naturally, if the opposition knew of this unconscious movement, it would help alot. I can’t understand why the teams of today don't follow up sign stealing. Imagine the game it would be with the lively ball and teams really outsmarting each other instead of just By “Bullet Joe” Bush As Told to Carroll §. Slick when the count on the batter was three balls and two strikes. In this situation he depended on the fire ball. We had the Indian sign on Jim Shaw, who also pitched for Washington. We noticed that during his wind-up for the pitch he would bend his wrist when he was going to throw a curve and he would keep his wrist rigid when he was going to throw a fast ball. We'd tip off our batters, and we frequently used to knock Jim out of the box. He never knew how we knew what he was going to pitch, for he was unaware of the fact that his own unconscious char- acteristic gave his pitch away. When Stanley Coveleski was pitching for Cleveland we watched his hands when he put the ball up to his mouth to pitch or bluff his spitter. When he was going to throw a fast ball, the third-base coach would discern a wee bit of Mackians. Connie knew I was reading Perkins for pitches, but in as much as neither Cy nor he knew what was giving the dope to me, they were at a loss to know how to stop me. You might study a pitcher for three or four games and not get a thing that will help you. Then, all of a sudden, the repetition of a peculiar movement coupled with a certain pitch will come to you in a flash. After that, it’s just a matter of reading him. You'll wonder why you didn’t tumble before, but you might have been studying him from an altogether different angle, and the char- acteristic giving his pitch away was hidden because your mind was concentrated on something else. In all the league games, either Danny, the Chief, Harry or myself was on one of the coaching lines, and we passed on the information we'd steal from the opposing batteries to our hitters by means of word signals. For instance, if I thought a pitcher was going to throw a fast ball, I would yell to the man at bat, “All right, Jack, get this one,” or “All right, old-timer, let’s go.” Any sentence with “‘all right” in it meant a fast hitting away and guessing what the other fel- low is going to do next. Connie Mack’s Athletics of seventeen vears ago made real use of signals handed them by three past masters of the art of stealing signs Chief Bender, the pitcher, Harry Davis, first baseman, Danny Murphy, the coach. This tri- umvirate patiently studied the characteristics of opposing players, especially the pitchers and catchers, and frequently detected movements customary in certain situations which gave a clew to exactly what was going to happen. Soon after I had rubbed the rookie fuzz from my chin in 1913, I broke in on the confabs of these three wise men. The idea of stealing secrets from big-league baseball clubs thrilled nineteen-year-old “Bullet Joe”’ from Minne- sota. Game after game I would sit in the dug- out with either Davis, Murphy or the Chief, and study the movements of opposing players. We naturally concentrated on pitchers and catchers, for the batteries are the most vulnerable points of attack. After we had watched a pitcher work a num- ber of times we came to know how he held the ball and in what position he threw certain pitches. This isn’t easy. It requires real pa- tience and the closest kind of studying and mem- orizing. In fact, you've really got to know a pitcher better than he knows himself to catch the peculiar movements he makes when he pitches certain balls. Getting the Indian Sign on a Pitcher OR instance, Harry Davis watched Big Ed Walsh, the greatest spit-ball pitcher who ever graced the mound, like a hawk, and finally ball was due. A sentence with the words “come on”’ in it warned the hitter to be ready for a curve. The expression, “‘Get hold of it,’’ told the man at bat to look for the deadly spitter. Most of the old-time hitters were glad to get this information, but there were some who asked us not to hand up our dope tothem. They said it made them overanxious and threw them off their stride. The Hit-and-Run Play C ISN’T possible to pick up signs from every pitcher, especially if he knows you are study- ing him; for he will cover up so well that even if you do get something worth while he will have pitched before you can call out your signal to the batter. In the old days, opposing teams knew the A’s were busy stealing signs, and ordered their men to “work under wraps.”” I remember one time when Eddie Collins was with Chicago and I was with Boston that Eddie stopped the game to tell pitcher Ed Cicotte to cover up, because he knew I was trying to read him. Covering up didn’t help the man on the mound. He knew he was being watched, and though he didn’t know what he was doing to give » away his pitches, he realized he had to hide his grip on the ball and throw differently. This had a tendency to make him wild, for it took his mind off the business of pitching and gave him something else to worry about. We used to get hit-and-run signs of other teams too. This sort of signal is, of course, an intentional one. I remember one club that had a combination sign. When a batter came up to the plate with a man on first, he would signal to discovered that whenever Ed was going to throw proto his spitter the peak of his cap would rise. Walsh would always put the ball to his mouth, and with his big hands around it, you couldn't tell whether his mouth was open and he was putting the alum on it or not. In this way Ed kept the hitters guessing; they had no way of knowing when he intended tossing his bewilder- ing spit ball. One day Harry tumbled. He noticed that every time the peak of Ed’s cap raised, the spitter sailed over the plate. You see, when Ed opened his mouth his facial muscles moved his cap. This might sound simple enough in print, but try detecting the slight tilt in a pitcher’s cap from the coaching line or the dugout and you'll know what I mean when I claim it’s not easy. After Davis discovered this wrinkle he would tip off the man at bat and he, in turn, would look for the downward break of the spit ball. If Ed’s cap remained stationary, Harry would so inform the hitter, and he would be looking for a fast ball or a curve. This sort of-information is valuable to any batter, and the old A’s were quite suc- cessful against Big Ed. The great Walter Johnson, who pitched for twenty years for the Washington Senators, was a target worthy of our steel, but finally we pounced on an odd trait of his. We found he twisted his body and brought his pitching arm farther back when he intended shooting over his blinding speed ball. We also learned Walter never threw a curve MOERWOOO & UNDERWOOD Joe Bush in the Chicago Cubs Uniform daylight between the ball and his hands; when he was set to toss the wet ball or a curve he held the ball tight. Eddie Cicotte, another spit-ball artist with the White Sox, al- ways moved the little finger on his pitching hand when he was going to throw a fast one. When he didn’t do this he was sure to pitch a spitter or a curve. The Washington Senators were easy picking for us in the old days when John Henry caught for them. Uncon- sciously, John would tip off to us what the pitcher was going to throw when he gave the signal for the next pitch—when his right elbow moved, it was a curve; when it didn’t, you could depend upon a straight fast one. I'll never forget the fun I had with Connie and Cy Perkins, who still is catching for him, when.I was with the Yanks. Connie knew, of course, I was deing my best to steal signs from his players, and ordered them to’cover up. But I caught an unconscious movement of Cy’s. He moved his legs outward when he had given the curve-ball sign to the pitcher; when he didn’t move them I knew he had signed for a fast ball. Don’t confuse these leg move- ments with Cy’s intentional signs to the pitcher—a catcher gives those signals with his fingers in the pocket of his mitt, and they are not discernible from the coaching lines. I handed up the info Cy was unknowingly giving me to the Yankee batters. We had little trouble trouncing the the runner to get ready for the hit and run by pulling up his belt and rubbing the side of his leg with his right hand. When we caught onto this practice we would order our pitcher or catcher to put the pitch-out sign on. The pitched ball would be too far out for the batter to hit, and the runner invariably was thrown out; for on this play the runner doesn’t get the same lead from first base that he takes when he attempts to steal second. Smart ball clubs pick their pitchers and spots to work the hit-and-run play. It usually is pulled when the pitcher is in the hole with three balls called on him—ordinarily he must get the next pitch over. Thinking managers won’t order this play with a wild pitcher opposing their batters. For one thing, such a pitcher can’t be depended upon to get the next one over so the batter can hit it, thereby jeopardizing the runner on first. Then, too, a pitcher with poor control is just as likely to throw a bad one and walk the man at bat, thus accomplishing the pur- pose of the hit and run by advancing the runner to the keystone bag. Another lost art in baseball is the use of trick plays. In the old days the double squeeze was a great favorite of the A’s. We used it when Jack Barry was at bat, with Eddie Murphy on third and Jimmy Walsh on second. Barry was a wonder at bunting. The play can’t be worked unless the hitter is adept at laying the ball down the base lines. (Continued on Page 56) — eee ee —EEe eee we ee ee LY a_i hme

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eee nee - en re ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST © 1930 by Dodge Brothers Corporation A DODGE BROTHERS SIX THE BIGGEST VALUE IN DODGE BROTHERS HISTORY AT THE SURPRISINGLY LOW PRICE OF °O55 AND UP, F. O. B. FACTORY Big, capable, fast and smooth—an entirely new Six at the lowest price in Dodge Brothers history! » » Styled to the minute, with head-room and leg-room to spare—this Six bears the lowest price ever asked for any Dodge Brothers closed car! » » Safe, silent Mono-piece Steel Bodies . . internal-expanding 4-wheel hydraulic brakes . . . never before have these advanced features been obtainable in any car at this price. » » Dependable, sturdy, sound and fine—typical Dodge Brothers quality at a price so low that thousands who have long aspired to the ownership of a Dodge Brothers car can now realize this ambition. SIXES AND EGCIGHTS UPHOLDING EVERY TRADITION OF DODGE DEPENDABILITY NEW ROOMIER

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Watch This Column. Universa!’s Weekly Chat a teri. ; Pee SN

~ TRS eee mehei USL, ree pane og!

WANT a dramatic story of modern American life written coround, or bearing the sentiment of, the world- known song, “Home, Sweet Home.” if ican get the kind of story desired, such a one as will make a delightful and memorable moving-picture, | will pay $10,000.00 for it. | have fixed the price-offer at $10,000.00 in order to inspire seme author, or writer, to his or her best thought and effort. Naturally, there- fore, this is not a contest. It is a plain offer for a first-class story, and if | can get what | want, | will gladly and promptly pay the amount. | want a story that will “ring the bell” in every American home—not a namby pamby, sickly, sentimental tale that will create a light and passing impression. Such a story can be highly dra- matic, full offire and punch and contain all the elements of suspense, thrills, love, comedy, and the atmosphere of the American home. It may and should reveal the average American's love of home, “be it ever so humble.” ! should like this story sent to me personally at the earliest possible moment, and | alone will pass on it and its acceptability. If | don't get the kind of story | want of course that's the end of the whole matter. Meantime, be sure to see the Univer- sal's Big Three— PAUL WHITEMAN'S feast of melody and specialty, the King of Jazz”; the remarkable re- production of Remarque's famous war- novel, “All Quiet on the Western Front,” and “La Marseillaise,” a dramatic love story of the French rev- olution, starring LAURA LA PLANTE and JOHN BOLES. i want correspondents in every com- munity. You don't know what a help you can be to your townsmen and to Univer- sal, Why not write me today ? Cari Laemmle, President If you want photographs of JOSEPH SCHILD- ARAUT, BARBARA RENT and JAMES MEURRAY send 10c om stamps for cach UNIVERSAL PICTURES “The Home of the Good Film” 730 Fifth Ave. New York City

THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 54) The only time I ever saw the double squeeze worked twice successfully in one game—and this is the only time it ever occurred, to my knowledge, in the big leagues —was against Walter Johnson. And both times it netted us two runs. The play is the toughest in baseball. It must be timed to a split second, otherwise it means the sacrificing of the runner on third and very probably a double out. When the sign for the squeeze was given against Walter, Walsh, on second, started for third at full speed when Johnson began his wind-up. Murphy, on third, waited until the ball left Walter’s fingers, and then he tore for home. Barry bunted down the third-base line and scooted to first. By the time Johnson got over to the bunt he real- ized it was too late to catch Murphy at the plate, and he shot the ball to first for the put-out. In the meantime, Walsh, un- seen by Walter, for his back was toward third, had rounded the hot corner and kept right on tearing for home, and scored easily before the first baseman could return the ball to the catcher. A great play—and I haven't seen it since Barry used to work it with the old Athletics! The Answer to the Deuble Steal The ordinary squeeze seems to be tough enough for the disciples of the diamond to- day. It usually is put on with a man on third and one out. Some managers give the squeeze sign to the hitter, and he, in turn, signals to the runner on third. On the next pitch the runner’ starts for home as the ball leaves the pitcher’s hand, and usually scores if the man at bat lays down a good bunt. It is safer for the pitcher to throw to first for a sure put-out than to take a chance on the catcher’s tagging the runner sliding into home plate. To execute the squeeze effectively the runner must be careful not to start too soon and give the play away. If he does, the pitcher may throw a duster, driving the batter away from the plate, and the runner will be caught in a run up between third and home. Three factors are essential to the suc- cess of the squeeze—a dependable bunter, a dependable runner, and a dependable pitcher. The latter must be counted on to have good control, especially if the sit- uation is such that the pitcher must put a good one over, for the ball must be within reach of the man at bat for him to hit. It is very poor judgment to pull the squeeze with no one out and the bases loaded; the forced play at home makes possible a double out. The double steal is a tough play to puil against a clever catcher and a clever short- stop and second baseman. It is tried by runners on first and third. The man on first starts for second as the pitcher delivers the ball, hoping the catcher will throw the ball to second, thus giving the man on third an opportunity to score. Some catchers throw to second without thinking about the man on third, and the latter often scores. But maskmen of the caliber of Wailie Schang and Mickey Coch- rane look at third first and snap the ball toward second. This keeps the runner from coming in home. Opposing teams gave up trying to put over the double steal on the old A’s when Barry was at short and Collins was at second. These two stars worked out a per- fect defense, and I never saw them lose a man on this play. When the runner on first started for second and the catcher threw the ball to- ward this base, Barry would cover the bag and Eddie would run in to the center oi the infield. Eddie always would make a bluff at cutting the ball off; this strategy kept the base runner on third, for if Eddie did take the throw, the runner would be an easy out at home. If Collins saw the runner on third had given up trying to score, he would let the throw continue to second, where Barry would catch it and tag out the | runner from first. EVENING POST I’ve never seen Collins cut the ball off when the man on third wasn’t going in. He always was able to determine what the runner was going to do. It got so that op- posing clubs gave up trying to steal on Barry and Collins, for it meant a sure out. When I was pitching for the Yanks, Aaron Ward, the Yankee second baseman, and I had a trick play we used to pull success- fully, especially in ticklish situations. It could only be worked when all the bases were populated, or with runners on second and third and the infield playing back. Our shortstop would give the runner on sec- ond plenty of room for a big lead, which, of course, he would take, thinking himself well protected because his team mate was in scoring position on third. Ward would keep up an incessant line of chatter. To all appearances my attention was riveted on the business of pitching to the man at bat, but my ears were wide open for the word signal I knew Ward would give me when he thought the runner was far enough off second to be caught flat- footed. When this time came, Aaron wou!d call out a sentence using my name—“‘Get in there, Joe.”” As he said this he ran to second. I would whirl and shoot the ball at the bag without looking. Ward would catch it on the run, and it was easy to tag the runner out, because the runner would be so taken by surprise that he had no time to get back to the bag. The play was so quick that not only was the runner off second caught dead but the runner on third was forced to stay put. I remember pulling this play twice in one game against Detroit. The first time, the bags were loaded, with no one out, and we caught Harry Heilmann off second. The next time there was one out, the bases brimming with Tigers, and Ty Cobb, the brainiest base runner of them all, was the victim of our little trick. In both innings the Tigers were retired without a run hav- ing been scored. Ward and I worked this trick seven times in 1923. Sad Sam Jones, Yankee pitcher, also pulled it three times that year with Aaron. After we had played it several times teams were looking for it. However, it prevented the runner on second from taking a big lead. Other clubs used the same play, but in different ways. The catcher, who is in a position to watch second, would signal the pitcher and second baseman if he thought the runner could be caught. Such plays are very important. They often prove the turning point in tough games. Any play is worth while if it wins a ball game, even if it is successful in so doing only once or twice during the season. Cobb on First, or Second, or Third Still another of the lost arts in baseball is base running. I don’t believe the players of today are giving nearly as much thought to running the bases as they did ten or more years ago. I suppose they think it unnecessary, with the lively ball advancing them around the bags on the solid per-hit basis. Ty Cobb, however, won many a game for the Detroit Bengals by his clever run- ning of the bases. His record for stealing bases is something for Young America to shoot at. Max Carey, of the Pirates, Claude Milan, of the Washington Senators, and Eddie Collins, now captain of the 1929 champion Athletics, were all base filchers who kept pitchers on their toes. The following statement may sound far- fetched, but it is true, nevertheless: Speed has very little to do with base running. Out of one hundred fast-running ball players there are probably only five good base runners. The secret of this art is in a runner’s ability to read the pitchers. The player must study the various opposing pitchers and come to know when the twirler is going to complete his pitch to the batter and when he is going to snap the ball to first. The wise runner watches the twitch in the pitch- er’s knee when he looks over to first before April 5,19350 pitching. Many times he will pick up a movement that will give the pitcher’s in- tention away. Cobb outsmarted the best of pitchers. When he was on base he kept the opposing hurler busy watching him and trying to pitch at the same time—a task anything but easy. Ty could steal second, third, and score with surprising ease. I’ve seen him run in from third and score standing up against a pitcher with a long wind-up. Baseball players, like contract-bridge bugs, are superstitious. They coddle their pet practices as religiously as a cat mothers its kittens. If they make a good showing they are sure it was because they frightened away their hoodoo. If they don’t, then it is just too bad! The Tale of a Shirt One of the wooziest jinx breakers I ever ran across was that of Vic Aldridge, the Pittsburgh pitcher. An hour and a half prior to every game he worked, Vic would put on three heavy shirts and chase fungoes in the outfield for half an hour to work up a good perspiration. Then he would go into the clubhouse and go through a lengthy series of bending-over exercises. After dry- ing off, he would put on two different shirts and get into a bunting game for fifteen or twenty minutes. After this, he would beat it to the locker room again and put on his pitching shirt and then warm up for the game! All this workout would tire an or- dinary man, but Vic told me if he didn’t do all these things he would be sure to lose. George Earnshaw, the present-day Ath- letic twirler, paces up and down the club- house before he pitches. He gives one the impression he is terribly nervous and ex- cited, but he isn’t. He says he does it to chase away his jinx. In 1917 I started wearing a heavy red flannel undershirt, and I’ve stuck to this warm color ever since. When I led the American League in pitching in 1922, I wore the same red shirt in every game I pitched. I started the season with a victory and I kept that shirt in a special corner so that I wouldn’t get it confused with the others. And I never had it washed! I know it was my good-luck shirt, and I give it credit for chasing away the jinx in the twenty-seven games I won that year—I lost but six. Of course, there are some ball players who scorn the idea of jinxes. Bob Meusel, the hard-hitting outfielder, is one of these fatalists. Nothing disturbs Bob. I remem- ber one game in Detroit, when we were with the Yanks and we were fighting for every game to keep on top of the heap, when Bob proved forever his equanimity. It was one of those exciting free-hitting contests the fans love. During our turn at bat in the eighth inning, we had put on a rally. One run had scored and two men were on the bags. Meusel was the next man up. He wasn’t in the players’ dugout. Someone looked out to the bench alongside the bleacher stands near the bull-pen where the substitute pitchers warm up, and there was Bob taking a nap. With all that ex- citement going on! One of the boys ran out and wakened him—he really was fast asleep! Bob strolled in as casually as if he were going to breakfast, picked up his bat, and proceeded to whale out a triple, which scored the win- ning runs for us. It is an unwritten law among ball play- ers never to mention anything about base hits or anything at all pertaining to a no- hit game to the pitcher in the box. For instance, a pitcher has gone along without allowing a hit or run until he is ready to go in for the last inning. No seasoned player would think of saying, “‘ Well, old man, only three more men to get out and a no- hit, no-run game is yours.” Usually, a rookie pipes up with this bright remark. And whai a blasting he gets! Mentioning anything at all about a possible no-hit game is considered the greatest jinx in baseball. (Continued on Page 58) SS Ee ee <=

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ) mn ~! '"* LENCOBN - Tae Five-Passencer Sepan A motor car, too, reflects its background LINCOLN has used its unlimited resources to develop a motor that notably combines strength and performance. In making this motor, operations that best can be done by hand are in the unhurried hands of fine craftsmen: whereas operations that are beyond the power of even the finest craftsman to perform . . . inhumanly delicate measurements and exquisite applications of tremendous force ... are done by machines that are the wonder of the engineering world. Costly to maintain, these machines often slow up production; but there is no intention to produce the beautiful, luxurious Lincoln ix large quantities. Because the motor avoids periodic vibration, as soldiers avoid keeping step on a bridge, the excellent structures and precise alignments in the Lincoln are left undeteriorated throughout the years. Because the parts are related with such unparalleled precision, the powerful Lincoln needs no tedious breaking in . . . but is, from its first day of service, a quiet, steadily functioning possession for those who can afford to purchase anything they desire; yet who demand authentic value for their money.

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The 3¢ cigar with the 30% finer tobacco THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 56) I particularly recall one game where the jinx worked. The A’s opened one season against the Boston Red Sox in Philly, and Herb Pennock was pitching for us. Herbie had the opposition eating out of his hand all through the game. Up to the ninth inning they hadn’t made anything like a hit. As Herb started out to the box for the final inning, a rookie spoke up: “Well, Herb, only three more men and you've got a no-hit game.” EVENING POST What a jumping on that fellow got. But what was said to him then was nothing compared with what was said to him later in the clubhouse. Herb had retired the first two men to face him when the jinx came. Hooper, the Boston rightfielder, was up, and we were all silently hoping he would be the last. He hit a slow roller toward sec- ond base, and Larry Lajoie, who was play- ing second for us then, came in and played the ball with one hand instead of with both, which he could have done easily, and April 5,19350 the ball rolled up his arm. He fumbled and Hooper was safe on first before he got the ball over there. We were all positive it was an error for Lajoie, but the newspapermen saw it dif- ferently and, instead, credited Hooper with a hit. It was a tough break for Herbie; he certainly deserved a no-hit, no-run game. When we arrived in the clubhouse, every- one remembered what the rookie had said to Pennock, and what a going over that kid got is nobody’s business. LAPELS WILL BE HIGHER it’s a man’s town. Nobody was paying any attention to the advent of long skirts, but columns were at that moment being written in the newspapers and near riots were occurring in Hyde Park, all because of an agitation against the high hat and tails of the Eton schoolboy. Some courageous modern soul had declared them absurd. But it is more than a century since the first tall hat was jammed down over the ears of an Eton boy, and Englishmen are horrified at | the idea of taking it off. because busy machines | make RocKY ForRDs) five times as fast as | human hands... Electric machines keep ROCKY FORD as clean and wholesome as a loaf of | bread. baker's Machines compress the filler, shape the cigar, roll it in the binder, seal it in the wrapper . . . without the aid of human hands. But purity is only half the story. Be- cause ROCKY FORD is 100% machine- made... it brings you 50° finer to- baeco. Finer leaf for its cool-smoking long filler. The choicest crops of im- | ported Sumatra for its sleek brown wrapper. Tobaccos aged two full years then transformed into ROCKY FORDS by electric machines in one of the modern, sunlit fac- world’s most tories! in - at your Always fresh-—always uniform quality . always 5¢. dealer's. the hetter WHEN IT’S GOT THE STUFF eP.t .. A NICKEL’S ENOUGH They grow red in the face, walk the floor and utterly refuse to see logic in the con- tention that children in top hats these days look ridiculous. Would the reformers, they inquire sar- donically, have the beefeaters at the Tower clad in trousers, M. P.’s addressing the | House in plus-fours, and judges sitting in golf caps instead of wigs? The last we heard of it, the tall hats were still jammed down over the Eton ears. The Reign of the Unimpressive No doubt this is all part of what one Lon- don tailor calls the “natural and proper vanity of man,” which, except in England, is never acknowledged. Other grand rev- | elations of it are the congresses held in London every so often for the avowed pur- pose of promoting the wearing of velvets and brocades among men, also the High- land balls, where men strut about in plaids and kilts, ruffles and buckles, not merely overshadowing but totally eclipsing the women, and conversing, these great strong men, on the fit of tunics and the placement of buttons! No woman, accustomed to cutting re- marks from men about feminine fashions, can avoid a chuckle over the odd similarity between Savile Row and the Rue de la Paix. For one thing, the temperamental English tailor needs the atmosphere of Lon- don and Englishmen to inspire him, just av the volatile French dressmaker needs Paris and Frenchwomen. If the American woman is bowled over by the glittering, perfumed splendor of a French couturier’s establishment, the Amer- ican man must be even more overpowered by the absolute lack of pretentiousness, the dowdy, old-fashioned, out-of-date quaint- ness of the best London tailoring shops. After all, the motion-picture palaces pre- pare us to see something exotic and hand- some when we go to Paris, but no American man who can afford to buy at the best London tailors could possibly be prepared for their lack of splendor. Most bewilder- ing of all is the fact that the artless un- decorated charm is obviously genuine. So is the courteous reserve of the salesman who is quite willing toserve you, but doesn’t seem greatly interested in whether you give an order or not. This is the sort of thing that can’t be imitated. It would be useless for a Fifth Avenue merchant prince to sweep away all his fine Italian Empire fittings, Du Barry carpets and polished supersalesmen in favor of funny old tables and chairs, with bolts of tweeds and cashmeres knocking about in corners, and a stout, baldheaded, nearsighted manager who has been with the firm forty-four years. Every London tailoring establishment of any prominence (Centinued from Page 44) has a manager who has been there forty- four years except those with managers who have been there forty-eight years No first-class London shop ha .« window display, and usually there is only an imper- ceptible sign, if any. Savile Row and its neighbors, Sackville and Conduit streets, have windows frosted about a third of the way up, like old-fashioned high-class sa- loons, or else stained glass, upon which may appear in small letters: ‘Established in 1783 ”’—or earlier. These aristocrats among tailors are proud of their age and of their ancient patrons. You can’t pry a word out of them about their present clientele and sometimes you almost wonder whether they have one, though at the very moment of dark doubt the Duke of Something-or-other will likely drift in and order eight suits. All over the walls are framed royal war- rants and engravings of ancient kings, ad- mirals and sportsmen who have been tai- lored on the premises. In a glass case in one corner are the house curios—a Scottish chieftain’s dirk, the trousers worn by Nel- son, or an ancient court dress. Bolts and bolts of elegant materials are stacked every- where—scarlet hunting cloth, tartan plaids, tropical cloth, shooting tweeds and the more usual woolen for business wear. Everything looks dignified and dul! until a gentleman begins to order his clothes. Then the temperament of the London tai- lor begins to show—for he is as tempera- mental in his way as a Paris couturier. Why shouldn't he be? Hasn’t he years of tradi- tion back of him, a great name to uphold and thousands of fine suits to his credit? As long as the customer remains acqui- escent all goes along in a peaceful, genteel manner. But the minute he begins to get notions of his own, then come fireworks. In the English season, a man’s clothes are changed almost as often as a woman’s. Events such as the Fourth of June at Eton, the Eton and Harrow match, Ascot and the Royal Garden Party demand striped or sponge-bag check trousers and toppers. At Ascot a man’s fancy may run far afield-in the matter of waistcoats too. At least, he may wear with perfect propriety a fancy one of gray or fawn cashmere and an orchid buttonhole bouquet. The Huntsman’s Wardrobe Ascot is dressy, but Goodwood, a smart racing event, demands tailor-mades and negligees for men. The tailor-made is of tweed, but again no plus-fours can be al- lowed! At Cowes spectators wear white trousers and blue double-breasted reefers. For a week-end at a shooting box a man requires two shooting suits, a few flannel sporting shirts, a raincoat, dinner coat and full evening dress with tails. Eureka! The shooting suits are made with plus-fours, but here again is a chance for the man not in the know to slip up. The tweeds must be exactly right--heather tweeds. This is so the birds won’t notice you until you shoot them, when it will be too late. But Englishmen make sartorial blunders; never think for a moment they don’t. At the King’s own levee last year one English- man was discovered to have two little bows on his knee breeches where there ought to have been none. The error was pointed out just as he was about to enter the royal presence and he frenziediy offered to tear off the offending bows. “Not enough time—not enough time,” the guardsman tuld him reproachfully; so in he went to meet his King, all wrong as to bows. He said he would haveefelt worse than he did about it except that an old ad- miral in front of him who hadn’t been back for a levee in years was having trouble about his gloves. The last time, he had worn one glove and carried the other. But as he moved rapidly kingward he was told that nobody had ever before dreamed of going before His Majesty with a bare hand, so he was finally revealed to the F ing fran- tically pulling on the other glove and mut- tering to himself like the White Rabbit. Milord’s Dressing Gowns The Prince of Wales, on a busy day, often wears four different costumes. In the morning, to receive official callers, he dons the conventional Englishman’s formal at- tire—morning coat and dark trousers. In the afternoon, if he appears at a public event, he often has to wear one of his many uniforms. After that, if there’s time, he gets into comfortable sports clothes or a lounge suit and has a game of golf outside of London or else goes to play squash rack- ets at a near-by club. Then he comes home and dresses for dinner. Savile Row can be as finicky as the Rue de la Paix but usually is less expensive. It is said, for instance, to be almost impossible for a man to spend more than twenty-five guineas on a suit, while a dress on the Rue de la Paix might and often does cost ten times as much. Many men pay as much as fifty guineas for a dressing gown, though that is for one made of such an exclusive piece of ma- terial that the wearer will have the satisfac- tion of knowing there is none other like it in all the world. Three dressing gowns a year is a moder- ate male allowance. One customer regularly buys from a tailor three dressing gowns for which he pays fifty guineas, thirty-six guineas and twenty-eight guineas. Another Savile Row tailor reports a re- cent order totaling two thousand pounds from a man going round the world. The list included six dozen dress shirts, six dozen day shirts, three dozen tennis shirts, three dozen suits of silk underwear, eight- een suits of pajamas, and a dressing gown to match each. An order for underwear amounted to over three thousand pounds. The garments were all hand-embroidered and the makers took more than a year to finish them. An- other man buys two dozen ties every month. Many men order a dozen new suits at a time, paying twelve to fourteen guineas for lounge suits, and seventeen to twenty for dress suits. Some painstaking soul worked out for us a schedule for a man who would be correctly dressed for every occasion. It included two summer lounge suits; two winter lounge suits; one gray flannel suit; one dress suit; one dress jacket suit; one knicker suit (Continued on Page 60)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST worRtLt.ob’s L The sterling quality of the new Chrysler built De Soto Straight Eight begins with sound and skillful engineering, carries on through the basic excellence of materials, and extends to all the in- finite detail of precision craftsmanship. Here are all the hallmarks of a quality that inspires lasting confidence and pride. v v ow ES T PR i c E D 4 AND UP, F. 0. B. DETROIT ‘ore sss* EIGHT CHRYSLER MOTORS PRODUCT _ - ee Here quality expresses itself in richness of appearance; in luxurious appoint- ments — and above all, quality speaks out in performance not equaled by many eight-cylinder ears hundreds of dollars higher in price. Obvious quality, far more than low price, is the new De Soto Straight Eight’s pass- port to swift and enduring popularity.

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If after using two blades you don't agree they are the finest double-edge biades built, return the package and your deoier will refund your purchase price soc for 5, $: for 10 Gvuorcnteed by PROBAK CORPORATION Division of AUTOSTROP SAFETY RAZOR CO., INC. 656 First Ave., New York City, N. Y. Also Toronto, London, Paris, Milan, Rio de Janeiro Use this coupon if your decler has not stocked Probok TRIAL OFFER COUPON PROBAK CORPORATION, Dept. P-80 656 First Avenve, New York City Send me a special trial pockage of Probak blades for which | enclose a5c (in coin or stamps). Nome Address City State Dealer's Name Protected by Patents Nos. 1,633,739; 1,639.335- Reissue No. 17,567. Other patents pending. PROBAK(' DES) THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 58 every second year, one summer over- coat every second year, one winter overcoat every second year, three pairs white trou- sers, one pair gray trousers, one morning- coat suit, a new one every few years. Which reminds us that we met in London a dozen men, or more, who are said to be | the unemotional possessors of at least forty suits of clothes! A.F. Curtis, a leading authority on men’s clothes, telis us that cloth, like machinery and men, requires rest. A suit worn from eight in the morning until eleven at night needs at least twenty-four hours of rest be- fore it is worn again. Then it comes back refreshed and ready for more wear. If it has to submit to the stress of wear day after day it loses its shape and dies. Suits That are Suitable Here ure some British don’ts also gleaned from Mr. Curtis: Don’t wear patent-leather shoes in the | daytime, or tan boots in London. Don’t wear a stiff collar of whatever kind for golf, nor wear evening collars in the day- time except with a black jacket or morning coat. Don’t wear soft-fronted dress shirts ex- cept in the complete privacy of the home. Don’t wear black boots unless they have cloth or tan uppers—and be careful about the color of both the latter. Don’t wear a bowler hat with evening dress. The really smart substitute for the rapidly dying-out opera hat is the tall silk hat. Some quite well-dressed men, how- | ever, have taken recently to the soft black felt hat with round brim for evening. But this is only for informal occasions, and never should be worn when out with ladies. Don’t wear tan gloves or anything but white with evening dress. Don’t wear a colored muffler at night. Don’t wear spats with tan shoes. Don't have a colored handkerchief about your person anywhere when in evening dress. Don’t wear turned-up trousers with a morning —tail— coat. EVENING POST Don’t wear a jumper with a town suit. Don’t wear colored socks with evening clothes. Don’t wear anything but a very dark overcoat with evening clothes. Don’t violate good manners and good dressing by wearing dinner jackets instead of tails when ladies are to be present; also by wearing a turned-down collar with a dinner coat. And now we come to the—to us—in- teresting phenomenon of the tailor—or it may be a jam and pickle maker—who dis- plays somewhere about his establishment a shield which bears the legend “‘ By appoint- ment.” This means, depending upon the shield, that the tradesman has been appointed tailor or preserve maker to the King, the Queen or the Prince of Wales. We journeyed to Buckingham Palace to ask how a shopkeeper gets one of those. An officer of the royal household told us all. Royal warrants, it seems, are signed by the Lord Chamberlain or some other duly authorized official? and granted by the Keeper of the Privy Purse or the Master of the Household for the King, for the Queen by her secretary, and for the Prince by his controller. Once a year the household committee of Buckingham with the Lord Chamberlain acting as head, holds a meeting attended by the Prince of Wales’ controller and the Queen’s secretary. At this time the com- mittee considers all applications made by tradesmen for the royal warrant. Then the King’s household submits a list to the King for his signature and the Prince’s controller and the Queen’s secretary do likewise to their principals. The Queen is an indefatigable shopper and shops in person much of the time. She particularly loves finding new antique shops and frequents places, whether well known or not, where the shopkeeper pleases her by his merchandise and way of doing business. She is often accompanied on antique hunts by the Prince and to her favorite big shops by Princess Mary. The Prince has his own ideas too. He absolutely made a certain new firm of April 5,1930 hosiers because he liked them and their wares. The King doesn’t bother much about shopping and lets the Queen or members of his household do it for him—with this no- table exception: He is one of the best shots in England and he takes the greatest in- terest in guns, which he always selects for himself. These three— King, Queen and Prince— can give or take away warrants as their fancy dictates. They can give them to a shopkeeper who has never sold them tup- pence worth of goods and deny it to an- other who delivers a grand piano at Buck- ingham Palace every day in the week. But of course they carry on the affair in the reasonable, tactful and just manner they invariably adopt toward everything they do, especially when other people are in- volved. As the thing works out, the war- rant is really granted according to the amount of goods supplied to the sovereigns or the Prince. By- Appointment Purveyors The custom is that goods shall have been sold with fair regularity for three years be- fore the warrant is granted. New warrants are issued each year and if the tradesman has continued to sell his royal customer and hasn’t broken any of the regulations im- posed he is pretty certain to get a new one. About twice as many applications for warrants are made to the Lord Chamber- lain each year as can be granted. Some- times a man will ask it because the King, Queen or Prince came there once—maybe years before—or because the merchant served in the war with honor. One asked for a warrant on the score of being a loyal Englishman. Getting a warrant does not depend upon whether a firm is large or small, but the financial footing must be secure and the merchandise good. A warrant can be canceled at a moment’s notice by the Lord Chamberlain. And sometimes is. If a firm goes bankrupt this happens automatically. (Continued on Page 62) PHOT MPANY, LONDON. FROM Ww Lord Astor, Leading His Saucy Sue, Winner of the Oaks, Back to the Paddock at Epsom Downs € WORLD PHOTOS

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} THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ; mer 4 BUSINESS PARADE every day in your town— F you were invited to enter one of your delivery vehicles in a formal parade, you'd make very sure it looked its best. As a matter of fact, there is a parade, day in and day out, up and down the streets of your t wn, with highly important rewards for fine condition and appearance. In this parade all the vehicles in town are com- peting, not for a cup or a ribbon, but for the favorable attention of thousands of prospective customers and the greater good will and increased business that result from making a good impres- sion on them. What about your vehicles? Are they just delivery wagons or are they fine advertisements of your business wherever they go? and there’s BUSINESS PROFIT in being a leader in it! Duco refinishing gives you the answer, in terms of your profit. For in maintaining the fine appear ance of your deliv ery vehicles, Duco offers ad vantages which will quickly and surely appeal. There are special commercial vehicle Duco sys tems suitable for all refinishing needs. Duco is used on so many cars and commercial vehicles at the factories that automobile engineers evidently agree nothing else equals Duco in beauty, economy and durability. There is a refinisher in your town who can refinish your delivery equipment wit! Dux It to your advantage to see him about t if you do your own refinishing, writ for f information. RB. Be Bt PONT DE NEMOUT & COs NC. Genera! Mot rs Bu Ling i t NI YOUR PERSONAL CAR~—H I f r restvle your own per H ‘ be wutiful Duc ior sKkilit t. H is joes fender ‘ i Ke \ the f D DUCO...MADE ONLY BY DU PONT

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And we offer to con- vince you at ovr own expense. All you risk is a stamp—and a few days’ shaves wi!l do the rest. Will you mail that coupon now, please? These 5 unique features Multiplies itself in lather 250 times. = 5252 7 SHAVES FREE andacanof Palmolive AfterShaving Talc Softens the beard in one minut& Nm Maintains its creamy fullness for 10 minutes on the face. 4 Strong bubbles hold the hairs erect for shaving. Simply insert your name and address and mail to Palmolive, Dept. M-806, P. O. Box 375, Grand Central Post Office, New York City. 5 Fine after-effects due to palm and olive oil content. Broadcast every PALMOLIVE RADIO HOUR — Wednesday ght—from 9:30 to | ~ p. m., Eastern time; 8:30 t0 9: Wp Central time; 7:30 to 8:30 p. m., Mcaunt time; 6:30 to ) p. m.. Pacific Coast time ¥ WEAF vd a sted with The Please print your name and address) ee ee ee ee ee ee et I SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 60) Holders of the warrant may use the arms on stationery, but they can’t tell you how many silk shirts the Prince of Wales bought according to a certain pattern last week or what kind of hat the King prefers. This would not only be bad taste but fatal to the warrant holding. The arms of a deceased sovereign may be exhibited as long as the member of the firm to whom it was granted is still alive. That is why some firms display the shields of the late King Edward and the late Queen Alexandra. And even of the late Queen Victoria. The first warrant of appointment to a tradesman was probably granted by Queen Elizabeth. The number granted increased during the reign of Charles II and rumor April 5,1950 has intimated that a depleted treasury and the wit of Nell Gwyn combined to bring about this increase. If this rumor be true, it only goes to prove that conditions under which warrants were granted in olden times were vastly different from those obtaining today. It is perhaps not quite fair to attach too much importance to this jesting speculation, though, for the number of warrants granted has continued to increase—in fact, has doubled, in the past ten years. Warrants of appointment are held by manufacturers and tradesmen in all parts of the world, as well as in the United King- dom. Firms in India, Canada, Australia, the Indies, France and many other coun- tries have received the seal of the King’s approval. The Poets’ Corner Ghosts! FTEN on nights when the wind was humming A restless song down the midnight skies, They'd hear in the attic a nervous drumming And lie and wonder with startled eyes. (But I know just where the yard tree stands, And how its branches can sound like hands! ) Sometimes at the door on the porch a rapping Broke on the night, and they woke in fear, And the old cat stirred from her endless napping And stared through the dark and twitched an ear. (But I knew well how a frightened linnet Could blunder against it and beat a minute!) | They heard strange sounds when the world oratories responded. Behind them stood | distinctive to Palmolive Shaving Cream. | Now a test, please was sleeping— A whisper of voices, a muted call, A tap on the stairs, or a hushed step creeping Down in the shadows that filled the hall, And listened, and barely suppressed a shout, Just as I did—till I found out! Bert Cooksley. A Song to April HAVE loved you, April, for the blue mist in your eyes, For the sunlight’s yellow gold that lingers in your hair, For the sudden tears that start, when in hurt surprise You turn back to rain and mist as if you didn’t care; For the wild plum blossoms I have seen against your breast, For the music in your throat that sings from hill to sea, For your whisper through the crowds that brings a wild unrest, All the golden memories of youth that used to be. I have loved you, April, for the dreams that still return When you dance across the hills and call me from the snow, , Dreams that come to me again from new-lit flames that burn In a heart that turned to you, long and long ago. Dreams of moonlight through the trees and roses on the wall, Where the stars in southern skies across the night are strung, All the vanished yesterdays that I can still recall When the dogwood blooms again and all the world is young. There are lanes that wind again where youth and youth go by, Hand in hand and heart to heart through all the golden day, Where the apple blossoms shine against a sunset sky— There is nothing else that counts around the world away. Fame and wealth and greed and gain, leave them to the old; I would rather turn again and find the road to spring Where young Pan is piping in a glen of green and gold And young April’s waiting with another song to sing. I am coming, April, to the tryst that we have known Where the fields are green again and the sky is blue; There is moonlight down the walk where old dreams are blown From the happy country where a dream can still come true. Though the gray is in my hair, look into my heart; You will see the boy of old where the dogwood gleams, Singing down the road again as the years depart, On his wag to Romany, to roses and to dreams. ~Grantland Rice. May Day a la Mode TJERNAL hues are fair and bright, Hill and dale arraying; Flowery odors bring delight— Let us go a-maying! Not like citizens of yore, Prim and golden-rulish, Garnering a modest store— Altruism’s foolish! Come, and in our speedy car We will tour the highways, Robbing orchards near and far, Looting lanes and byways. Boughs of dogwood, lilac, pear Gleefully we'll break them ; If we leave the blossoms there, Someone else will take them. Grub the rare arbutus up, Nevermore to germinate ; Violet and buttercup Joyously exterminate! Dig and trample, pull and pluck, Vandal urge obeying; Rural folk are out of luck When we go a-maying! Corinne Rockwell Swain.

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Pictured at the left : MEANS

units are only in approximate balance. Pictured at the right is the wonderfully true, clear tone which Philco achieves in every set by oh, 2.f . ur $ } . . exacily balancing ali electrical wns In THe

the distorted tone, typical of a radio whose THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 63 BALANCED PHILCO TRUE CLEAR Tease By hundreds of thousands they demanded PHILCO BALANCED-UNIT RADIO .<« that is why you can have these finest of sets --.at such modest prices ADIO has “come of age”

value only performance. Philco set new standards of radio per- sets brought instant acclaim. On perform- ante alone they jumped Philco into national leadership in twelve short months. Then Philco amazed the radio world with its two great, new Screen Grid sets for 1930. They set up a standard of value which has thrown all price comparisons into the discard. Philco challenges any radio at any price to give you such full measure of radio performance; such power; enthralling dis- tance; super-fine selectivity; reduction of static; rich volume, and the famous Philco undistorted TONE, produced by the exact balancing of all electrical units The Remarkable New Philco Screen Grid Radio An entirely new radio circuit with a screen grid tube as the detector, just about doubling amplification. Enor- mous power with super-acute selectivity produced by grown up. You no longer value radio as a toy to play with. You

new, double-tuned input circuit. Seven tubes and four condensers. All electrical units exactly balanced creating the magnificent, full clear Philco TON: The Super-Performing Philco Screen Grid PLUS Inciudes the recently discovered Philco Automatic Volume Control, which, in connection with the tremendous power of this set, gets and Ao/ds far-distant stations by effectively counteracting fading. Invaluable for those who live far from the fine broadcast programs For those in the city, the new Philco double-tuned input circuit sharpens selectivity. It tunes sharply anywhere on the dial and brings in crowded local stations without’ ‘cross-talk.’’ Nine

tubes and built-in aerial. Concert-hall volume for dancing and entertaining, with special features which reduce static and background noises. And exactly balanced electrical units—a Philco achievement giving the standard pure, rich Philco TONE ra . y The Philco dealer wants to show you the « mplete range of exquisite Philco models Table Models Consoles, Lowboys, Highboys, de luxe Highboys priced from $67 to $225, including a beaurif utt walnut Console at $112. He will put one of thes« wonderful sets in your own home for d stt without obligation, how Philco radio perform: Easy terms when you decide

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64 THE SATURDAY Mm! Coffee! Yield to its tempting fragrance without fear... without regret! MAKE The first time you try Sanka THE NIGHT Coffee drink it at night. It TESTI won't keep you awake. Next > : rear morning you'll know, from actual experience, that you've discovered a delicious coffee you can enjoy morning, noon and might—without regret! THERE'S nothing quite so appetizing as the cheery aroma of coffee—nothing quite so satisfying as its full, rich flavor. To sniff its fragrance, to sip its spicy richness, is little short of a benediction and a blessing. And it is a blessing you need never forego. If the caffein in coffee has robbed you of sleep—has affected your nerves or your digestion, now you can have a genuine, delicious coffee from which 97% of the caffein has been removed. It is Sanka Coffee. From Sanka Coffee are gone all of caffein’s effects—but in it still remains all of coffee’s cheering fragrance and satisfying flavor. Full of coffee’s old-time goodness! One single cup of Sanka Coffee will prove that caffein adds nothing to coffee’s delightful flavor and aroma. One single cup of Sanka Coffee will yield that same immediate sense of sat- isfaction other coffees gave you—for that comes, not from caffein, but from the warmth and flavor of the drink itself. Sanka Coffee is delicitous—uncom- monly delicious. And it should be. For it isa blend of the choicest Central and South American coffees grown. Nothing is added—nothing but caffein is removed. Coffee experts recognize that no other blend is finer in quality, in flavor or in aroma. Thousands of physicians endorse Sanka Coffee whole-heartedly. They recommend it to patients who cannot drink other coffees because of caffein’s effects upon sleep, nerves, or digestion. Satisfaction—or your money back Your grocer sells Sanka Coffee — always fresh, ground or in the bean— with the guarantee of complete satis- faction or your money back. Get a pound of delicious Sanka Coffee today! © 1930, S.C. Corp SANKA COFFEE « “IH 97% oF WE x CFFEIN *REMOVED “ EVENING POST April 5,19350 OUT-OF-DOORS A Winter Vacation in Maine S I LOOK back upon it now, it would seem that we first got the notion from reading Ben Ames Williams in THE SATUR- DAY EVENING Post. Maine, with its aban- doned farms, its woods and its people, made charming reading, after dinner, be- fore the fire. And no doubt we would have remained content with this, had we not awakened one day to the realization that if any credence at all was to be placed in the weight tables issued by life-insurance com- panies, our height must have sunk to the four-foot level. We were midgets and did not know it. Not that this result had been achieved by weight-reducing exercises; we had merely been busy earning a living. But overbusy; we needed a rest. Whether the matter was serious or not, we did not bother to find out; it had become disagreeable. Nerves were ragged, appetite of a caviling sort, and sleep a fitful thing. We needed no physician to tell us that the craze for gold was driving us into a hospital. An inspection of the gold supply recorded upon the pages of the bank book showed us that five years of incessant devotion had resulted in exactly five hundred dollars sur- plus capital. Europe, Hot Springs, the Carolinas and Florida at once disappeared over the horizon, leaving a perfectly flat field of vision, upon which Mr. Williams’ stories of Maine stood out in solitary splen- dor. To rent such an abandoned farra and play around all winter seemed possible on five hundred. My wife, though actually from Missouri, will, nevertheless, take my word for almost anything. The writer is of that sort. Besides, it was the far North’s light of day which first beheld him, and since the sculpting business contains some long hiatuses between cash returns, one rustles through the memory for days of happier structure. Of evenings, after din- ner, the eddying tobacco haze becomes the rosy mist of years; one forgets the charac- teristic hardness of the North; dissatisfac- tion with narrow city life and the comforts derived from it conspire in bringing before the vision the cathedral majesty of snow- clad pine forest, the blood-red sheen of setting sun upon freshly fallen snow, and the ultramarines of deep shadows between patriarchal spruces. There’s not a breath, not a sound; the great silence of the North- ern night rests upon the earth as a benedic- tion; the unearthly splendor of moonbeams upon hoarfrosted bush and tree; the sharp, staccato bark of the fox and the far-off hoot of the horned owl; upon the horizon play the luminous shadows of the Aurora. All this reads well from the depths of a morris chair, gas logs lending an atmosphere to. the thing. Well, this is written upon an upended packing case with four sticks under it for legs, and what the writer sits on is certainly no morris chair. For Maine was elected and came up to specifications as per invoice. Yes, and to some not invoiced. Completely Abandoned With three suitcases in the back of the car, we entered this happy state at Bethel, coming from the northwest. It was at the beginning of November. And for ten days thereafter, in the loveliest weather imagina- ble, we cruised up and down and crosswise, looking for one of those abandoned farms. Perhaps we had misconstrued the matter, for while we found abandoned farms aplenty, few, if any, offered sufficient protection | against the next shower. Morning after | morning we left the main roads to reéstab- lish the same facts—charming locations, isolated and quiet—sylvan dells and all that—but either the exteriors were about ready to quit for good or else the interior decorations hung in shreds. As often as not, these latter had never even been. The | buildings had degenerated into hunting lodges for the hardy and were furnished in the gypsy period. They could be rented at anything from six dollars a month up. Finally we hit upon the idea of applying to the Commissioner of Forests at Au- gusta—a Mr. Neil Violette—to whom we are indebted for being sent in the right direction—the Ledge House at Dead River. Scouting around from this base, we discovered an ancient guide armed to the teeth. The deer season had set in. Into his sympathetic ears we poured our tale and thereby settled the matter. The country, it would seem, was full of fine log cabins, and he knew of the very one we would want. He did, too. This cabin is situated upon the northern slope of Eustis Ridge, four miles from the village of Eustis. From this ridge one may obtain, for the trouble of looking, the grandest view in all New Eng- land—mountains, hills, woods, !akes, val- leys and lesser ridges stretch out below one for sixty, perhaps seventy, miles in a pano- rama of first magnitude—a kaleidoscopic jumble of pastel tints in which, toward eve- ning, a luminous cobalt predominates. All Set For the Winter The cabin was rented for twelve dollars a month; five cords of firewood were stacked beside it at seven-fifty a cord. The furni- ture and cooking outfit were all that could be expected; a well was near by. The only drawback about the furniture was the bed. A cold snap was on when we arrived, and a couple of nights of between eight and sixteen below zero made us feel that, perhzps, an iron bedstead would not be the thing in really cold weather. Luckily, the low tem- perature came in ahead of the snow, so we could get some lumber from a mill ten miles away and haul it in. This lumber was speedily converted into a bunk. Right up from the floor we built us this bunk, and filled it with a four-foot layer of hay, on top of which went the mattress and the blan- kets. Later, when the ink sank down to forty below and better, and the moonlight streamed through the chinks in the log walls, we spent most of the nights in con- gratulating each other upon our wisdom and engineering skill. The winter’s supplies we purchased at Farmington, some fifty-odd miles away. A side of beef, some slabs of bacon, a ham ortwo,and some salt pork to keep the beans company; yellow peas and other dried stuff, prunes, raisins, and the like; and canned milk, coffee, tea and tobacco, and so forth. Canned goods will freeze and pro- vide naught but a lot of false hopes; eggs will freeze and burst, but are all right any- way. Spices and such, one had better take along from the outside. Olives and the like will freeze and lose flavor. Potatoes—the best in the world—we obtained from the farmer who owned the cabin and had pro- vided the wood; onions, cabbage, beets and kindred things we also got from him but naught survived save the onions. Flannel shirts, woolen socks, mittens, moccasins, skis and ski boots we bought in local villages, in stores doing business with the lumberjacks. In such places the goods are positively substantial and cost a great deal less than in fancy sporting-goods stores. All this we hauled into the cabin, and thereby became established residents. To gaze upon such an array of grub and equip- ment gives one a feeling of tremendous im- portance—one is wealthy. And everything was lovely except that beef. That beef was native beef—something about which we knew nothing. As one beholds it standing about, a cow is a cow, but after what hap- pens to it, such a cow is liable to become something else. Ours had become lion bait. And as lion bait, it would have been an ex- cellent cow—it could have been used over and over again—but for the consumption by city slickers, it was practically futile. (Continued on Page 66)

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See teeth whiten! Feel your mouth grow healthier! VEN those whose teeth are hard to whiten comment on how swiftly, yet how gently, Listerine Tooth Paste performs this task. Such action is due to a new type of polish- ing agent. And regular users assert that this dentifrice definitely improves mouth hygiene. The gums grow firmer. The entire mouth seems fresher, exhil- arated, and healthy. Buy a tube of Listerine Tooth Paste to-day and give it a thorough trial. Compare it with any paste at any price—and judge by results alone. After such tests, more than a million people have switched to Listerine Tooth Paste. We can think of no greater tribute to the product. Incidentally, Listerine Tooth Paste saves you about $3 per year, over dentifrices in the 50¢ class. Lambert Pharmacal Company. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Tee off with golf balls your tooth paste pays Intelligent people, recog- nizing the remarkable cleansing powers of Lis- terine Tooth Paste at 25¢, buy it instead of denti- frices in the 50¢ class The average saving is $3 a year. Spend it as you please. Golf balls merely a suggestion. are LISTERINE TOOTH PASTE 65 for

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66 Soto $900 depreciatiog this way 23 - - Body neglect which eats into resale value can be checked You can add from $50 to $200 to the trade-in value of your present car by giv- A fraction ng it an accas« nal Waxing wt the care that you give, for instance, to shoes Blue Book ratings are i. - P| - - } cause used car Duyers ridiculously low won't pay for Although owners deliber shabby run-down exteriors vident, some em are traded in for a song invited to be needless loss. ars with thousands of THE SATURDAY Car owners SAVE from cae apes ’s Manyhavestarted by sending forthe free 25c can of Johnson's Wax offered here. Wax restores body lustre, and prevents water, film, dust or grit from touching the finish thereafter. It is perfectly dry, so nothing sticks to it. You get nocloudy or smoky areas after washing. your washings, which 1s an important item, are saved. By all means wax a new car immedi- ately. Ifa layer of wax is built over the finish it will never become dull or scratched as long as you wish to drive it. Whether or not there is a supply of Johnson's Wax on your closet shelf, as millions of homes have, S. C. Johnson & Son will send free a 25¢ can to any inter ested motorist to try. Just use the coupon. To remove stubborn film that won't come off with ordi nary treatment, ask for Johnson's A tomobile Cleaner @ Accept FREE 25c¢ can of Johnson's Wax Polish S. C. Johnson & Son, Dept. SP4, Racine, Wis Gentlemen: Please send free 25¢ can « Wax Polish to preserve of Johnson's and renew body finish At least half EVENING POST (Continued from Page 64) But we soon remedied that. The hunting season had not yet come to a close, and a pronghorn buck of one-hundred-and- twenty-pound weight supplanted the cow. A nice fat little bear followed the buck. One of the hams of the latter formed the main- stay of our Christmas dinner, and a finer roast no king or potentate ever sat down to. Its meat was dark and of tender texture; the flavor like that of a goose, but much more delicate. Grayish-white rabbits of ap- preciable size jumped all over the land- scape and were to be had for the asking, so to speak. There was much partridge, but the season was closed during our stay. Foxes were nearly as plentiful as the rabbits, but | a trapping license for non-residents cost | away up in the sixties, and to shoot them required a better marksman than the writer. All we had was a small 30.30 car- bine, and the thing was built to shoot around corners with. Since a couple of hours each day sufficed for the chores, we spent as little time as possible in the cabin. In connection with the chores, the writer would like to call at- tention to the necessity of owning more than one ax and more than just one saw blade. In cold weather the ax becomes very brittle and will chip or break off entirely under heavy blows, while saw blades will dull. And to part logs by means of pure friction —to burn them through—is no di- version for a gentleman. Of course one could take along files and a special vise for sharpening the saws, provided one under- stands the trick. Where the Cold is a Joke Much snow followed the cold snap, and all day long we were out upon the skis. To the writer these things are nothing new, but to his wife the mysteries of their habits were for a time beyond comprehension. Yet, after a month’s practice, matters be- gan to mend—not to say heal. If the short days did not satisfy the craving, the moon- light nights were pressed into service, and on many a one we journeyed through woods and glades, up hill and down, swiftly and silently, and without much effort. These long, slender boards are unsurpassed me- diums of locomotion; one may approach downwind, of course—any animal whose antics attract one’s attention; they form the connecting link between utter isolation and communion with one’s fellow creatures. We had a pair of snowshoes, but soon aban- doned them. Skis, properly handled—or footed—are a joy. We could run to the village, four miles away, for our mail as often as we liked and the weather per- mitted, and do this trip in something like an hour and a half, once the trail was broken. Upon them we could go where and when we pleased; they permitted us to en- joy to the full the color sense of the Great Artist whose brush is nowhere on earth so lavishly applied as in the North at win- tertime. Several times the wind would pack the snow to a crust so hard one could walk upon it; skiing then would be difficult because of the impossibility of contrcl. At such times we got out an old iron coal shovel and coasted down the hills upon it—a form of sport not without its charm. The speed ob- tained is all that can be desired, and there is a complete absence of control. There not being any neighbors, we had no criticism as to our sanity to fear, and we were at it unti! lame. We have but one complaint the days are far too short. And as for the cold—to anyone not forced to work in it, it’s a joke. It is a term largely misunderstood anyway. A zero gale anywhere along the Atlantic coast is as beastly a thing as one could find anywhere on earth—the writer has whaled in his day. But the interior of any northern country has a bone-dry sort of air, the feel of which is an entirely different proposition. Any- thing up to fifteen below is pleasantly crisp; even at twenty below one may play about as long as one likes to. Travel at thirty or even forty below is not half so dangerous as April 5,1930 such travel would be at ten below anywhere along the Atlantic seacoast. We had bought some heavy woolen underwear and actually had the things on once. We found such garments entirely unnecessary, detri- mental even; for one will sweat when ski- ing, no matter what the temperature, and this moisture will be retained by the heavy wool, while it evaporates through light cot- ton stuffs. Inside the latter we weathered heavy winter gales in no more clothing than anyone would wear in winter weather in New York— in less, if anything, since over- coats are decidedly de trop. So far as the writer is aware, he is no fresh-air maniac; he has no pet belief to unload upon the credulous—he will even admit that he doesn’t know any better. This latter ad- mission might explain why he got away with shoveling snow one day in nothing at all but shorts. To be sure, he wore mittens upon his hands, his feet were inside of woolen socks and moccasins, while upon his head, to protect his ears, he wore a woolen cap. But that, for an hour and a half, was all he had on. This was along in January, on a still, sunny day, with the ink up to eleven above. The only tangible result from this experiment was a hunger that fairly threatened to wipe out the entire winter’s grub supply at one sitting. And not know- ing any better, he has repeated the stunt whenever the old appetite has shown signs of lagging. It is not heroic at all; there’s simply nothing to it. But there decidedly was something to the strong gales from the northwest for which this location is notorious. A blow of sixty miles an hour and a temperature of twenty-odd below to go with it makes one sit up and take notice. Come night and time to turn in, one of us would stay up to keep the well-known nome fires alive. The temperature in the cabin, never more than fifty above, would fade away entirely, and only in the immediate vicinity of the stoves or in the bunk was living at all possible. Still, the situation had its at- tractive features—to sit before the glow- ing stove and read, with a good pipe and a hot drink, while outside old Boreas tries to rip the roof clear off, imbues one with a smug complacency at once pardon- able and enjoyable. And speaking of books, one needs many and good ones; the life is so rich that these are needed to offset it. Keep the Camera Cool At least, we thought so. We ran about in the cold and snow and cuitivated prodigious appetites, although, alas, we grew no fatter. The skis saw to that. But we did grow hard—right incredibly hard. The writer also grew whiskers. The violet ray, now so popular, one gets here for nothing—we turned the color of nuts. We became wildly excited when some fox strayed across moon- lit open spaces and felt our hackle rise when the bobcat yowled of nights down in the swamp, or the great owl hooted in the near-by forest. We stood outside gaping at the Aurora while the thermometer pro- claimed forty-two below for eyes blind with disbelief. We photographed the possible and the impossible, and complained to high heaven because the camera would not record colors. In cold weather a camera should be placed outside for a time to per- mit the lens to become acclimated; when taken from a warm room the lens becomes foggy with frost, causing blurred pictures. On evenings when there was no moon and we had to stay inside, we read, played games of our own invention—games which the inventor would invariably win, since the rules came from the same source. Or else we would sit about and discuss the marvels of the temperature, wondering why we did not feel cold. Time and again we checked that thermometer by sticking it into a bucket of ice water, but either it was all right or else it had too much ink in it. That blamed stuff wouldn’t go low enough. And yet the cabin was not at all airtight—in some nooks and corners the ice and hoarfrost will stay until spring. We (Continued on Puge 68)

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For the metal roof decks of eight new hangars at famous Roosevelt Field more than fancied durability is the requirement, so special roofing sheets were specified to be made of COP-R-LOY, the Copper Alloyed Steel, by the architect, Mr. Kenneth Franzheim. Durability for roofing, spouting, gutters, pipe for plumbing and heating systems, is obtained in COP-R-LOY at economical cost. COP-R-LOY is priced slightly higher than plain mild steel to cover the cost of adding pure ingot copper to specially refined Wheeling Steel, but it is thus equipped to render from two to several times longer life than steel without copper content. WHEELING STEEL Wheeling Corrugating Company Pitt Iron Mining Company Save with Steg/ Pat. Off Consolidated Expanded Metal Compaogies THE SATURDAY BVENING POST 67 Architect, Kenneth Franzheim, New York, N. Y. Practically every test to determine relative corrosion resistance of steel made to various formulae, has established the unquestioned ruggedness of steel alloyed with copper, such as COP-R-LOY. When durability at any cost is the watchword, architects and engineers closely in touch with metallurgical practice, specify copper alloyed steel; and a great many write COP-R-LOY into their specifications because its superiority is one of their facts gleaned from observation and experience. So these eight new hangars for famous Roosevelt Field, /ikewsse hangars at the new Curtis Airports at Valley Stream, L. 1., and Bailti- more, Md., are to have roof-decks of this fire-proof, lightning-proof and exceptionally durable COP-R-LOY, effecting business-like economy that is in accordance with good business judgment. You, too, can benefit in building by the use of COP-R-LOY in one or more of its many forms. Write for a booklet that may give you just the suggestion you may need, CORPORATION, Wheeling, Subsidiary Companies: West Virginia Ackermann Manufacturing Company Consumers Mining Company LaBelle Coke Company The Tyler Tube and Pipe Company Manufacturers of Bessemer and Open Hearth Steel, Plates, Sheets, Tin Plate, Lithographed Plate, Pipe Boiler Tubes, Rods, Wire, Cut Nails, Wire Nails, Roofings, Fence, Range Boilers, Tanks, Steel Barrels COP-R-LOY Of the many products made of COP-R-LOY by the manufacturer of this modern rust- resisting steel, you should know particularly about COP-R-LOY Pipe, for plumbing, heating, refrigeration, irrigation, sprinkling | systems; also for railroads, for oil develop- y ment and many industrial purposes. It is made in all customary sizes with both black THE COPPER and galvanized finishes. Identified by dis- tinctive marking, it is sold by leading dis- tributors in all parts of the country. Specify COP-R-LOY Pipe for fullest satisfaction and trouble-free service. Many products made of COP-R-LOY, the Copper Alloyed Steel, are available today through other manufacturers and their dis- ALLOYED STEE tributors. For such products requiring flat rolled sheets or tubular form of metal, COP-R-LOY was selected to increase their value and to put their cost within practical and economical limits. A list will be sup- plied with names of the manufacturers, upon request. MADE OF et PTR ALLOVeE TO Givt \ MAXIMUM VALUE AND SERVIKE Nas | ome

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6S ~-_ Efe time-tested, populor, durable and practical flash light is now available in five distinctive modernistic color com- binotions ... gor- geous designs appeal ing to men, women ond children of oll classes _- —_—- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST AMAZING New bASKUGHT INVENTIONS URGESS achievements B again pace the industry. The Revolving Head Flashlight is openly conceded to be the most practical improvement ever made in flashlight con- struction. Almost human! Turns, twists and revolves ... inevery conceivable direction. Lights places inaccessible to ordi- nary “immovable-head” flash- lights. Special features permit simultaneous use of flashlight and both hands. No other flashlight on earth equals it for sheer convenience, genuine utility and absolute practi- cability. Patented, of course! (Continued from Page 66) never bothered plugging up the chinks be- tween the logs in the walls, since these were on the lee side of the cabin mostly anyway; while the floor boards were far enough apart in. spots to permit the weasels to come on up and warm themselves in our bunk. For a time we had to shake the blankets out be- fore we could turn in. They are quite harm- less. Their skins bring three-fifty in an open market. To us, their value consisted in keeping the mice out, so we let them alone. And in return for the fun we have got | out of this sort of life, for the abundance | of good health and cheery spirits, we have BURGESS BATTERY COMPANY CHICAGO BURGESS Swap Lite FLASHLIGHT A in Canada: Niagora Falls and Winnipeg GURGESS April 5,19350 observed but two rules-—don’t wear heavy underwear, and don’t sit about in the warm cabin in out-of-doors clothing, not even thick socks. The writer regards with speculative eye the overcoat and galoshes hanging on the wall before him; in another thirty days or so these will have to be dusted off and worn again— back to the city in the south where it’s cold and wet. On that sorry day a five- month holiday will have come to an end— a holiday which cost, in so far as the actual stay at this cabin is concerned, the remark- able sum of two hundred and fifty dollars— the 1930 license for the car included. —KERCHEVAL DITTMAR. Getting On in the World Back-Yard Floriculturists HOSE who think they need large acre- age to attain success in floriculture should sit up and take notice of the goodly number of Californian horticulturists who have attained distinction for themselves and made notable commercial successes with no larger field for initial experiment than the back yard. But real interest in one particular type of plant is necessary. In- terest in too many plants doesn’t work. The back-yard success is attained by the grower who is devoted to one sort, and that only, and grows it in superlative excellence. It may be iris or delphinium, dahlias or gla- dioli, chrysanthemums or Transvaal daisies, but the grower must have chosen. The head of one of the most successful firms of gladiolus growers in the state began in a Sacramento back yard with an invest- ment of $6.25. “And most of that,’’ she said, ‘‘went for worthless bulbs; for I then knew so little, 1 wanted to get the greatest number of corms for the money. But one bulb was Mrs. Frank Pendleton, Jr. The beauty of this gladiolus made me realize I wanted to grow de-luxe sorts, and those only. Since it takes as much space and time and water to grow a pbvor sort as to grow the best, why spend time on inferior kinds?”’ This lady now has acres and acres of gladioli in gorgeous bloom, and has intro- duced probably more successful varieties than any other one grower, for she is one of our most skillful hybridizers; but she holds to her original intent of the most careful se- lection and grows only de-luxe gladioli. A Los Angeles business man grew dahl- ias for fun in his back yard and presently became highly successful in developing fine varieties. The first year he exhibited as an ama- teur and won many prizes at the big Southern California dahlia show; the next year he exhibited as a professional, cap- tured many prizes, including that for the best dahlia of the show. He has now a thriving business more after his heart than that in town. Another dahlia grower, a woman, with the trifling handicap of twelve children, ranging in age from sixteen months to six- teen years, began her experiment with a strip of ground plowed in the front yard. She also grew only the best sorts, for the reason that these took no more time, were likely to be more prolific and were a surer bet with the traveling public. This yard was on the boulevard; the children assisted in tending the stand, and presently she was making more with the dahlias than her hus- band was with poultry. Therefore, the chickens went, chicken houses were turned into lath houses, more land was added, and now there are four acres in solid bloom dur- ing the season, and each square yard yields dollars. One of the most successful growers of delphiniums began with a part of her yard plowed and devoted to the fiower in which she had a peculiar interest. She not only grew the finest delphiniums but began ex- perimenting, crossing different varieties and breeding for color and form. Although growing just for the fun of it, she began exhibiting at the various flower shows, and her delphiniums have become widely known. Many a traveler turns off the boulevard and revels in the beauty of the yardful of divinely blue larkspurs, and goes home with a goodly supply of plants. The success of this venture has lain in growing rarely beautiful delphiniums and in exhibiting so that interested folk know where to get them. The great advantage of the back-yard take-off in horticulture is that one may start it as a side line without dropping his other work, without handicapping himself by large investment. Distinction in horticulture as well as commercial success may be won with the back-yard start. Dr. Stillman Berry, who has, perhaps, the most complete collection of iris in the country, has an acreage no larger than the average suburban yard. Some of the most promising work in hor- ticulture is being done by amateurs, each in his own back-yard garden. He may turn it into commercial success or enjoy his laurels as the originator of new forms of his chosen flower. A back yard, devotion and an interest narrowed to one type of plant will do the trick. FRANCES DUNCAN. “OTO. BY GEORGE W. CASE Ain Orchard Near Clifton Springs, Finger Lake Region, New York

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘They beat the motor Ax AMERICAN TRAVELER driv- ing a small motor-car penetrated to one of the remote stretches of Central Asia. In the course of his journey he came to desert the village of a local Princeling who entertained him with great formality. While he was resting in his tent, the American heard a clatter, which was unmis- takably connected with his automobile. He rushed out to see what was happening. The Prince, anxious to ride in this strange con- trivance, had taken a seat in the car, grasped the wheel as he had seen the visitor do, and commanded it to go. When it would not move, he ordered his followers to beat the machine with sticks. This bizarre incident illustrates one of the most significant facts of modern industrial civilization: that no machine or product is “ wath Ga | complete in itself, but must be com- plemented by knowledge in the minds of its users. For this civilization, fundamentally, is not of mechanics, but of education. American industrial advancement is founded not upon the laboratory or the shop, but upon our nation-wide system of free schools. It is our ability to read and understand which makes a market for labor- saving machinery, household appliances and home and personal luxuries. It is possible to market a tractor or radio receiving set, only because of the widespread information about these articles printed in newspapers and magazines, which builds up in advance ee * NS x re ~— ticks An Advertisement by N.W. AYER & SON, lnc. of them a conception of their usefulness and an understanding of their functions Every product has, in fact, two being One is the concrete thing itself; the other is the opinion or understanding of the prod uct which exists in the minds of the public. There its only one method of insuring the accuracy of this opinion and that by the use of authentic, informative advertising Through printed word and picture there can be conveyed not only a clear cor eption of the product and its usefulness, not only the importance of its proper care and use, but what is still more important, patheti appreciation of the ideal of servi which inspired its making N.W. Ayer & Son, /ncorporated, Adve rtising Headquarters, Washington Square, Philadel phia, Boston, New York, Chicago, Sa: Francisco, Detroit, London.

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Jim HENRY'’S GUARANTEE: 2 MORE good shaves per blade No matter what model of what razor you use, | guarantee you 2 more shaves (of course, I mean good ones) from every blade! Money back if I’m wrong. Check me up. Take a new razor, and count up the shaves. Better shaves? Why they'd have to be. When Mennen gives you 2 more per blade, they must be better. Remember, too, that Mennen alone gives you two kinds of shaving cream . . . Menthol-iced and Without Menthol. Both give that clean, comfortable Mennen shave. Both build up a fine, quick lather in any water. Mennen Without Menthol is smooth and bland. Menthol-iced lather has a triple-cool tingle all its own. Both creams are typically Mennen ... that’s the main point ...and my guarantee covers them both. Take your choice. And if you don’t want to buy a tube of Mennen,shoot in the cou- pon and I'll send you a free trial tube. J stata a Mennen Salesman Don’t forget — Mennen Talcum for Men removes face shine and doesn’t show... ab- sorbs facial oils that come out dur- ing the day. Great after a bath, too. MENNen SHAVING CREAMS MENTHOL-ICED THE MENNEN CO., Dept. 8-56, NEWARK, N.J m Henry: I've got a new blade all ready. Send me al tube and I'll take the count City Send me Mennen Mentbhol-leed Send me Mennen witibout Menibel WITHOUT MENTHOL CARTOON AND C THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 awe 6 C. W. ANDERSON “Oh, Just a Little Readjustment, You Know’"’ a

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| | | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 71 teow OAKLAND EIGHT PRODUCT OF GENERAL MOTORS "a a s | je : a 3 - -<

: ) y, ( | 14-192 \ ie j /s

Illustrated above: The 4-Door Sedan « Body by Pisher V-Ezght Advantages ‘ In the past, the advantages of V-type engines have been available only Are Now Available at in the more expensive cight-cylinder cars. Now, however, you can enjoy them at very moderate cost in the New Oakland Eight. Its Very Moderate Cost... V-type eight-cylinder engine is the most compact unit ever designed to accommodate the large piston displacement of 251 cubic inches and develop 85 horsepower. It is a surprisingly short engine for an eight, and makes possible a spacious body by Fisher on a wheelbase of convenient length. 8 This V-type engine, because of its low center of gravity, also increases the car’s road gripping ability, making it safer to drive and easier to handle at high speeds. WY A primary cause of Oakland’s exceptional smoothness is likewise traceable to an exclusive V-type characteristic—the short, extremely rigid crankshaft. This crankshaft needs no dampener or balancer, since it has no torsional vibration period within the speed range of the engine. (¥ However, to realize fully the importance of Oakland’s advantages, you must actually drive this car. Its ratio of one horsepower to each 37 pounds of weight makes it a car with superior performance. Sample its speed, pick-up and ability to climb—qualities which few cars at you now can own at very moderate cost. W An attractively illustrated booklet describing the New Oakland AND UP any price have been able to match. They will make clear to you what a remarkable V-eight motor car S 1045 Eight and answering pertinent questions on V-type engine design will be mailed to you free on request. " Mich Simply send us your name and address........ Oakland Motor Car Company, Pontiac, Michigan. °° (on SUPeCl LO peiformance =

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a minute, which the guy does. Then Charley steps out of the cab and says to the jockey like this: “When a customer asks you to take it easy, why do you not be nice and take it easy? Now see what you get.” And Rusty Charley hauls off and clips the jockey a punch on the chin that knocks the poor guy right off the seat into the street, and then Charley climbs into the eat himself and away we go with Charley driving, leaving the guy stretched out as stiff as a board. Now Rusty Charley once drives a short for a living himself, until the coppers get an idea that he is not always delivering his customers to the right ad- dress, especially such as may happen to be drunk when he gets them, and he is a pretty fair driver, but he only looks one way, which is straight ahead. Personally, I never wish to ride with Charley in a taxicab under any circum- stances, especially if he is driving, because he certainly drives very fast. He pulls up a block from Ikey the Pig’s, and says we will leave the short there until somebody finds it and turns it in, but just as we are walking away from the short up steps a cop- per in uniform and claims we cannot park the short in this spot without a driver. Well, Rusty Charley just naturally hates to have coppers give him any advice, so what does he do but peek up and down the street to see if anybody is looking, and then haul off and clout the copper on the chin, knocking him bow-legged. I wish to say I never see a more accurate puncher than Rusty Charley, because he always connects with that old button. As the copper tum- bles, Rusty Charley grabs me by the arm and starts me running up a side street, and after we go about a block we dodge into Ikey the Pig's. It is what is called a stuss house, and many prominent citizens of the neighbor- hood are present playing stuss. Nobody seems any too glad to see Rusty Charley, although Ikey the Pig lets on he is tickled half to death. This Ikey the Pig is a short fat-necked guy who will look very natural at New Year’s, undressed, and with an apple in his mouth, but it seems he and Rusty Charley are really old-time friends, and think fairly well of each other in spots. But I can see that Ikey the Pig is not so tickled when he finds Charley is there to gamble, although Chariey flashes his G note at once, and says he does not mind losing a little dough to Ikey just for old time's sake. But I judge Ikey the Pig knows he is never going to handle Charley’s G note, because Charley puts it back in his pocket and it never comes out again even though Charley gets off loser playing stuss right away. Well, at five o’clock in the morning, Charley is stuck one hundred and thirty G's, which is plenty of money even when a guy is playing on his muscle, and of course Ikey the Pig knows there is no chance of getting one hundred and thirty cents off of Rusty Charley, let alone that many thou- sands. Everybody else is gone by this time and Ikey wishes to close up. He is willing to take Charley’s marker for a million if necessary to get Charley out, but the trou- ble is in stuss a guy is entitled to get back a percentage of what he loses, and Ikey figures Charley is sure to wish this percent- age even if he gives a marker, and the per- centage will wreck Ikey’s joint. Furthermore, Rusty Charley says he will not quit loser under such circumstances be- cause Ikey is his friend, so what happens Ikey finally sends out and hires a cheater by the name of Dopey Goldberg, who takes to dealing the game and in no time he has Rusty Charley even by cheating in Rusty Charley's favor. Personally, I do not pay much attention to the play but grab myself a few winks of sleep in a chair in a corner, and the rest seems to help my blood pressure no little. in fact, l am not noticing my blood pressure THE SATURDAY EVENING POST BLOOD PRESSURE (Continued from Page 48) at all when Rusty Charley and I get out of Ikey the Pig’s, because I figure Charley will let me go home and I can go to bed. But although it is six o’clock, and coming on broad daylight when we leave Ikey’s, Charley is still full of zing, and nothing will do him but we must go to a joint that is called the Bohemian Club. Well, this idea starts my blood pressure going again, because the Bohemian Club is nothing but a deadfall where guys and dolls go when there is positively no other place in town open, and it is run by a guy by the name of Knife O'Halloran, who comes from down around Greenwich Village and is con- sidered a very bad character. It is well known to one and all that a guy is apt to lose his life in Knife O’Halloran’s any night, even if he does nothing more than drink Knife O’Halloran’s liquor. But Rusty Charley insists on going there, so naturally I go with him; and at first everything is very quiet and peaceful, ex- cept that a lot of guys and dolls in evening clothes, who wind up there after being in the night clubs all night, are yelling in one corner of the joint. Rusty Charley and Knife O'Halloran are having a drink to- gether out of a bottle which Knife carries in his pocket, so as not to get it mixed up with the liquor he sells his customers, and are cutting up old touches of the time when they run with the Hudson Dusters together, when all of a sudden in comes four coppers in plain clothes. Now these coppers are off duty and are meaning no harm to anybody, and are only wishing to have a dram or two before going home, and the chances are they will pay no attention to Rusty Charley if he minds his own business, although of course they know who he is very well indeed and will take great pleasure in putting the old sleeve on him if they only have a few charges against him, which they do not. So they do not give himatumble. But if there is one thing Rusty Charley hates it is a copper, and he starts eying them from the minute they sit down at a table, and by and by I hear him say to Knife O'Halloran like this: “Knife,” Charley says, “‘what is the most beautiful sight in the world?” “I do not know, Charley,”’ Knife says. “What is the most beautiful sight in the world?” “‘Four dead coppers in a row,’’ Charley says. Well, at this I personally ease myself over toward the door, because I never wish to have any trouble with coppers, and espe- cially with four coppers, so I do not see everything that comes off. All I see is Rusty Charley grabbing at the big foot which one of the coppers kicks at him, and then everybody seems to go into a huddle, and the guys and dolls in evening dress start squawking, and my blood pressure goes up to maybe a million. I get outside the door, but I do not go away at once as anybody with any sense will do, but stand there listening to what is going on inside, which seems to be noth- ing more than a loud noise like ker-bump, ker-bump, ker-bump. I am not afraid there will be any shooting, because as far as Rusty Charley is concerned he is too smart to shoot any coppers, which is the worst thing a guy can do in this town, and the coppers are not likely to start any blasting because they will not wish it to come out that they are in a joint such as the Bohemian Club off duty. So I figure they will all just take it out in pulling and hauling. Finally the noise inside dies down, and by and by the door opens and out comes Rusty Charley, dusting himself off here and there with his hands and looking very much pleased, indeed, and through the door be- fore it flies shut again I catch a glimpse of a lot of guys stretched out on the floor. Furthermore, I can still hear guys and dolls hollering. “Well, well,” Rusty Charley says, “I am commencing to think you take the wind on me, and am just about to get mad at you, but here you are. Let us go away from this joint, because they are making so much noise inside you cannot hear yourself think. Let us go to my joint and make my old woman cook us up some breakfast, and then we can catch some sleep. A little ham and eggs will not be bad to take right now.” Well, naturally ham and eggs are appeal- ing to me no little at this time, but I do not care to go to Rusty Charley’s joint. As far as I am personally concerned, I have enough of Rusty Charley to do mea long, long time, and I do not care to enter into his home life to any extent whatever, although to teil the truth I am somewhat surprised to learn he has any such life. I believe I do once hear that Rusty Charley marries one of the neighbors’ children, and that he lives some- where over on Tenth Avenue in the Forties, but nobody really knows much about this, and everybody figures if it is true his wife must lead a terrible dog’s life. But while I do not wish to go to Charley’s joint I cannot very well refuse a civil invi- tation to eat ham and eggs, especially as Charley is looking at me in a very much surprised way because I do not seem so glad and I can see that it is not everyone that he invites to his joint. So I thank him, and say there is nothing [ will enjoy more than ham and eggs stich as his old woman will cook for us, and by and by we are walking along Tenth Avenue up around Forty-fifth Street. It is still fairly early in the morning, and business guys are opening up their joints for the day, and little children are skipping along the sidewalks going to school and laughing tee-hee, and old dolls are shaking bedclothes and one thing and another out of the windows of the tenement houses, but when they spot Rusty Charley and me everybody becomes very quiet, indeed, and I can see that Charley is greatly respected in his own neighborhood. The business guys hurry into their joints, and the little children stop skipping and tee-heeing and go tip-toeing along, and the old dolls yank in their noodles, and a great quiet comes to the street. In fact, about al! you can hear is the heels of Rusty Charley and me hitting on the sidewalk. There is an ice wagon with a couple of horses hitched to it standing in front of a store, and when he sees the horses Rusty Charley seems to get a big idea. He stops and looks the horses over very carefully, al- though as far as I can see they are nothing but horses, and big and fat, and sleepy- looking horses, at that. Finally Rusty Charles says to me like this: “When I am a young guy,” he says, “I am a very good puncher with my right hand, and often I hit a horse on the skull with my fist and knock it down. I won- der,” he says, “if I lose my punch. The last copper I hit back there gets up twice on me.” Then he steps up to one of the ice-wagon horses and hauls off and biffs it right be- tween the eyes with a right-hand smack that does not travel more than four inches, and down goes o!d Mister Horse to his knees looking very much surprised, indeed. I see many a hard puncher in my day, including Dempsey when he really can punch, but I never see a harder punch than Rusty Charley gives this horse. Well, the ice-wagon driver comes busting out of the store all heated up over what hap- pens to his horse, but he cools out the min- ute he sees Rusty Charley, and goes on back into the store leaving the horse still taking a count, while Rusty Charley and I keep walking. Finally we come to the en- trance of a tenement house that Rusty Charley says is where he lives, and in front of this house is a wop with a push cart loaded with fruit and vegetables and one thing and another, which Rusty Charley tips over as we go into the house, leaving the wop yelling very leud, and maybe cussing us in wop for 2!! £ «ow. Iam very April 5,19350 glad, personally, we finally get somewhere, because I can feel that my blood pressure is getting worse every minute I am with Rusty Charley. We climb two flights of stairs, and then Charley opens a door ahd we step into a room where there is a pretty little red- headed doll about knee high to a flivver, who looks as if she might just get out of the hay, because her red hair is flying around every which way on her head, and her eyes seem still gummed up with sleep. At first I think she is a very cute sight, indeed, and then I see something in her eyes that tells me this doll, whoever she is, is feeling very hostile to one and all. “Hello, tootsie,” Rusty Charley says. “* How about some ham and eggs for me and my pal here? We are all tired out going around and about.” Well, the little red-headed doll just looks at him without saying a word. She is stand- ing in the middle of the floor with one hand behind her, and all of a sudden she brings this hand around, and what does she have in it but a young baseball bat, such as kids play ball with, and which cost maybe two bits; and the next thing I know I hear something go ker-bap, and I can see she smacks Rusty Charley on the side of the noggin with the bat. Naturally I am greatly horrified at this business, and figure Rusty Charley will kill her at once, and then I will be in a jam for witnessing the murder and will be held in jail several years like all witnesses to any- thing in this man’s town; but Rusty Charley only falls into a big rocking-chair in a corner of the room and sits there with one hand to his head, saying, ‘“‘ Now hold on, tootsie,” and ‘Wait a minute there, honey.” I recollect hearing him say, ‘‘We have company for breakfast,” and then the little red-headed doll turns on me and gives me a look such as I will always remember, although I smile at her very pleasant and mention it is a nice morning. Finally she says to me like this: “So you are the trambo who keeps my husband out all night,areyou, you trambo?”’ she says, and with this she starts for me, and I start for the door; and by this time my blood pressure is all out of whack, be- cause I can see that Mrs. Rusty Charley is excited more than somewhat. I get my hand on the knob and just then something hits me alongside the noggin, which I after- ward figure must be the baseball bat, al- though I remember having a sneaking idea the roof caves in on me. How I get the door open I do not know, because I am very dizzy in the head and my legs are wabbling, but when I think back over the situation I remember going down a lot of steps very fast, and by and by the fresh air strikes me, and I figure I am in the clear. But all of a sudden I feel another strange sensation back of my head and something goes plop against my noggin, and I figure at first that maybe my blood pres- sure runs up so high that it squirts out the top of my bean. Then I peek around over my shoulder just once to see that Mrs. Rusty Charley is standing beside the wop peddler’s cart snatching fruit and vege- tables of one kind and another off the cart and chucking them at me. But what she hits me with back of the head is not an apple, or a peach, or a ruta- baga, or a cabbage, or even a casaba melon, but a brickbat that the wop has on his cart to weight down the paper sacks in which he sells his goods. It is this brickbat which makes a lump on the back of my head so big that Doc Brennan thinks it is a tumor when I go to him the next day about my stomach, and I never tell him any different. **But,”’ Doc Brennan says, when he takes my blood pressure again, ‘‘ your pressure is down below normal now, and as far as it is concerned you are in no danger whatever It only goes to show what just a little bit of quiet living will do for a guy,’’ Doc Bren- nan says. ‘Ten bucks please,”’ he says. een —E

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USE | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST TRAFFIC FILM is an accumulation of oily, sticky par- ticles of dust and grime which are constantly settling on your car. These particles are baked together by the sun and the heat, forming a hard, dull film that hides the lustre of the finish. Soap and water won't remove it. No.7 Duco Polish will. Hereisa small section of the surface of anaverage car, magnified 20 times. The left side is still covered with TRAFFIC FILM. The right side has been cleaned with No.7 Duco Polish. Note the difference. Keep that showroom omplexion F you would keep that showroom complexion I on your car, you should clean and polish it regularly. And because No. 7 Duco Polish is a du Pont product, you will find it does the job simply, safely, and surely. Du Pont chemists, who created Duco, dis- covered and analyzed TRAFFIC FILM,* and developed a simple, rapid, and sure way of re- moving it and restoring the original lustre. They developed No.7 Duco Polish, non-acid and free from harsh abrasives. It softens film, loosens dirt, removes grime. You wipe them away, and back comes your radiant car again. Leading automobile manufacturers put sample cans of No. 7 Duco Polish in the tool kits of their new cars and recommend its use in their instruction books. You'll find No.7 Duco Polish at good dealers’ everywhere. Ask your garage or polishing sta- tion to use it on your car. If you would like a sample of No.7 Duco Polish, as well as No. 7 Nickel Polish and No. 7 Auto Top Finish, fill out the coupon at the right. DUCO POLISH jie es POLISH ¥ af Ps 4 r a epg / No. 7 Auto Top Finish water- proofs the top and restores its origmal lustre. It’s an excellent ( tire dressing, too No. 7 Nickel Polish cleans and brightens radiator and lamps. a'suesa 44ty. Y 4 * titel on ee aT ya } eae > Ideal also for me the home No 7 Tou h retouching scrat spots on auto fenders new, durable 9} ON YOUR CAR Send for the Sample Beauty Kit Send us the coupon (with 10 cents to help cover mailing cost) and we'll send you the following 1 SAMPLE CAN OF NO.7 DUCO POLISH (enough for one polishing) 1 SAMPLE CAN OF NO.7 NICKEL POLISH (enough for the radiator) 1 SAMPLE CAN OF NO.7 AUTO TOP FINISH (enough for a spare tire) E. 1. DU PONT DE NEMOURS & COMPANY, IN¢ Desk S-11, General Motors Bide ! Canadian Industries, Ltd., Paint Detroit, M & Varnish Div Send me your Sample Beauty Kit f ' ing 10 cents (cs Gor Name Address City w stamps nd only in [ to help pa S nad «4 9, Canada los

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74 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 a. me wether > “ ee oe ot ad 22 ba ee ——— ’ i - . EY 4% ‘ - ah r . ao 2 ee a Vos BAe we oe pages eo ea h = _ “lo save time is to lengthen life—” : “ACCELERATION, rather than structural change, is the key to an understanding of our recent economic developments.” —From THE REPORT OF PresipENT Hoover’s Committee on Recent Economic CHANGES : Sew PLOD of the ox-cart. The jog trot of the horse and buggy. The rush of the high-powered motor car. The zoom of the airplane. Acceleration. Faster speed all ; the time. ¥ Speed and more speed in production, transportation, communication, and as a result, more wealth, more happiness, and yes, more leisure for us all. ¥ Scientific re- iy \ US IN THE GENERAL ELECTRIC HOUR, search has been the pacemaker of this faster, yet more leisurely, existence. At a steadily BROADCAST EVERY SATURDAY AT 9 P, M., | T., ON A NATION-WIDE N. B.C. NETWORK increasing rate it is giving us hundreds of inventions and improvements which speed up ) work, save time and money, revolutionize life and labor in the modern age. ¥ Conceive

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 75 how much time modern electric lighting has saved the American people—not to men- tion the billion dollars a year in lighting bills saved by the repeatedly improved efficiency of the Mazpa lamp. Think of the extraordinary democratization of entertainment and education made possible by the radio tube! % Both these benefits to the public owe much to the steady flow of discovery and invention from General Electric laboratories. So do the X-ray and cathode-ray tubes, the calorizing of steel, atomic-hydrogen welding, the generation of power for home and industry at steadily lower costs. ¥ The G-E mono- gram is a symbol of research. Every product bearing this monogram represents to-day and will represent to-morrow the highest standard of electrical correctness and dependability. For tHe Home—General Electric and its associated For Inpustry—Several thousand electric products and ap G E N E RA L companies manufacture a complete line of electric prod- pliances, including generating and distributing apparatus, ucts including G-E Mazpa and G-E Edison Mazpa lamps, motors, electric heating apparatus, street lights, flood- E RI C G-E refrigerators, G-E fans, G-E vacuum cleaners, G-E lights, traffic lights, airport lights, Cooper Hewitt lights, E L \ wiring systems, Edison Hotpoint heating appliances, and —- Victor X-ray apparatus, motion-picture apparatus, electric G-E motors for other household electric products. + + + locomotives and equipment, and street-car equipment

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76 HATR: worth WEARING is worth SAVING Vadadadai hay isasal Sealp Irritation while you have HAIR to Oave If you knew that your hair might vanish overnight unless you used (LOVER’S Mange Medicine on it, you'd get it mighty quickly. Because the vanishing process is spread over a few months is no reason for neglecting scalp affection. Your head itches, you have dan- druff and your hair drops out freely. Hair worth wearing is worth saving. Better get GLOVER’S and USE it while you have hair to save. It is a thoroughly reliable hair and scalp treatment developed by scientific hair culturists aa used successfully for half a century. GLOVER’S MANGE ee destroys scalp affection, stopping itching and dandruff. The rea- son is plain when you “get” that fragrant pine tar. The resulting improvement in the look and feel of your hair and scalp is pam. too; because the oils in GLOVE wave made your scalp pliable and youth- ful. Ask for GLOVER’S MEDICATED SOAP see peg oe aM 30c with an invigorating massage and shampoo to flush away the last vanishing sign of dead hair and scale. A perfect Glover treat- ment for maintaining hair health is only found when this soap is used as a sham- poo. Glover's Medicated Soap is especially woduced to blead with Glover's Mange fedicine acting as an additional cleansing agent and deotusinn the sealp and hair. Together they form a rounded plan of hair culture which for efficiency ee refinement can searcely be equaled except in the world’s foremost beauty salons. At Department and Drug Stores Everywhere H. CLAY GLOVER CO., Ine. 119 Fifth Avenue, New York Sales Agents: Harold F. Ritchie & Co., Inc. New York THE SATURDAY usually carefree face. A large bandanna handkerchief tied around her jaws height- ened the pained effect. They stopped at the post office and inquired for a dentist. “The nearest one’s fifty miles away,” said the postmistress concernedly. Mrs. Allen shook her dusty head. “I can’t go another step tonight. We'll just have to camp here.” “You can camp out in back of the store,” said the postmistress. “‘It’ll cost you a quar- ter.” “My tooth aches so I don’t care what I spend, just so I can get a place to lay down and groan. Got any pop?” . “‘Sas’prilla.”’ “Give us each a bottle and fix us up two hot dogs apiece.” “I don’t believe you can chew on that tooth.” “I’ve got to keep up my stren'th to bear this pain,” said Mrs. Allen heroically. She carried the hot dogs, appropriately enough, to the pup tent which Pete had set up beside the car, and lowered the flap. “Gosh!” she said gratefully, taking off the bandanna and biting into the sandwich. Having finished eating, she lay back on a ragged comfort. ‘You kids walk around town and wait for doc. Only don’t let on you ever saw him before, ner Gambler neither.” She lay there in the hot saffron shadow of the tent and thought of Doctor Higgins. One eyebrow lifted quizzically, hopefully, and a dimple skewered her plump, weath- ered cheek. Her lips moved. “I wonder if he’s married. My, it would be swell to be Mrs. Doctor Higgins and go riding over the country in that office, giv- ing shows and everything.” She woke an hour later, stewing in her own juice. It was twilight. The tent vi- brated with the hum of mosquitoes, like the wings of many airplanes. Bunny was | shaking her. | mace. “‘Mamma, wake up quick and see Gam- bler before it gets dark. She looks just beautiful. Her horns are solid gold and her fur looks just likean Easteregg. Hurry up!” Mrs. Allen wiped the perspiration from her face and applied powder liberally be- fore a scrap of mirror. “I sure wish I hada lipstick. Now where’s them teeth of doc’s?”’ “Here.” She worked them into place with a gri- “These are worse than a pair of new shoes. I sure hope he puts on my act quick.” She tied up her jaw and joined the crowd that was gathering around Doctor Higgins’ red car in front of the hotel. Archie, clad in a white smock, was tying a sign over the resplendent pelt of Gambler, who stood eying the group with inscrutable yellow eyes. The light of an acetylene lamp, hung low over a dentist’s chair, glared white from the platform at the back of the car. Doctor Higgins stood under it. “*What little boy would like to lead this sacred Himalayan goat around the streets to advertise our free show and clinic this evening?” he asked. His benevolent eye rested on Buster. “‘Ah, my little man, are you strong enough to hold him?” “Yes, sir.” “T'll help him,” shrilled Bunny. Each child took a horn and led Gambler majestically down the street, followed by a queue of capering youngsters. The efficacy of the advertising was evident at once in the increasing audience gathered about the lighted platform. Mrs. Allen worked her way to the front row, where the light fell full on her bandaged face. Presently Archie came out with a gleam- ing saxophone. His thin, reedy neck quiv- , ered with emotion as he played The Holy City, but the crowd was unresponsive. He put down the saxophone and took up a | guitar, accompanying his chief in a spirited, ribald song in which thumps on the guitar took the place of those meaning rows of | asterisks that bore all the guilt in Victorian EVENING POST DETOUR! (Continued from Page 21) fiction. Delighted applause followed. More verses followed, with fewer asterisks. Then, suddenly professional, Doctor Hig- gins addressed his audience on the results of leaving bad teeth unpulled. Did they have rheumatism, headache, eyestrain, flat feet, baldness, insomnia, somewhere in their jaws lurked a tooth that should come out. “Now, friends, my regular rate for ex- tractions is one dollar a tooth, but to intro- duce my painless methods I will pull three teeth free for the first patient on this plat- form tonight.” A tall rancher began to push his way truculently toward the front. The den- tist’s black eyes darted about in search of Mrs. Allen. She was byrrowing through the crowd blindly and rapidly, like a mole, but in the wrong direction, lost in a country of tall men. “Don’t go home, lady!” called Doctor Higgins sharply. ‘Turn around and come up in front where you can see.” Startled, she altered her course, but the rancher was in the lead. “‘Let the little lady through,” said doc. She slid under the rancher’s arm just as he set his foot on the bottom step. Doctor Higgins put out a helping hand. ““Oh, doctor, my mouth’s so sore I hate to have you touch it,”’ she groaned, getting into the chair. Doctor Higgins peered into her mouth and shook his head. “Folks, I never saw a worse ulcerated tooth, but in five minutes you’re going to see this little lady step down with a smile on her face.” He took up his forceps. He turned his back to the crowd. He jerked with visible effort. Then he faced them, holding up a molar of formidable size. “‘Look at it, folks! See those roots! . . Now, lady, did it hurt you?” “‘T never even felt it.” He pulled two more. As she left the plat- form customers crowded forward likesinners at a revival. From each one he collected in advance. When a tooth came hard, Archie played jazz to cover the victim’s cries. By the end of an hour the tin box on the table bulged with grimy bills and bulky silver dollars. No more patients came forward. Archie put out the light and fastened a waterproof cover over the chair. The crowd dispersed, with here and there a com- plaining note. Mrs. Allen lurked in the shadow of the car, waiting to collect her money. The children were petting Gambler. “Pete,” she called softly, ‘“‘you kids go home and go to bed. I’ll be there pretty soon.” “You kids go on home,”’ said Pete. and mom will be there in a minute.” “Pete Allen, you heard what I said. Go home with them kids.” The three figures disappeared slowly. She leaned against the car and yawned, her eyes blinking sleepily. She must get out that red silk dress from the suitcase and wear it tomorrow night. She wondered if doc was married, and decided to find out. It sure would be nice to be Mrs. Doctor Higgins. Pete could take Archie’s place and maybe learn the dentist trade. Bunny could take up toe dancing and help out in the show Gambler was already earning her way. And a wedding on that back platform would sure be swell advertising. They could use it over and over. The last light went out in the village. Her head jerked. **‘ Doc!”’ she called huskily. “You still here?” he said, sticking his head out the window. “Uh-huh. Here’s them teeth. You'll have to fix them up again for tomorrow night, won’t you?” ; “Oh, yes. Thanks.” “Did I do my part all right?” “Great. Only step up quicker next time. That man pretty near got ahead of you to- night. He had me scared for a minute. Mean-looking bird.” ““Where’d he go to?” “Me April 5,1950 “Oh, I saw him hanging around the edge, mad because he couldn’t get his tooth pulled free. Well, let him keep his dollar and his toothache.” “*Where do you play tomorrow night?” “Practice,” he corrected. ‘“‘Bee City. Follow this road northwest for about sixty miles and you can’t miss it. When you get there, proceed the same way you did to- night. And whatever you do, don’t talk to anybody around here tomorrow morning. Keep your mouth shut.” “T will, doc.” “So long. See you tomorrow night.” “It’s awful dark,” she suid timidly. “I’m scared to go home alone.” “T’ll take you.” They walked slowly down the street, and stumbling through the lot back of the store, waked a sleeping sow and her litter, that scampered away into the darkness, squeal- ing and grunting. “*Here we are,” said Mrs. Allen, opening the door of the car. ‘‘Won’t you come in and set down awhile?” “TI can’t stay long. Archie’s all ready to go.” “Oh, ain’t you going to wait till morn- ing?” “Not if I know it. Some of those teeth came out pretty hard tonight, and I’ll bet they’re crying for revenge right now.” ““What’s the name of that town we're go- ing to?” “‘Bee City.” . “Gee, I’m tired.” “Put your head on my shoulder. Is that comfortable?”’ “Uh-huh. Are you married, doc?”’ “Of course not! By the way, where’s your better half?” “In the bac” of the car, under the seat.” He openeci the dcor and sprang out. “If you're trying a badger game on me, madam, you’ve picked the wrong party.” “For goodness’ sake, what are you mad at?” **You just told me your husband was hid- ing under the back seat.” “‘I never did. I just said he was there, and he is; only it’s just his ashes. He’s been dead a year, pretty near.” Doctor Higgins iaughed uneasily and climbed back into the car. He put his arm around her again. ‘‘What a relief! Say, little girl, as long as you’re free and I’m free, how about getting married one of these days?” “All right with me,” said Mrs. Allen, snuggling un against nim. “Well, i must be going. No telling how far we’ti have to drive tonight.” “Wait a minute. Where’s that two dol- lars for me and Gambler?” “Good thing you reminded me. There’s something about you that makes me forget everything.” “Oh, doc!” He stood clinking two silver dollars. “I hate to have you carrying so much money around these lonesome roads. I'll be worry- ing about you every minute. I believe you'd better let me keep it for you till we get to Pendleton, where you'll havea chance to spend it.” “How long will that be?” “Ten days or so.” “Twenty dollars!’”’ said Mrs. Allen ecstatically. ‘You better save it for me.” “All right, as long as you want me to. I’ve got to go, sweetie.” “I’ve forgot the name of that place again!” “Bee City. Here, I’ll write it down for you.” He struck a match and scribbled on a card. ‘‘Don’t lose this. And keep your mouth shut about where you’re going. I don’t want any squawkers trailing me.” They kissed and parted. The Allen family, unused to late hours, overslept the next morning. They dressed hurriedly. (Continued on Page 79) oe

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78 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 19350 lf you met her 7ow, you'd know her.. en ° a) SO ER ee, eee ies + z POS, STELIOS ELI TS * ae? Ce see EPS or 2A A SOME OF FHS TECHNICOLOR PRODUCTIONS BRIDE OF THE REGIMENT, with Vivienne Segal (First National); BRIGHT LIGHTS, with Dorothy Mackaill (First National); DIXIANA, with Bebe Daniels (Radio Pictures) Technicolor Sequences; GOLDEN DAWN, with Walter Woolf and Vivienne Sega! (Warner Bros.); HELL'S ANGELS, with Ben Lyon (Caddo Productions) Technicolor Sequences; HIT THE DECK, with Jack Oakie and Polly Walker (Radio) Technicolor Sequences; KING OF JAZZ, starring Poul Whiteman (Universal); MAMBA, with , P - 2 . a We Eleanor Boardman and Jean Hersholt (Tifflanyl; MAMMY, “ “ , BESSIE LOVE, in “Chasing Rainbows, a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer picture storring Al jolson {Warner Bros.) Technicolor Sequences; Pp il. r revue (Por oun ° ° . » e ae ee Curqnont tae Technicolor has painted her true image . . . as radiantly beautiful as the Sequences; PUTTIN’ ON THE RITZ, starring Harry Richman nited Artists! Technicolor Sequences; RADIO RAMBLERS, with warm Hollywood sunshine finds her . . . youth aglow in her cheeks, her Bert Wheeler, Robert Woolsey, and Dorothy lee (Radio) Technicolor Sequences; SALLY, starring Morilyn Miller (First eyes and hair. What a thri!l you receive when Technicolor transports your 3 SHOW GIRL IN HOLLYWOOD, with Alice White —_—e Technicolor Sequences, SON OF THE GODS, favorite stars from shadowland to life... when the vapory blacks and starring Richard Barthelmess (First National) Technicolor Se- sntten’ GOUO OF Tb Feu, Wk bee Ce et grays disappear and a rainbow of living color rests upon the screen. Alexander Gray (First National); SONG OF THE WEST, with : ; , ok : Technicolor captivates your eyes, your imagination. It brings you real men, John Boies ond Vivienne Segal (Warner Bros.); THE ROGUE SONG, with lowrence Tibbett and Catherine Dale Owen real women . . . just as they are . . . with Nature herself mixing the colors. Technicolor 7g natural color Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer!; THE VAGABOND KING, starring Dennis King, with Jeanette MacDonald {Paramount}

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| | ; / i | ie eee IRL oe Ee SE (Continued from Page 76) “Now where do you spose my teeth are?”’ asked Mrs. Allen, shaking the bedclothes. “I had them here last night before I put in my trick set.” Intent on her search, she failed to notice a man who had driven up beside her camp. “Good morning. How do you feel after your painless dentistry?” he called. She jumped. “Why, you’re the gentle- man that almost got there ahead of me last night!” “Yes. You just won by a nose.” “Why didn’t you go up afterwards? He didn’t hurt a bit.” “IT was too Scotch. When I missed that free extraction I got sore. But I was sorry afterwards. I’ve been walking the floor all night with an ulcerated tooth.” “Gee, that’s too bad!” she said guiltily. “T was going to have that dentist take it out this morning, even if he charged me five dollars, but he’s gone, nobody knows where.” He groaned wretchedly and shook some oil of cloves into his mouth. “Gee, that’s too bad!” she repeated un- easily. “Which way do you think he went?” She looked at him earnestly. “‘Can you keep a secret?” “‘Like I can keep a dollar!” “If you'll promise not to tell anyone else,’ she said, lowering her voice, “I'll tell you. I said I wouldn’t, but I just can’t bear to see anybody suffer. He’s going to—wait till I find that card. Can you read that?” “Bee City. Are you sure that’s right “He wrote it out for me himself last night.” “Well, well, that’s certainly lucky.” “You won't tell anybody else, will you?” “Not a soul.” She looked after him benevolently as he drove off. ‘It sure does make a person feel good to do a kind act. And it doesn’t cost anything, either. There I’m getting rid of his sore tooth for him and helping doc to earn a dollar.” ““What'll you doif he’s there tonight wait- ing to get it pulled out free?”’ asked Pete. “He won't wait. It hurtstoo bad. Most likely he’ll overtake doc along the road some place.” It was nearly dark when the Allens got into Bee City. They pitched camp hur- riedly, and the children ran over to where the crowd was already gathering in front of the hotel, to lead the sacred Himalayan goat around the streets and receive the demonstration teeth from Doctor Higgins. “There’s an awful lot of people there already, mom,” reported Bunny breath- lessly. ‘ Pete’s holding a place for you in the front row, right next to the steps.” Mrs. Allen worked the teeth into place with vigorous mouthings. “I feel just like I had a snaffle bit on,”’ she complained, ty- ing a bandanna around her jaw. She slipped into Pete’s place under the sputtering white light. Immediately Doc- tor Higgins signaled to Archie, who pointed his saxophone heavenward like a gleaming signpost and played The Holy City. The crowd grew. Doctor Higgins, in deference to its size, elaborated his program of the night before with some not so very sleight of hand involving a silk hat, a watch, a handkerchief and some cards. Then he gave his dental talk, concluding with an offer to or, THE SATURDAY extract free for his first patient as many teeth as necessary. Mrs. Allen won comfortably over all en- tries. She puffed out one cheek, moaning softly as she climbed into the chair. Doc- tor Higgins untied the bandanna gently, as if afraid her face would fall to pieces. “Oh, doctor, my tooth hurts so I just hate to have you touch it,”’ she said in a voice that suffering had not weakened. He peered into her mouth and shook his head as he had done the night before. Then he faced his audience and took up his lines: “Folks, I never saw a worse ulcerated tooth, but in five minutes you're going to see this little lady step down with a smile on her face.” He took up his forceps. He turned his back. He jerked with visible effort. Then he turned around, holding up a molar of formidable size. “Look at it, folks. See those roots. Now, lady, did it hurt you?” “T never even felt it, doctor.” As she left the platform several custom- ers moved forward. “Mom,” whispered Pete excitedly, “there’s that man from Buzzard that had the toothache!” “Where?” “Going up the steps. He's the first one.” “My land, where’s he been all day?” Doctor Higgins gestured toward the chair, but the man from Buzzard made no move to get into it. “Higgins,” he said harshly, “where's your license?” “What's it to you?’ “T want to see it.” “Well, I’ve got one. Higgins went into the car and came back holding up a red case for the crowd to see. “Here it is, folks,” he said aggressively. “This bird thought he was going to catch me.” “Let me see it,” said the other man, snatching it. “Just what I thought. This says you are a barber and beautician, what- ever that is. Higgins, you are under arrest for practicing dentistry without a license.” “Who are you?” “I'm an officer sent out by the state den- tal board.” “Where's your warrant?” “Here.” The sympathy of the crowd was plainly with Higgins. The officer stepped to the edge of the platform. “T’ve been trailing this fellow for a week, but he’s evaded me by traveling at night. I could have got him over at Buzzard last night, but I wanted more evidence. This woman here, his confederate’’ he pointed to Mrs. Allen—‘“‘had the same three teeth pulled last night, and went through the same performance, word for word, but when I saw her this morning she had no teeth at all—not a tooth in her head. It’s a clear case of fraud.” “Arrest her, too, then!” called a woman angrily. Pete stood with his arm defensively around his mother’s shoulder, and Buster and Bunny, shrieking, were trying to worm their way through the crowd with Gambler. The officer looked down at them, pinching his lower lip thoughtfully. “Your jail isn’t very big. Besides, who'll take care of her children if I arrest her? She doesn’t look to me like a crook, anyhow.” , - a | Y's ie ie EVENING POST He pointed his finger at Mrs. Allen. “I'll give you till ten o’clock tomorrow morning to be out of town. If you're here after that I’m going to arrest you.” The mayor of Bee City, who had by this time taken his stand on the platform, signi- fied hisapproval vehemently: “ Thecounty’s taking care of enough bums now. If we let her stay we’ll never get rid of her.” But the next morning he burst in on the officer of the dental board at the hotel. “Say, that woman’s still here, and it’s nearly noon.” “What?” exclaimed the officer, reaching for his hat. Mrs. Allen stood up and folded her arms defiantly when she saw them coming. “We told you to be on your way by ten o’clock,”” barked the mayor, “and it’s a quarter of twelve. Now pack up this junk and get out of here before we throw you into jail.” “Come on, mom!” implored Pete, gath- ering up a ragged comforter. “I’m going to wait for Doctor Higgins,” she said firmly. “Then you'll wait for him in the hoose- gow.” “All right.” The mayor and the officer looked at each other helplessly. “Lady, ain’t you ashamed to act like this? Who's going to take care of your kids? Who's going to feed that goat?” de- manded the mayor plaintively “I'm going to wait for Doctor Higgins. Do you think I’m going to desert the gen- tleman I’m engaged to?” “Going to marry him, eh?” “T sure am.” “Well, I guess you might as well wait for him in jail, then, if you're bound to do it Come on!” “Wait till I put on my good dress.” She walked down the street with the officer on one side and the mayor on the other, both looking hot and foolish. Pete, with his eyes very black and his chin wab- bling, stepped on their heels. Buster and Bunny, with tears falling on Gambler's back like dew on a morning-glory, brought up in the rear. Most of the town had joined them by the time they reached the jail. Archie, sitting in the shade beside the door, like a dog waiting for his master, stared at them incredulously through his thick glasses. “Why, Mrs. Allen, what are you doing here?” “I’m going to wait for doc,” she said with spirit. “‘They won't let me wait out- side, so I'm going to wait in jail.” “TI wouldn't do that if I was you, Mrs Allen,” he suid mildly. “He's going to get out pretty soon. We got a wire from his wife this morning, and she’s coming right away with money to bail him out.” “From who?” she asked blankly “From his wife in Seattle. I guess she'll be here in the morning.” “Why, he told me She shook the officer’s hand off her arm impatiently “What kind of laws have we got in this country if a man like that gets out on bail? It’s an outrage. I hope he gets ten years in the road camp.” “Then you aren't going to wait for him, after all?” “T'lisay I'm not! How can I get back to Salt Lake without going through Buzzard?” a. a em ees ae eee ri, seteteod ff . ; y ~ c . ate gtr Wea ' 2. -" ; 4 |e Pa . sv 7 _ | 79 To help you to win When he drives for the tape or zooms over his hurdles, every col- lege or school track man weare an athletic supporter. Neither in prac- tiee nor competition is he allowed to run, jump, vault or hurdle, un- guarded. \ ear one vourself mevery eea- son, every sport. On track, diamond, tennis court in swimming. golf, football, basket ball . will improve your performance. a supporter Your brain knows you are safe. Your body feels it. Reassured, they bring your deepest reserves of power, skill and endurance into action, Wear a Bike. For 55 vears, it has helped American athletes to win games and break records. A simple, one-piece, all-eclastic supporter, Bi ke continues to be first choice of lead- ing coaches, trainers and physical directors. Easy to wear... easy to wash... easy to buy . 50 cents everywhere. Pal is a still finer supporter, its ex clusive patented features insuring long life and super-comfort. On« dollar and upward, at all druggist» and sporting goods dealers. BIKE and Pal (BAUER & BLACK) DIVISION OF THE KENDALL COMPANY Chicago New York . Terente

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SO Presdwood for lining concrete forms THE SATURDAY EVENING POST An “all-steel” tank built out of Masonite Presdwood . . . and yet so realistic that an army officer wrote to find out how it was made. Scores of manufactured articles ... store fixtures, book cases, radio cabinets, for example . . . made better and at less cost with this grainless wood board. These instances point to the versatility and economy which have been demonstrated time and time again in the use of Presdwood. The workability of Presdwood and its ability to take any finish dictated its use in the monster tanks of the Tec Art film, “She Goes to War.” Beauty of finish was the outstanding reason for using this grainless wood in paneling the directors’ room of a big Cleveland bank. In Racine, a maker of incubators uses Presdwood for its strength and its resistance to moisture and warping. And in Kalamazoo, a sign maker builds cutout signs to advertise baby chicks, with this grainless material which does not crack or splinter. So effectively is Presdwood handled on bandsaw or punch press that manu- facturers use this grainless wond in ever-increasing quantities. !t makes tool boxes and trays. It builds fire screens and bird houses; it is used in doll houses and tables, toys and playhouses, and scores of other useful articles. Panels interiors—lines concrete forms Presdwood is used for paneling because of its beauty and its ability to take paint or lacquer finish. It is used to line concrete forms because it saves hours and dollars, eliminates the need of hand rubbing, and produces stronger, more beautiful concrete. Presdwood can be obtained through lumber dealers. It comes in 1/8 and 3/16 inch thicknesses and in four foot by twelve foot boards; also in special shapes and sizes, cut to order at the mill. Manufacturers, builders and home mechanics should read the Presdwood booklet. The booklet lists eighty uses, tells how this grainless wood is made and how finishes are applied. The booklet is Free. Just mail the coupon NOW. MASONITE CORPORATION, 111 West Washington Street, Chicago, lilinois April 5,1930 Presdwood for doll houses and toys For attractive signs Masonite "= STRUCTURAL INSULATION * INSULATING LATH - PRESDWOOD Masonite Structural Insulation Protects d for, jet from Dampness Sen poor Homes that are built or modernized with Masonite Struc- Fre’ tural Insulation or Masonite Insulating Lath are guarded from spring's dampness, summer's heat and winter's cold. Masonite also makes homes more quiet; increases their loan, sale and rental value; makes them more economical to heat. Check coupon and get the interesting Masonite booklet. esting story of Presdwood Mail the coupon today. It will bring you the inter- Masonite Corporation, Dept. A-4 © M.C., 1930 111 W. Washington St., Chicago, III. Please send your free illustrated booklet that describes Masonite Presdwood and its many uses. Name Street City State oO if interested in Masonite Insulation, check here

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ete ———— eee | His immediate instinct was to see whom she was dancing with. It was a young man he knew, and with this assurance he was on his feet, giving a quick tug to his coat, and out upon the floor. “*May I cut in, please?’ She came close to him as they started, looked up into his eyes for an instant, and then down and away. She said nothing. Realizing that she could not be more than sixteen, he hoped that the party he was to join would not arrive in the middle of the dance. When it was over, she raised eyes to him again, and a sense of having been mis- taken, of her being older, went over him. Just before he left her at her table, he was moved to say: “Couldn’t I have another later?”’ “Oh, sure.” She seemed to unfasten her eyes from his with some difficulty, as if they were on hooks that had become entangled. He felt rather disconcerted as he went back to his table. One hour later, they left the hotel to- gether in a car. This had simply happened——her state- ment, at the end of their second dance, that she must leave, then her request, and the annoyed face of a youth at her table, and his own extreme self-consciousness as he walked with her across the empty floor. It was a favor to her sister to take her home, but he had that unmistakable feeling of expectation. Nevertheless, the night air cooled his mind, drawing off the intoxica- tion of the insistent music and the sweet, heavy room, and in the young face beside him he perceived a too obvious appeal, a struggle with unrehearsed scenes and unfa- miliar words. He saw all this and relaxed for a moment to pat her hand, and suddenly she came toward him, her youth vanishing as she passed inside the focus of his eyes, and he had kissed her breathlessly, as if she were thirty. She lay back against his arm. ““T’'ve decided to give you up,” she said astonishingly. He started. For a moment he wondered if he had forgotten something -something he had said to her before--had he ever talked to her more than casually? Had he committed himself to be in some way pos- sessed? “But that’s very mean,” he managed to say lightly, “‘just when I was getting in- terested.” “T know,” she agreed miserably. “They're going to send me away to school, but they think I haven’t found out about it.” “Oh, that’s too bad.” “And today they got together and tried to tell me you didn’t know I was alive.” After a long pause, he said, “I hope you didn’t let them.” She laughed shortly. “I just laughed and came down here.” Her hand burrowed its way into his; when he pressed it, her eyes, bright now, not dark, rose until they were as high as his, and came toward him like a face in a close-up. A minute later he thought to himself: ‘This is a rotten trick I’m doing.”” He was sure he was doing it. “You're so sweet,” she said. “You're a sweet child.” “‘T hate jealousy worse than anything in the world,” she broke out, ‘“‘and I have to suffer from it. And my own sister worse than all the rest.” “Oh, no,” he protested. “T couldn't help it if I fell in love with you. I tried to help it. I used to go out of the house when I knew you were coming.” The force in her words came from her sincerity and from her simple and superb confidence that whomsoever she loved must love her in return. She was neither ashamed nor plaintive. She was in the world of being alone with a male where she had moved surely since she was eight years old. She did not plan; she merely iet her- self go, and the overwhelming life in her did THE SATURDAY FIRST BLOOD (Continued from Page 9 the rest. It is only when youth is gone and experience has given us a sort of cheap cour- age that most of us realize how simple such things are. If we had only known that there were no bears in the hall! “But you couldn’t be in iove with me,” Anthony wanted to say, and couldn’t. He fought with a desire to kiss her again, even if merely tenderly, and began to tell her that she was being unwise, but before he got really started at this handsome project, she was in his arms again, and whispering something that he had to accept, since it was wrapped up in a kiss; then he was alone, driving away from her door. What had he agreed to? All they had said was unreal in his ear—tomorrow at four o’clock on that corner. “Good Lord!” he thought uneasily. “‘All that stuff about giving me up. She's a crazy kid, and she'll get into trouble if somebody that’s wrong comes along. Big chance of my meeting her tomorrow!” But neither at dinner nor at the dance he went to that night could he get the episode out of his mind; he kept looking around the ballroom regretfully, as if he missed someone who should be there. 1 WO weeks later, waiting in Marice Whaley’s drawing-room, Anthony reached in his pocket for some half-forgotten mail. Three letters he replaced; the other, after a moment oc’ listening, he opened quickly and read with his back to the door. It was the third of a series—for one had followed each of his meetings with Joseph- ine, and it was exactly like the others the letter of a child. Whatever maturity of emo- tion could accumulate in her expression, once she set pen to paper, it was snowed under by ineptitude. There was much about “‘ your feeling for me” and “my feel- ing for you,”’ and sentences began, “‘ Yes, I know I am sentimental,” or more gawkily, “T have always been sort of pash, and I can’t help that,” and always much quoting of lines from current popular songs, as if they more fully expressed the writer's state of mind than any verbal struggles of her own. The letter disturbed him. As he reached the postscript, which coolly made a rendez- vous for five o’clock this afternoon, he heard Marice on the stairs, and put it back in his pocket. Marice hummed and moved about the room. Anthony smoked. “IT saw you Tuesday afternoon,” she said suddenly. ‘‘ You seemed to be having a fine time.” “Tuesday,” he repeated, as if thinking. “Oh, yes. I ran into some kids and we went to a tea dance. It was very amusing.” “You were almost alone when I saw you.’ “What are you getting at?” Marice hummed again. “‘Let’s go out. Let’s go to a matinée.” On the way downstairs he explained how he had happened to be with Connie’s little sister, and the necessity of the explanation angered him. When he had done, Marice said crisply: “If you wanted to rob the cradle, why did you have to pick out that little devil? Her reputation is so bad already that Mrs. McRae didn’t want to invite her to her dancing class this year. She only did it on account of Constance and Mrs. Perry.” “Why is she so awful?” asked Anthony, disturbed. “I'd rather not discuss it.”’ His five-o’clock engagement was on his mind throughout the matinée. Though Marice’s remarks had only made him sorry for Josephine, he was, nevertheless, deter- mined that this meeting should be the last. It was embarrassing to have been remarked in her company, even though he had tried honestly to avoid it. In fact, the matter could very easily develop into a rather dan- gerous little mess, with no benefit in it either to Josephine or to himself. About EVENING POST Marice’s indignation he did not particu- larly care; she had been his for the asking all autumn, but Anthony did not want to get married; he did not want to get in- volved with anybody at all It was dark at 5:30, when he was free and turned his car toward the new Philan- throphilogical Building in the cold maze of reconstruction in Grant Park. The bleak- ness of the place and the time depressed him and gave a further painfulness to the affair. Getting out of his car, he walked past a young man ina waiting roadster—a young man whom he seemed to recognize and found Josephine in the half darkness of the lonely little chamber formed by the storm doors. With an indefinable sound of greeting, she walked determinedly into his arms, put- ting up her face “T can only stay for a sec,” she protested, just as if he had begged her to come. “I’m supposed to go to a wedding with sister, but I had to see you.” W hen he spoke, his voice froze symbol- ically into a white mist, obvious in the dark- ness. He said things he had said to her before, but this time firmly and finally. It was easier, because he could scarcely see her face and because somewhere in the middle she irritated him by starting to cry. “I knew you were supposed to be fickle,” she whispered, “but I didn’t expect this. Anyhow, I’ve got enough pride not to bother you any further.” She hesitated “But I wish we could meet just once more to try and arrive at a more different settle- ment.” “No.” “Some jealous girl has been talking to you about me.” “No.” Then, in despair, he struck at her heart. ‘I’m not fickle. I’ve never loved you and I never told you I did. I think of you as a child.” Guessing at the forlorn expression that would come into her face, he turned away and took a purposeless step; when he wheeled nervously about, the storm door had just shut “Josephine!” he shouted with helpless pity, but there was no answer. He waited, his heart in his boots, until presently he heard an automobile drive away. Reaching home, Josephine thanked Ed Bement, whom she had used, with a little piece of hope, and went in by a side door and up to her room. The window was open and, as she dretsed hurriedly for the wed- ding, she stood close to it, hoping that she would catch cold and die. Seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, she broke down and sat on the edge of the tub, making a small choking sound as if she were struggling with a cough, and cleaning her finger nails. Later she could cry all night in bed when everyone else was hap- pily asleep, but now there was not time it was still afternoon. The two sisters and their mother stood side by side at the wedding of Mary War- ren and Warren Dillon. It was a sad and sentimental wedding the end of the fine, glamorous youth of a girl who was uni- versally admired and loved. Perhaps to no one there were its details symbolical of the end of a period; yet, from the vantage point of a decade, things that happened there are already powdered with yester- day’s ridiculousness, and even becoming tinted with the lavender of the day before The bride raised her veil, smiling that grave sweet smile that made her adored, but with the tears pouring down her cheeks, and faced dozens of friends with her hands spread out as if embracing all of them for the last time. Then she turned to a hus- band as serious and immaculate as herself, and looked at him as if to say, “Now that’s done. All this that I am is yours for- ever and ever.” In her pew, Constance, who had been at school with Mary Warren, was frank]; she was gone. Continued on Page 84 SP *, wAY 2, Ry Dy © San | Franciseo’s hospitable homes are beautified with BERRYCRAET | Finishes || | San Francisco, ciiv of the Golden Gate, finishes for per- manence and beauty by fying Berryeraft products. W. T. Baker Company, prominent decorating firm, writes, “Luxe- berry Enamel and other of Berry Brothers’ wear-resisting products ore the finest we have ever used, No other finishes are so entirely every detail.” Prominent deco- rators and manufacturers the world over show preference for Berrveraft | inishes. Spe ity them for your work and assure vourself the utmost in beauty > speci- satisfactory in and dependability. estore floors or woodwork with | igri | Granite, the million-step-test | guarantee of high varnish. Use Berryveraft bname!l for enduring work and furniture. 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AVEN “YUCATAN” an interesting lat- desian with marbled vinings of orchid, rose-taupe jade and gold com- bined with squares of verte antique ble effect. Sealex Linoleum mar “ZUYDER ZEE” as neat and quaint as Holland itself! A crisp, clean-cut pattern in sienna and blue marbled tiles with novel insets of sailing ships. Sealex Embossed Linoleum No. 2600. “CAMELOT” . @ combination of warm red tiles —plain and marbled—with distinc- tive heraldic insets. Linoleum No. 2602. Sealex Embossed 82 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1950 “BASQUE” . .. @ striking marbled effect in keeping with the modern trend toward single-toned floors. Sealex Embossed Linoleum No. 2622. “MONTEZUMA” . . . richly mar- bleized tiles in a combination of black, red, grey and maroon color- ings—reproducing the spiendor of rare, red onyx marble. Linoleum No. 3223.

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: SATURDAY EVENING ” APPLEGREEN”. . . @ paitern in a color of increasing fashion importance. It is Sealex Jaape Linoleum No. 1259 “ROSEGLOW”. . . what could be more appropriate for a bed- reom than this lovely pastel shade? Sealex Jaspe Linoleum No. 1258. THEBES”. . . this marble effect is taken from the ruins of Thebes, ancient capital of upper Egypt. It is Sealex Embossed Linoleum No. 3516 a decidedly French color combination in rose-onvx and peach. Neulea Lino- “TUNIS”. . . rich, blood red Algerian marble effect combined with plain tiles in African — ae bleached-sand tint. Sealex Lino- ELporabo the warm leum No. 6232 “DUNDEE”. . . moss-green and golden oak marbled effect with black diamond interliners. I: is Seulex Linoleum No. 7273. “TUSCANY”. . . black-onyx and Italian white marbie are faithfully reproduced in this ever popular design. Sealex Linoleum No. 6066, “Moorisn” . + » Gn interesting maltese cross pattern in blue marble and putty- grey effect. It is Sealex Linoleum No. 7282. color blendings of this pattern will give atmosphere to the living room or dining room. It is Sealex Linoleum No. 3222 _..the new SEALEX tnoteums OU’RE looking through this magazine and these pages stop you. “My word, what stunning linoleums,” you mentally exclaim, “and what smart, new colorings and designs!” You study the fascinating details of each pattern. You remember having read that these floorings are recommended by prominent interior deco- rators. You find yourself resolving, ‘I’m surely going to see these new Sealex Linoleums.” But—now is the time to put such thoughts into action—today! For in better-class depart- And what treasures the salesman will show you: marble designs so ‘real’ that your eye can hardly tell the difference—in the most delicately beautiful color effects. Quaint embossed pat- terns—with each separate tile raised above the mortar lines. These new Sealex Linoleums are made in a variety of patterns for every room in your home. Also in designs for offices, smart shops, churches, schools and public buildings. What a difference Sealex Linoleums make! How they modernize—and cheer up—any in- ment, furniture and floor-covering stores, the terior, new or old! How they make cleaning . . 4 "wo § nation over, the many new Sea/ex Linoleums are virtually no task at all—for, as you know, Sealex - me. a aD now being displayed. Linoleums, thanks to the exclusive Sealex Proc- Look for it in the radio col . umn of your newspaper ess, are spot- roof. Stain- roof, eas -to-clean. half hour morning program Really to know why the vogue for colorful : es , P y of delightful entertainment . ° ' CONGOLEUM-NAIRN INC. Gen'l Office: KEARNY, N. J. New York er i = ~ ) hes —— floors is so well-established—seethem! Reallyto Philadelphia ~~ Chicago San Francisco Pittsburgh Boston or ae the WOMEN’S . Minneapolis Kansas City Dallas New Orleans Detroit Atlanta RADIO INSTITUTE folder know why Sealex Linoleums are everywhere so 2 mg A eh YR - - . . (Not yet on Pacific Coast.) popular for smart, new homes—see them! Really — «coton ann ciiawM IN HOME INTERIORS” is « delightful book to know the answer to, “What shall I do with old, unsightly floors?”—see for yourself the obvious style of these new Sealex Linoleums! containing many beautiful color illustrations—each a definite suggestion for the woman interested in planning rooms that are up to date, and in good taste. On every page are practical ideas on the color, furniture, and accessories of a room. A unique feature is the “Color Harmony Guide,” which makes it easy to choose all room elements—furniture, hangings, walls and floors—in harmony with one another. Sent post-paid for only 25¢, Address: Home Decoration Bureau, Congoleum-Nairn Inc., Kearny, N. J

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THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 81) weeping, from a heart that was like a ring- ing vault. But the face of Josephine, beside her, was a more intricate study; it watched intently. Once or twice, though her eyes lost none of their level, straight intensity, an isolated tear escaped, and, as if startled by the feel of it, the face hardened slightly and the mouth remained in a defiant immo- bility, like a child well warned against mak- ing a disturbance. Only once did she move; hearing a voice behind her say: “‘ That’s the little Perry girl. Isn’t she lovely looking?” she turned after a minute and gazed at a stained-glass window with an appreciative smile, lest her unknown admirers miss the sight of her side face. Her family went on to the reception, so Josephine dined alone—or rather with her little brother and his nurse, which was the same thing. She felt hollow. Tonight Anthony Har- ker, “‘so deeply lovable—so sweetly lov- able—so deeply, sweetly lovable” was making love to someone new, kissing her ugly, jealous face; soon he would have disappeared forever, together with all the men of his generation, into a loveless matri- mony, leaving only a world of Travis de Coppets and Ed Bements— people so easy they were scarcely worth the effort of a smile. Up in her room, she was excited by the sight of herself in the mirror. Oh, what if she should die in her sleep tonight? “Oh, what a shame,” she whispered to herself. She opened the window, and holding her only souvenir of Anthony, a big initialed linen handkerchief, crept desolately into bed. While the sheets were still coid, there was a knock at the door. “Special-delivery letter.” Putting on the light, she opened it, turned to the signature, then back again, her breast rising and falling quickly under her school nightgown. Darling Little Josephine: It's no use. I can't help it, I can’t lie about it. I'm desperately, ter- ribly in love with you. When you went away this afternoon, it all rushed over me, and I knew I couldn't give you up. I drove home, and I couldn't eat or sit still, but only walk up and down thinking of your darling face and your darling tears, there in that vestibule. And now I sit writing this letter The letter was four pages long. Some- where it disposed of their disparate ages as unimportant, and the last words were: I know how miserable you must be, and I would give ten years of my life to be there to kiss your sweet lips good night. When she had read the letter, Josephine sat motionless for some minutes; grief was suddenly gone, and for a moment she was so overwhelmed that she supposed joy had come in its stead. On her face was a twin- kling frown. “Gosh!” she said to herself. the letter once more. She read EVENING POST Her first instinct was to call up Lillian, but she thought better of it. The image of the bride at the wedding popped out at her—the reproachless bride, unsullied, be- loved and holy with a sweet glow. An adolescence of uprightness, a host of friends, then the appearance of the perfect lover, the ideal. With an effort, she recalled her drifting mind to the present occasion. Cer- tainly Mary Warren would never have kept such a letter. Getting out of bed, Josephine tore it into little pieces and, with some dif- ficulty, caused by an unexpected amount of smoke, burned it on a glass-topped table. No well-brought-up girl would have an- swered such a letter; the thing was to ig- nore it. She wiped up the table top with the linen handkerchief she held in her hand, threw it absently into a laundry bag and crept into bed. She suddenly was very sleepy. Iv OR what ensued, no one, not even Con- stance, blamed Josephine. If a man of twenty-two should so debase himself as to try to pay frantic court to a girl of sixteen against the wishes of her parents and her- self, there was only one answer—he was a person who shouldn’t be received by decent people. When Travis de Coppet made a controversial remark on the affair at a dance, Ed Bement beat him into what was described as ‘‘a pulp,”’ down in the wash rocin, and Josephine’s reputation rose to normal and stayed there. How Anthony had called time and time again at the house, each time denied admittance, how he had threatened Mr. Perry, how he had tried to bribe a maid to deliver letters, how he had attempted to waylay Josephine on the street—-these things pointed to the fact that he was a little mad. It was his own family who insisted that he should go West. It was a trying time for Josephine. She saw now how close she had come to disas- ter, and she tried to make up for it to her parents by constant consideration and im- plicit obedience for the trouble she had un- wittingly caused them. At first she decided she didn’t want to go to any Christmas dances, but she was persuaded by her mother, who hoped she would be distracted by boys and girls home from school for the holidays. Mrs. Perry was taking her East to the Breerly School on January third, and in the buying of clothes and uniforms, mother and daughter were much together, and Mrs. Perry was delighted at Josephine’s new feeling of responsibility and maturity. As a matter of fact, it was sincere, and only once did she do anything that she could not have told all the world. The day after New Year's she put on her new trav- eling suit and her new fur coat and went out by her old egress, the side door, and walked down the block to the waiting car of Ed Bement. Downtown she left Ed wait- ing at a corner and entered a drug store

April 5,1950 opposite the old Union Station on La Salle Street. A young man with an unhappy mouth and desperate, baffled eyes was wait- ing for her there. “Thank you for coming,” he said mis- erably. She didn’t answer. and polite. “‘Here’s what I want—just one thing,” he said quickly: ‘‘Why did you change? What did I do that made you change so suddenly? Was it something that hap- pened, something I did? Was it what I said in the vestibule that night?” Still looking at him, she tried to think, but she could only think how unattractive and rather terrible she found him now, and try not to let him see it. There would have been no use saying the simple truth—that she could not help what she had done, that great beauty has a need, almost an obliga- tion, of trying itself, that her ample cup of emotion had spilled over on its own accord, and it was an accident that it had destroyed him and not her. The eyes of pity might follow Anthony Harker in his journey West, but certainly the eyes of destiny followed Josephine as she crossed the street through the falling snow to Ed Bement’s car. She sat quiet for a minute as they drove away, relieved and yet full of awe. He was twenty-two, handsome, popular and sought after, and how he had loved her—so much that he had to go away. She was impressed as if they had been two other persons. Taking her silence for depression, Ed Be- ment said: “Well, it did one thing anyhow—it stopped that other story they had around about you.” She turned to him quickly. story?” “Oh, just some crazy story.” “What was it?”’ she demanded. “Oh, nothing much,” he said hesitantly, “but there was a story around last August that you and Travis de Coppet were mar- ried.” “Why, how perfectly terrible!’’ she ex- claimed. ‘‘Why, I never heard of such a lie. It ” She stopped herself, short of saying the truth—-that though she and Travis had adventurously driven twenty miles to New Ulm, they had been unable to find a minister willing to marry them. It all seemed ages behind her, childish, for- gotten. “Oh, how perfectly terrible!’ she re- peated. ‘‘That’s the kind of story that gets started by jealous girls.” “TI know,” agreed Ed. ‘‘I’d just like to hear any boy try to repeat it to me. And nobody believed it anyhow.” It was the work of ugly and jealous girls. Ed Bement, aware of her body next to him, warm with youth and health, and of her face shining like fire through the half dark- ness, knew that nobody so beautiful could ever do anything really wrong. Her face was grave “What

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WIHY SS SPSS SPAN: THE SATURDAY EVENING POST vipril 5,1930 is GOOD FOR 100,000 MILES OW LONG do—or sheuld—motor H cars last? That was the question which automotive authorities set out to find the answer to a few years ago. In an independent investigation based on government registration figures, these experts discovered that Reo outlasts all other cars of American origin and manu- facture—regardless of price! That, as we said, was a few years ago. Since then Reo has incorporated in the Reo Flying Cloud three important features that make the car last even longer. First. A chrome-nickel alloy cylinder block. Do you know what chrome-nickel alloy is? It's the toughest metal ever used for cylinder blocks. It’s hard—so hard that a file can't bite into it. It has seven times the endurance of the ordinary gray-iron block. That means less valve-seat wear— less grinding—less adjusting. Second. Pistons made of Lo-ex-—a new alloy as light as aluminum, yet tougher than tool steel. ‘‘Lo-ex’’ means ‘‘low expansion’’. Lo-ex pistons expand so little under heat that they can be fitted more tightly in the cylinders. They give less blow-by—more power. And these pistons are so tough, they give freedom from pis- ton slap for twice the distance possible with ordinary pistons. The third and greatest new feature of the Reo Flying Cloud is the Reo Silent-Second Trans- misston. The Reo Silent-Second Transmission reduces engine speed. That means less wear and tear on every part of the motor. And less wear and tear is only another name for longer life. LONG LIFE? NO WONDER! Ard remember! These are added long-life features. Features added to a car that already was good for 100,000 miles. Go over a Reo from radiator to tail-light and you'll find that long life is built into every inch of the car. There isn'ta single part ina single Reo— no, not one single, solitary part—that isn't built to stand 50% to 100% more stress and strain than it will ever be asked to stand in actual use. Take Reo's malleable castings. They're made of /ive metal, new metal, with all its life, all its toughness, all its sinewy strength. There isn't a single ounce of scrap—not one ounce of worked-over, burnt-out metal in the whole car.

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——iie~ Soe ne Take Reo’s forgings. Every single Reo forging is made with the grain. Steel has a grain like wood. Every Reo forging is made so that the strains and impacts come with that grain. You never get a ‘‘cross- grained’’ forging that snaps under stress— not in a Reo! REO'’S BEAUTY, TOO, IS LASTINGI Step into a Reo. Drive that car 50—60— 70 miles an hour. You'll be amazed at the absence of vibration. You know what vibration does to a car. It kills it. Reo knows that—and Reo has beaten it. Do you know how? By balancing every major moving part—from the 7-bearing crank- shaft down to the fan blades—with hair- trigger accuracy. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Reo is a car you'll enjoy driving for many years—and a car you'll be proud to drive for many years. For Reo’s lines, like those of the highest priced cars, do not need yearly changes. The Reo you buy today will still be a distinguished looking car three, four, five years from now. One hundred thousand miles is a tough Yet ata assignment for any car—at any price 100,000 miles are built into the Reo price but little more than you'd have to pay for a one or two-year car. See the REO SILENT-SECOND TRANSMISSION Get behind the wheel of a Reo Flying Cloud and try out the Reo Silent-Second Transmis You can drive in second at 40 miles an hour—as sion. It does almost unbelievable things smoothly, as silently, as in the ordinary high You can drive through city traffic in second all day long—swiftly and silently, without shifting gears once! The Reo Silent-Second Transmission has ended all the grind—all the “feeling in’’ of gears—when you shift. You can shift from second to high at any speed Reo at your dealer's show- and from high back to second . > ) v ; 2 room. Drive it. Discover the REO PRICES at 40—swiftly, surely, with one-fin — . ger case Just gct behind the wheel satisfaction and the economy NOW RANGE ‘ ‘ ; GOOD of a Reo Flying Cloud and try : i cain ; of Owning a Caf that Is l FROM .. $1175 out this transmission. You'll agree — really good — for 100,000 IO . miles! . » $1945 that it is the greatest automotive improvement since the self Starter ey a The REO FLYING CLOUD MODEL 25 REO MOTOR CAR COMPANY Lansing, Mich. « « SPORT SEDAN ..«@ « $1945 f. o. b. Lansing, Michigan ‘ Spare tires extra) EQUIPPED WITH REO SILENT-SECOND TRANSMISSION FLYING CLOUD GOOD fa 100,000 miles

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THE SATURDAY a pet. Why, they’d steal each other’s over- coats to buy clothes for me!” I shed an inward tear for Ikey, one of the best men who ever breathed, and won- dered what had become of his most excel- lent, hard-working wife, and where the boarders were “‘scoffing and dossing”’ now. ““How’s the husband?” I asked presently; for if you wanted to know anything from Sally, I saw, the best way was to be direct, and I wondered if they were still quarreling. She chuckled. “You should have seen that Hugeous wallop a guy that tried to get fresh with me the other day!” she said. ‘“‘That big highbrow can lick nearly everybody that’s one nice thing about Hugeous; he'll wallop anyone I tell him to.” This seemed to promise well for the mat- rimonial situation. But she straightway sighed and confided: “You know, that’s one way I can tell he is still in love with me,” she said. ‘After we've had a lot of rows, I get him to bounce a couple of fast ones off some guy's chin, and then we stage a big reconciliation scene.” She gathered her sketches and got up. “He’s throwing a party tonight,” she said. “His little special gang of nuts. You might waddle in, anywhere from ten o'clock to four in the morning.” She laughed again. “‘They’ve got hold of a real live Russian now,” she said, ‘and they’re worshiping him because he’s a Russian. I think Mr. Hugh Cass is getting a little jealous. But Michael doesn’t know what it’s all about, nor why he’s being wor- shiped—he’s used to Russians himself.” At the party that night I easily identified the Russian because of his evident bewil- derment. He spoke French fluently, but he did not understand English very well, and the talk of Cass’ crowd puzzled him. An enameled blonde, named Nancy, was asking him: “Don’t you think that the same dynam- ically symmetrical rhythms which underlie the work of Archipenko and Stravinsky also make themsel ves felt in the passionate archi- tecture of the Kremlin and the strophes of the Third International?” “Ah, oui!” said Michael. “Oh, yess, yess; a good deal!’’ And added, a little vaguely, I thought: ‘It is the same with your Wall Street, n’esi-ce pas? Up and down-—down and up—rhythmic! Yess?” “What Mike really wants,”’ Sally con- fided to me, “‘is to get to New York some- how and be a bond salesman. He keeps telling them so, but they won't believe him.” Some of them, I learned, assumed that he was a grand duke in exile, and probably one of the charter members of the great order of Rasputin Shooters, Local No. 4; while others assumed that he was a Bolshe- vist agent; all assumed that he must know everything about all The Arts, being Rus- sian. And they were happy—they had their Russian; no little group ir complete unless it has its Russian. Cass’ satellites were the same in Paris as if they had never left Greenwich Village; they sat about at the Café du Dome and La Rotonde, speaking bad French to wait- ers who understood English well enough, and acted superior to al! creation on the strength of the fiction that they were great artists. But the sculptors never sculped, the painters never painted, the poets never wrote verse, the musicians were beyond all instruments, the novelists never produced novels; none of them ever worked. They talked, they theorized, they condemned; principally they condemned people who worked or were American. “Walt Whitman,” one young fellow as- serted -and he seemed quite serious when he said it—“‘was the minor prophet who prepared the way for the splendid creative work of Henry L. Mencken.” “Both Rotarians, my dear!”’ said Nancy, blowing Whitman and Mencken away in the same puff of smoke.

EVENING POST OFF THE ARM Continued from Page 11) Cass set them both right, sonorously, and they all hearkened to him. Cass was dif- ferentiated from the rest of them not only by the fact that he had something in him but also by his touch of the oratorical peda- gogue. And he would have tried to patronize Zeus. His hangers-on took their tone from him, and they all patronized Sally. Sally was the perfect hostess; she mixed drinks capably; she ‘‘rustled the scoffin’s,”’ as she put it, and “dealt ‘em off the arm”’ effi- ciently; and she listened like a charmed bird while her husband laid down the law on-—oneverything. Cass opined that “there might yet develop in the Americar) hinter- land, through a gradual fusion of racial characteristics, that Passion of Dream without which Art is Wingless and Life it- self a Sordid Externaiity.”” The capitaliza- tion was in his voice. He crushed, with a ringing hammer stroke of phraseology, the sculptress who objected to Michelangelo because she found him ‘“‘too American,” and did it in such a way as to patronize Michelangelo as well as America. He stood before the little fireplace, glass in hand, and shook his tawny mane, and released shafts of music among us. “Just listen to that big boy converse,’ whispered Sally to me, while Cass was ex- plaining that ‘the efflorescence of the Na- tional Psyche must always be preceded by multitudinous burgeonings of Fine De- sire.” “T ask you, kid, is that language, or is mamma just a fool, what?’’ murmured Sally, as the harplike voice functioned in accordance with its nature. Her admiration was genuine. She knew that shirt was partly stuffed with nonsense. But his music charmed her too. “You know, Waddle,” she said quite sin- cerely, ‘the nicest thjng about it all is that Hugeous really knows what he’s talking about, too, a good deal of the time!” For the rest of the time—-the time when she herself saw that it was nothing but bright leaves whirling in the wind—she could forgive him, for she loved him. Along about one o’clock in the morning, one of the composers who never composed announced that he had created a new Post- Dadaist music, based on the dance of the electrons, and this statement—harmless enough in itself, it seemed to me— precipi- tated a wrangle. Cass set everybody right again, but they were too busy asking Michael what he thought of it to listen to him. And it was just after this that he began to treat Sally badly. Whether it was because they were paying less attention to him than to their captive Russian; whether he and Sally had re- cently had another row, which she had got over and he hadn't; whether he had had a bit too much to drink; whether her ob- vious adoration began to make him seem a little ridiculous to himself, or for all these causes combined, Cass lost his temper over nothing. “Have another spot of the Psychic Ef- florescence, Hugeous?”’ Sally inquired, tilt- ing a bottle toward his empty glass in a lull in the intellectual racket. He chose to take it as an impertinent criticism of his entire evening’s perform- ance. Several ill-advised satellites laughed. His cheek bones turned red above his beard, and he said: “There is always the impulse to destroy the thing one does not comprehend —the thing or the person!” ““Oh, Hugeous, you know I didn’t mean it that way!’’—and she flung her arms around him. There was another laugh, and feeling sure now that he appeared ludicrous to his would-be-sophisticated friends, he became angrier. “Big boy,” she wailed, “you know I was just kidding you! Be human! I love every ivory tile in your dome!”

April 5,1930 He freed himself from the indignity of her embrace, while the studio roared at them; and :t was apparent that the laugh- ter tore at his vanity like claws. ““We don’t compose well as a domestic picture,” he said as he put her away from him. Then a little glint came in his eyes, and he drawled, looking. about the walls, which were covered with Sally’s sketches and drawings: ‘‘ Not that bad composition would be any novelty in our apartment.” It was a petty revenge for the laceration of his ego, and cruel. “Oh!” said Sally, following his gaze. And everybody looked at Sally’s pictures. Most of them were not very good. Some sketches were wittily conceived, as the one she had made of me, but the drawing was that of a student still uncertain. It was ex- cellent game for her present critics, for Sally had not been influenced by any of the post-futurist, post-cubist fads; she was laboring to get hold of a sound technical method, trying to learn to draw——a thing which these idlers and shirkers instinctively resented. Cass’ voice had delivered her over to them, the echoes responded. They em- broidered the theme. ““Hundred per cent American art,”” mur- mured the sculptress who had objected to Michelangelo. “Why not?” said another. ‘“‘Sally’s go- ing to illustrate books for the Watch and Ward Society.” “*Oh, cripes!”’ said Sally, good-naturedly enough. “I know it’s junk as well as you do; let it go at that!” But they could not let it go at that. And they could not let her remain good-natured. It was not the ordinary comradely banter which fellow journeymen in the arts and crafts know how to give and take. There was a cutting edge to it, and there was in- tended to be. They felt Cass behind them. “Really, now,” said Cass, from time to time, and: ‘‘Oh, but I think you're wrong there.” He affected to check the anvil chorus, but in reality incited it. None of Cass’ crowd liked her, for she saw through them all. “Oh, leave it lay!” said Sally after a while, a little less patiently. ‘‘Just call it tripe and leave it lay!” She was not really ecacerned over the criticism itself, although she recognized the spirit behind it. These people did not mat- ter much to her. But she was growing more and more deeply hurt by Cass’ cruelty in delivering her over to them. She made, however, another effort to carry it off with a laugh. “You sure have got a pack of well- trained bloodhounds, Simon Legree,”’ she said to her husband. “It’s impeccably moral, at least, Nancy, “like Sally.” This got a rise out of Sally. She retorted: **What you really mean, Nancy, is that you think I'll never be an artist because I don’t fuss around with other women’s husbands!” “Sally!” Cass’ voice was ominous. She turned to him. “Well, she brags about it!" she shot at him. There was a hush. They all stood or sat as painfully still as if this had been a mid- Victorian drawing-room, in a queer reversal of their professed attitude. “TI think,” said Cass, “‘that you owe an apology to our guest.” ““You’ve got a couple more thinks com- ing to you, Mr. Hugh Cass,” she said. But they all thought so, or affected to think so, since they did not like Sally. It was amusing, for the girl Nancy, as Sally had said, bragged about her affairs. Most of them expressed an utter scorn of monog- amy; they vaunted the utter freedom of their lives, and even insisted on thrusting a knowledge of their liaisons and infidelities upon a world not in the slightest degree in- terested. “Sally, you owe ———”’ began Cass again. (Continued on Page 90) ” said — Paes : | 1 = 4

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ALL- PENNSYLVANIA MOTOR OIL 35 Cents a Quart _—., (1880, > 1930 ~ FIFTY YEARS a: of Faith, Effort io lL, and Ambition \ to Excel SE ad hat (Jears THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 88) “I owe myself a little rest,’’ Sally inter- rupted. She moved toward the door of her bed- room, looking tired. But in the doorway she flared up again and flung at the whole company: “*Suppose it is bad work —it’s work, any- how —and I never heard of any of you wise- crackers doing any! Except Hugh, and you bootlicking four-flushers are ruining him! Artists! Why don’t you go and arta little? You can tell everybody where they get off, but nobody can tell you; you’ve never been on!” They were taking it in silence—a silence which they meant to be construed as in- finitely contemptuous and superior— but they did not look at each other. “Be sure you’re right, and then go to hell!"’ she concluded, and went into the room and banged the door loudly after her. It was the immature Sally’s idea of an effective exit. I looked about, curious as to whether any of this company, so resoundingly slapped by their hostess, would consider that they owed it to their dignity to get up and leave. But their special kind of dignity did not seem to work that way. In a moment or two they were jamming wind again; only the Russian was uncomfortable. He knew that he had witnessed a scene, and he did not know what its significance was. Cass, with the echoes answering his voice once more, looked so complacently trium- phant because Sally had banged a door and put herself in the wrong that I wanted to assault him. Probably he would lick me, I reflected, but even if my legs are short, I could certainly kick him as high as the shins before he laid me out. But I had a distaste for getting laid out in that company. So I took my hat and overcoat and, under cover of the renewed clamor of intelligence, went out unobserved. For that matter, I had been unobserved all evening. I wrote stuff that sold, and they were above all that sort of thing and ignored my existence. I left the Cour du Dragon and wandered through the network of crooked streets over toward the Seine, thinking of the scene I had left. Possibly Cass had not reflected just how cruel he had been when he allowed his parasites to make game of the girl. He was so used to patronizing Sally, he was so accustomed to their rows and threats of anger at each other, that perhaps it had not occurred to him how much more deeply she would be wounded with all these people present and siding against her. But he should have known; he should have been aware of the continuing affec- tion back of her occasional impertinences At this point in my meditations I was star- tled into a realization of my surroundings by a taxi driver who was playing the usual Parisian game of missing me by the frac- tion of an inch, and then bombing me with grenades of derision for my awkwardness. I had got out upon the Pont Neuf, without noticing where my feet were carrying me, and was in the Place Dauphine, just oppo- site the statue of Henri Quatre, that great and gallant Henry of Navarre, who gazes eternally at the Palais de Justice as if as- tonished at the complicated modern bu- reaucracy intrenched therein—or perhaps he is only wondering idly what makes the taxicabs go. Just as I recognized Henry, a flying shadow passed between me and the base of the statue, and made for the stone coping of the bridge at the point where the steps go down into the little square, behind the mon- ument, which forms the point of the island. It was a woman, and she was already try- ing to clamber up when I rushed and grabbed her— her intention of throwing herself into the river was plain. “What the hell!” I said, excitedly, as I struggled with her, dragging her back. “‘Let me go! Let me go!” she sobbed, squirming in my arms and beating on my face and chest with her fists. The pale illumination, electricity and moonlight weirdly mingled, fell on her face, and I saw that it was Sally. April 5,1930 ““What the hell!” I said again. She knew me at the same moment. “Let go of me, you fat boob, and mind your own business!” she cried hysterically. But suddenly she went lax in my grasp not that she had fainted, but all her energy seemed to leave her. “I shouldn’t have called you a boob, Waddle,”’ she murmured. ““You’re so like a nice plump old uncle.” And then, with a return of her tension and wildness: ‘“‘Oh, Waddle, what shall I do?” “Anything but croak yourself, you poor little simp,”’ I said, in her own favorite vernacular. I looked about. She needed to rest and ery before she went back home—or any- where else, if she never intended to go back home—and the only benches in sight were all too well lighted. I kept hold of her arm and steered her to a shadowed place behind the statue itself. There is an iron fence around the noble Bourbon’s effigy, and she sat on the stone base from which the metal palings spring, with her back against them. I sat beside her, where I could grab her again if she should have a return of the suicidal im- pulse that had sent her scampering to the river. “Now cry,” I said, “but cry as quietly as you can; there’s always a gendarme sooner or later. But maybe you won’t be noticed here for a while.” I was dvliber- ately matter-of-fact, not only for the sake of holding down her emotions but for the sake of my own. Being a contrary person in many ways, she would not at once give way to the burst of weeping she needed, simply because I had invited her to. But every now and then a sob shook and twisted her, although she actually took hold of her throat with her hands, as if to stop them. I busied myself energetically and determinedly s2ying noth- ing. Finally she turned to me belligerently. “He isn’t as mean as you think he is!” she said. ~ “‘He’s mean enough to be taken to pieces with a brick,” I replied. “He'd wallop you to a fare-ye-well be- fore you could even get to him with a brick,”’ she said, almost proudly. “Yes, and you’d stand by and admire him and cheer him on while he did it,” I suggested. She started; she actually giggled. But the giggle got tangled with another sob. “Uh-huh, I would,” she mourned. “If anyone took my part against him, I'd side with him. I’m just that kind of a female fool!” “If ** makes you unhappy, get over it,” I advised. “Listen,” she returned; “I meant it when I said he isn’t as mean as you think he is. He doesn’t know - “Tf he’s mean enough to make you drown yourself, he’s too mean to suit me, stating it mildly,” I said. “He doesn’t know how mean he is; that’s what I’m trying to get across to you.” “He does, too,” I affirmed; “he prac- tices being mean. He enjoys it. It’s his favorite racket.” “No, no!” she wailed. ‘It’s only be- cause he’s got so swell-headed lately that he doesn’t realize how other people must be feeling—that’s it! That rotten gang has spoiled him so he thinks of himself all the time, and he doesn’t know what’s going on inside of me. He didn’t use to be like this at all. You don’t get him, Waddle. He’s mean like a kid’s mean—without really knowing it!” “Oh, that’s it—just a great big jolly in- nocent boy, a great-hearted, simple-minded child.” “You don’t believeit,” Sally cried, “but he really is more like that than you think!” “Well, that’s fine,” I replied. ‘“‘ You run along and apologize to him now, and he’ll be sweet enough to forgive you for trying to drown yourself.” Immediately I wished that I had not said it. For she cried out desperately, “*Oh, he used to love me— Waddle, he really used to love me!” (Continued on Page 93) ! i | | ai | 2 ee ates” aiid —— wwe a Te aaiienl

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eek Vee ee -— 14 wm — wee > pects a, rs ee ae gue Sere >. PB me mee SOL TET IS & eT eT ee Continued from Page 90) Then broke the storm of weeping I had thought would come earlier. She flung her- self upon me in a blind agony of tears, and like a desolate child—the desolate child that she was-—-she buried her face against my shoulder and clutched me and aban- doned herself to her trouble. Presently she said, still shaken and torn with the spasms: ‘Oh, there’s no use try- ing to kid myself any more. He's just sim- ply turned yellow, and I know it! He used to love me! He wasn’t this way! He used to love me before his head got so swelled!” She broke off crying suddenly, gulped and snuffled, and inquired, ‘‘Got a handkerchief, Waddle?” I handed her my handkerchief and said nothing. She was trying valiantly to get control of herself again. She blew her nose and remarked, with an attempt at levity, “I would stage a sob act without the prop- erties; that’s me!” But she could not carry through with that. ““What mace it all so rotten,” she said, at grips with her agony again, ‘“‘was that he knew-—he must have known—how proud I'd been of him all evening! And then turning me over to that gang to pan the way he did, and zs She was inarticulate for a moment. She used the handkerchief again, and wadded it into a little ball and stared at it with her lips working silently. Pretty soon her voice came, with a sigh: ‘“‘He’s changed so!" she said. ‘What made him change? I didn’t change!” She became incoherent again, and I did not try to check her weeping. ‘Just simply tired of me—that’s it!” she managed to say after a while. Presently she got more of a grip on her- self and began to attempt to think it out. ‘Of course,” she said, “I know what the answer is—either lick him or quit him.” “If you quit him,” I said, “what will you do?” She shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’m a good waitress,”’ she replied, ‘‘even if I am a bad artist. I can always go back to dealing them off the arm.” I was glad to see that she had got to the place where she could consider her problem sanely, and I was not much afraid that the suicidal hysteria would seize her again. A person who has just been dragged back from self-destruction is really glad of it, whether he likes to acknowledge it or not, and it is usually a long time before he will face the thought of death again. He has had an escape from a madness that is generally only temporary. “IT don’t want to quit him,” she consid- ered, speaking slow'y. “And if there was some way of walloping him into shape again I wouldn’t have to.” “It'll take some wallop,” I muttered. “Uh-huh,” she agreed; ‘‘it will. But all this stuff you have seen is on top at least, I think it is. It broke out on him like a rash only five or six months ago. It’s what these psychological sharks call a complex, and that basket of ptomaine tomatoes makes him worse and worse. If something puts a dent into his nut and he gets away from those art lice, he’ll be like he used to be.” “If he knew you tried to kill yourself,” I suggested, ‘“‘that might put the dent in him he needs.” She thought this over. ‘‘No,” she de- cided, ‘‘that would be hijacking the big goof. It would be like threatening him that if he didn’t love me, I'd do it again. I want him to love me because he loves me, and not because he’s sandbagged into it. It would be as bad as telling him I was going to have a baby.” ““You’ve considered that “Uh-huh,” she admitted. “‘It’s supposed to be the old sure-fire hokum stuff, isn’t it-leads to the happy ending and all that bunk? You ought to know— you write that kind of apple sauce. But I’m not going to spring the baby racket on him, either; that would be another way of hijacking him. He’d see through it, too, and loathe me for it—and I wouldn’t blame him much.” She ’ 9” THE SATURDAY EVENING POST meditated again, and came out of the silence | with this practical thought: “‘Also, if I tried | the baby racket, and it didn’t work after | all—why, hell’s bells, there’s me with the | baby!” I didn’t think so much of the ultimate | success of a matrimonial adventure where a | girl of nineteen is forced to work her way to | all these worldly wise conclusions, but I | said nothing. “No,” she summed up presently, ‘it’s | either lick him fair, or quit him cold.” “Lick ’em and love ’em,” I suggested. But the thought in my mind was that if she succeeded in dominating Cass she would probably lose interest in him. “Lick ‘em or leave ’em,” she amended. She added, more seriously: ‘I don’t mean that it’s got to be me that licks him— it's better if it isn’t. But something's got to hand him a jolt, or else rr Something between a sigh and a yawn in- terrupted her. “I’m as tired as—as a palooka box fighter in the seventh round,” she murmured, and suddenly leaned against | my shoulder, utterly worn out by the ex- citements and emotions she had passed through. “You're an awful nice little egg, Wad- dle,”’ she said drowsily. “You're an ethical young rip yourself,” I replied. . | ‘Don’t be so stingy with your overcoat,” she muttered. ‘Let me have the tail of it, anyhow.” I gave it all to her. She slumped against my shoulder again. “‘I just simply love you, Waddle,”’ she yawned. “No, you don’t,” I said to myself. “At least not in the way I'd try to make you, if you weren't in this miserable jam.” But I was careful to say it altogether to myself, for what the girl needed was a friend, and not someone who would try to take advantage of the situation created by her rows with Cass. “You're so nice and cushiony, Waddle,” said Sally sleepily. And with that she began to snore. I was rather in a quandary. I did not feel like waking her at once and taking her back home, although she had indicated that she was going to give Cass another chance. The party must still be going on, and her return at the height of it might easily precipitate another row. At the same time I was afraid we might be discovered sitting there by some gendarme who would mistake the character of the situation and become an- noying, if nothing more. But I decided to allow her to sleep, for a while at least, since she was so worn out, and risk it. It would do Cass good if he discovered her gone and worried a bit. Sally clung to her sleep with the persis- tence of a boy of ten who simply refuses to be wakened, even if you shake him; and I did shake her. She would rouse a little and stare at me, murmur incoherently, and lapse at once into deep slumber. So I took pity on her again and let her snore. But when she did awake of herself, she was awake all over, immediately, like a cat. ““Cripes! It’smorning!”’ shecried, spring- ing up. She stood, recollecting. “Why, you poor old tomato!” she said to me. “You must have held me up all night!” We moved slowly from the bridge into the Rue Dauphine. Two or three red- elbowed early washerwomen were already descending to the level of the stream. Birds chirped in the chestnut trees along the Quai Conti; and to the eastward, beyond the towers of Notre Dame, the chilly sky trembled into full daylight. But I was in no lyric mood myself, nor was Sally “‘Back to the army again, sergeant!’’ she said. I was wondering what sort of reception we were going to get almost any kind of husband might be inclined to suggest a word of explanation when his wife came tripping in at dawn with another man. Maybe Sally was thinking of the same thing. The red-eyed concierge and his bearded wife glared at us with a knowing malevolence (Continued on Page 95) ES Your Pipe lets you think ¥z R pipe does help when time comes for the brain to click along on all cylinders. It’s not a matter of stimu- lating brain cells, for then you couldn't think without a pipe. Pipe-smoke just shuts out the little distractions and lets vou concentrate. You move straight to your point—clear- minded, deliberate, certain. swing with all you have. 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Fiherp-meme Pe pea Aan notte “1 es ea 2 pee = aes continesd SS x ’ t ' ; (Continued from Page 93) from their half-open door as we went into the building. Perhaps we were in for a scene. But we need not have worried. Cass was in the living room, which still reeked with the mingled odors of food, liquor, tobacco and candles, and he was sitting on a divan, a drawing board on his lap, with all the windows closed, writing in this stuffy at- mosphere. Paper, crushed and discarded, or approved and smooth, was all about him. There was a complacent smile on his face, and his left hand complacently stroked his beautiful beard. He frowned at us, and took the one hand from the beard and motioned us to immo- bility as we entered; warning us not to interrupt some splendid strophe that was flashing from the mind to the paper. We stood silent for perhaps two minutes. Then he suddenly jumped to his feet. “*Listen!”’ he commanded. And the mag- nificent voice began to chant: “T said to Zeus upon Olympus: ‘If I cease to believe in you, You cease to exist! Without my worship, you are not! And you are fallen, Fallen! The old godheads are fullen! For I no longer give them countenance! You are the past, Ruined godheads, But I, I am the future! I have cast you down! i, I am the future, I —_ sv “Youaren’teither!’’ I interrupted. “ You aren’t even the present!” Sally sank to a chair, and there were both laughter and tears in her voice as she cried, ‘Oh, Waddle, he doesn’t even know I’ve been gone!” It was two years after that morning be- fore I saw the Casses again. I returned to America. In that two years Cass became a celebrity. It was his novel, Mismated, that did it—put him across into the big time, as his wife would have said. Put it down to professional jealousy if you like—and I might as well admit jeal- ousy of Cass, professional! and personal; for I perceive that I can’t keep it out of my narration, no matter how hard I try—set it down to jealousy, then, but the fact is I could not understand why Mismated should be such an instantaneous hit. But a hit it was, undeniably. Half a dozen novels get themselves and their authors widely talked about each year; two or three are remembered a year later and the others forgotten. It was in the spring of 1925 that Cass bounded into gen- eral notice, and in a short time—just a few weeks— he was a lion. Mismated was the story of a genius whose wife did not understand him. The theme appeared to me to be sufficiently thread- bare, and I decided that it must be the manner in which the thing was written that had carr‘ed it. Cass had been jucky enough, or clever enough, to please the public fancy with his method. In this respect he had sent his shaft right into the bull’s-eye of the target. The wife was a distorted version of Sally; and the unfair thing about it, to anyone who knew them, was that he affected to be so fair to her. There was another character in it—a minor character, evidently intro- duced for the sake of comic relief to the major theme—whose name was Roland Paul. Roland Paul was fat and walked with a rolling gait, and the silly, impossible wife of the hero had nicknamed him Roly-Poly. - This Roly-Poly was a sentimental ass who wrote old-fashioned he-and-she stories and believed in them; he fed pigeons in the Luxembourg Gardens with a sirupy smile upon his fat face; he cried publicly when- ever he saw an American flag; he main- tained an enthusiastic belief in the entire THE SATURDAY Santa Claus family; he was middle-aged, but he dressed like a college youth, and he was ridiculous in several other ways. “The son-of-a-gun! He beat me to it!" I said. I was reading the novel for the second time, a few months after its publication. “I wonder if I strike everybody as an ani- mated apple dumpling?” I murmured Well, there was one thing pretty sure, I told myself: Sally must have ceased to love Cass by this time. She had said that some- thing must put a dent in him to make him human again. And nothing had. Quite the contrary. He was more swell-headed than ever. My jealousy of him had not been alto- gether literary. I would have fallen in love with Sally, if there had been any use in it; but a lot of good that would have done me, with her in love with Cass! So I had reso- lutely kept my mind off the idea of it. But now, since there had been a break—and there must have been a break; if not before he had written Mismated, then certainly after Sally had read it—now, since there had been a break — But that was all nonsense, of course! Sally was twenty-one now and I was forty- two. There was something about my being exactly twice her age that made it seem more impossible than if she had been a year or two younger or I a year or two older. Besides, I amused her. My rotundity amused her; my gait amused her; she thought my stories were old-fashioned and commonplace; my baldness amused her. After ten or twelve years of marriage, the fact that a man still amused his wife might count in his favor, but a girl of twenty-one does not marry a man simply because she finds him amusing. Perhaps she would find me still more amusing if I tried to make love to her. Fat men are commonly supposed to enjoy jokes on themselves, but in reality they are among the most sensitive of God's more unfortunate creatures. To propose—and have Sally giggle? Just the same, I wanted to see her. I had no idea whether she was still in Paris, or whether she had returned to America or where she might be living. I sought out people who might have known the Casses here or abroad, and made very guarded in- quiries. But it was all of no avail. When I finally discovered her, it was by accident. She was waiting on tables again in a res- taurant. Food has always mattered to me, and it has frequently been suggested that there may be some direct connection be- tween that fact and my weight. Like a good many other unattached New Yorkers, it is one of my favorite diversions to scout around for places to eat, something differ- ent, something interesting, something rea- sonable in price, being the optimistic wish. It had been five or six years since I had made any extensive investigations in Green- wich Village, although I live in an apart- ment on the outskirts of that region when I am in New York; and I was eating my way though an assortment of Black Parrots, Flying Rabbits, and so forth, when I found Sally in a dim abode of hopeful artifice which called itself The Smugglers’ Cave. “Oh, Waddle, you old darling!" cried Sally, and gave me a candid, smacking kiss. She was dressed, as were her fellow wait- resses, in what a costumer would inevitably put on the chorus girls for the more clothed numbers of a musical comedy entitled The Smugglers or The Buccaneers, or something of that sort. “Tell me everything,” down. “Well,”’ she said brightly, “I'm dealing ‘em off the arm again!” “Do you dare to sit down?”’ I asked her. “*T want to know all about you."’ She didn’t look much more mature than she had a cou- ple of years before, and her costume gave her an additional touch of jauntiness; in one and the same instant I was more in love with her than ever, and more thor- oughly aware of the absurdity of encourag- ing such ideas in myself. “It’s just the hour when everybody ties on the nose bag,”’ she said, looking around I said as I sat EVENING POST doubtfully; “I shouldn't sit down with you.” But she did it anyway. “If a dump like this is going to be formal, it might as well sign off,”” she remarked “Tell me about yourself,” I insisted “Well,” she began, “I guess you had better come backstage.” She steered me into the kitchen and in- troduced me to the amplest negress I have ever seen. Aunt Caroline--the boss, as I soon divined — pased, surprised, at my en- trance, with a varving knife in one hand and what looked like a sheep in the other—or perhaps it was an ox, for the effect was as if a colored Statue of Liberty had halted some gigantic culinary operation to roll the whites of enormous eyes at me. “Aunt Caroline,” said Sally, distinguished writer, Mr. leigh.” I expressed my gratification at meeting Aunt Caroline, and Aunt Caroline mur- mured some polite social nothing in re- sponse, but this did not seem, somehow, to get the presentation over with. It hung in the air. There was an appreciable interval during which she sized me up. And the whole kitchen— it was a very large room, as befitted Aunt Caroline, and clean, and in- habited by six or seven of her underlings, all colored-—-paused, its work suspended, to take me in, and see what effect I was going to have upon the evident potentate of these dominions. I felt as if Aunt Caroline were capable of substituting myself for the ani- mal she was disjointing if she took the notion. “’Stinguished fo’ what, Miss Sally?”’ in- quired the poised Aunc Caroline. The question was direct, but »he tone and man- ner were polite and deferential—and yet the deference was quite perfunctory; her judgment was still in abeyance. I was dip- lomatically received, but not yet socially accepted. “Distingsished for appetite, for one thing,” said Sally. The half-dozen assistants permitted themselves a few bars of noncommittal Af- rican laughter, melodious but tentative But Aunt Caroline’s gaze melted into the sympathetic look of one food lover to an- other. Her sudden grin flashed upon me the barbaric splendor of teeth alternately gold and ivory, and broke up the dark landscape of her face into hummocks of geniality Nevertheless, she had the importance of her position to maintain. “Yo’-all desires to write somethin’ about my restaurant, Mr. Wadleigh?”’ ‘‘We want to talk a few minutes, Aunt Caroline,” said Sally; “‘and we don't want to wait till I'm through at midnight.” Aunt Caroline looked a little disap- pointed; she had evidently thought I was a reporter and that she was gcing to get some publicity. But she rose majestically to the occasion; she asked us to dinner “Yo’, Jeff!’’ she cried to one of her as- sistants, with an assumed ferocity. “‘Why- for yo’ standin’ dead there, with grave clay weightin’ down yo’ feet? Why ain't yo’ settin’ a table fo’ Miss Sally an’ her frien’? In the back yahd, fool! In the back gah- den! Was yo’ fixin’ to ask Miss Sally an’ her frien’ to eat in the kitchen?” This was not the tone which proprietors, of whatever color, commonly used concern ing waitresses; and I perceived at once that there must be some special relationship be- tween Sally and Aunt Caroline. She let her business go hang while she established us in the back yard, which boasted a single sooty tree and narrow strips of discouraged flower bed between its cobbled central square and the encircling high board fence. I had been hunting unusual places to eat, and now | had found one, truly; and I enjoyed the idea of dining here rather than in the abode of fake bohemianism within “I love that old dinge!”’ said Sally, gaz- ing after Aunt Caroline, as the latter moved with titanic stateliness into the kitcher again. “‘She just about saved little Sally's valuable existence last winter! And she's treated me, ever since, like she was working for me, instead of me for her! You'd think “meet the Gerald Wad- (Continued on Page 97 “I'll say it's easy to remove... Send for free samples and see for yourself OU can't beat Sealright Littright Caps for quick action in opening milk. No trouble—no splashing— not a drop of the rich top cream wasted! The patented groove at the tip of the tab makes it easy to raise. Then the cap lifts right out in a flash! No opener needed. Liftrights keep the goodness in and fingers out. Sealright Liftright Caps are used by progressive dairies everywhere. If the dairy you buy milk from does not use them, send us the coupon below, giving the dairy'’s name and address, and we'll send you free samples of these better caps for home use on your bottled milk. SEALRIGHT oe a FOR FR SAMPLES Sealright Co., Inc., Dept. SP-4, I N.Y Please send me free samy t Sealright Liitrigt Milk Bottle Cap Name Addr« Name Da Addr lu (anada—tanadian Seairig ( lid Pe borough, Ont MAIL THIS TODAY

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en he Oe | i | | (Continued from Page 95) she was born on my ancestral plantation— and me, I’ve never been any farther south than Atlantic City!” Aunt Caroline was back with a bottle of homemade wine in her great fist, which she set proudly on the table. “Trifle yo’ time away with that, Mr. Wadleigh, till I gets yo’ chicken fried,” said Aunt Caroline. There must have been something psychic here, for no word con- cerning fried chicken had been uttered. But I had known at once, without a word spoken, that Aunt Caroline must be a fin- ished fried-chicken artist of the elder school, and without a word she had seen in me an appreciative patron of her art. Speaking of the wine, she explained that she bought the grapes and made it herself, following ritual and recipe learned many years ago in Tallapoosa, Georgia. And she went into the kitchen again, like the Ma- jestic docking. “*She’s nearly seventy, though she doesn’t look it, and she’s been in New York nearly twenty years,” said Sally. “She doesn’t like New York colored people so well, she tells me, and she gets homesick for the South sometimes; though she never goes back there. She said she was ‘kind of honin’ an’ cravin”’ for some white child to pet and fuss over when she picked me up off the floor one day last winter.” “Off the floor?” I interjected. But Sally merely nodded and went on. “T guess the first fifty years of her life she’d always had some young miss or other she’d waited on and worshiped. She raises merry hell with everyone else around here. But with me— well, she’s trying to make me quit using slang, Waddle! It hurts her because I haven’t got any manners or back- ground or family. She grieves over it, be- cause she says that way down deep in me somewhere there’s quality! Yesterday she looked at me and said: ‘Maybe yo’ ain’t too old yet, Miss Sally, to go to one of these here behavin’ schools and learn com- plete ladyness.’”’ “She picked you off the floor?” I per- sisted, more immediately interested in that than in Aunt Caroline’s psychology. ‘‘ What floor, and how did you get there?” “Floor inside—fell there,” said Sally briefly. I still looked my inquiry. She put on a flippant bravado of manner as she ex- plained: ‘‘No job. Sick. Busted. No eats. Sob-sister stuff. Virtuous working girl comes in seeking honest employment. Smells food. Emotions overwhelming. Goes into a nose dive. Crashes. Out! Aunt Caroline speeds to rescue. Eats. Job. Pro- motion to cashier’s job pretty soon. Pos- sible partnership later. Regulation Gerald Wadleigh, Cinderella-slush story, happy ending! And,’’ she concluded, “if you were to say just one word in disparagement of that bronze monument’s li'l’ Sally, Waddle, she’d investigate the color of your insides with that big carving knife!” “So Cass left you in the lurch as soon as he became famous?’’ I said. Just then Jeff and Aunt Caroline arrived with candles for the table and the first deploys and outposts of the dinner. When we were alone again I repeated the question. “No, Hugh didn’t leave me in the lurch,” Sally said. She smiled a little wryly at me. ‘You'll never understand that big highbrow, Waddle. Hugh wouldn’t ditch me. If he had ditched me, he would have had something to reproach himself for. And he can’t stand reproaching himself—he’s too high-minded! Sabe?” “No, not exactly.” “‘Hugh’s got more on the ball than you have, Waddle; he’s a good deal cleverer in some ways. He didn’t do anything as low- down as ditching me; he managed and maneuvered things so I would ditch him! Do you get me?” “Humph! I don’t see much difference,” I said. ‘All the difference in the world to Hugh,” she replied; “‘he’s an idealist, you know.” “However he may have managed it,” I said, “it was a pretty rotten thing to pull just as soon as he made good.” THE SATURDAY “You’ve muffed it again,” she said. “Hugh wouldn’t pull it like that. He pulled it just before! You see, he knew he was going across into the Big Time before he did. He had that hunch, and he played it. Desert the little woman just when he got over? Not Hugh! Too foxy for that! He got everything all washed up first!” “Leaving you to starve and fall on floors,”” I commented. “Three wild swings, and out,”’ she said. “Hugh wouldn’t leave me to starve; he tried to make me an allowance.” She paused briefly, and then went on, with a touch of heat and bitterness: “‘ You don’t suppose, after I left him, I'd take any of his money, do you?” “Divorce?” “Paris. Simpler and quicker there. Then I came to New York.” We fell silent. Presently Aunt Caroline came, a dark tower looming through the twilight, and deposited her achievement on the table. She gave me a doubtful back- ward glance as she left; as if wondering whether to hold me directly responsible for Sally’s subdued mood. Sally began to eat; I imitated her. I have no doubt that it was the perfect fried chicken that Aunt Caro- line was created to disburse amongst man- kind. But I shall never know, for I was thinking more than I was eating. There had been bitterness in Sally’s tone a few minutes before, but I did not know whether she was free of Cass, mentally. And I wanted to know. “‘Hugh’s noble heart broke when I left,” said Sally after a while. “The only thing that reconciled him to it at all was that it was all for my good. Sabe? I'd been aw- fully unhappy with him, and now I would have a chance to be happy! Get it, Waddle? He slicked it all up like that for himself!" “The crook!” I said. ““What you don’t get,” she replied siowly, “is that he believes all that marmalade.” She added: “It would be funny, if it wasn’t so She choked and did not finish. Perhaps it was food that choked her. I was afraid not. “You'd fall for him yet, Sally,” I said dully —‘“‘even now!” “No,” she answered soberly, “I’m through! I’ve got my independence back, and I’m going to keep it. The cheese was never ripened that could coax this little mousie into a trap again!” “And when you say cheese,” ““T hope you mean cheese limburger!”’ ’ I replied, that big blond EVENING POST She looked down at her plate. “‘ Yes, he is,” she murmured. “He's everything you know he is, and I know he is! But what you don’t see is that he’s a lot of other things too.” I had never been more in love with her than at that moment. Of course, it was absurd, it was no use But was it so absurd after all? Why need it be? My courage rose. “Sally " I began. And stopped. For she made an odd, appealing gesture. She knew what was coming. “Don’t, Waddle,” she begged, staving it off —‘‘ don’t!” “Why not?” Ali this was going wrong. It wasn't the dialogue I had meditated at all. I had felt stirring within me an impas- sioned proposal, an aggressive presentation of reasons why she should marry me; and she was rejecting it before I could utter it. There was something in her manner that tied my tongue. There was a great kind- ness on her face, but it was not a promising kindness. I felt one of the cruciai moments of my life passing me so swiftly that it would never even get into words; it rushed by, it was flung past me by her gesture, and I was left saying stupidly: “Why not?” It was already gone, and I varied the form of the inquiry to a phrase that looked after it: “‘Why didn’t you want me to, Sally?” “Because,” she said, with her candid brown eyes asking me to comprehend her “because I love you so much, Waddle, that I didn’t want to have to tell you that I didn’t love you.” And there it was, and that was it, and that was all of it. Love —and love. Witha difference. She loved me —as a friend and a comrade and a kind of affectionate middle- aged step-uncle. And there was no doubt of her love. It was genuine and it was warm and it was mine. Only it wasn’t the kind of love I felt for her. I wanted her for a lover and a wife. But her passion she had given to Cass. And when she got over her passion for him—if she hadn’t already got over it she would give the same thing again to some younger man, as was right and natural. But not to me. We sat and looked at each other, and we knew all this, both of us, and we knew that it was irrevocable. There were two ways that I could take it. I could realize at once that it was irrevocable. Or I could make a nuisance of myself by pursuing the girl, by bringing it up again and again; I could worry her and tire her. I might even catch her in some hour of defeat and try to batter her into a marriage that would save her | , 4 DONALD **Honest, it’s Spring, Stubby. ae ; give a may jad ! cy i r . iy Be A 3 : : - , ‘- 4 res . Le" a. ~ “df - "Sau ¥ ~ Ya Can Teli by the Way the Moiders is Pickin’ Up” from poverty and struggle. But I didn’t want that kind of marriage. And I really knew better than to offer any such bribe as comfort and a secured life to Sally —she had never been to “one o: these here be- havin" schools,” and she might not fulfill Aunt Caroline’s ideal of mmplete lady- ness,”” but she was not the sort of woman you bribe. “All right, Sally,” I said, “the propos- al’s dead. We'll just leave it lay.” It was thus, to the accompaniment of clattering pots and pans and plates from Aunt Caroline’s kitchen, that Roly-Poly's romance sang its one brief wingless lyric into the sooty dusk, and fell on silence evermore —lifeless as a piece of cold fried chicken. Being used to appearing somewhat ridiculous to many persons may be, I dis- covered at this moment, something of an asset—that is to say, though it hurt me badly enough, it did not hurt my vanity as much as if I had been accustomed to seeing myself as a conquering spirit “You're smoking it like a darling, Wad- die,” said Sally. I saw Sally once after that, and then I took an assignment from a magazine to do a series of articles about certain aspects of economic development in Centra! America, and was gone three months collecting the material When I got back to New York I hurried around to The Smugglers’ Cave, and found that there wasn’t any Smugglers’ Cave any more. In the place where it had been was something that called itself The Mermaids’ Grotto. I tried in various ways to ‘get trace of Sally again, and then it occurred to me that I was a fool for my pains. She knew where and how to reach me, and if she wanted to hear from me, all she had to do was to write. But it was more than three years before I saw her again Cass I met once or twice that next win- ter, but he paid little attention to me. He was doing a lot of lecturing. He was going strong. There was talk in the literary re- views about his next book. Then I saw ina newspaper that he was going to Hollywood to supervise the making of a moving picture from Mismated. There was a characteris- tic interview in which Cass announced that he was going out to the Coast to revolu- tionize the art of the cinema. “Well, there are some thirty-minute eggs out there,”’ I said to myself when I read Cass’ proclamation that the movies were to come into their own at last, artistically. “‘] wonder how far they'll let him get with that?” I began to hear less of him. In the winter of 1925-26 nearly everybody knew who Cass was-—at least they had heard the name. In the summer of 1926 a great many people still remembered. In the season of 1926-27 a mention of him would call forth a remark such as: “Oh, yes, Hugh Cass Didn’t he write a book—Misjudged, or something?”’ In the autumn of 1927 the remark might be: “ He wrote a book, didn’t he? Or was it a play?” There hadn't been any second book, and even the reviewers, getting no further no tices from the publishers, forget him them- No picture made from Mismated was ever released. His had been a sudder success, but it had not been followed up it lapsed with a completeness and a com parative rapidity surprising to anyone who selves. has not had occasion to observe these phe nomena Of course, those people wh had been acquainted with Cass himself remembered, and now and then they ked one al other, no doubt Wha er vecame of Hugh Cass?”’ But, three years after the success of Mismated, t t was about al I would searcely ever have thought of him myself, if it had not been that I thought ofter of Sa And if anyone had told me that I should ever think of Hugh Cass with even a mo mentary sympathy, I should have snorted at the suggestion But that tu “arme ebout TO BE CONCLUDEI

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as THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MODERN BUSINESS CONDITIONS demand the speed, protection to profits, and elimination of detail work that the products of The National Cash Register Company give. For nearly 50 years this company has been meeting changing conditions with new and efficient machines for business control. Today its products meet every need ... in every business... in the handling of money and the keeping of records. Some merchants require a simple type of indicating, total adding cash register. They find it in the National line, with every function and feature their business demands, at the lowest possible price. Others need registers which keep separate totals by clerks or departments, print receipts and certify sales slips, have cash drawers for each clerk, mechanically add the items of a sale and print the totals within the machine. In every case, National Cash Registers fill the demand. Banks, general offices and instalment houses have brought us their bookkeeping and posting problems. They find the solution in National Accounting Machines and National Posting Machines. Merchants want quick authorization on charge sales, with com- plete control by the credit office. They install the National Credit Authorizing System, which gives 20-second service. National Cash Register products speed up business wherever they are in use. Simplify accounting methods. Provide protection. Stop mistakes in addition. Furnish printed, machine-made records. Ask the nearest National Cash Register Company office to show you how they will save time, money and effort in your business. th NAS Pe Ae: | COUCCCA ,. 2. 2 OUTST AN BEER SE April 5,19350 : Nationat Casu Natrona, Accounting will save time, money and effort BANKS are standardizing on National Posting Ma- chines for handling savings accounts . . . to insure that the depositor’s passbook, the teller’s journal and the bank’s ledger card are always correct, al- ways the same and always in balance. COMMERCIAL OFFICES find in National Accounting Machines a complete line for meeting every book- keeping need . . . for producing accurate, printed records quickly and at a reduction in operating cost. RETAIL STORES install National Cash Registers be- cause they furnish maximum speed and protection in the handling of every transaction . . . improve service to customers, make work easier for sales- people, and give the proprietor easier supervision and closer control of his business. TRANSPORTATION LINES operating motor coaches and interurban cars find the National Fare Register the solution to their fare-collecting problems .. . and gain new protection and economy through the public indication, printed ticket and printed trip sheet. CREDIT DEPARTMENTS use the National Credit Authorizing System to get an accurate record of goods sold on credit . . . tefore the merchandise leaves the store. reaneww?w?ceEeR @ DAYTON SH i a 4 | se OT at . PTT na EO a ome ret , a : : :

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100 MOTORISTS WISE TRADE MARA BEC us. ear OFF the secret of keepin ears looking new and” beautiful 36,560 = MILES A OOKS LL Many years age the L KS Spanish adventurer, NEW ayy ry cal Fountain of Youth that was said to wash away the tell-tale marks of time and re- store the vigor and freshness of youth. “IMONIZING IS the “Fountain of Youth” for the motor cars. It makes cars look new again, and keeps the finish bright and beauti- ful for years. New cars should ized before being driven very far. Don’t wait until dullness and dis- coloration warn you that the finish of your car is in danger and needs Simoniz. The sooner any car is Simonized the bet- ter—for Simoniz protects the finish, makes it last long- er, and keeps col- ors from fading. It's easy to Simoniz acar. Simoniz Kleener quickly and easily removes all grime, discolorations and blem- ishes—truly the only way of restoring the lustre and making the finish look new again. Then, Simoniz provides | that wonderful protection. Insist on Simoniz and Simoniz Kleener | —and your car will always look new | and beautiful. THE SIMONIZ COMPANY CHICAGO, ILLINOIS “EASILY APPLIED WITHA always be Simon. | THE SATURDAY | family. It was said of a distinguished judge, some dozen years later than the commencement of Jan’s voyage, that he could journey from Albany to New York, in saddle by summer, in sleigh by winter, and neither spend a night nor eat a meal in any other house than that of a near relation. But this was commonplace to Jan. It was a condition into which he had been | born, which seemed to him as natural and | permanent as the very hills which walled in the mighty stream. It was not until ten days had passed that | Jan, sailing past the lofty ramparts of the Palisades, guided his little sloop toward the easterly rocky shore and neared his desti- ' nation. Other hours passed before he came abreast of the little city, which appeared in his astonished eyes as immense, tremen- dous, awe inspiring. He crept along the shore, scarce daring to land, eying with amazement anchored ships which brought their cargoes from all quarters of the world to the metropolis of the infant republic. The sun was inclining toward the west when he ventured to point his craft toward the shore, watched by a group of loungers upon the wharf, and in obedience to a com- mand, “ Pass your line, lad,”” found himself tied to the island of Manhattan, the exact spot being Peck Slip between Pearl and Water streets. “Where from, lad?” asked the lounger who had taken his line. “Albany,” said Jan briefly. “Dutchman, eh? How’s his majesty the | patroon?”’ | “In good health,” answered Jan, ac- | cepting the question as one naturally to be | asked. He clambered ashore and stood awk- ward, undecided. He was here. But what next? With gray eyes brightened by excite- ment, he peered about him eagerly. At his right was a considerable knot of people who were harangued by an individual with rau- cous voice, an auctioneer plying his vocal trade. “What goes on?” he asked. “Auction. Household furniture. Part of the cargo of the Star of Egypt.” “Is it permitted to leave my sloop here?”’ “T'll give ye a hand. We'll haul her along out of the way, lad, and she’ll be all right.” “Where,” asked Jan presently, ‘will I find lodgings?" He hesitated, and then added, ‘‘Where merchants lodge.” “Merchants, eh? And are ye a mer- | chant?” “No,” said Jan. | “Hemight try Dan McCormick’s in Wall Street,” said a second fellow, “if his purse is deep enough.” To this Jan made no reply; it was not for him to divulge the state of his finances | to any stranger who might ask. He con- | tented himself with asking the way to Mr. McCormick’s house, and presently, with what spare wearing apparel he owned, was | walking through the city’s ill-kept, muddy | ways—a mud in which the hogs of the citi- | zenry were allowed to wallow—toward that street where one day his name and the names | of his descendants were to rank among the | greatest. “Where merchants lodge.” In that phrase Jan Van Horn pronounced one of | the keynotes of his character. His way it always was to seek the fountainhead of such knowledge as he desired. Information | which came to him at secondhand or by hearsay would not suffice. His actions | must be based upon certainty, if certainty could be established. First learn, then act. It might have been the motto of his house. | He knew what he wanted to do; how to ac- complish it was a secret from him; there- | fore he would place himself in the vicinity of those who knew, and by listening and by | questioning he would learn. Jan rang Mr. MecCormick’s bell, which | was answered by a colored servant, a slave, EVENING POST HARD MONEY (Continued from Page 5) and the boy, in his rough homespun gar- ments, with his pack of clothing, was ad- mitted dubiously to the parlor, to which Mr. McCormick presently came. “Well, my lad?” he asked pleasantly. “Do merchants lodge here?” asked Jan. Mr. McCormick smiled. ‘‘ Mr. Elain and Mr. Glover and Mr. Smart live in this house,”’ he said. “Tf you will take me,” said Jan, “I will lodge here too.” “There are cheaper places,’ Mr. McCormick. “IT would not find merchants in such houses,”” answered Jan. “‘And merchants are necessary?” “Tin, ae.” The keeper of the lodgings was amused; the boy puzzled him and interested him; besides, there was a tiny room at the top of the house which might be let at a nominal figure by a kind-hearted man to a boy who seemed to know what he wanted. “T can give you a room,” he said, “for four dollars a week, and one dollar extra for washing, if that is satisfactory.” “Will I eat with Mr. Elain and Mr. Glover and Mr. Smart?” “At the common table,” assured Mr. McCormick. “*T will lodge here,” said Jan. Jan was shown to his room, where he deposited his belongings and descended quickly to the street. Time was not to be wasted indoors when so much was to be seen that was new and enlightening. For a couple of hours he walked about the city unaffronted by the unspeakable condition of the hog-frequented streets. New York was not clean, its sanitation was rudimen- tary, it looked forward confidently to an- nual plagues and epidemics, and it had not yet recovered from the ravages of the Rev- olution. He passed the residence and counting- house of Nathaniel Prime, New York’s first private banker, at No. 1 Broadway, on his way to the Battery—Prime who dealt in usury and extraordinary commissions for the discount of long paper. Many times in after years was Jan to cross that threshold, but that was hidden from him today. He stood upon the Bat- tery and looked out upon anchored ship- ping, and his reflection was not upon far-flung commerce but upon another as- pect of the matter. “Tf,” he thought, “merchandise comes from over the world to this city, then there must be great use of money here.” It was money that interested him, not ships or goods. Money as money! A commodity in which to deal as other men dealt in linens or in tea or in furs. Hastily he trudged back to Wall Street in time for the evening meal, and diffidently, apple cheeks more flushed than even was their wont, he waited for Mr. McCormick to conduct him into the dining room. Here, by his smiling host, he was presented to his three fellow boarders, the city merchants Elain and Glover and Smart. “Gentlemen,” said Mr. McCormick, “this is Mynheer Jan Van Horn, of Albany, who has come to learn our ways—especially the ways of our merchants.” “You wish to become a merchant?” asked Elain courteously. “No, sir,”” answered Jan, “but I wish to know what merchants know.” “And what,” asked Glover, “do mer- chants krow that would be useful to a young man who does not wish to be a mer- chant?” “They know about money,’ “How to deal in money.” “You wish, then, to deal in money?” “Yes, sir,” said Jan briefly. “To be a banker?” asked Elain. A banker! Jan had not thought of that. Banks he did not know except in vaguest way. A banker! Already his four dollars a week with an extra dollar for washing was paying him a return. , suggested said Jan. April 5,19350 “What does a banker do?”’ he asked. “The function of a banker,” said Glover, “tis to gather the small and almost useless savings of the people, so that they may be loaned in larger sums for the carrying on of business.” “And,” added Smart, “the issuance of paper money to swell the available currency and increase the amount of usable wealth.” In this Smart asserted the almost uni- versal theory that the function of issuing paper money was not only inherent but the greatest service a bank could render to the community. From this fallacy sprouted and grew rankly those financial ills which vexed the country and brought to the verge of ruin, time and again, the ensuing gener- ation. But it was too deep for Jan. He pondered it, but did not understand it. The gentlemen turned from him to one another and in the ensuing conversation his presence was forgotten, but his ears re- mained open. Commodities, their prices, their volume were discussed. And their source. Auctions! Jan learned that it was common practice for the cargoes of incum- ing vessels to be sold at public vendue. An extraordinary proportion of business orig- inated from foreign goods imported in the holds of sailing vessels, offered in lots on dock or sidewalk by one of the city’s forty- three auctioneers, to be purchased by local merchants and resold in their places of business at retail. Perhaps the principal center of this traffic was at the Coffee House, though Peck Slip, Burling Slip, Old Slip, Vesey Street, Fulton Street and Broad Street were also permitted to the auction- eers, provided they did not use more than one-third of the cartway or resort to bell- man, crier, fife and drum, or any other musical entertainment, to attract pur- chasers. Jan listened to accounts of purchases and sales, of bargains found and quick turn- overs accomplished, of money made. He heard discussed the hard terms imposed by Mr. Prime for a loan to a certain merchant which that gentleman must accept because of the arrival of a cargo of goods. Jan’s gray eyes lighted. Here was an example of money making money. Again Mr. Elain addressed the boy. “If it is knowledge you are seeking,” he said, “T would advise you to visit the Coffee House with open eyes and ears. Acquaint yourself with the prices of commodities at the auctions; then, if you desire, you may come to my place of business.” He chuckled. ‘I might even find work for a capable and ambitious lad.” “Thank you, sir,” said Jan, and then, the meal being at an end, he ascended to his little room and went to bed, for he was ac- customed to retire with the sun, that he might arise with its reappearance. During the ensuing days Jan discovered that it was of more advantage to him to concentrate his attention upon the Coffee House auctions than to run from slip to slip. There an amazing variety of the ar- ticles of commerce was exposed for sale, and of many of these Jan did not even know the names. But he found that a courteous boy received courteous replies to sensible questions. His back-country shy- ness left him by degrees, so that he was able, without stammering, to inquire the aame of this commodity or the fair price of that or the figure which it should bring when offered by a merchant at retail. What he heard he remembered. This was an as- set of Jan’s which was to prove useful to him and sometimes troublesome to his antag- onists. He never forgot. Years after an important conversation had taken place he could repeat it word for word—a faculty which sometimes proved embarrassing to gentlemen who desired to recede from a position. An idea was forming in the lad’s broad head. He carried it to his room, where he sat on the edge of his bed and considered it (Continued on Page 102) | oa ys ny ee gn ere ~~ een Ee neem ee |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 101 I SUPER SENSITIVE 2SUPER- SELECTIVE 5 SUPER FIDELIT ¥ OF TONE You must have all three radio reception . a only the SUPER-HETERODYNE Can give them to you en — eer The Radiola Super-Heterodyne is the result of ten years of research by the world’s greatest radio en- gineers to produce the most perfectly balanced instru- ment for home use. The marvel of the Super-Heterodyne—an exclusive RCA development—is its incomparable tone quality with the super-sensitrvity and super-selectivity de- manded by modern broadcasting conditions. ane gl Only the Super-Heterodyne gives you these three eee necessary essentials of perfect radio re« eption ima single instrument. That is why this famous leader of the Radiola line is the choice of those who seek the finest radio for all reception requirements. The Radiola Super-Heterodyne is no longer a lux- ury to be enjoyed by a few fortunate owners. Radiola engineers have solved the problem of its high cost of manufacture. Today a fine Radiola Super-Heterodyne costs little more than an ordinary radio set. The table model with the latest chassis design is pri ed so low that every home can afford to own one. The beautiful cabi- net model with the Radiola electro-dynamic reproducer of amazing musical range is one of the greatest values ever offered in fine radio. Don't deny yourself the best in radio. Your choice of these moderately priced Radiola Super-Heterody nes may be purchased on the very convenient Radiola Time Payment Plan. And you will have a real musical instrument that you will be proud to own. Radiola Division RCA Victor ¢ sompany . Ine. ° e e RCA RADIOLA 60 Super-Heterodyne, table model £08 RCA RADIOLA 66 Super-Heterodyne with blectro-Dynami Reproducer in cabinet “] RCA RADIOLA 67 Special combination of the Radiola Super -He terodyne, Electro-D namic Reproducer and ph mograph for electrical reproduction of records. $690 é Py Ld | ‘ _ ae ‘iia peas bin Guid g , eA) cant RCA RADIOL TUNE IN—THE RCA VICTOR HOUR, EVERY THURSDAY NIGHT, OVER A COAST-TO-COAST NETWORK OF THE N. B.C. 7 iia? Copyrighted 1930 Look for and insist upon the RCA Victor Co., Inc. famous RCA trade-mark

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THE SATURDAY Alert Men right oc Changing to New Kind of Shoe to get New Kind of Comfort ERFECT fit, fine leather, tasteful style, no longer are enough to satisfy men who can afford the best. Every thousands of them are changing from brands worn tor years. Thev have heard about the new “Active Com- tort offered only by Arch Preserver Shoes and want it! Ics comfort that energizes, exhilarates—comfort that keeps the foot from tiring. So different from comfort that s nothing more than freedom from pain Nerves, muscles and blood-vessels enjov barefoot freedom on the Arch Preserver flat inner sole The natural springiness of the step is stimulated by the } / moulded Arch Preserver metatarsal support The long arch retains its youthful strength and buovancy, all strain and stress being absorbed by the concealed Arch Preserver arch bridge These and other exclusive features are found only in the Arch Preserver Shoe. They cannot be duplicated because they are patented. Distinguished styles and choicest ma- terials in Custom Grade at $12.50 and up. Other grades $10. E. T. WRIGHT & CO., INC Dept. S-116, Rockland, Mass Also makers of the Wright Shoe. $8. r¢ up Every alert man should read about ‘Active Comfort’’—the new idea in fine footwear. Send for booklet and name of nearest FRESERVER SHOE FOR MEN EVENING POST (Continued from Page 100 from all angles. In imagination he carried out his transaction from beginning to end, and then he scrutinized it for error. It was his plodding, certain way —a plodding way illuminated at times with sudden inspira- tion. Perhaps it would be more veracious to say that it started with inspiration and then proceeded to fruition by careful move- ments, by mulling over every detail, by drawing a mental map of the entire project, and then by following that map as a , capable mariner follows his charts. Jan had discovered, among other useful facts, that the officers of vessels in the Can- ton trade were allowed to make private ventures for their own profit. When, on the following Monday, the Empress of Cathay warped into Derby dock, Jan was on hand to witness the arrival of this ship from her long voyage around the Horn, with her cargo of teas—bohea, hyson, Souchong, cas- sia—with hides and chamois skins and buckskins, with wine and china and ban- danna handkerchiefs and muslins. The boy awaited his opportunity and addressed the mate. ‘““Have you got an adventure, mister?” Jan had learned the correct title of address for such personages. “T’ve got ten chests of bohea and six of Canzo, besides a dozen packages of ban- danna handkerchiefs,” replied the officer with satisfaction. “* Mister,” said Jan, ‘if you'll let me have some samples I can get a better price for -you than you’d get at the auction. You give me samples and hold that tea for me. I'll give you ten dollars now to prove I mean business.” “Why, lad, it can’t do no harm. What merchant you runnin’ for?” “A good one,” said Jan noncommittally. It was next day before it was possible for him to procure his samples, which he wrapped and marked carefully. With these he visited his acquaintance, Mr. Elain, by whom he was received affably. “Mr. Elain,” said Jan, ‘‘you said you wasn’t in a position to buy a cargo of tea.” “Yes, my lad.” “T can get for you ten chests of bohea and six of Canzo. Just arrived by the Em- press of Cathay, and I’ve brought samples.” A careful examination of the little pack- ets of tea confirmed their quality. ‘“‘What price do you set?”* asked Mr. Elain. “Fifty-three dollars a chest for the bo- hea,” said Jan, “‘and fifty-three dollars and a half for the Canzo.” “A fair price,” said Mr. Elain. “I will pay upon delivery.” With this assurance Jan returned to the wharf. “Tea,” he told the mate, “is fetching fifty dollars a chest at the Coffee House. I can pay you fifty-one for your adventure.” “A deal,”’ said the mate. “I got a cart here. If you can come with me to Mr. Elain we'll get your money on delivery.” “Aye, lad. hour.” So, before noon, Jan completed his first transaction on another man’s capital. The mate made the original investment, Mr. Elain purchased the tea at,a price satisfac- tory to the sailorman and paid the cash to Jan, who retained the satisfying sum of thirty-five dollars as his profit and paid over the remainder to the mate. And Jan had not been compelled to advance a shill- ing! He had found a way to make money with other people’s money. To him this had not been a transaction in tea but a deal in dollars. On May first he embarked again in his little sloop for the return voyage to Albany. His original capital of one hundred dollars he invested in merchandise suitable for his father’s pack; carefully wrapped was a piece of China silk for Anneke, his first I’m free to go in half an | present to his mother; but more important to him and to the world at large was a cargo of tea—four cases of Souchong— purchased with the profits of his first and of three | other similar transactions in which he had April 5,19350 acted as middleman. Tea! Compact, sala- ble, of a quality to make it welcome in any manor house along his way! And it had cost him nothing but shoe leather and ob- servation. His return voyage was longer, a battle against the adverse current of the river, and delayed by halts along the way at the manors of the Livingstons, the Van Wycks, of the Tellers of Fishkill, and the Ver Plancks, to whom he offered his tea, and, because since the Revolution tea had never been in abundance, he sold. On May 12, 1801, he nosed his sloop to the shore at the spot where he had embarked. His original capital was intact in goods intended for his father’s use, but in a private pocket was asum of money which would have made the eyes of Anneke and of Claas bulge with amazement. Three hundred and twelve dollars! Here, tied in a roll with string, was the first unit of the Van Horn fortune, earned in characteristic manner, to be dealt with in a way surprising in a youth of eighteen, a boy who would be like to boast of his achievement. But Jan did not boast. He recounted his adventures to his relieved mother, made her happy with her first silk dress, and exhibited the wares which his father would sell at an excellent profit. But not one word of the three hundred dollars reposing in his pocket! Not even to An- neke. A close-mouthed young man who bided his time to make disclosures; a youth with some liking for the dramatic, as will be seen. “And now, my son, do you remain on the farm?”’ asked Anneke. “No,” said Jan. “What, then?” “T have learned a great deal,” he said. “There is much to be learned,” said his mother. “Therefore,"” Jan replied, “‘I must go where it is to be found out.” “To New York again?” “First to Albany,” said Jan. “After that I do not know. But I will come home often, mother. I think I will always come home often.” “Yes,” said his mother, ‘‘there are things to be learned even here, my son.” mt N THE second day of May, 1803, Messrs. Livingston and Monroe con- cluded the greatest bargain in the history of human trading: they bought Louisiana for fifteen million dollars. The deal was unique. Napoleon sold and delivered property which he did not own, which was not in his pos- session, which he was pledged not to sell, and which the constitution of France for- bade him to dispose of. Messrs. Livingston and Monroe spent millions of public money which they had no authority to spend and bought land they had no right whatever to buy. An empire was born among trap- pings of sardonic humor! The news of this event, which did not arrive for some time, agitated Mr. Jefferson acutely, but caused scarcely a ripple among the Dutch of Albany County and the Van Rensselaer patroonship, for they made up a country within a country, a nation within a nation, speaking a language of their own and interested only in their own immediate concerns. But Jan Van Horn was interested. In the two years since his first voyage to New York he had broadened his horizons; one might almost say he was no longer Dutch. There were physical signs of this, for he had begun to sign his name John Van Horn instead of Jan. He was commencing to see visions, for he had talked with men whose trade had carried them to Canton, and to the ports of the Mediterranean, to Africa for slaves and ivory, and to the region of the Great Lakes for furs. He was twenty, and he possessed imagination. People who saw the heavy-limbed, apple-cheeked, stolid- featured Dutch boy would have been astounded could they have read his imagin- ings—which, in the light of his life’s history, may be called inspirations. Continued on Page 104

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i} | } } | OBILE BAY OYSTERS—Salmi of M Prairie Grouse with Port Wine— ; o Buffalo Tongues decorated bridge ) ' fashion—Blue Wing and Wood Ducks : smothered with Sherry Wine—such were \ the prized dishes of the old Maxwell House, \ : the most famous hotel in the Old South. : & One fragrant specialty followed another, each . 2 course more delicious than the preceding, until at last came a coffee so rare and mellow that plantation owners, jurists, steamboat if captains, beautiful Southern women, and : visitors from the North, lingered appreci- atively over each palate-delighting cupful. This same blended coffee, formerly available only to the distinguished patrons of the old PAO EE pa vo rene Don’t miss the Maxwell House radio program every Thursday evening, at 9:30, Eastern Stand- ard Time. Broadcast from WJZ in N.Y. C. over National Broad- casting coast-to-coast hook -up.

THE SATURDAY | The jinest dinners of the ' Op Soutuy reached a fragrant climax in this COFFEE R ; Maxwell House, now stands in a friendly a, <C

EVENING POST 103

blue tin upon your grocer’s shelf. Try it for breakfast tomorrow. Your family and your friends—whether they be traveled sophisticates who have supped upon fettucini at Alfredo’s in Rome or fireside folk who prefer plainer fare—are likely to enjoy this fragrant blend more than any other coffee you might serve. S No other coffee in the world has the same wonderfully rich flavor as Maxwell House. No other coffee has achieved such well de- served and wide-spread fame. We are sure Maxwell House Coffee will

delight you—and your grocer will cheer- : =~ ig tA t + / : ’ fully return your money if you afe not fully satisfied.

-,\

AXWELLY HOUSE COFFEE «« to the LAST DROP

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104 Continued from Page 102 Mother,” he said, for it was only to \nneke that his dreams became vocal, “this s going to be a big nation.” ‘It is shut in by the wilderness,’ Anneke. ‘Kentucky and Tennessee were wilder- ness a little while ago,” he answered. This was a conclusive argument to him. These states, so recently primeval forest, roamed y savages, unsafe for pioneers, were now so populous with a new and aggressive race of men that their voices were becoming a jominant note in Washington. Kentucky and Tennessee were soon to take the major share in forcing upon the country a war un- popular to these states which hitherto had wen all-powerful ‘The country’s nother,” Jan said. ‘Where do they come from, Jan?” He shook his head. “There are always more people and more people,” he answered. ‘Cities grow bigger, more men make farms for themselves. There is always less wilder- ness this year than there was last year.” ‘But what of it all, my son?” ‘More people,” he said, “need more money. There wil] always have to be more money.” ‘Always you think of money,” said An- neke, “as a dairyman thinks of milk or a farmer of corn.” ‘* Money is my corn,” said Jan. ““A man who knows about money will grow big with the country.” He paused. “Somebody who knows how must see that the ones who need money have a way to get it.” Anneke did not smile; she lsicnea. By this time she had learned that her son spoke seldom, but generally with authority. If he made a statement it was because he knew the facts. “‘How will you do that, Jan?” she asked. “Some day,” he said, “I will have a bank vt ‘* But bankers are rich men,” she objected. ‘I shall be a rich man,” he said. “‘ Every day I learn more about money. I will learn to use money as a blacksmith learns to use his forge.” “Already,” she said proudly, “you make more money than your father.” “Because,” he said, “father buys and sells cloth and tea and other things. I buy and sell bank notes. And what I make does not stay in the clock. No, it works for me as horses on the farm work for the farmer.” Anneke nodded. ‘'It is well to lend,” she said, “‘but it is ill to be harsh with the bor- rower. It is not good to make a profit from another's misfortune.” “*T lend only te men who grow,” said Jan sententiously. “If a man has a good busi- lend. He uses my money to grow bigger, and then I can lend him more. I am not harsh, mother. But.I take what is just.” “And always you keep your promises,” she said. ‘It is good to be known as a man who makes his word good es “It is worth money, like a good stock in trade,” said Jan. “‘ That is why I take your advice, mother, and build my business in Albany. Because I am knowr there, and become better known each day. I work to establish myself in men’s minds as a person who does not play tricks.” “It is well,” said Anneke. “I would rather have an honest son than a rich son.” Jan smiled a bit grimly. “I,” he said, “would rather be both.” He walked to the door and stood there hesitant, almost abashed, his big head hanging. “I go to Albany,” he said Anneke looked at him with her sharp eyes but did not speak. This conduct of her son was not like him. He, who was so direct, almost blunt, bore himself now like a bash- ful boy, and there was evasiveness in his manner. But Annekedid not comment upon it. She was a woman who noted facts and stored them in her mind;. she studied her menfolk but did not meddle with them until meddiing was required. A_ wise woman, Anneke Van Horn, who knew that all men are naughty boys and that the most certain way of arousing them to stubborn said filling with people, ness, THE SATURDAY wrong-headedness was by questioning or premature opposition. “A good journey, my son,”’ she said. She followed him to the door and watched his sturdy figure down the path toward the river. Then she sighed. ‘It is a woman,” she said to herself, and then lifted her strong shoulders. ‘Well, it is time. I hope he chooses well.” It was midmorning when he arrived at the little city, scarcely more than a village, and, walking up the hill, took his station sentinel-like across the road from John West’s baker’s shop. He did not pace up and down with nervous stride as some young men might have done, but stood stock-still, his eyes fixed upon the door of Mr. West’s place of business. It was a half hour before the door opened to Phoebe, the baker’s daughter, who emerged with a basket on her arm, for Phaebe was her father’s delivery service and the basket was full of warm loaves. Jan permitted her to walk some distance along the way before he stirred foot to fol- low her, but his eyes never left her slender- ness or ceased to drink in the picture of her fairness. Phoebe was no wide-shculdered, broad-hipped Dutch girl, no bearer of bur- dens, able to do her day’s work on the farm as well as in the kitchen. To Jan’s eyes she was fragile, beautiful beyond words, a prin- cess out of adream. He was twenty! That those lips could pout, that her cunning chin was pettish rather than strong, that she could be animated by vanity rather than pr'de were matters hidden from his infatu- sted eyes. Not now—possibly never— would he be able to distinguish between prettiness and beauty. When she had walked some hundred yards Jan followed and presently overtook her. ““Good day to you, Phebe,” he said, but without lifting his cap. “Why,” she exclaimed, pretending to see him for the first time, “it’s Jan! When did you come to town, Jan? What brings you from the farm?” “You,” said Jan, but was unable either to amplify or embroider his announcement. “Oh,” she said, with scant attention to what amounted to a declaration, “you should have come yesterday. The patroon was here with hislady. They are journey- ing to Esopus to some merrymaking. Oh, Jan, to ride in a carriage like that, with all the people coming out to see you pass!” “My wife,” said Jan, ‘will ride in a car- riage.” “* And, oh, the black coachman in his liv- ery, and the servants! It was like a king. The patroon’s lady, Jan—her dress, her furs, her bonnet! I have scarce thought of another thing since I saw her.” “My wife,” said Jan, “will wear furs and silks.” Phoebe turned suddenly to scrutinize him. She saw a stocky, round-faced, apple- cheeked Dutch boy dressed in ill-fitting homespun. A yokel, clumsy, without a social grace; sturdy and clean, it is true, but possessing no quality to make him de- sirable in the eyes of such a girl as she. “Your wife will have a carriage, Jan? And silks and furs?” She laughed not kindly. ‘‘ Where will she get them, eh? By wishing? Will some fairy give her three wishes?” “I know nothing about fairies,” said Jan. “T will give them to her.” His voice was very earnest. “I know about money, Phoebe. Every day I learn more about it. Already I have done well, as nobody can deny. In a year I earn twice what my father earns, or your father. I shall be rich and my wife will be rich with me.” Somehow he impressed her; she almost believed him. There was about him a grim determination, an inflexibility, a tremen- dous will which affected even her frivolity. She was even a trifle apprehensive of him. Already,” he said, “I can keep a wife better than most. I am twenty.” He was twenty! Also she had heard some talk of him in town —talk of how he traded in bank bills, and how he had money to loan, and that older men looked upon him EVENING POST with some respect. Perhaps what he prom- ised he could perform. She had heard it said of him that his word was as good as a bond, and he was promising his wife car- riages and furs and silks! There might be something to it. At any rate it would do no harm to give him some encouragement until she could see her way more clearly. “You came all the way to town to see me?” she asked, and let her eyes fall with skillful coyness. ‘“‘Why did you do that, Jan?” “To ask you to marry me,”’ Jan said suc- cinctly. “‘I made up my mind. If you'll have me, Pheebe, we can go and talk to your father today.” But this was altogether too precipitate for Pheebe West. Husbands were plentiful. The young men of the town and of the gar- rison of the fort ran after her, and she could take her pick of them. But she was not throwing herself away on the first to ask. Not Phoebe. Her eye was fixed steadily upon the main chance, and she would give herself to no man until she was reasonably assured of something in the way of silks and furs and carriages. Not that her dreams carried her to the height of carriages, but certainly her husband must be able to ele- vate her to a position far better than that of a baker’s daughter. ““When you ask a girl to marry you,”’ she questioned him, “don’t you say anything about love?” This came with quaintly unconscious irony from her lips, who considered love not at all in her choice of a mate. “If I do not love you,” said Jan, “I do not ask to marry with you. When I ask you to be my wife, that means also that I love you.” ““Most men,” said Pheebe, “talk a great deal about love, but a very little about marriage.” “T am not that kind,” said Jan. “All men are alike,” retorted Phebe, repeating, parrotlike, what she had listened to in the warning of her disillusioned elders. “*T am not alike,”’ Jan said, and suddenly he was aware of his difference from other men. It startled him. It was the first time he had ever become aware of his identity, and he reflected upon it briefly. He was Jan Van Horn. There was no other. He was alone, separated from all other human beings by the physical walls of his body and the mental ramparts of his mind. Nor was this all. He assayed himself in one of those flashes of revelation which come to all men. Not only was he different and individual, he was more able. He could do what other men could not do, accomplish what other men could not accomplish. This reflection pleased him. It was not born of vanity but of self-analysis and comparison and accom- plishment. He, Jan Van Horn, was a better man than any he knew. “I am not alike,” he repeated. “I am better.” Phoebe laughed, but again she was im- pressed. “You are vain,” she said. “T am not vain. I know,” Jan an- swered. “‘ You will see. I understand things other men do not understand. I can look ahead. I know.” He paused and turned his gray eyes upon her, so that she could not look away; nor did she like being held so and dominated so. It frightened her. “So,” he said, “‘will you marry with me?” She tore her eyes away, and, to her relief, saw approaching a young man in uniform, a sergeant from the garrison. “Oh,” she exclaimed, “here comes Ser- geant Hart. Hush, he will hear you.” “T am not ashamed to be heard,” said Jan. “‘What I say is honest.” “Hush,” she said again, and then turned her smile upon the soldier, who was frown- ing darkly. “I came to meet you,” he said, ignoring Jan. “Well,” she answered flippantly, “you have met me, haven’t you?” His not unhandsome face was dark and his voice furious as he said, “‘ You promised to walk with me.” “Did I so?” She was pleased. This en- counter fed her vanity, and it showed Jan Van Horn how she was sought after. April 5,19350 ““Who are you?” the young soldier said overbearingly, glowering at Jan. “T am Jan Van Horn.” “All right, Jan Van Horn, then betake yourself some place else.” “No,” said Jan. “Oh,” exclaimed Pheebe, between alarm and delight, ‘“‘you mustn’t quarrel.” “There’ll be no quarrel if he takes him- self away,” said the sergeant. “Then,” said Jan, “I think we quarrel.” The sergeant was an older man than Jan and taller by half a head, and he was in uniform. Your ordinary man is impressed by uniforms, but Jan was impressed neither by age nor size nor habiliments. He did not budge. He could not budge. He was where it was his right to be, prosecuting a lawful matter,'and it would have been as impossible for him to withdraw as it would have been for him to fly from tree to tree as a bird. It was not stubbornness, but something more admirable than stubbornness. Without warning the soldier struck him so that he staggered back and almost fell to the ground. He heard Pheebe utter a little scream, and after that was obscurity and confusion. He was innocent of any knowl- edge of the arts of battle, but, unexpectedly, he found himself confronted by the neces- sity for fighting. He must fight or run, and he must win, or Pheebe would perceive that another was the better man. Therefore he went about the matter doggedly, without skill but with grim determination. He knew he was strong; his intelliger.ce told him he must come to grips or he vrould come to grief, but the skilled fists of his adversary would not let him come to grips. Those knuckles cracked upon cheek bone cr jaw pitilessly. He found himself on his back, his head beclouded, but he did not remain there. As quickly as he could man- age, he was on his feet, trying to seize his antagonist; not endeavoring to hit him but to grip him. Again he was down, and again and again, but each time he scram- bled to his feet and with lowered head charged the soldier. It seemed to him that the battle had been going on for hours, that those fists had beaten his face a thousand times, but still he charged. Once, with a certain elation, he felt his head butt the sergeant in the chest and his wildly groping arms close about the soldier’s body. But the man wrenched himself free and Jan was on his back once more. It was not easy to get up. “Say ‘enough,’” panted the soldier, but Jan said nothing. For a moment he sucked air into his tortured lungs and shook his head to make it clear, and then he was up and charging again. It was indomitable, even terrible, the silent grimness, the ani- mal courage of it. He might be battered unconscious but he could not be beaten. It became not so much a contest between two physiques as between the souls which animated these physiques. If one had watched the eyes of Sergeant Hart, a certain bewilderment would have been discerned a bewilderment tinged with dismay. The man had fought often, he had fought hard against able antagonists, but never before had he encountered a man such as this one—a man who seemed unable to com- prehend that he was beaten, who came up again and again and yet again with a re- lentless perseverance that was more than human. It was not that savagery was man- ifest, for Jan did not fight savagely. He fought stolidly, soundlessly, almost as if he held no animus toward his enemy, but also as if he must go on forever and into eternity being thrashed, being knocked down, climbing up again and rushing in headlong for more. It was eating at the morale of the victor; he was face to face with something he did not comprehend, which was outside his experience and above his comprehension. He carried himself with less certainty. Vaguely he was com- mencing to wish the thing were over and he were well out of it. He knocked Jan down again. “Say ‘enough,’” he commanded, but his voice rather pleaded than commanded. (Continued on Page 109) a a ee ee | | eS ee - ——— nmap te eng a ee aoe te sen new eee

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awe i} ee | MP EEE i me oo -e > ~ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST SMART WOMEN SAY The life of porcelain enamel surfaces depends largely upon the bond between the china-like enamel and the metal beneath. The porcelain enamel on your new kitchen range, your re- frigerator, table top or kitchen ware, or in the tub of your washing machine . . . is fused onto a sheet of metal. Produced in furnaces under terrific heat, the coats of enamel form a bond with the metal and give you a surface smooth as glass but with the strength of metal. Porcelain enamel requires a base metal, having highly technical properties, involving uniformity, density, freedom from gases that form blisters, ete. Whenever you see this Tri- angle on a product made of sheet metal, it means that the manufacturer of that product has gone to the ex- pense of using special sheets designed to best serve that particular use. KNOW THIS SHOPPING SECRET 2—— BEFORE YOU BUY PORCELAIN ENAMEL =—— SURE 4A St Oo Ordinary sheet metal takes the enamel poorly. So when you buy a porcelain enameled product for your home... FIRST: look for the Armco Triangle and the words, “INGOT IRON” For Armco Incor Iron enameling sheets are specially manufactured and prepared to take and hold a coating of porcelain enamel and today are used for this purpose more than any other sheet metal! SECOND: treat it with reasonable care Do not strike it sharp blows ... do not strain it by twisting. Do not wast it while hot ... just use warm water and a sudsy cloth. Gritty cleansers should be avoided if you would preserve the clear lustre of the surface Then porcelain enamel will give you a lifetime of service, such as you can get from few if any other types of finish. THE AMERICAN ROLLING MILL COMPANY Executive Offices: Middletown, Ohio Export: The Armco International Corp Cable Address: Armco— Middletown” PRODUCERS OF ARMCO "Zire 73" FOR EXACTING PURPOSES Tune in on station u I “ Cincinnati eac h Tuesday evening for the } Armco Corvert Band. 10 to 11 Eastern Time or 9 to 10 Central Time F ARMCO InGoTt trRon *

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106 TETAS YOM N EE AORN THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Pe ince ce 7 = 4 bw — 1 fee—v tt oe =— + ~ > ~ Makes Riding Seven Points of Superiority in the FISK AIR-FLIGHT Principle . Larger air chamber—your car rides less on the rubber, more on the air. . All-Cord material reduces internal friction and adds strength without rigidity or weight. . Multiple cable bead gives more strength at the rim while increasing side-wall flex- ibility. . Increased length of flex area at the side- wall provides greater use of the air cushion. Rim-width, streamline tread eliminates useless overhanging tread rubber and allows greater air cushioning. . Greater road contact results in better and longer-lasting non-skid qualities. . The newly perfected AIR-FLIGHT bal- ance between air and materials achieves the maximum air-cushioning and mileage. April 5,1930 cot : : |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 107 as Smooth as Flying Within the last‘few years the world has learned a new kind of travel comfort—in swift, luxurious airplanes. Motorists who experienced the smooth sensation of flying wanted this air-flight comfort brought to them for their cars. They pictured more luxurious riding, made possible by a tire that carried its load more on the air. Working along these lines, Fisk engineers found the way to build a true air-flight tire. They developed new principles of tire design, ‘ making full use of the cushiony content of air. They perfected a bet- ter balance of materials, without bulky masses of misplaced rubber 4 that lessen riding comfort. The result is a tire that floats your car smoothly along on air, with the effortless ease that is typical of flying. Visit your Fisk Dealer today and see these remarkable new tires. They are more flexible yet more durable—combining air-flight comfort with exceptional mileage. Try these Fisk Air-Flight Principle Tires and experience a different driving sensation...surer traction and greater comfort than you have ever known before.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1930 BUILT BY BUICK Reasons Why You Should Drive Marquette Before Buying Any Car 1—A Great Performer. 2—Built by Buick. 3—$25,000,000 in Sales. You can order any motor car in a few minutes, But you drive that car for months and years. Give a few extra minutes to its selection—and reap long months of extra satisfaction—by driving Marquette. * Three facts recommend that you make this test, whether you desire a car for professional use or for your family. Marquette is known the country over as a great performer. It is built by Buick—recognized leader in fine car manufacture and producer of more than 2,400,000 fine cars. It has won over $25,000,000 in sales during the comparatively short period it has been on the market. + But these facts, vitally important as they are, are overshadowed by the specific quality facts of the car WHEN BETTER AUTOMOBILES ARE BUILT itself. Marquette, with its smart, beautifully tailored Bodies by Fisher, is the fleet, compact, convenient type of car so admirably suited to today’s motoring needs. The Marquette engine—built to out-perform any other engine of its class—whisks you ahead from 10 to 60 miles per hour in 31 seconds—maintains a pace of 60 to 70 all day long .. . reveals this same marked brilliance in hill-climbing, stamina and reliability. Marquette’s wonderfully balanced chassis—Marquette brakes—Marquette Lovejoy shock absorbers—impart outstanding comfort, roadability and safety to what is truly a marvelous value. + Consider the importance of your motor car investment. Realize the wisdom of driving before buying. Then take the wheel of this great performer. Drive Marquette before buying any car, regardless of price. Six body styles, $990 to $1060, f. 0. b. factory, special equipment extra BUICK MOTOR COMPANY, FLINT, MICHIGAN Division of General Motors Builders of Canadian Factories Capone Buick and Marquette Motor Cars McLaughlin-Buick, Oshawa, Ont. BUICK WILL BUILD THEM a na 0 ee } PF ateemene— >

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= ——S 2. et (Continued from Page 104) Jan did not say “enough”"’; he did not say anything. He got to al! fours and then upon his feet, and once more charged those skillful fists. He charged, but it was almost placidly. Suddenly Sergeant Hart knew that he could not whip this young fellow; not all his experience or strength or skill could master this young Dutchman; noth- ing would stop him from charging and charging in again but death, and the man’s nerve vibrated and cracked. His skill for- sook him. Blindly he sought to claw Jan away from him; his blows were no longer straight and powerful, but were a hysterical waving and flapping and pushing. He felt Jan’s stout arms close about him, felt Jan’s strength wrestling him from his feet, fling- ing him to the ground. And he lay there covering his face with his hands. “Enough!” he cried. ‘“ Enough.” And he had scarcely been teuched, had shed no drop of blood. “Be you licked?” Jan asked without raising his voice “T said ‘enoug.:!’ I said I was licked!” Hart answered without uncovering his face. Somehow he was afraid to look up into those steady, relentless gray eyes. “All right then,” said Jan, and he seemed to wash his hands of the matter, to brush it aside and forget it. He wiped his bruised, bleeding face on his handkerchief and turned to cowering Phebe. “I guess we can walk along now,” he said, and she followed him dumbly, half a pace behind. When they returned from that walk, it was to stop in John West’s bakery to ask his permission to their marriage. iv WO events occurred in the year 1806 which had a far-reaching effect upon the career of Jan Van Horn—his first son was born, and he bought a beaver hat. With the birth of the son dawned that idea which was to dominate Jan’s life—the idea of family permanence, of creating a thing which should outlast himself, just as governments outlasted administrations and went on forever irrespective of individuals. He conceived the notion of an institution. The purchase of the beaver hat signified that he had found a position in the com- munity. No longer was he an itinerant dickerer in bank bills, but a stationary dealer in exchange; no longer a youth who loaned sums of money out of his walle*, but a business man who made his loans out of a strong box. He rented a small house in Albany, the front room of which was con- verted into a countingroom with a desk and books and an iron receptacle, which locked with a key, in which reposed both hard money and currency. He was not yet a banker, but he was exercising certain of the functions of a bank. It was a step along the path; it brought him into contact with actual bankers and gave him the entrée to local financial circles, because he was use- ful. He had, as was nis custom, advised with Anneke before undertaking the ven- ture. But not with Claas. He never ad- vised with his father. His father was a humorous person who made jokes and wan- dered the countryside more because he loved the irresponsible life than because it earned him a livelihood. But Anneke was sound—-when she spoke, it was with the authority of a stable intelligence—and Jan loved her. Jokes he did not understand. “Is it honest?” asked Anneke. “It is honest,” said Jan. “But someone loses,” she objected. “Someone is cheated.” “Not cheated, mother. It is this way: There are banks here and there and the other place, chartered by the states. These banks issue bank notes. But the banks in Boston will accept only Boston bank notes in their dealings; New York banks will ac- cept only certain notes; and Albany does as New York leads.” “Tt is strange that money is not always money,” said Anneke. “But,” persisted Jan, ‘‘a merchant in Al- bany sells his goods at a distance. He must THE SATURDAY accept in payment the notes current where he sells. But our banks will not accept them. So he has to swap them for New York or Albany notes. For this swap he must pay 5 or 10 or even 20 per cent.” Anneke censidered. ‘It is not dishonest,” she said after reflection, ‘“‘but it is unjust. It is not good.” “It is very bad,” said Jan, ‘“‘and one day it will be different. Before this country can be a great country a dollar must be worth a dollar through all the length and breadth of it. Some day I will have a bank whose notes will be worth the face of them wherever they are found.” “That,” said Anneke, “will be good. But what does Phoebe say of this?”’ “TI do not talk to Phoebe of business,’ said Jan. “Phoebe nurses the baby.” “It will make her more contented,” said Anneke. “Also, the child will be good for her.”” Again she paused. “There is money in the clock,” she said tentatively. “| have enough,” said Jan, “for a begin- ning.”” He did not say how much. Not even to his mother could he disclose how much. “The trouble,” he said after a moment, “‘is that there is not enough hard money in the country. There is never enough. Al- ways it is traveling away to foreign coun- tries to pay for merchandise which comes to America.” “Then,” said Anneke, “we should not buy in foreign countries.” “It is because we are young as a nation. A boy cannot do all a man can do. When we become a man it will be changed. But while I wait I must make money in such ways as there are.” “But always honestly,” said Anneke. Jan traveled homeward to his young wife, who gave him scant welcome, for the day was hot, the baby had been fretful, and the world seemed to her frivolous mind a place of unending drudgery. “We take a house in Albany tomorrow,” he said. “With a carriage like the patroon,” she eaid sharply, and then she mimicked him: “My wife shall have a carriage,”’ she said. “My wife shall have furs! My wife shall have silk dresses!" “They will come, Meewtje,” he said. From the beginning he had called her Meewtje, which signifies little ‘‘sea mew.” “Promises,” she taunted him, and laughed a thin little laugh. ‘“ You made me marry you—you did make me. I was not ready to marry anybody, but you made me. Full of promises. And what do I get tell me that? It was easier to carry bread for my father. I work, work, and then comes the baby, and I work more than ever.” “T also work,” said Jan. “It is good that a wife works with her husband. It is good to have a son. Already I make plans for our son.” “And what is there to look forward to but another son and another son and an- other son, and more work and more work? Until I am old and my back is bent double and no one wants to look at me! When you made promises I believed you. I believed you would give me a carriage so I could ride through the streets and people would look at me in my furs and my silks! They look. They look, Jan Van Horn, but it is to say, ‘There is the girl who married with a Dutchman and works herself to the bone.’”’ “A man gets carriages quicker if his wife helps him. My mother helps my father. It is not good to complain. It is better to have patience.” “Patience! Is this a silk dress?’ “On your birthday I buy you a silk dress,”’ he said. “‘I can afford one.” “T’ll warrant,” she said, “you could af- ford a dozen. But no. You pinch and scrape and hoard. And I grow old and homely. Did I marry you for that, Jan Van Horn?” “You married with me,” said Jan plac- idly, “because you loved with me—and the rest will come. I promise it.”’ “Loved you! Loved you!” She threw back her head and laughed her thin laugh. “You were so handsome I loved you. You , EVENING POST were so grand in your broadcloth and your linen and your beaver hat that I loved you! You were so rich that I loved you!” Her temper—the tantrum of a petty human being—was escaping from control. “You frightened me and you made me marry you. That was all. What was there about you to love? Why would a girl love you—a Dutch yokel like you?” Jan listened, but there came no glitter into his gray eyes, no tightening of his round, apple-cheeked, placid face. “Then you did not love me, Phwbe?” He did not use the tender name of Meewtje now. “No, no, no, no! You forced me! That was it! I could not stand against you!” “So?” he said with rising inflection, and then stood silent, considering. “I was stronger than you and I forced you to marry with me.” Again he considered the point. It might have been so. He was conscious of his strength; he knew the power of his will, and two years had ac- quainted him with Pheebe’s lack of force, her pliability, her weaknesses. It might be so, and if it were so, then Phcebe was not to blame. He, Jan Van Horn, was to blame. It was possible. He looked at his infant son, stirring in his mother’s tired arms, and nodded his head. There were many things to be con- sidered, and among them was this little son. Jan’s silence frightened Phwbe; al- ways she was a little afraid of him, of his depth and stillness, and of capabilities and forces within him which she could only imagine. But he did not rail at her or threaten. His voice was placid as ever as he spoke, but even its placidity frightened her—frightened her as she never had been frightened before. “This,” he said, “is how it shall be. It shall not be any other way, and you shall remember it and I shall remember it. If either of us remember it any different, it will be bad.” She looked up at him with apprehensive eyes, and he continued: “So it shall be thus: Because you loved me you married with me. Because you loved me you are mother of my son. I am not a Dutch yokel, but your husband that you love. I make promises to you of carriages and furs. You will be patient until they come. You will be patient because you love with me. Neither did I force you to marry with me. This is how it shall be between us. Have you heard?” “Yes, Jan,” she said, almost in a whis- per. “It is good, Meewtje,” he said. “To- morrow we take a house in Albany. Also there will be a girl to help with the house- work and the baby.” He turned then and went out of the house and walked alone, and as he walked he said to himself many times: “I have said how it shall be between us. But all the same, she does not love me. She did not love me in the commencement. That is bad. It is not good.”” And again he said, “I promise her a carriage and furs and silks. What I promise I must do, whether or not she loves me That is right.” Within three months he encountered an opportunity to enrich himself so that he could have purchased a carriage and furs and silks; and it will be well to examine into his dealings with that opportunity He had established himself in his count- ingroom, where he discounted the bank notes of institutions in Pennsylvania and Connecticut and Massachusetts and dis tant portions of New York State, and where, as opportunity offered, he loaned his profits upon the short-time obligations of dependable merchants or farmers or ar- tisans. And he prospered because he knew his conditions and the discounts whicl would enable him to show a satisfactory profit. Whenever he went out-of-doors he wore his beaver hat, so that people perceived him to be a young man of substance and were impressed by his success. His dealings with the banks taught those who controlled them that Jan Van Horn was able and skillful at 109 his trade, so that in the end Mr. Caleb Duane came into his little countingroom and laid before him a proposition which would have greatly furthered his material fortunes. Mr. Duane was the figure in con- trol of one of Albany’s banks “Jan,” said Caleb, “we have watched you and we see that you know your busi- ness.” “T have studied to know it,”’ said Jan. “Therefore I come to you so that we can do a stroke together—I and my associates in the bank and yourself.” “That is good,” said Jan “What happens, Jan, if a bank stops specie payments?” “Tt is bad,” said Jar Especially if that bank has issued notes The notes fal! in value and those who hold them lose muc! money.” ‘Yet it is done, Jan. Often banks cannot lay hands upon enough hard money to re deem their notes in specie and are compelled to suspend payment.’ “It is so,” said Jan “But it may become a benefit to certain people re “Ah?” said Jan, with the curious inflec- tion of interrogation which his voice some- times assumed. “Let us see. Suppose, now, Jan, our bank, with its capital of a hundred thou- sand dollars, was to issue notes, slowly and carefully, to the extent of, say, a hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” “T can name five Massachusetts banks,” said Jan, “whose capital is seven hundred thousand dollars and who have issued bills for nearly eight hundred thousand.” “True. Well, to proceed. Suppose we went about such an issuance, and in the end, when the notes were in the hands of the community, we were to suspend specie payment. The value of the notes would fall.” “They could be bought,” said Jan, “for 25, perhaps for 15 per cent.” ** And,” said Caleb, “those who knew the bank would presently resume payment, would be enriched.” “It is true,” said Jan “That,” said Caleb, “is why we have come to you. You will act as agent for us in the purchase of those notes when we sus- pend. With money which we furnish, you will buy them in at the lowest point. It will require adroitness. And having know!l- edge, you can use your own money to buy for your own benefit. There wil! be a fine commission, besides your profit. What do you say, eh?” “My share might reach thirty-five or forty thousand dollars,”’ said Jan “It would.” “It is a great deal of money,” said Jan; and then: “For just a little dishonesty.” “Eh? Dishonesty!"’ Calet tled at the word Jan worked and wove his strong, thick fingers together, nor did he raise his eyes from the top of his desk “Well, what do you say’”’ Duane Duane bris- asked Caleb “T say,” said Jan, “you shail not do it It is not good A note from a bank is a promise It is a promise to pay that note in gold or silver. What is promised must he done A promise is a promise I do not break promises or help other men to break them.” ‘You're a fool!” said Duane furiously No, Mr. Duane t is you who are the fool Because bad business, not only dishonest For see W ho loses this money 4 Why, merchants and workers and artisans and all. Men who make business. Men who deposit their savings in your bank From their savings you earn profits But you destroy their savings and there is noth- ing with which to make profits.” ‘I say you're a fool!” ‘Not so. You make quick maybe fifty thousand dollars. But if you heip thase merchants and others to be bigger mer- chants with more trade, then, in a short time, you will make more than fifty thou- sand dollars. You throw in the river many (Continued on Page 112

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110 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 ‘e™, A. DF oR Rt we ae rh ‘ * bn Lil Mary 5 4 .. Grea in |

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 1! ERE it is in close-up, gentlemen, why Goodyear traction is superior trac- tion. Look into it carefully, for your safety’s sake. Sometime, in the nick of emergency, you may need that deep-cut, sharp-edged, holdfast grip under you or your family. Since it costs no more, better arrange it ‘now. The good sense of having it there in time is one big reason why “more people ride on Goodyear Tires than on any other kind!” Greatest Name | RUBBER | as a, in

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Centinued from Page 109) times fifty thousand to grab a little today. It is you that are a fool, Mr. Duane. I have nothing to do with it.” Duane bit his lips. “At least you'll keep a still tongue in your head.” “That also is bad business. I tell you now that you must not do it. I will not permit. I will not let you. See! I will stand on the steps of the bank and shout this thing--and then, eh? It will be bad, eh? And men hanging from trees. Like you.” “Ea?” “*Mr. Macabe,” said Edwin, his face ex- pressionless, “I have had an addition to the family, and I wonder if " A spasm went through him, a nervous twitch not suggesting emotion, and he halted. “Eh?” eiaculated Mr. Macabe again. ‘You want an increase in salary, is that it? I'm glad you mentioned it; I don’t want you to feel dissatisfied, my dear fellow. Do you think we should take a mercenary view, now, really? I can get any number of bright young men who will come in here for the experience, and you're getting wonder- ful experience. However, I want you to be perfectly satisfied, and if you'd rather I made a change » “No, not at all, Mr. Macabe. Please don't take it that way.” “All-l right,” cooed Mr. Macabe. “But I'll keep it in mind, Mr. Kiley. That'll be all for the present; and let Miss Monahan have that statement. Oh, pardon me!"’ Mr. Macabe, smiling. warmly, beam- ing, rose to his feet and thrust out his hand. ‘* My heartiest congratulations on the happy event, Mr. Kiley.” That was handsome of him, but not handsome enough; he did not feel that the occasion had been adequately exploited. “‘Mr. Kiley, you probably know that I am taking three thousand shares of Peppo Bottling.” “Yes, sir; for your fee. “For a valuable consideration.” "Ti. “Mr. Ki-i-iey,” he said tunefully, turn- ing his head aside and smiling down his cheek at his managing clerk, “I am going to let you have a thousand shares of that stock.” “Yes, sir.” “I make many mistakes, don’t I, Mr. Kiley?” ‘No, sir.” “I do—yes, I do. I'm almost always wrong, but not very far wrong. This stock is good enough for me. Have you been out to Peppard’s factory yet? Go, my dear fel- i 5 I'm going to let you have a thousand shares for three dollars a share the market price—but I'll take your note for it. Think it over and let me know, my dear fellow.’ This seemed a happy solution to Mr. Macabe. It would be a good thing for Mr. it would make him thrifty. And, when Peppo Bottling got to the dividend ge, after two or three years, Mr. Kiley would have a nice little income. It would be at least equally as good a thing for Mr. Macabe; he would get interest on his in- vestment at once, and he would be sure of his valuable clerk for quite some time to come The salary question was irrepressible and would bob up again; Mr. Macabe would consider it judicially, reconciling the oppos- without recrimination, heat Kiley; ing interests, or timatums um 5 W HiAT have you been doing to him?” cried Mrs. Kiley, darting at Edwin a look of hatred as she rushed by him. “There, there, my angel; mamma's here. I can’t go out for an hour's recreation and leave you alone with the baby but you must try to kill him. And you call yourself a father.” THE SATURDAY “T trusted you,” said Duane. “All the people trust you,” said Jan. “I will make you keep your promise to help them. So now that is all. I have told you.” “Van Horn,” blustered Duane, “I and my associates will drive you out of town for this double-dealing.” Jan replied as placidly as, three months ago, he had replied to his wife in another crisis: “It will not be good to drive me. It will be very bad. You will find me bad to drive, already.” EVENING POST Which was the end of it so far as that transaction was concerned, but not the end of it for Jan. For even the most secret af- fair becomes whispered about, and Jan’s stand on that day was rumored throughout the city. It multiplied his capital of public confidence and was worth more than dollars in his strong box. Strangely, it gained him respect even from the men whose proposition he had rejected. Personages connected with that bank came thereafter to Jan when they had need of that quality which he had THE INDISPENSABLE (Continued from Page 43) Edwin looked at her over his glasses and resumed his study of The Market Opera- tor’s Handbook. “What are you going to do now—sit there all evening and read? Can't you say something?” Edwin closed the handbook on his index finger. ‘‘Did you have a nice time, Gladys?” “‘T had a perfectly rotten time. Listening to those women talking about their hus- bands; how smart they are and all the money they make in Wall Street. I could have choked that Gwendolyn Levey— her Mortimer, her Mortimer.” Edwin coughed. “Why didn’t you talk about your husband, lovey? That’s the way to get back at them.” She looked compellingly at him, forcing him to meet her gaze; his guileless expres- sion endured valiantly for a moment and then broke into the self-abasing snigger that always irritated her. “You fool, you,”’ she breathed in an ex- hausted tone. “The little angel took four ounces,”’ she announced a few minutes later, holding up a partly filled nursing bottle. She glanced at the pitcher of milk on the supper table and then at Edwin; he shuddered, slightly but unmistakably, though his eyes were on his book. “‘ You didn’t think I was going to pour the rest of it in the pitcher, did you?” she said challengingly. “*No, lovey.” “Well, the way you act about rice pud- dings and such ever since the baby came, I don’t know what to think you think. Not that it would do you any harm, I’m sure.” “Do me good, Gladys. In fact, I thought the milk this morning tasted very nour- ishing.” “It happens he took all his bottle this morning. Since you’re so choosy about what you eat, it’s a wonder you wouldn't make more money. . . . Are you listening to me? The man was here about the ar- rears on the radio today, and he says he'll take it away.” ““T wish he would, and give me his book, lovey. Tell him to take it and give me his book, and I'll go around every morning and call on him.” “That's right; go on grinning to your- self like a baboon. You can laugh at me. But don’t start abusing the baby, under- stand? Don’t try it! I don’t care about myself. I can get sympathy from my friends: Gwendolyn Levey telling me that her Mortimer made almost six thousand dollars in Tomahawk Oil, and throwing up to me that she told me to tell you to buy Tomahawk. But you wouldn't do it; oh, no. A frightfully common man like Levey can make almost six thousand dollars for his family, and you're a lawyer and all you can make is forty dollars a week. Ha-ha, a fine lawyer. After I went to the trouble of finding out where we could borrow a hundred dollars on your salary.” He showed interest. “And supposing we lost it, Gladys?” “Levey didn’t lose.” “But he might have.” “But he didn’t! Oh, you drive me mad. Men all around you, with the most fright- fully common wives, getting rich. But you never take my advice; you don’t care what I say. So long as you have an unfortunate woman to slave for you ——— There, there, my little sweetheart, my angel.” Her voice had changed i.credibly, all its acid turned to sugar by a divine and miraculous chem- istry; but she was talking to the baby. “Look where our money goes.”’ Shesnatched open the book in which he kept the fam- ily budget. “‘Rent, $16.66; Grocer and butcher, $13.12; Car fare, Haircut, Baby Supplies; Cab to hospital with Gladys. . . .’ Well, Edwin Kiley!" “Yes, lovey?” “Cab to hospital with Gladys—and you put it under the head of Amusements. So your idea of amusement, young man re “We could have taken the street car,” he said, rising. ““Where are you going? Sit down there.” “TI brought you two presents, lovey,” he said, drawing from his brief case a long envelope and a pint bottle filled with a crimson fluid. He placed the envelore on the table and opened the bottle with one of the pulls of the sideboard; he tendered her a glass filled from the bottle. “It’s a new beverage,” he said. “‘Peppo! Bound to be very popular. Better than beer, but not bitter; anti-acid, stimulating, but not inebriating. We're handling the legal end down at the office. How do you like it, lovey?” “‘I think it tastes something horrid.” He twitched, and his eyes went furtively to the envelope on the table. “It’s bound to go big; the company’s putting a million dollars into a sales cam- paign, and that’s not talk, because I know it. Gladys, you like it, don’t you, really?” “Must I like it whether I do or not? You asked me if I liked it and I told you.” He whistled a jig tune softly and off key. “*Maybe I'd better take the baby out for an airing before we have supper.” “It’s high time you offered to do some- thing for that unfortunate child,”’ she ac- cepted, and proceeded to bundle the infant. “You'll find his carriage down in the hall under the stairs.” She put his son into his arms and he started down the stairs of the apartment house. ‘‘Gladys!”’ he called from the land- ing below. “Well?” “You'll find the other present in the envelope on the table. I borrowed the money for it, lovey.” She returned to the table, opened the envelope and found in it a certificate, made out in her name, for one thousand shares of stock in Peppo Bottling Company. She studied the document with growing convic- tion and hostility; she had never seen a stock certificate before. She hurried out into the hall. “‘ Ed-win!” There was no response from the dark stair well. She returned to her flat, slamming the door. She thrust the certificate back into the envelope and flung it onto the table. Her hot black eyes fell on the bottle of Peppo; she took it up and poured its con- tents into the sink. That mollified her somewhat but did not yet adequately express her repughance to being a part proprietor of the new and hor- rid beverage; she plucked the certificate forth from its wrapper again, snapped it open and scanned it angrily. But now an appeasing thought came to her; she smiled, placed the certificate on the sideboard and April 5,1930 manifested, atid his beaver hat justified itself. Two persons there were who received the news with opposite emotions; they were Phoebe, who was enraged, but dared not manifest her anger; and Anneke, who was content. Upon the matter she questioned him closely, and at the end she kissed him on his apple cheek and nodded her head vehe- mently three times, and said, “What I teach, you learn. It is good.” (TO BE CONTINUED) went to preparing supper, humming bod- ingly the while. mr N A MORNING two months later, Edwin sat at a window of his flat with his baby on his knee and watched delight- edly the response of the child to the whirl- ing flakes in the dingy court outside. “Gladys,” he cried,‘* he said, ‘Snow’!”’ “A child of six months?” protested Mrs. Kiley. ‘‘Let me have him and you have your breakfast.” Edwin sat down to a generous cut of chuck steak. This was unwonted food in the Kiley flat so early in the morning. Edwin’s breakfast had been prepared for him these many years by scientists, highly paid dietitians, and had consisted of a cereal that had all the virtues but one of a pound of chuck, with the added induce- ment of costing much less. The ten-cent box, still containing a dozen breakfasts, rested now on the kitchen shelf. Edwin would resort to science again when, because of heavy meat breakfasts, he should be- come obese, headachy and stupid. He was not yet obese, with a false ap- pearance of health, but he had become sleeker, and a warning tinge of rose was in his cheeks. In his blue eyes was not yet the confident stare of the meat-eating animals, but they had lost their look of abnegation. He cut off a gob of meat and opened back his newspaper to the stock-exchange page. “Great Cesar,” he exclaimed, “‘did you see what Peppo Bottling closed at yesterday? Seventeen! Time we sold that, lovey; we have a clear profit of fourteen thousand dollars.” Mrs. Kiley held silent, obstinate. ‘I’m glad you didn’t let me persuade you to sell unti! now, but we don’t want to overstay our market, lovey. That big ad- vertisement campaign drove the stock away up, but it’s likely to fall again before a divi- dend is paid.” “If you remember,” said Mrs. Kiley tartly, ‘‘you wanted me to sell when we had a profit of only fifty dollars. You said we were missing the chance and that we'd lose all our money if we held on. I think we'll hold on some more—until it goes over 20 anyway.” “All right, lovey, if you’re satisfied. With all that money we could move into a nice apartment over by Mount Morris Park and the baby could be in the park every day and you could have a lady in to do the work. How would you like to take the baby and go down to Florida for the win- ter? I can keep house here.” “We're very well off here. What’s Tom- ahawk Oil doing?” “That dog? Down another points. . What’s the matter?” “Oh, poor Gwendolyn Levey,” gasped Mrs. Kiley. “That's what she gets for buying a stock she doesn’t know anything about. I'll wager she told you Peppo Bottling was no good when she heard you had it.” “She did. She was the very one. It serves her good and right. Oh, poor Gwen- dolyn Levey!” A rope began rattling in the dumb-waiter shaft. “Sh-h,”’ warned Mrs. Kiley. “It’stherman about the radio, and we can’t pay him yet (Continued on Page 117) three —_—_ rr ee

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 11.

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N VIEW of the present-day stress upon comfort, it | is especially significant that the finest cars in every price class are equipped with Lovejoy Hydraulic Shock Absorbers. For the builders of such cars select their shock absorber equipment solely for its capacity

to heighten motoring enjoyment. On this uncom- promising basis, the foremost manufacturers in each group—in fact, the majority of all car manufacturers —have chosen Lovejoys as standard equipment. DELCO PRODUCTS CORPORATION, DAYTON, OHIO |

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114 —_ 6. QUICK FACTS 1. New blade can be used in your old Gillette . New processed steel; new blade resists rust . Cut-out corners of blade pre- vent “razor pull” 4. To clean, turn guard at right angles... then re-tighten... rinse... shake dry . New shape guard channel gives full shaving clearance New shape guard teeth meet skin smoothly, naturally . No projecting posts to dull blade edges . Reinforced razor corners pre- vent damage if dropped . Square blade ends safer to handle . Shaves easier around mouth, nose, €avrs . New blades same price as old . New razor, 24K. gold plated, with one new blade, in case, $1.00 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 | $2,000 MEN aday aaa te mr ce — pe +S a EE ———

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we. Pam ta THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 115 are scrapping their old razors porte New Gillette New Blade - no wip Lit New Razor - no pulling NE hundred and ten million men have used a Gillette Razor for years and maintained that it was the most efficient shaving instrument ever made. They were right. Yet these men are scrapping their old Gil- lette Razors by the scores of thousands to- day. And again they are right. You'll say so too when you try this New Gillette Blade and Razor (patents pending) —a shaving instrument so smooth, so fast, so velvety, so effortless in its action that you have to feel your face to make sure the whiskers are off. Never have you enjoyed such an amazingly comfortable shave. You can use the new blade in your old Gillette Razor . . . and get a better shave. $1.00 for ten and soc for five ... the New Gillette Blades in the new green packet The New Gillette Razor, 24K. gold plated, in beautiful case, com plete with New Gillette Blade Other De Luxe models at $5.00 to $75.00 Yet once you try the New Gillette Blade and New Gillette Razor together, you will never want to use anything else. You will agree that the few extra pennies spent for the new razor are the greatest investment in shaving comfort that you ever made. In designing this new blade and razor, Gillette engineers interviewed 27,000 men, examined tens of thousands of used razors. They found the cause of “razor pull’’—found it in nicked and dented corners resulting from dropping the razor on floor or wash basin. These dents were enough to throw the blade out of alignment, to spoil a perfect shave. What Gillette engineers did was to reinforce each corner of the new razor cap with heavy metal lugs that withstand abuse. - $7.00 Price Then they cut out all four corners of the blade so that it is not held at these corners at all when cap and guard clamp together. Now even if New Cut-out Corners you should happen to drop the New Gillette, the blade maintains its perfect alignment no harm is done; and “pulling” is prevented. The New Gillette Blade has square ends that do not slip in wet fingers. It is de- signed to shave closer around the corners of ears, nose and mouth. And gone are th old posts that stuck through the blade and accidentally caught and dulled so many keen edges. The New Blade is made of special proc- VW hen shaving, turn blade and guard at right an essed steel to resist rust finished gles, re-.ighten, hold under hot running shake thoroughly, leave A great towel saver. water on shelf to dry. A great time saver At almost every store you can get the New Gillette Razor, 24K. gold plated, supplied with one new blade and packed ly one dollar; in a good-looking case, for only also the New Gillette Blade in the new green packet which costs one dollar for ten, and fifty cents for the package of five. Don’t wait any longer to enjoy the most comfortable shave you've ever had in your life. Stop at your dealer's today - GILLETTE SAFETY RAZOR. CO., BOSTON, U.S. A

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Big Guns... ~— and NNash-buckets Long naval guns thunder at invisible targets twenty miles distant ... three hits out of five on a target only thirty feet high a world’s record in gunnery... And the discarding of wash-buckets helped in achieving that precision of fire! In the old days, after gun practice, every sailor had to wash his soiled clothes, laboriously, by hand ... And hours given to chores couldn’t be devoted to study of seamanship, gunnery . . . Then the navy turned its back on the wash- bucket, put big, modern laundry machines on its battle-ships, even on many destroyers . . . The sailors, with more time for study, won record after record in gunnery, in engineering . . . set new standards of achievement in the science of seamanship .. . And it’s not only the navy that is bene- fiting from these colossal “‘American” laundering machines, well called “‘Mam- moths.” Passengers on world cruisers, as they turn from gazing at sunsets over coral islands in mid-Pacific, descend companion- ways to berths where the linen is as clean and white and crisp as any they would find in the finest hotels on shore. In fact, shipboard life on every sea is cleaner, pleasanter, because of American Laun- dry Machines, because of the inventiveness of “American” engineers. One man can handle the Mammoth Cascade Washer, with its 700-pound load, just as easily as he handles a machine with less than half the capacity. An “American” achievement in man-power multiplication. THE AMERICAN LAUNDRY MACHINERY COMPANY Executive Offices, Cincinnati, Ohio In the Cause of World Cleanliness © 1930, The A. L. M. Co. April 5,1950

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eae (Continued from Page 112) and he goes on something terrible. Don’t answer, Edwin.” “T’ll talk to him,” promised Edwin, ris- ing like a lion refreshed. He stalked to the dumb-waiter, threw up the slide and called, “Hello!” “Is that you, Kiley?” came a hoarse voice from the basement. “This is Edwin Kiley.” ““When are you going to pay the bill you owe for that radio, Kiley?” Edwin, glancing up and down the shaft, saw slides going up in several other kitch- ens. “I can’t hear you,” called Edwin. The voice from below increased in vol- ume. “I say when are you going to pay that radio bill, Kiley? You've been owing on it now for four months.” ““Can’t you talk any louder?” demanded Edwin. “Yes, I can talk louder, Kiley,”’ bellowed the collector below. ‘‘I can talk loud enough for the whole house to hear me! You're a dead beat, Kiley, and I’m going to publish you if you don’t come across with that fif- teen dollars. Can you hear that?”’ ‘Just a moment, my friend,” requested ‘dwin grimly. ‘“‘Oh, Mrs. Levey! Did you hear him?” “Well, Mr. Kiley—good morning, Mr. Kiley nobody could help hearing him, he yelled so blamed loud.” “Mr. Berg, good morning. Did you hear him?” “T certainly did, Kiley.” “Very well, my friend,” Edwin called down to the collector. ‘“‘ You may tell your employer that he’ll hear from me before the day’s over.”” He pulled down the slide. “Oh, what a disgrace,”’ breathed Mrs. Kiley. “We'll have to move. We can’t stay in this house after that.” “You can send them all a picture postal from Florida, lovey. Except Mrs. Levey and Mr. Berg; you'll have to send them at least a box of oranges, because I’m going to ask them to do me a favor.” He called the stenographer to him as soon as he reached the office. ‘“‘Take a com- plaint, Miss Monahan— action for damages for slander. Entitled Edwin Kiley against Harmonia Radio Corporation.” And he dictated the pleading with prac- ticed ease, recounting the episode of the dumb-waiter shaft with legal particularity, and ending: ‘‘ Wherefore the plaintiff de- mands judgment in the sum of five thou- sand dollars.”” His eyes glinting with anticipation of assuagement and reconsti- tution in the minds of his eavesdropping neighbors, he drove into Mr. Shelby Ma- cabe’s business. Miss Monahan looked across at him with covert admiration; something had come over Mr. Kiley lately. Her new opinion of him was confirmed a few minutes later, when Edwin had Mr. Macabe’s business in hand and could take a moment for himself. He called up a brokerage office and asked the latest on Peppo Bottling. “Opened at 19!,. Wait a bit. comes under the wheel—19!5— 34 the last.”’ Edwin hung up with a clash. ‘Make that ten thousand dollars, Miss Monahan! Open an envelope for it, and put down Mr. Berg and Mrs. Gwendolyn Levey as wit- nesses.”” A harassed clerk on forty a week could be abused for nothing, or at a very modest cost, but it was something else again to slander a high-stomached gentle- man worth nearly twenty thousand dollars. He opened the Law Journal to observe the progress of the cases which Mr. Shelby Macabe had then in the courts, and to mark the same for appropriate action. There on the editorial page was a news item to the effect that the governor had appointed Mr. Shelby Macabe to fill the unexpired term of the late Justice Huggins. Edwin ringed that too. Mr. Macabe sent for him after an hour. Beside Mr. Macabe’s desk sat a bright- faced youth of twenty-three to whom Mr. Macabe introduced his managing clerk. “This is our Mr. Kiley, Mr. Peters. . . . Sit down, Mr. Kiley. Mr. Peters is taking Here it 20 is THE SATURDAY over my practice; I imagine he'll be safe in your charge.” Mr. Macabe smiled win- ningly at Edwin and humorously at his successor. ‘Until we come to a final ar- rangement, Mr. Peters is my partner and the active head of the firm. “Mr. Peters, Mr. Kiley is thoroughly acquainted with the affairs of the office and he will advise you on all questions that come up. He's a modest chap—oh, yes, you are, Mr. Kiley!—but extremely com- petent, and I feel that you'll do well to be guided by him. I can depend on you, and Mr. Peters can depend on you, can’t we, Mr. Kiley?” Edwin looked at Mr. Peters with the ill will of the disinherited, but was compelled tolike him. He was evidently a nice, bright boy and would be a competent lawyer after a few years under Edwin's tutelage; just now, he was fresh from law school and probably didn’t know the County Court- house from the Municipal Building. Edwin spoke in a voice that was unin- tendedly loud and aggressive; it had threat- ened to strangle in his throat: “No, Mr. Macabe. You cannot.” “Pardon me?” “T’ve decided to go out for myself.” “Well!” “T’ve been here for eighteen years and have had wonderful experience, and I think I’m capable of conducting my own office. Fortunately, I can afford it, thanks to Peppo Bottling and you, Mr. Macabe.” “You're entirely welcome. But, really, I fee| that you’re taking an unfair advan- tage of me when I need you most. You leave me in the lurch, so to speak, and not only syne but Mr. Peters. Don't you feel, as I feei, that you owe me—owe us—a duty, after eighteen years? Now, really, my dear fellow.” “TI have a family,” said Edwin. “Will next Saturday be convenient, now that you have Mr. Peters? Then I'll leave on Satur- day. I certainly appreciate all you’ve done for me, Mr. Macabe, and I'll pay off that loan with interest in the course of a very few days.” In fairness to Mr. Macabe, it must be said that Edwin was not the high-pressure executive—serene, dominant, compelling by his obvious reserve—during this inter- view; Edwin twitched, blushed, looked surly. Declaring his independence, he looked the mutinying subordinate. The moral force that inspires the man born to command, and bound to command, whether he knows what he’s commanding or not the gift of the fumbling but indomitable Mr. Macabe and the fledgling but eaglet- eyed Mr. Peters—was not Edwin's despite his inflation. iv DWIN knew how to go about being a leader and securing for himself the symbolic bare desk; he could have written the leading authority on this perennially interesting topic. He could have compiled a treatise that would have become a pre- scribed textbook in the schools of success that offer to make a Mussolini or Napoleon of any agitator or corporal for a small cut of his net income. He could have ushered anyone to the seat perilous, but could not have told him how to ride it; his exemplar was Justice Shelby Macabe, and Mr. Macabe had not yet displayed the crowning quality of lead- ership. The leader who stays put has been cruel to be kind, ruthless and then con- ciliatory. Edwin hired a small room adjoining the office of Mr. Macabe and sent out five hun- dred announcement cards; among others to whom these cards went were the clients of Shelby Macabe. This was raiding, but had its technical excuse; a judge on the bench could not practice law on his own hook and could have no use for clients. Mr. Macabe had used politics as a lad- der; Edwin would mount to the second story of success by the same road. He had long been a member of a local political club; the club wasn’t his and never had been—on the contrary, he belonged to the club. He went there on the evening of his EVENING POST interview with Mr. Macabe and Mr. Pe- ters, and made an address that thrilled the crowded house and directed to him its wondering and respectful attention. Hardly had he done when the leader drew him aside and clasped his hand, saying “You're a lawyer, aren't you, Mr. Kiley? We want you on the law committee, and I'll see that your name goes at once on the list for ref- erences and receiverships.”” This was Ed- win’s maiden speech, delivered throatily but distinctly while the membership was devising ways and means: “Put me down for two hundred dollars.” Edwin did these things, and furnished his office with simplicity and taste, on tick. He had no money, but Peppo Bottling was at 24, and he rated Al. He would get a clerk. Sitting at his naked desk on the first Monday following the last Saturday of his service with Mr. Macabe, he meditated on his needs in the way of a clerk and perceived that he did not want an efficient and experienced scrub, since he was himself adequately experienced and effi- cient. He wanted a chap who would dress the office, who could command by the power of the human eye, who could marshal and inspirit a corps of clients. He would write to his old college, sending specifications; he could use the unathletic manager of the athletic association, the class-day speaker, the man most frequently tapped, the most popular man, even the best-dressed man; he wanted neither a plunging halfback nor a bulbous-browed grind. Nothing succeeds like success; while Ed- win was still meditating, and before he had put pen to his new stationery, his door opened and admitted a chap who was the composite picture of Edwin's requirements, just the man he needed as associate. This chap was dapper, boring of eye, confidence breeding but unassuming; Edwin recog- nized him at once, and his heart thumped. “Oh, hello, Mr. Macabe,"’ he exclaimed. “Good morning, judge. Come right in!" “Hearty congratulations, Kiley,” said Judge Macabe, offering his hand. “I wish you every good success, and I know it will be yours. I know I shall be proud of you, Kiley.’ “This is handsome of you, judge,” said Edwin feelingly. He was standing, and he gestured toward the only chair in the room, which happened to be the swivel chair be- hind the shining desk. “‘ But do sit down.” “Oh, not there,” protested the judge, veiling his hazel eyes humorously. But he permitted himself to be persuaded and took the seat; Edwin stood beside the desk, alert and sympathetic Judge Macabe clasped his hands behind his neat little head, leaned back and flirted with the ceiling. ““Every good prospect, Kiley. and I know you feel, too—that with your experience and—ah—good will, not only in your own practice but in the associations you have formed And you may rest assured, Kiley, that I'll do anything that lies in my power, individually and in my new status and position, to help and assist you. You won't hesitate to call on me, will you? And yet, my dear Ki-i-ley ’’—his tone was sweet and insinuating —“‘and yet, view- ing this entire matter in its larger aspects and not in any particularly and partisan how shall I say Eh? You follow me?” “Yes, sir,” said Edwin. ‘‘Some arrange- ment might be arrived at that would con- serve the interests of us both without conflict.” “Ah—ah, yes! Yes, Kiley.” I feel Edwin closing the door of his new office, lingered with hand on knob and gazed at the handsome new lettering of his name on the ground-glass panel. When first he had seen that name there, alarm had fluttered in him, nascent panic, but his sentiment was now of regret. He sighed, shrugged, thrust the door to and turned toward home His gait was brisk, self-important, not quite the importance of a drum major strid ing before a regiment and epitomizing its Continued on Page 119 IR WALTER RALEIGH had a hunch that pipe-lovers would welcome some practical hints on how to take care of a pipe. It was a good hunch. Thousands of pipe smokers have sent for this free booklet. It tells you how to break in a new pipe —how to make a good pipe smoke smoother and sweeter —the proper way to clean a pipe and many worthwhile hints on pipe hygiene. If you haven't sent for this booklet, write for a copy today and find out what pipe- makers and pipe-lovers suggest doing to keep your pipe sweet and mellow : Just drop a line to the Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corporation, Louisville, Kentucky. De pt. 5 Srr WALTER RALEIGH Smoking Tobacco It's 15¢ and It's milder

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REAR SARE ~ — er —_ — * —_ hae - * eR n 30% of customers inadequate. ‘Machines left too long out on trial.” “HAT’S the vital information which a Kardex | Record flashed one day to T. general sales manager of the Union Special ‘ompany of Chicago, one of the world’s industrial sewing machines. new and clear Kardex picture of the before him, he was able not only to speed on machines—but to bring in profits for the firm But no more striking than many complishing for hundreds of THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Kardex shows of UNION SPECIALS inactive accounts buy new machmes of old accounts hadn't bought in 1929. Trims inventory $225,000 Over $225,000 released for additional working funds — $225,000 that was tied up needlessly in avast stock until Kardex enabled the American Writing Paper Company, Holycke, Mass., to make this tre- mendous stock cut without impairing service one iota. Remington Rand BUSINESS SERVICE KARDEX VISIBLE RECORDS Remington Library Bureau Safe-Cabinet Dalton + Baker-Vawter + Kalamazoo ...and 22% Simple — Inexpensive Quick as\a flash, Kardex lays vital information be- fore you—\pformation which a school child could understand. \The clear-cut color signals flashing on visible margin\do away with cumbersome ledgers and cards that are \o often mis-filed. You can start a system for the wyeckly wages of a clerk, and any girl in your office can Ogerate it. Kardex can be installed by our Indexing Servicy without any effort on your part. Call ky a specialist Increase sales . . . cut \jventory . .. speed up turn- over... bring in collectlons. .. and uncover other ways to extract more monky from your business. It can be done. And a Remington Rand specialist can show you just where and howto do it. Call for a specialist today an¥ let him inspect your methods. Call him at nearest ranch, or write to Remington Rand Business ServicA&at Butfalo, N. Y. B ; zs af = & Poslate Awning co.. ‘ay Madison, - AUG MAR - APR = beige ocT | MAY — NOV la. i — 2s Green @@ Trial-period on machine expired. Orange MBDate of salesman’s last call. Red MBENo order in 10 months. SS April 5,1950 _———>- ~ rr Se eae ——--— ES aw —_

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ME Ss Continued from Page 117) might, nor even that of a court officer mak- ing judge and jury and counsel jump at his leonine roar, but at least the importance of a sergeant of the guard, an ambassador or a walking delegate. He was again a sub- ordinate, clothed with authority while re- sponsibility depressed somebody else. His assurance decreased visibly as he neared the little Harlem flat. He was going to Gladys with good news, but he could not anticipate that the reaction would be altogether satisfactory, would result in a complete rapprochement. The grasshopper in their milk, so to say, was the fact that their good fortune was owing entirely to her. It was she who had urged that they speculate on borrowed money; when he had done so, it was she who had supplied all the nerve and resolution to hold on while their profit mounted. He had urged her, pleaded with her, to sell, when they had fifty dollars’ profit, when they had hundreds, when they could have a gorgeous and incredible thousand for the taking. She had been reluctant, moody, snappish, but obdurate; and she had been right. She was an ambitious woman — ambitious for them both. The shrewishness that many years of disappointment and niggardly living had bred in her would not be removed by the news that success was his at last; would rather be justified. She had been, was and would be right; and he, wrong. He could speak for both of them by saying, “You told me so!” “Lovey,” he said, beginning to tell her, “‘T had a visitor in the new office today.” “A client!” “No, not a client. There never will be any clients in that office, Gladys.” He smiled expansively. After all, it was good news. He loved her and would rather have her happy thar be right. “‘ Lovey, you prom- ised me that when we had a profit of twenty thousand dollars on that Peppo Bottling stock you'd sell it. It closed at 24 today, lovey; there’s our twenty thousand dollars and a bit more.” She took the newspaper from him and opened it to the stock quotations. How white and worn she was! It had been a strain on her to see comparative ease within her grasp and to defer taking it in the hope that it would improve, to wait in constant peril of losing it all again. He couldn't have done it. “Hello; what’s the matter, lovey?” She had dropped the newspaper and fallen into a chair; she was breathing short and fast. “Oh, Edwin, it’s down to 10; we've lost—I’ve lost every cent of that money. Oh, my poor boy —my poor baby.” His arms were about her. ‘‘Don't be silly, lovey. It’s not down to 10; it’s up to 24! See, here it is.” THE SATURDAY “T mean Tomahawk Oil. Oh, how could I do :t?”’ “What do we care about Oil!” “Edwin, I can’t stand it any longer. I'll have to tell you. We're ruined, Edwin. We've lost everything. And you've lost your position too. I must have been mad. . . . Edwin, I did’sell that Peppo Bottling stock.” “Well, then? We've got the money! . . . Oh, I see. When did you sell it, sweet- heart?” “Two months ago. The very morning after you gave me the stock. And, Ed- win —don't hate me —I put the three thou- sand dollars in Tomahawk Oil.” He rose from his knees beside her and took a bewildered turn up and down the little room. It’s no joke to lose twenty-four thousand dollars, even if twenty-one thou- sand of it is only a paper profit. It takes a man’s breath away. ‘‘So we never had that money that I was counting on atall. .. . “Gladys sf Her eyes lifted slowly. They gazed at each other for a forlorn interval; and then he was smiling and was on his knees beside her again. “There, there, sweetheart; don’t cry. What’s there to cry about? We haven't lost any twenty-four thousand dollars. Gosh, we never had it! Gladys, I met the agent downstairs and I gave him notice.” “Oh, Edwin. Can’t we live even here? I'll go to work; I can work.” “What would a rich woman like you want to work for? Gladys, we're going to move over to that apartment by the park, and we'll have a lady in by the day, and we'll get a rubber-tired, ball-bearing go-cart for the baby, instead of that catamaran downstairs, and we'll begin to live! : I didn’t tell you about the visitor I had. It was Mr. Macabe—Judge Macabe—and I’m going back to work for him. But I’m going to be a junior partner now, with a drawing account of a hundred and fifty a week. Oh, he couldn’t get me cheap, I tell you. . . . Do you hear me, Gladys?” “T don't understand you. Edwin!” “T'll go get the baby and tell him all about it, and he can explain it to you. There’s a bright boy. In another six months he'll be smart enough to try our Municipal Court cases for us; he can holler loud enough now. Sit right there, Gladys.” She watched him going for the child, love lighting his footsteps. The years relented and he was again the boy whom she had married—alert, flippant, cajoling, aspiring. He had reacquired prestige, the majesty that should hedge a husband, the mystery of a man who can go out and wrest a decent living from a harsh and penurious world. Tomahawk WILY MM Professor Einstein Opens His Fan Mail EVENING POST A trademark to dispel uncertainty je SELECTION of a casket is too offen based solely on external appearance. There are other factors deserving at least equal consideration. Is it not equally important to know the degree of protection afforded - - - the quality of the materials used - - « the workmanship underlying the exterior beauty? There is a quick and easy way to determine these values - - - the trademark of the National Casket Company. This trademark appears on every National casket. It is incon- spicuously placed, but plainly visible. It states of what material the casket is made. It pledges authenticity of style. It is the pur- chaser's guarantee of quality workmanship — the word of a company with a reputation for reliability extending over nearly fifty years. National caskets are sold by funeral directors throughout the length and breadth of the land. |} is reasonable to suppose that the funeral director who handles merchandise of high quality has similar high standards of service. To throw authoritative light on a little-known subject, the National Casket Company has published a little book, “Funeral Facts." We shall be glad to send a copy without charge in a plain envelope upon request. Just write Department L 1, National Casket Company, 60 Massachusetts Avenue, Boston, Mass. NATIONAL CASKET COMPANY, INC ° DISPLAY R MS IN TWENTY-SEVEN ( 119

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—— ete SS = = “Say, isn’t that great?”’ Mr. Pelham J. Miller demanded of the little man. “But but how can you tell they’ll get him? Do you know him?” Mr. Higgins smiled and shook his head. “Not that I know of—not by that name, anyway. I said they’d get him, in the end, because he didn’t have any brains.” “Do you understand that?” Mr. Miller smilingly demanded of the little man. “I confess I don’t. If he was smart enough to get away—clean—isn’t that the word? why isn’t he one of the brainy few that ——” “Simply because he had to run away, Mr.— Mr. ——” “Miller” —with a smile. " Miller. A brainy crook—one of the few of ’em like Forgan, for instance— wouldn’t make a break like that. What if he does get clean for a little while? They know he’s a crook, don’t they? They'll have plenty of his finger prints, won’t they? He’s brainless because when he does get caught they have something on him—some- thing that he can’t get away from. Now, if Forgan was handlin’ that job ——” ““Who’s Forgan?” asked the little man. “T never heard of him.” Mr. Higgins took his pipe from his mouth and held it, stem forward, like an admonish- ing forefinger. “‘ Forgan,” he told the highly interested pair, “‘is the one in ten million. He’s the Rockefeller an’ the Ford of the business. Not because he’s the kind that plays for big mcney, but because he plays for safe money. see? About all the police know about this brainy guy is that he ex- ists. Does Forgan operate with a lot of hop-crazed babies? He does not. Does Forgan take a chance on his partner double- crossing him, like poor Old George Morgan? I’ll tell the cock-eyed world he don’t. Does he wear diamond rings an’ silk dressing gowns an’ buy the girls a lotta near cham- pagne? He does not.” “Isn’t that interesting?” commented Mr. Miller to the little man, and then, as if suddenly struck by some sudden doubt: “But how can you teil all this about a man nobody really knows? What I mean is, how can you be sure?” “That's right,”’ chimed in the little man with a touch of triumph in his reedy voice. “*How can you, now?” Thesmilethat Mr. Higgins passed around to this pair of Pullman-car innocents was a tolerant, kindly one. “Because if he did those things I’ve been speakin’ of,” he explained, “we'd know him, don’t y’ see? Crooks run to form the brainless ones—just like other people. If Forgan ran to form we'd get him like we get all the rest in time. Some girl would squeal or some stool would turn him up, or something. Take this cheap two-timer that left Old George Morgan holdin’ the bag. He probably thinks he’s a pretty smart crook, layin’ up in some boarding house or beatin’ it across the country, but if that was a Forgan job it would have been pulled off so slick that nobody could tell who pulled it off. Get the idea? Forgan could just stand there, so to speak, an’ watch them comb the room for clews. Get the differ- ence?” “A sort of Doctor Fu Manchu?” sug- gested the little man. “Moriarity,” supplied Mr. Miller. ““Mebbe,” assented Mr. Higgins. “I don’t know. I can’t say.” Mr. Miller moved forward on the leather seat. It was evident to the little man that Mr. Miller had become an ardent admirer of the brawny arm of law and order seated beside him. “Have a cigar, Mr. Higgins?” he sug- gested. Mr. Higgins didn’t care if he did. Mr. Miller glowed with pleasure at the big man’s graciousness. ‘You know,”’ he went on eagerly, “‘you are the first real detective I’ve ever run across. In real life, I mean. I suppose,” he sighed, as a man THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MR. MOLE (Continued from Page 17) sighs who dreams, “that running into dan- ger and matching wits with dangerous crooks is all in a day’s work with you, but to me—why, it’s just like having the pages of some magazine come to life. It is indeed.” “Very interesting,” contributed the little man. Mr. Higgins passed it off with a modest yawn, but his eyes, when they rested upon the frankly admiring Mr. Miller, were quite kindly. That gentleman stared for several min- utes at the night flying by the windows. “I suppose,”’ he said finally, ‘many people go wrong because they don’t realize how many men there are in the world like you, Mr. Higgins—keen, relentless, tireless, brainy men, backed by great organizations and hundreds of thousands of dollars, who are devoting their talents to law and order.” “There’s a lot of us,” Mr. Higgins ad- mitted. “TI don’t think I ever realized before,” his admirer went on, “what a tough propo- sition a crook is up against when he tries to beat men like you.” “Tt’s a tough racket,” Mr. Higgins was forced to admit. “Very tough,” corrected the little man. “It’s terrible,” Pelham J. Miller assured them solemnly. “I was just thinking. Suppose I was a crook like—like this fellow that you were just telling us about—the one that made off with the money and left his partner to face the music alone. What chance would I have if I ran onto you somewhere—like this train, for instance? Why, you would see through me in an instant. I can tell that instinctively, can’t you, Mr.— Mr. ——” Thus appealed to, the little man nodded vigorously and supplied his name— Bowler. “Not much, I'll be frank,” assented Mr. Higgins kindly. “T can see myself,” cried Mr. Miller dramatically, ‘‘cringing inwardly when I discover that you are the Mr. Higgins of The Bankers and Brokers’ Protective Asso- ciation. ican feel my hands growing clammy with fear and the little beads of sweat form- ing on my forehead. I can feel eyes as cold and as hard as steel boring into my guilty soul. I can hear your words, lashing like icy rain, across my eardrums calling upon me to—to come clean, isn’t it?” Mr. Higgins nodded complacently. “I had a cousin once,” put in Mr. Bowler, “who was arrested for speeding in Washington, D. C., and he said he aged five years while he was giving his name and address to the policeman.” Pelham J. Miller sighed. ‘Sherlock Holmes was always one of my greatest heroes.” Mr. Higgins was disposed to be gracious: “For a dick in a book, he was pretty good.” “I’m glad you feel that way.” It was evident that this new admirer of detection in the flesh valued his hero for his literary opinions too. Then he flushed and his words stumbled. When Mr. Higgins sorted them out he found he was invited to breakfast. He ac- cepted with a beneficent nod. “T guess I'll be going to bed,”’ said Mr. Bowler. Mr. Higgins yawned and arose also. Mr. Miller followed him down the sway- ing car and, at Lower 7, bade him good night in a timid, friendly voice in which law and order detected the note of awe due his calling. Just what he would have thought if he had peeped into Lower 9 fifteen minutes later and seen his new admirer, his violet silk knees doubled up in silent mirth, will probably never be known. mr REAKFAST is either merely the first meal of the day or it is a ritual in honor of better living. Speeding across the pan- caked farms of the Middle West, Detective Higgins voiced the opinion that people in this day and age were not paying enough attention to the art of putting away their victuals. Not that plenty of them were not making fools of themselves dieting. “What I say,”’ Mr. Higgins went on, the third sausage from his second order poised gracefully on his fork, ‘‘is this: If a person is going to be fat he is going to be fat, an’ if he is going to be thin he is going to be thin.” “Tt stands to reason,”’ agreed his host, “that if Nature intends a person to be fat, Nature probably has her good reasons."’ ““Sure she has.” “Another cup of coffee, Mr. Higgins?” The detective didn’t mind if he did. Ten minutes later, when the last drop of rich gravy had been absorbed by the last piece of golden toast, Mr. Higgins didn't mind if he did have a cigar. “In fact,” he added graciously, “I'm much obliged for the breakfast, Mr. Miller.” Mr. Miller grinned happily. ‘It has been an honor,” he declared. “‘ You have no idea how much I enjoyed our little conversation last night. I lay awake for an hour think- ing about it. But you make me feel sorry for the crooks. It—it makes me glad I'm in the conveying business.” “Conveying, eh?’ said Mr. Higgins un- certainly. ‘“‘That—that’s something like the real-estate business, ain't it?” “Something, but not so technical.” Mr. Higgins nodded. “Sure.” “*More money in it.” “A-huh.” Mr. Miller turned back to the morning paper the steward had left at their table. “I see by this paper they haven't got the fellow you were telling us about last night. What was his name-—Clark? That's what I thought you said. A-—a funny thing though. It says here that The Bankers and Brokers’ Protective Association is cojperat- ing with Chicago police and an early arrest is expected.” “We'll get him,”’ his guest assured him confidently. ‘“‘There ain't a railroad sta- tion of any importance in the country that we won't be watchin’.”’ “You don’t say !"’ murmured Mr. Miller. “You just watch,” promised Mr. Hig- gins through his tightly clenched perfecto, “‘when we get to the Grand Central to- night I'll betcha I can show you a half dozen of our boys keepin’ their eye on the trains comin’ in from the West. That's the game, y’ know.” “What is?” ““Comin’ to New York. An old-fashioned yegg or somebody like that will lay up somewhere, but not one of these smart, white-collar crooks. They like the white lights and the nifties too well.”’ For the first time since he had met De- tective Higgins, a shadow flickered across Mr. Miller's brown eyes. “You just watch,” repeated Mr. Higgins heavily. “I will,” promised his host, and it was quite evident that he meant it. iv HE Eastern Limited was due at Grand Central at 8:17. At 8:10, just before they began to tunnel their way under the greatest city in the world, Mr. Miller pre- sented his friend, Detective Higgins, with

te another cigar. It was the mate to the ones he had insisted upon supplying as Mr. Hig- gins had fought, weakly, for the luncheon and dinner checks Mr. Miller winked as he passed it over, and repeated the words he had uttered on those occasions: “It al! goes on the old expense account — entertaining «a customer.” And Detective Higgins grinned, as he had grinned before. “What do you say we ride uptown to- gether?” he suggested as they followed the redcap through the hurrying crowd. “It would be a real pleasure,"” Mr. Miller assured him with a smile As they neared the brightly lighted gate, Mr. Miller noticed the two geritlemen that stood on either side, scanning each passen- ger as he stepped out into the lemon brilliance of the terminal. Mr. Higgins did not see them until they were at the gate. Then he stopped. “Hullo, Cleary,” he said to the heavy- set man to the left. “ You an’ Beck playin hide an’ seek with the Eastern Limited?” The man named Cleary grinned. ‘ Look- ing for a Chicago smarty,” he confided. “Bird that got away with seventy grand out there. Smarty by the name of Clark.” Mr. Higgins nodded. “Al,” he said, “meet my friend Miller.” Mr. Miller held out his hand. “Any friend of Barney's is a friend of mine,” he declared cordially. Mr. Cleary took the hand. “Glad to meet you,” he said. Then, to the puffing Higgins: ‘See anybody on the Limited that looked like our smarty, Bur- ney?” Detective Higgins shook his head jovi- ally. ‘‘ The Limited was clean. Eh, Miller?” Pelham J. Miller appealed to Cleary. **What else could it be-—with Barney on the train?” Higgins wanted to stop at his office. As the cab headed across Forty-second Street toward West Thirty-ninth, Pelham J. Mil- ler watched the streaming traffic with eyes that glowed almost as brightly as his com- panion’s cigar. New York! New York and seventy-four grand! Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness! “Tt makes you glad you're an American,” he said aloud, happily. “What does?” “New York at night,” Mr. Miller told him softly. “The lights, the people, the sense of people going somewhere — motion Don't you like it, Barney?” The button of red gold twitched in Mr Higgins’ mouth. ‘It’s a good town for my business.”’ “God help the poor crooks on a night like this, eh, Barney?"’ The cab slithered into Thirty-ninth Street. ‘ Especially the brain- Mr. Miller laughed. He was still laughing when he stepped up to the black onyx desk of Hote! Goliath and booked a room. The clerk looked down at the card and then up at the smiling, incom ing guest “Niceevening, Mr. Miller,”’ he “T’'ll tell the world it is,” Mr sured him less ones.” . iggested Miller as- In fact, Mr. Miller’s mirth continued He sang blithely in his shower the next morning. He whistled merrily as he waited for a cab to take him to the post office. He hummed cheerily as he waited at the general- delivery window for the large, thick en- velope which was presently handed to him Back in the privacy of his hotel room, he shook with laughter as he thought of that keen, relentless, brainy champion of law and order, Mr. Higgins, and slit the inner envelope on the desk before him And then, as his shaking fingers ran through the neatly clipped and folded sheets of newspaper which the envelope contained, his mirth sudden'y departed and he thought of that innocent, righteous, brainy gentleman —-Mr. Mole

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122 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 Mr. and Mrs. Valsp ar ‘Aren’t these colors lovely, Val?” "Whenever I start painting with olors, Val, I just can’t leave them "’ continues Mrs. Valspar. ‘Yeah,’’ agrees Val, ‘just like eat- j J 12 peanuts. i

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pre ELA ep ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘Trans fo rm // he Den ‘ ‘7 ‘OSHI.... It’s hard to imagine it’s the same room,” says For Valspar, experienced and reliable old guide, blazes : Mr. Valspar, their color-spree in “The Den’’ having _ the trail for many delightful color pilgrimages .. . indoors Sn, ended in mutual admiration of their accomplishment. ... outdoors. Wherever the chosen surface calls for paint- MEADQUANTERS of phink we worked eat é pretty attractive color scheme, Val, ing, varnishing, enameling or lacquering, there is always don’t you?” returns Mrs. Val, recalling the night she had the right Valspar for the need . . . always the right color curled up in the old wing chair when they planned the combination of colors. vaLentine’s “transformation.” There is the certainty of Valspar Quality to add to the patatet “But, it’s even better than we anticipated,”’ concludes Val, success of your color efforts. Quality in the sense that oe “and if credit goes where it belongs ‘The Valspars’ should be saluted.”’ Thousands of other families have been equally gratified with Valspar. Whenever there is any “finishing” to be done to beautify the home... . Valspar is invariably the finish used! A welcome companion on every journey into Colorland. THE SAME ROOM, THE SAME FURNITURE~PLUS VALSPAR AND NEW DRAPES Valspar can “rough it” in any weather or climate and still retain its beauty...a w aterproof, Ww earproof, weather- proof finish proved in service. Always remember! The name Valspar includes Clear Varnish, 4 Hour Enamel and Lacquer in most popular colors, a complete range of House Paints, Flat Wall Paints, Porch and Floor Paints. Every penny invested in Valspar pays out satisfaction . . . with interest. rr De store that displays this he adqu ariers sien 45 the f lace to obtain your Valspar in just the “finish” and / color you desire VALS °° © PA ITNTS FIN ERS ** EONAMELS

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST HAPPY LANDINGS So it was an unknown taxi driver who found for them the charming little place, with walls of paneled ivory, with a cellist and a violinist and a trombonist and a subtlety and melodic discrimination; in brief, the taxi driver did indeed find them a good place, where from six till half after seven —— Eve had said she wasn’t hungry, but | they dined not badly on clams, a guinea- hen casserole, endive with an odd, delicious dressing, an ice, and excessively good black | coffee. “You order a dinner as a gentleman | should,” she said to him as the casserole | departed. “Will you dance?” asked Traill, rising. The orchestra, which had been sobbing it- self to sleep, started broad awake as Eve slipped into his arms. The drum rolled. | In a long sweet cry, the violin shivered. As if they had indeed been to dancing school together, Evé and Traill moved off across | the shining floor. “You're good,” very shortly. He said, “Who wouldn’t be?” “Just a Southern gentleman.” “Not at all. There’s such a thing as keeping quiet.” Eve said, ‘‘We were born to dance to- she sighed shortly — | gether.” “Hearts in Dixie,” said Jed Traill, grin- ning one-sidedly. “Oh,” she murmured, “if I didn’t like your technic I'd stop. I can’t be bothered with amateurs.” He said, ‘“‘ You talk like the girls down home.” She said, at all.” “Sorry,” he muttered. She patted his arm and laughed up into his moody face. “Don’t be ridiculous! I mean, I’m so unexpectedly just “I'd much rather not talk i happy.” “Dancing with me?” asked Traill, in- credulous. “Oh, just dancing,” said Eve. She added generously: ‘Of course it’s partly because you're quite wonderful, really.” They had danced half a dozen times, the ices had disappeared and the small coffee cups stood empty, only the ash trays showed mounting hillocks of gray fluff, when he began to sing to her. Close at her ear, in a muted tenor. Having in its lower range the strange’ sweetness, the haunting, hurting vibrancy of a steel guitar. Just above a whisper, of course, close at her ear, the orchestra beating and wailing a long way off, like tom-toms in a deep wood where a deep river flowed. “T want your love, but I don’t want to borrow, To have it today and to give back tomorrow, For my love is your love; there’s no love for nobody else.” Eve said, when Traill stopped, when only the sound of violin and cello flowed round them like the deep river in the deep wood: “Go on. I like it,” she said, whis- pering. He began to sing again, holding her close, moving with the slow, effortless grace that she had recognized in the first step she took with him that night: “* Love me or leave me and let me be lonely. “It’s a fool trick dancing.” She said, heavenly!” He held her closer yet. At which she shrank a little. He loosened his hold in- stantly, went on singing, very low, with an undertone of weariness. His voice had a quality of heartbreak and desire. singing when you're “Go on! Don’t talk. It’s “You won't believe me, but I love you only, I'd rather be lonely than happy with somebody else.” (Continued from Page 29) Like a bell ringing beside a track with an unseen train bearing down .. . like the smell of rain in the air, where no rain yet is . . . something in the deeps of Eve’s soul quickened, renascent. ‘‘Eddie, my darling, did you think I'd forgotten? Did you think I was happy?”” What was she doing with this stranger's arm around her, the sleeve of his coat against her cheek? With this alien intimate voice, magicking her. Her feet followed now, uncaring. “‘Regretting instead of forgetting, With somebody else!”’ Wine and honey in that voice—the Tristan philter. “* There'll be no one unless that someone is you, I intend to be independently blu-u-u-e. I want your love, and I don’t want to borrow.” He was himself half magicked, singing in time to his slow, swinging steps. More, suddenly, than Eve could endure. She said: “This is wonderful, but I have a feeling we ought to look at the time. . . . Don’t look like that,” she said to his eyes, wincing, rebuffed. ‘‘We can’t miss our train, can we?” Traill took her back to their table and signaled his waiter. When he picked up the bill, Eve happened to be looking at him. She was drawing on her gloves, faintly re- morseful at having so brusquely cut short his song. She saw his dark eyebrows come together for a moment, saw his mouth tighten. Most unlikely that one of How- ard’s friends would be disconcerted by an overcharge in a restaurant, yet distinctly she saw Trail! hesitate. Then he took some money from a billfold and paid the man, quietly waved aside change. The waiter’s respectful farewell was earnest of a fair tip. Still Eve struggled with a growing un- easiness. The taxi had driven round and round the park, for miles along the lake. Taxis are not driven in charity. Then there had been the two dark-velveted divans. Movies are no longer to be had for two nickels, one dime. She said, diffidently, because she would not for worlds have offended that sensitive quiet of his, yet she could not help but feel in him a painful embarrassment: “I thought there might have been a mistake. These places are such robbers.” He said: ‘“‘No mistake except my own stupidity. I’m afraid I’m going to have to borrow taxi fare from you to get you back to the train.” That dark and burning flush. Eve wanted to put her arm around his shoulders. He was so obviously suffer- ing from ¥ hat he conceived to be abject ignominy. She laughed, put her hand on his arm, shook him alittle: ‘‘ Don’t be absurd! Any- body’d know you came from Virginia! I’ve been a gold-digger, that’s all! I’ve jet you spend a frightful lot on me.” He said, with vehement earnestness: “You've given me the only really happy day I’ve had in years.” And how could that be? Howard’s out- fit wasn’t given to unhappy days, or nights. Eve, in the taxi, on the way to the train, came suddenly to an open question. “Are you going out to California for polo, or fishing, or what?” she said. “I’ve been dying to ask you.” Traill told her amazedly: “I thought, of course, you knew. Wasn't that what West told you about me? I’m going out to get into talking pictures— if it can bedone.’’ He smiled, with his ineffaceable tilt of mockery. Only skin deep, or more? “I’ve been in stock this winter in Providence. A mis- leading juvenile.” “You mean,” said Eve—‘“‘you can’t mean you're on a shoestring like me?”’ “A shoestring?” he said. “I hang by a thread!” Eve threw herself back; she broke into delighted laughter. ‘“‘ Now,” she said, “we can talk!

April 5, 1950 Said Traill, ‘‘ Have we only just begun?” They paid off the taxi with a dollar taken from Eve’s purse. x EXT morning they had breakfast to- gether, followed, in the course of time, as breakfast things must be, by luncheon and dinner. It amused Eve to find companion- ship so quickly and simply arrived at. The fact of a common background of course obviated a good many preliminaries, did away with certain adjustments, and in ad- dition to their adolescent memories of the South, they had, of course, in common the limitless shop of the theater. Hours slipped away from them, whole states unrolled and slid away beneath the wheels of their train while they discussed the terrible winter in plays, the possibilities of the talkies. You know,” Eve said to him sagely, “that voice of yours might mean some- thing.” Traill looked skeptical. Skepticism, she had already discovered, was, with him, not only a matter of a crooked mouth but the stigmata of some inner warp as well. Some secret warp of the soul. Scar tissue, shrink- ing what must, to begin with, have been a smooth surface. He said, “‘ My voice is nothing to swank about. I've got too much accent, for one thing.” “‘T meant your singing voice,” said Eve. She had herself rather wondered if his drawl, his blurred vowels and sometimes completely elided consonants, however de- lightful to the ear, might not, in the merci- less enlargement of sound production, prove hopelessly distorted. “Still,” she said, “‘there are Southern ac- cents in Hollywood.”’” She named a male lead, almost of stellar capacity. “That cock-eyed ass!” said Traill gloom- ily. He hadn’t much hope of Hollywood. It seemed at moments, to Eve, that he had no especial hope of anything. He hadn’t, to take his own word for it, been conspicu- ously good in stock at Providence. Before that, he had had no luck with one or two trivial parts in New York. “Are you keen about the theater?”’ Eve asked him. “Oh, I dunno; Traill. “How on earth did you happen to pick on Hollywood?” “The director in Providence talked me into it. Decent sort of chap. He seemed to be quite a friend of mine.” Even his friends only seemed to be! “*The man who directed our show,” said Eve, smiling to remember Jimmy Suther- not frightfully,” said land’s lamentations and prophecies, ‘did his best to scare me off.” “Then why —— Are you so keen on it yourself?”’ “There was a man, the night we opened in What Luck ——”’ said Eve slowly. She hadn’t, since leaving New York, thought a great deal about Timberlake. Meeting Traill had diverted her. She had been glad to forget her own perplexities and baffle- ments, in the interest of a fresh personality, bringing with it, as it did, the relaxing safe- ness of tribal kinship. Now she felt the return, abrupt and vivid, of a feeling Timberlake had aroused in her-—a feeling which had swept her along in agreement with whatever he suggested. Traill gave her a sense of being comforted, of being looked out for, of being almost reverently considered. Perhaps only the Virginian’s immemorial attitude toward a woman, perhaps merely a social cover for ordinary selfishness and incomprehension — still, she had been soothed by it. Now she remembered Timberlake with much the feeling of coming out of a delightful dream, back to the strong contours of reality. What force he gave off . . . what casual dynamic ruthlessness clipped his words and tight- ened his brief, abrupt gestures! He would know what he wanted, and he would take (Continued on Page 126) 678

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TOLEDO, OHIO Branches and Warehouses at Rb QuALITY PHOSPHOR BRONZE BUSHING BEARINGS THE SATURDAY Continued from Page 124) it where he found it. Men like him made empires for men who couldn't keep them. They saw tomorrow coming, while other men were yet busy and blinded with today. Eve thought: ‘It would be perfectly simple for him. I'll get him to give this one a hand.” She said, “‘ You'll have to meet him when we get out there.” “Who?” asked Traill, not unnaturally, Eve having sat silent a good five minutes, staring out of the window. “The man I spoke of —his name’s Tim- berlake. He’s a director for National Play- ers.”” “I've heard of him,” said Traill. He wouldn’tsay what he’d heard. Seemed to regret having said so much. “Oh, the usual thing. I believe he’s admitted to be brilliant.” “Brilliancy isn’t the usual thing,” said Eve. But Traill would go no further in the matter of what he had heard about Timber- lake. ‘‘Just the Hollywood legend.” Eve wasn’t sure, visualizing that strong, heavy-lipped mouth, those deep eyes smol- dering under reddish brows, that Timber- lake would be molded by any legend at all. “He might be able to give you a lead somehow,” she suggested hopefully. “Thanks. It’s sweet of you to think of it,”” said Traill. His slightly morose air im- plied that he would not be good at asking favors, whether of Timberlake or another. Chicago had been grimed with smoke, raw with the breathing of a bitter east wind. As the train ground westward, a be- lated blizzard traveled ahead of it, and Eve looked from her window, hour after hour, upon hills virginally coifed; a clean world, if barren; where one had looked to drive straight into spring. Even on the last day before Los Angeles—the glacial gloom of snowsheds by which the train was swal- lowed, from which, intermittently, it was disgorged. Eve breakfasted and lunched with Traill, as she had done every day since meeting him; over his dignified pro- test, paying her own check. In a dusk, falling like clotted cobwebs outside the dining-car windows, she dined with him; after which, in the comparative seclusion of her section, with green curtains swaying up into place all around them, they talked--as they had been talking, hours on end, for three days. “Funny, how fast one travels on boats and trains,” said Eve. Traill said, ‘‘So I’ve heard.” “So you've done!” said Eve, laughing. **Look at us! If all the talk we’ve made since you stopped to speak to me that first day out se “I suppose you’ve had this same ex- perience before,” he said. She laughed again at his look of disappointment. “Of course, not just the same—no two experiences are ever quite the same, are they? but the same sort of thing.” He said, ‘‘Maybe you have. I haven't. I don’t make friends very easily.” “That's because you don’t choose to.” ‘*Maybe, but it’s a fact. I’ve never got to know anyone so suddenly.” E.ve shook her silken head at him, a trifle tired; wishing the night were over; wish- ing she were settled in a clean, cool room, with a hot bath running; with her hair washed and her hails done; with a real bed to stretch out on, beside a telephone and a little lamp She said, “Don’t be funny! You don’t know me.” “I’m afraid,”’ said Traill doggedly, “‘I’m being worse than funny, I'm being a fool.” He broke off short, looking at Eve with an intensity to which his unintentional smile lent a curious shade of suffering. ‘It’s ab- solute insanity on my part,” he said. “Don’t think I don’t know that! I’ve got nothing on earth to offer a woman. I seem to have fallen into a pretty bad spin, that’s all.” Eve said, ‘Whatever are you talking about?”’—but very gently. Because, with EVENING POST the sixth sense of the female, abruptly she knew, and was sorry. She had supposed that he was wiser than his Virginian blood. She had forgotten that men exist who fall into love as a fruit falls out of a tree obeying the suddenness of gravity and fate. If she had remembered, she would not have supposed Jed Traill to be one of those men. It was hard to disassociate his cynic look from complete sophistication. Being herself, however, she did not now pretend to misunderstand him. ‘“*Please,”’ she said, “don’t say that! You have a great deal to offer a woman who cared.” “You think--you couldn’t?” asked Traill, drawling even more than usual. Eve said, striking once, and that cleanly: “I know. I’m through with that sort of caring for anyone.” ““Do you mean you've been married,”’ he said, ‘“‘and the man let you down? I’ve got no earthly right to ask, but if that’s what it is 7 “No,” said Eve, ‘“‘I don’t mean anything like that.” The porter went by with an armful of linen. The train rattled over a bridge. Traill said, “‘I know this much of you— and I couldn’t know it better if we’d been raised together-—-the man you could care for £ “The man I could and did care for is dead,” said Eve. It seemed to her the sim- plest way of putting an end to the question. She said, “He was a flyer. He cracked up three months ago.” “I’m sorry,” said Traill, after a long mo- ment, a deeper shadow in his eyes. “It’s all right,” said Eve. ‘‘How could you know? Besides, I don’t mind telling you. I almost thought, from something you said just now, that you were a flyer yourself.” She sat with her eyes on the darkness sliding by outside her window. She hadn't expected any man to want to make love to her so soon. She said, ‘‘He was rather a wonderful person. And three months isn’t very long. I'm still in a pretty bad spin myself.”’ “I wouldn't, for anything in this world " Traill began. “It’s all right. Now, tell me about you,” said Eve quickly. He did not at once an- swer, and, thinking he was still brooding over having hurt her, she turned and smiled at him. ‘I thought, from something you said that first day about swords and sabers, you might have been in the Army.” He said, ‘“‘I was.” “Regular or duration of the war?”’ “Regular,” he said briefly. Eve thought he didn't want to talk about himself. She liked him for it, but better about him than about her. Besides, while love seemed as dead in her as last year's rose, she was conscious of a sincere interest in Traill, almost an affection for him such as she had known in her very young girl- hood for boys who took her to parties, brought her gay-ribboned boxes of candy when coming to call. “I believe you were a flyer,’’ she said. “There's something about you y ““T was,”’ said Traill; he added with a grimace acutely nervous: “I’ve been out of it almost ten years, though. Can't be any of the earmarks left.” “There's something!” said Eve. She grew faintly curious. ‘“‘You mean you got out of the Army after the war? Why? Didn't you like the air service? And why on earth, then, didn’t you go into commer- cial flying? Lots of them did. Wouldn't that be better than the theater?’’ She lost patience with Traill a little. ‘‘You say yourself you aren’t keen on show business. Aren't you keen on flying, either?’’ These Southerners, she thought. That incurable indifference. Having been some years away from it herself. Suddenly Traill looked at her, bridging a gulf, dark passion in his eyes. ‘“‘Flying’s the only thing in the world I give a tinker’s dam for!” “Then,” said Eve, somewhat startled, “why aren’t you in it? I’ll bet you’d be good.” April 5,19350 “T was,” said Traill. Howard’s silly wire; it flashed across Eve's mind like a spark leaping. “I don’t mean to be mysterious about myself,” said Traill grimly. His lips tight- ened, out of drawing, ‘‘but neither do I wish to bore with the story of my life.” Eve said, “‘Then, we aren’t friends?”’ He asked, ‘‘Are we?”’ with a kind of un- happy humor. “Yes, and why not?”’ said Eve. She put her hand over his, tightened her fingers for a moment. Till he smiled back at her, al- though still from some strange morass of the soul. “Tell me what happened,” she said. “‘Was it a pretty bad crash?” Traill folded his arms. She thought, from the look on his face, it might have been over an old wound. He said reluctantly, ‘It’s nothing to teil. I had a lot of luck, from the time I went in, up to September, 1918; then, toward the end of September, I got in a dog fight one day with a couple of boches over our own lines, and I was shot down.” He might have been telling the story of some other man, quoting any one of a hun- dred or so war books. Eve made an inarticulate sound of pity, of horror. The old nightmare; the dream she knew too well. A plane falling, drunkenly twisting and dropping, death rising to meet it, flames crackling, smoke fouling the air. ‘I had time to shut off the motor,” said Traill, as if he read her thought, “but, at that, when I got out of the hospital, it was day before Christmas and the Armistice had been signed.” “They must have patched you up pretty well,” said Eve. “You seem fit enough now.” “Oh, I’m all right,” said Traill. He laughed. Eve thought she had never heard such deep self-scorn ir laughter. She said, making more talk to cover the strange nakedness of his unhappiness— one couldn't help seeing and hearing that the thing he was telling her lay on him like a blight—‘“‘I suppose you went back up again, the min- ute you could get your hands on a ship?” Traill said, ‘“‘1t was a little too late, by then.” “What do you mean?” cried Eve. But, as when he had called himself a fool, ab- ruptly she knew. Things Eddie had told her about men who crashed and couldn’t go up again soon enough. The pattern clicked into place for her. He was going on in his bitter drawl: “I’m rotten inside—that’s what I mean. I’m afraid to get into the air. Psychologists have a name for it.” He added, after a black silence: “‘I’m not trying to alibi my- self with that, you understand. I got out of the service, of course.” Heartbreaking, his unnatural humility! He had told her the day before that his grandfather had ridden with Jeb Stuart. She had seen the Stars and Bars floating above a high dark head as he said it. Per- haps a wry mouth smiling above a gray uniform collar. Things like mouths repeat themselves in families—things like mouths and high heads born to be lowered. All the green curtains were up now, ex- cept Eve’s. Filled with an undersea twi- light, the car lurched along through the night. Eve said: “I think you’re taking it the wrong way. It’s not your fault. It might have happened to anyone—to an ace!’’ She caught a sardonic flicker in his eyes and divined the truth. “‘You were an ace, weren't you!” “*T told you,” said Traill, ‘I had a lot of luck, up to that day.” He went away presently, having said he wouldn’t bore her with talking about himself any further. “I’m afraid I must have bored you as it is,’ he said. The absurd and touching punctilio of his courtesy. He should have had a plumed hat on his head. He should have worn a scarlet sash on a gray coat. On a black horse with a white foreleg, he himself should have ridden at Jeb Stuart’s bridle hand. (Continued on Page 128) a

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SEP4 AKRON, OHIO Tackle Backed by 66 Years Experience Pflueger SUPREME Level - Winding, Anti back-lash Lightest strongest. greatest capacity Reet built No. 1573 Price $25.00 line PRueger OCEANIC Prices $7.50 to $16.50 Pfiueger SUMMIT Level - Winding, Anti back lash No. 1993), Jeweled Price $10.00 Pflueger PAL-O-MINE Minnow Ficats - Dives - Wig » Wobbhies aa COPY SENT FREE! THE ENTERPRISE MFG CO Dept. SEP4¢. Akron, Ohio Gentlemen :— Please send me, without cost, a copy of Pflueger's New Pocket Catalog No. 149 Name Address gg rg gag OO, THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 126) Instead of which: “I’m rotten as hell. I'm afraid to get into the air.” Eve lay awake for a long time, thinking what it must be to a swell guy to know him- self afraid. x RAILL had said: ‘‘ Where are you going to stop in Hollywood? Is anyone meet- ing you?” And Eve had told him she hoped not. That she preferred to go up to the Consul alone. “IT see, the Consul,” said Traill, in a voice uncontrollably surprised and disap- pointed; so that she laughed at him and admitted she knew herself to be an extrava- gant fool. She said, ‘‘Give me a ring in a day or two and we'll have tea or something.”” With which Traill had to be content. He put her and her bags into a taxi at the station. He held her hand close, wish- ing her luck. ‘If there’s any earthly thing I can do " he said. “‘ You know that, don’t you?” Eve did, and said so. Then her taxi took her away from him and she forgot to think about him faster than the taxi took her. She had started for Hollywood at Tim- berlake’s instigation, with Anne’s Saint Theresa medal in her purse, and here she was, wherever Timberlake and Saint Theresa might be steering her. Hollywood, it seemed, was a good twenty minutes beyond the Consul, so that stage of her pilgrimage was yet to come. For the present she de- sired chiefly a room with a bath; a view, not necessary. The Consul opened wide flowering drive- ways, displayed to her gaze dozens of shin- ing automobiles, parked about a space of verdant turf. An Irishman at the door are Irishmen at the doors of all the world? uniformed, ruddy and welcoming. Littic shops all up and down the first floor of the Consul. A village under one vast prouc roof. On the second floor a lobby with women in sport clothes milling aimlessly about; through doors and win- dows a blaze of California sunshine, yellow as California poppies. The clerk at the desk said, ‘Miss Adams~—is that it?”’ “Quite,” said Eve. He dispensed a room key and told a boy to take her bags. When she came to the room itself, she stood and gasped. It was all mauve and green like a field of tulips, but the first sight of a deep and gleaming tub so se- duced her that she tipped the boy and sent him away hurriedly. Green bed, pale smooth green wood, with flowers painted at the head and the foot of it. Green-painted chairs, cushioned in mauve brocade. Mauve brocade at the windows. Mauve counterpane on the bed. The dressing table was green. The rugs were mauve, edged in a deeper tone, run- ning into violet. She stood at the mauve-curtained win- dow and looked out at a long swell of moun- tains, dark against a clear, brilliant sky. Roofs between her and the mountains. At the top of the tallest roof, a great red P, marring the mountains hideously. It would at night be an electric P, Eve was sure of it. She glanced at her watch. Only ten. It seemed a long time since she had waked that morning in her berth and lain there wondering: “Am I on the right way? Am I coming to anything? Or will this be just another blind alley?”’ She had experienced the disheartening revulsion which she al- ways experienced at the end of any jour- ney: “‘What am I here for? Why didn’t I stay where I was?” And she had not been able quite to tell herself what she was there for. Voices crashed into the quiet air from somewhere beneath her window—men’s voices, singing lustily, roaring on not-too- true pitches. Hearty flattings, virile irreg- ularities in tempo: ‘Moonlight and roses bring wonderful memories of thee, My heart discloses ss EVENING POST A maid knocked; came into the room with fresh towels. “What on earth is that,’’ asked Eve— “that terrible racket downstairs?” The maid said there was a sheep-raisers’ convention. Eve wondered — listening— just what frame of mind in an adult sheep-raising male led him, at ten of an April morning, to sing Moonlight and Roses at the top of his voice in company with a great many other sheep-raising voices. The telephone rang, on the little table at the side of the green-painted bed. She went to it quickly. Traill, she thought, already. She was faintly annoyed. She didn’t at the moment want to be taken care of by Traill or anyone else. The voice was not Traill’s, however. Fem- inine, with a brisk Western inflection: ““Miss Adams?” “Yes,” said Eve. “All right. Hold the wire, please. Mr. Timberlake would like to speak to you.” Eve waited, pulse quickening in spite of herself. He spoke abruptly. It occurred to her anew that when he spoke, people would always listen. That curt, amused note of authority. “Well? Hope you had a pleasant trip!"’ “Very nice, thanks,” said Eve. “How'd you like to come out to the studio this afternoon or are you too tired?” She wondered if he commonly considered whether people were tired or not. She said: “I’m not in the least tired. I'd like it ex- tremely.” “Good! I’llsend a car for you at 3:30,” said Timberlake. He would send a car for her. It sounded like the beginning of the Hollywood fairy tale. “Thanks a lot,” said Eve. ready.” “Tl be xI VE was writing to Jimmy Sutherland. As in most lonely people, the habit of letter-writing survived in her strongly. Perhaps, also, a groping desire to write something other than letters; since her letters eased a need in herself, rather than sought to answer a need in the one to whom she wrote. Sitting in a corner of the Na- tional Players’ studio, wearing a black coat with an ermine collar, with a dashing little black hat drawn down to her darkened eye- brows, with her mouth painted to a luscious and emphasized fullness, with her lashes languorous with mascaro, Eve wrote ab- sorbedly: Do you realize, Jimmy, that I have been here not even a week and already I am work- ing? At a very decent salary. There may be wolves in them mountains; there are also pay checks. She stopped to settle more comfortably upon her knee the book on which she wrote, put the point of her pencil delicately be- tween her dangerous lips and continued: Mr. Timberlake had me cast the day after I got here in a picture he was just starting; not a very big part, but with possibilities. To be ex- act, I'ma child of the wicked city, in love with a good-looking but pure young man who's come up to town to peddle a play he's written. I get him an introduction to a manager and the manager takes his play. Then he guesses why the manager has taken his play — because it was none other than I who got him the introduc- tion—if you follow me, Jimmy darling. It’s a virgin idea, of course. Well, anyhow! He scorns me--the pure young man does—but the vast movie audience being also and even purer, the manager, in a stirring scene, washes me whiter than snow by telling how he has tried for years, without any luck, to make my sins as scarlet. And there you are! A safe-and-sane time is had by all. I send the pure young man back to his small-town love. I swallow my broken heart. It sounds frightfully silly, but don’t most things sound silly when you write them down in cold ink? Really, it’s rather a good bit, and working with Timberlake is just about the biggest piece of luck that ever hap- pened to me. He gets things out of you, Jimmy, you didn’t know you had to give. He’s a better actor than anybody he directs. I never before realized what a strange combination a director must be, of dictator and artist. He is the pic- ture. He projects himself through us. I've never imagined such driving force, such unholy intuition —— April 5, 1930 To which, in the course of time and by air mail, Jimmy Sutherland replied: See a book called Trilby for Exhibit A. You're in the direct line of descent. Meantime, with a prop man messing anxiously about, barely two feet away; with carpenters, electricians, painters and spotlight men swarming like hornets; with occasional cries of ‘Silence! . This is the picture! Ready, Mr. Timber- lake!” . . . with intermittent blazings of light from the set; with cryptic noises va- ried with strangling silences, unsettling the air, Eve continued to write: One thing that almost drives me crazy is the interminable waiting. I've been here since nine this morning, made up and ready. I’ve got the hang of a quite different sort of make-up very nicely already. You'd loathe it, but I can see why it’s necessary. Everything about my face is just pointed up, that’s all. I mean my eyes are bigger and deeper-looking, my mouth is fuller—more alluring or what have you—my eyebrows alone would put any susceptible soul on its guard—very slim and dark and supple eyebrows. It’s fun, Jimmy! It’s like discover- ing another Eve by a secret stairway in my own soul. Don't laugh, or if you must laugh, don’t write till you're over the paroxysm! Another agony is doing scenes over and over; three times at least, every one of them; with play- backs in between. Timberlake says I have a natural instinct for spacing — which means tim- ing the way you move before the camera. He says, too, that I am naturally mikewise, which means, you poor benighted Hindu— it’s fright- ful to have to stop and explain all these simple things to you—-keeping your voice at just the right tone—almost muted, without being mo- notonous; keeping it naturally inflected, yet dramatic; minding your S’s and R’s, no less than the well-known P’s and Q’s. Timberlake says the fundamental difference between talk- ing pictures and the theater is—now, get this, Jimmy, it’s tremendously interesting —that where the theater has always to allow for foot- lights between player and audience, deliber- ately creating an artificiality or, anyhow, an exaggeration which will cross those footlights, the talking pictures have nothing between them and the audience mind. They aim to reproduce actual life, not its arty distortion. Isn't that keen, Jimmy? To me, it’s absolutely fascinat- ing—this whole thing. Creative art in the raw. These people are tinkering with possibilities that make you gasp. Men like Timberlake, with his vision, his artistry, his sincerity, his un- conquerable will —— I tell you, Jimmy, you can kid all you like, but with a man like that, and with the strides they're making in sound production from day to day, there’s nothing the talking pictures can’t do. “Except talk,” replied Jimmy Suther- land, by air mail, as aforesaid. He added, not without reason: ‘Are you _ press- agenting for this guy Timberlake, or merely trouping?” Eve did not finish her letter that day on that set. In five minutes her call came. “T want a wild shot,”’ Timberlake told her, “‘of you sitting on the corner of the manager’s table, listening while the man- ager tells the boy he’s going to take his play. You look from one to the other. You're crazy about the boy. You believe in the play. You want the manager to take it. But you don’t want the boy to get the no- tion that there’s anything between you and the manager. You’re in a close place, and you keep up a front, but inside you’re wav- ing flags and throwing flowers. Get me, Eve?” “Quite,” said Eve. She inspected her- self in the mirror a colored maid brought and held for her. She touched her hair un- der the small black hat. “*Make her upper lip a little shorter,” said Timberlake to the make-up man, hov- ering, waiting. Timberlake watched Eve's mouth while the make-up man shortened the upper lip with a deft touch. Then he turned back to the cameramen, also wait- ing, but before he turned he smiled into Eve’s eyes. “Tired waiting?”’ he asked. “‘We’ll eat after this.” The wild shot was silent. A close-up be- tween two spoken scenes. When it had been completed to his satisfaction, Timber- lake said: “‘Come over to the club with me, will you?”” And with Eve still in her city- girl make-up, they walked across the lot to the low vine-covered building where actors (Continued on Page 130) SS ——— , 4 se! Y

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST “SO GOOD IN THEMSELVES ...S0O ATTRACTIVE

WHEN SERVED THIS NEW WAY...

“Those delightful kitchens of the past—” exclaims Josephine Gibson, Director, Home Economics Department, H. J. Heinz Company, “ bright with sunshine—odorous with the fragrance of delicious foods in preparation! Do you remember the familiar baked bean crock which gave forth such » = a happy odor when the oven door was lowered? And when from your plate saad every bean sent up redoubled fragrance in little curling jets of steam, wasn’t it enough to make any appetite frantic? “Yet I don’t think we need sigh for the baked beans of past days. You'll find all their goodness in those made by Heinz. Such plump, brown, mealy beans these are—just bursting with goodness! Such delicate bits of flavor—so tender, so digestible, from their oven-baking. And that tomato

sauce, made from garden-fresh tomatoes. Where can you match its zestful 3 o~ - piquancy! Only oven-baking can give this tender goodness—only the spicy : f ) tomato sauce can give such flavor! P C 4 * “If you like ways of serving this favorite dish that are a bit different, Y¥ ‘Wa Sage | eas ede try this one i™~| A> v< at ¢ pr

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“LUNCHEON PLATE, the Heinz way . . . Have the required number of patty shells. Then remove the labels from one or more cans of Heinz Oven-Baked Beans, and heat thoroughly in a pan of hot water. Turn out the contents on a platter and fill the patty shells, arranging them so that a piece of the tender young pork shows on top of each. Then pop the patties into the oven until the shells are thoroughly heated. Make dainty butter sandwiches of hot Boston Brown Bread or, lacking this, sandwiches of Heinz Sandwich Relish on whole wheat bread. Arrange patty, sand- wiches, and your favorite Heinz pickles (or a small compact salad) on an attractive plate. Serve while patty is hot and crisp.” © H. Jj. HEINZ COMPANY, PITTSBURGH, PA Enjoy these radio talks! . Twcds) and ty 10:45 Eastern Standard Time, Josephine Gibvon, Heinz Home I momics Director, will broadcast new and delightful recij , Wi KDKA and other associated National Broadcasting ( ation

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See Special ir al Offer in coupon below ouble Daud Special Trial Offer— Mail coupon now! 49 East Second St., Los Angeles closed 10f (to cover cost of packing and mailing) 25¢ “Get-Acquainted Package" of Double X Cleane [sal ax CHemocar Co aves ashes | ase beush ie the hee}. * A 10¢ f rust ere! ie: eee ee Bae icy, nat? hes ° bers every* rt bad a-* er. aa tae cs nt and aaa THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 128) and directors from the various sets were lunching. Bearded Russians in uniform, girls in yashmaks, a bride in a pink wedding gown, a boyish male star, his smooth chin rounding under yellowish make-up. Eve and Timberlake sat down at a table for two against the farther wali. Eve intercepted, as they did so, several knowing glances, but she had lunched at the club with Timber- lake now more than once, and glances of one sort or another did not affect her. She knew that wherever he went, whatever he did, there would be eyes upon him. He said, when they had ordered and he had warned the waitress curtly that his coffee was not to be dish water: “‘Len Thomas got in from New York yesterday. See him over there in the corner behind Ledoux?” Eve looked, caught Thomas’ eye and fancied a cynical! glint in it. “Wonder who’s the bird he’s got with him?” mused Timberlake. ‘‘ More assist- ant publicity?”’ The bird whom Thomas had with him, at that moment, turning in his chair, bowing to Eve and smiling one-sidedly, Eve ex- claimed with more surprise than discretion in her surprise: ‘“‘ Why, that’s the man I was talking to you about just yesterday! The Virginian who came out on the train with me. His name’s Traill.” “Is that a fact?’’ inquired Timberlake, instantly attentive, if still on the surface disinterested. ‘‘ Yousay he’s looking around the studios. Had any experience, do you know?” Eve said eagerly, ‘‘One or two New York productions. Stock in Providence. He hasn't had much luck.” “The ubiquitous alibi,”’ said Timberlake. He ate bread and butter absently, watched Eve from under bent brows. Eve said, “Oh, no, not that. I don’t think so’’—but a trifle nervously. She felt in herself, whenever she was with Timber- lake, a very-young-girlishness outcropping. He intimidated her by a consciousness he aroused in her of his secret strength. She said: “He has a charming voice, really! You know, the sort of ardent, wistful voice that women go mad over, and that most often doesn’t mean a thing.” “*& tenor is not a man but a disease, suggested Timberlake. “George Eliot knew more about disease than about tenors, didn’t she?’’ asked Eve innocently. The waitress brought Eve’s lamb chop and lettuce, Timberlake's tamale and strong coffee. “If you could use him,” Eve offered hesi- tantly—‘“‘even if it were only a bit ——”’ “Friend of yours?" asked Timberlake, smiling, but watching her. Eve struggled with her chop, which was rather on the tough side. ‘“‘Not particu- larly. I've seen him only once since I’ve been here. But he’s frightfully nice.’’ She thought of the night Traill had told her about his crash. “I feel a little sorry for him,” she explained. He had called her several times at the Consul, but she had been able to see him but once. He had told her then he hadn't yet landed anything. He was living in a cheap little hotel in the middle of Holly- wood. She thought she'd like to give him a hand, if she could. “Do look him over!’’ she urged. “‘ There they are—going out now.” But Thomas was not going out. He crossed the room, stood looking down at Eve and smiling blandly. ‘‘How’s Miss Broadway? . . . Howare you, Mike? .. . This is Jed Traill, a friend of mine from God’s only other state.” “I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Adams on the train coming out,” Traill said quietly. To Timberlake he said noth- ing at all, merely nodded. “He'll ruin his own chances,” thought Eve, helplessly annoyed. Thomas was beginning. ‘‘How’s the audible cinema?” he broke off to catch at the arm of a script girl, in sweater and skirt, with a notebook under her arm, just going EVENING POST by. “Jo-Jo, my darling, how are you!” He gestured to Timberlake. ‘“‘See you in a minute. . Wait a minute, will you, Traill?’’ He followed the girl up the room to the table which was her objective. “Sit down, won't you?”’ said Timberlake to Traill. “Yes, do,”’ said Eve. She had hoped they would like each other. It was impossi- ble to decide from Timberlake’s unsmiling inscrutability, Traill’s courteous and cus- tomary look of skepticism, whether they did or not. Impossible at least for Eve. “*Eve tells me you're looking for a part,” said Timberlake. “Without any luck so far,”’ said Traill. “*What have you tried?”’ asked Timber- lake. Traill said, ‘Pretty much everything.” Eve put in quickly, “‘[ told him that with his voice he ought to be able to get some- thing easily.”’ ‘I’m afraid you're too kind,” said Traill, smiling at Eve. “*She tells me,” said Timberlake, “‘ you've got the sort of voice that women go mad over and that doesn’t mean a thing.” He held his cigarette case across the table to Eve with a calmly malicious grin. Traill flushed darkly without answering. “Now, is that what I said?” cried Eve to Timberlake, disconcerted and reproach- ful. Timberlake offered his case to Traill, who refused, saying: ‘‘Thanks, I’ll smoke one of these, if you don’t mind”’—and lit one of his own from a cheap pack. “Come around and see me,” said Tim- berlake. ‘“‘Come in tomorrow morning about nine. I may have something for you.” “Thanks,” said Traill. Not another word. Eve thought: “If he’s going to behave like Philip of Spain with a director like Timberlake!” Thomas came strolling languidly back from Jo-Jo, his darling, touched Traill on the shoulder and said to Timberlake: ‘Got to be running along. When can I have a word with you, Mike?” “Give me a ring at my place about seven tonight,” said Timberlake. “Wanted Jed to meet you,” said Thomas, slapping Traill on the shoulder again. “‘He’s looking for a chance to rock Jack Carman on his throne.” “Traill’s coming in to see me tomorrow morning,” said Timberlake, as if he said at that time the morning paper would be de- livered. “Great!” said Thomas lazily. “It’s very good of you, Mr. Timberlake,” said Traill formally. He bowed to Eve without speaking. When Traill and Thomas had gone, Eve said gratefully: “‘I do think it’s nice of you.” Timberlake said, beckoning his waitress: “Don’t make any mistake. If he isn’t up to the thing I have in mind for him, he PHOTO. BY LUCIEN KELLOGG In Mount Rainier National Park, Washington April 5,19350 won’t get it. I’m not running a dramatic dispensary.” Fve conceded that without question. “What were you thinking of?” she asked, slightly diffident. Timberlake lit a fresh cigarette; re- garded Eve pleasantly. “If his voice is as good as you say ———”’ She assured him, “It is. I know you'll be interested when you hear it.” “Well, Jack Carman needs a double,” said Timberlake. ‘‘There’s a theme song in a picture he’s getting ready to do ——”’ “* Jack Carman!” cried Eve, dumfounded. Smooth black hair, thin sensuous mouth, shining shallow eyes. ‘But Jed Traill—in a million years he doesn’t look in the least like Jack Carman!” “Don’t be ridiculous, girl,” said Timber- lake. Across the table he leaned to pat her hand abruptly. His touch startled her, always. ‘‘Nobody’ll know what Traill looks like. A double sings from the wings.” “Oh-h!” said Eve, troubled. She hadn’t anticipated that. She insisted: ‘‘He’d have his name in the cast, though, wouldn’t he?” “‘He’d have his name on his pay check and nowhere else,” said Timberlake coolly. “However, I imagine that’s the main idea.” Eve thought: ‘‘A shadow in the wings, on the edge of reality. That’s how Traill sees himself already. Already he thinks he’s a flop. He thinks he has nothing to offer. This’ll only make him worse. It'll be ter- ribly bad for him.”” And she herself had put him in the way of it, trying to awaken Timberlake's interest. Like trying to open an unsleeping eye! Once again, as how many times before, she felt the compulsion of some cosmic plan. She had procured for Traill the very thing to deepen his conviction of personal inferiority. She saw this—how clearly yet did not dare protest, for fear of putting Timberlake off altogether. Others than Jadies, she knew, must live. Traill might— she was distressingly sure he did—need money. She made one anxious attempt to re- adjust the situation: “Don’t you think he has a rather charm- ing personality? Mightn’t he screen rather well?” . “With that mouth?” Timberlake laughed, his own magnificently arrogant. “My dear child, people’d take it for another Lon Chaney make-up!” “That’s unkind! I don’t think so!” said Eve, obscurely stung into defending Traill’s smile that was no smile. She felt a curious, swift pain about her heart. She said, “There’s something very likable about him.” “TI daresay a plastic surgeon could change that,” said Timberlake. When they went out of the club together a few moments later, Eve’s heart was beat- ing hard. She had opposed Timberlake, however guardedly, and he had only chuckled. If anything, his eyes showed a warmer depth, watching her, always watch- ing her. She might have been something under glass in a hothouse—growing for his approval. “Traill’s lucky to have such an angel,” he said, leaving her at the door of the studio. “Don’t be funny!” said Eve, producing her vague, sweet smile. Her fencer’s smile. Timberlake said, “‘I seldom am, without an ulterior motive.” He turned away on that, and‘watching him go, warned by a pricking in her prescient thumbs, Eve knew he spoke no more than truth. She watched him go and watching him, reflected, somewhat against her conscious will, that the sun struck his rough red head pleasingly. It was a flame, she reminded herself, at which, if rumor did not too much malign Michael Timberlake, more than one woman had warmed her hands, not to say, burned her fingers. Still, flame is flame to a fire worshiper. (TO BE CONTINUED)

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i) THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 131 Yesterday's wringing methods are too slow for today YOU WASH HERE EASY with its famous Damp-Dryer has found a better way than wringing With this new, no-wringer EASY Washer you do in ¢$ seconds what takes from three to four minutes with ar ordinary wringel type washer This saving of time and labor is repeated from fou to six times. The total saving from this one feature alone is from twelve to twenty minutes, depending the size of your washing The no-wringer EASY damp-dries clothes scientif cally —with absolute safety to both operator and clothes This modern washer is more than a washing machine It washes and damp-dries at the same time. The Damp > Dryer whirls the water out of a tubful of clothes in les Absolutely safe. A child could not hurt Two operations at one time! Washing _ In less than 2 minutes the Damp-Dryer herself, because moving parts are all en- section and Damp-Dryer operate independ- automatically whirls the water out of a than two minutes closed. Clothes damp-dried automatically ently of each other. Second load can be tubful of clothes—ready for sun-drying Look at theese picture They chow why the without effort on your part. All you dois washing while first is damp-dried. Clothes on the line. Absolutely no strain is placed , ye —s peu ” 2 turna lever. No hand-feeding intoa wringer. equal to 12 full-size sheets at one time! on fabrics. No friction. No squeezing wringer EASY is safer, faster, easier, gentler than any wringer-type washer. Compare this modern washing ul method with the old-fashioned wringer way 8 years ahead EASY announced the centrifugal method of damp drying nearly four years ago—after 5 years of research and experiment. Eventually, we believe all the better rg, washing machines will be offered with e ty} t Py damp-dryer. But it will not be the EASY Damp-Dry i, For no other damp-dryer can incorporate all of EASY'S > | features Free trial offer Rinse clothes inthe Dryer if youwish— —_ Pillows can be washed and dried to orig) You save mending, because buttons . ok a te : without handling, until ready for line, by inal fluffiness same day without removing don't come off. Metal fasteners don't flatten Phone your EASY dealer today H f running water into Dryer and spon | it feathers. Damp-dries blankets. Takes out fabrics don’t tear, silk and rayon garments telephone directory. He will bring a new EASY out. Saves back-bending rinsing in another more water than wringing does. In bad ‘don't crack. Sheerest silks can be washed ot ; tub and again “feeding” into wringer weather clothes can be line-dried indoors. and damp-dried with absolute safety home and show you a miracle in was ‘ T} ' no-wringer EASY can be had wit! or agitator-type washing princy Bot! tt : > same low price. If you decide to | t EASY ; Now anyone can iron Washer, aencede bas fos kes ae ‘ the rotary way OPTS Se ap alla SaaS EF CBRE tte Choose from 3 NEW SyRACUSE WASHING MACHINE CORPORATION SYRACUSE, NEW YOR EASY ikoNerRs , 2 fingertip controls [ al , A W AS - [- Fe bs i do everything oe : Roll-About Ironer, Portable : loner and Wringer Ft rove / AN &IRONERS Alsu supplied with 4-cycle gasoline motor for homes without electricity Siti eaten

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«An Oven UNIFORMLY HOT eA Kitchen UNIFORMLY COOL OME into the kitchen where there is an Estate Gas Range, and see what modern baking means. Watch the cakes go into the oven —four layers on one rack. Peeking in—testing —pan shifting? Danger of scorching? Never, with an Estate! Now watch the cakes come out—each a beautiful, golden brown. Uniform in shape. Uniform in texture. For the Estate Fresh Air Oven is built on the same prin- ciple as a double boiler—the heat is uniform in every part. Cakes baked in the Estate are perfect—never up on one side and down on the other. Pies and rolls—roasts and loaves —are always deliciously, uniformly good. Any of the new all enameled models may be had with Heat-Retaining (insulated) Oven. The heat stays in where it belongs, while the kitchen remains comfortably cool. As you would expect, the Estate Gas Range has many other improvements and conveniences: easy-to-clean, one- piece cooking-top; Rigidraw smokeless broiler pan; oven racxs that pull out and push in like cabinet drawers; door handles that stay cool; solid enamel panel behind gas cocks, concealing all piping; vitreous enamel, inside and out; rounded corners, with not a nut, bolt, or hinge in sight; convenient utensil drawer. And, of course, the ThermEstate Oven Heat Control that enables you to cook in the modern way —by time and temperature. Now on display—see them! Better dealers and gas companies in almost every community are now displaying the complete line of modern Estate Gas Ranges. Visit the one nearest you. See for yourself how much one of these handsome ranges will add to the appearance of your kitchen—learn how it will lighten and lessen kitchen hours for you. In the meantime, mail the coupon for your copy of our photogravure folder on the many advantages of Estate cookery. The Estate Stove Company, Dept. 18-A, Hamilton, Ohio. If you live beyond the gas mains... you may still enjoy the advantages of cooking on an Estate Gas Range. All new models may be had with burners adjusted for Delcogas, also for Skelgas and other tank gases. 6Gsatate GAS RA double-boiler © 1930, The E.S. Co rv with the THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1930 You don’t have to be told that cereal cooked in \J a double boiler won't scorch. But do you know that \ the Estate Oven is built on exactly the same principle iM as a double boiler? That's why everything you bake in } this oven comes out uniform in shape, in color, in f texture—perfect, every time. And with never so much : as a peek at the baking or shifting a baking pan. f Suppose you are making a cake—you can put all four layers on one rack in the Estate Oven at one time, without fear of scorching or uneven baking. For there are no openings in the side walls, no hot zones to be avoided. The heat is uniformly distributed over every inch of the oven. Even on the hottest summer day, keep your Estate Oven going for hours at a time, baking or canning, or preparing an all-oven dinner, and the kitchen will remain uniformly cool. For the Estate Range may now be had with a special heat-retaining oven—a blanket of rock-wool to keep the heat inside the oven, where it belongs. Of course, this feature is a great gas-saver, too. Smart color motifs! Estate, creator of color in gas ranges, now offers you the smartest combinations—ivory and ebony, ivory and jade green. Also the standard finishes, in French gray and white. MAIL THIS FOR YOUR FOLDER THE ESTATE STOVE COMPANY, Name . j Dept. 18-A, Hamilton, Ohio Address Gentlemen:—Please send me free copy of photogravure folder that shows how the Estate Gas Range simplifies cooking and baking. City sseeeees State NGE with FRESH AIR oven...bakes

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Mr. Van Eck lifted his stick and aimed it at a large lady in purple clothing. “T’m not talkin’ to you, ma’am! .. . Nick, your daughter phoned me last week she wanted to buy Caro’s big yeller hoss he trained from a colt. I told her no. Yest’day she paid a hired man five dollars to fetch her out Bully onto the turnpike. Carolus was in Albany with his stepmamma, °op- pin’. This little hussy tried to jum, im over the stake fence by Sid Paramore’s south lot an’ x “ Nicholas!’ 6 she spoiled the hoss an’ run off an’ left him,” said Mr. Van Eck, “‘like a yeller little coward. I can have her in jail along with the drunks downtown. She’s a thief and a coward. You've fathered dirt, Nick.” The tall young man in white jumped down to the drive and said, ‘I say, sir, I'm sure you must be misinformed! There's some mistake! I’m sure “ “Hold your tongue, boy! Who spoke to you?” “But there must be some mistake, sir! You’re accusing Miss Shuttleworth of something — of — of — of something: one doesn’t do!” “You're right, young man,” said Mr. Van Eck. “But I ain’t aceusin’ anybody. I’m telling this feller what his daughter did. He knows I’m Carolus Van Eck. An’ he knows he sent one of his grooms down early this mornin’ to spy out what had hap- pened.” Nancy Shuttleworth yelled, “ Well, why wouldn’t you sell me the horse, then? I asked you to! You know I asked you to!” “Listen, Nick, an’ git this in your head. Nor you, nor your wife, nor your daughter, nor any trash works for you, nor any fools,” he purred, “that visit you is ever to set a foot on my land. You hear that? You're dirt. Stay on your own dirt. Drive on, Lupus. I’m through here.” ““Nancy, come— come here at once and apologize to Mr. Van Eck.” “Tell your little coward to go wash the paint off her mouth. I don’t want words with her. Drive me out of here, Lupus.” Lupus drove around the grass plot and down the drive into the roadway. Henricus yawned in his lap and went soundly to sleep as the car pulsed off under many trees into the shady town of Couveris. Mr. Van Eck rolled and lit a cigarette. “Skip along, son. We were longer there’n I meant to be. Was that young feller Eng- lish that tried to poke in?” “Couldn’t you hear he was, pop? he was.” “Then he must be this Earl of Ancross that’s visitin’ Nick. Wasn't a bad-lookin’ boy, neither.” “Who told you there’s an earl there, pop?” “You hadn’t time to read the paper this mornin’, son. Our social column,” the sachem drawled, ‘in the Couveris Times has the facts. The Earl of Ancross, oldest son an’ heir of the Duke of Stole, is visitin’ Mr. and Mrs. Nicholas Shuttleworth at Roadside Farms. Roadside Farms! Hustle, Lupus. One minute to three.” Lupus shot down the pleasant street through Couveris with one hand thrown out to the left, notifying the police and the authorities that the Van Ecks were in a hurry. Friends called, ‘“‘Hi, Injun!”’ and, “Hey, Lupus!” from the brick sidewalks and old, preserved hitching rails. He no- ticed Tommy Bolter down from Saratoga, and wondered if Carolus would like to see all the races this year. Then he was at the station, and the slow train from Albany was already pulling out, and there was Colonel Beausire, wiping an eyeglass on a blue silk handkerchief, with four suitcases piled at his feet. “My dear fellow,” said the thin English- man, “don’t apologize! I’ve just escaped from that train. Could have stayed here Sure THE SATURDAY RACE (Continued from Page 23) comfortably an hour, recuperatin’. . . . Is this your father? It was a delicious mo- ment when your extraordinary son recog- nized me on the street in New York, on Tuesday, and it’s most wonderful of you to let me come up here out of New York for Sunday. I should think that anything that took anyone out of New York was won- derful. May be jolly in winter. Should hate to say what I th Is that a baby, Van Eck? And whose baby is it? Yours? I think that’s a remarkable baby. Looks like a rather healthy Raphael baby. .. . I say, is there Italian blood in your family?” Pop spat and purred, “Iroquois Indian, colonel. The Van Ecks are old Dutch and aboriginal. We was here before the English moved into this part of the state. . . . Git in, sir.” “T think that makes you much more pa- trician than all those Yankees who tel! you they're descended from our old county families.. Can't say I like some of our old county families. I've an old family on some land of mine in Shropshire. I’m sure they've been poaching steadily since the time of Richard I. But they're a loathsomely old family, and ever so dirty.” “Trash goes on bein’ trash and good stock’s good stock,” said the sachem, “‘un- less it’s allowed to git underbred. The Van Ecks have raised hosses since George Wash- in’ton.” “And what did they do before that?”’ “Prob'ly raised hosses. Only the British burned some of the house down in the week before the battle at Saratoga, and there's no papers from before then.” Colonel Beausire chuckled. “T hope it wasn’t an ancestor of mine who was so rude as to spoil the family rec- ord. I'd a great-great-great-grandfather or something like that in Burgoyne’s army.” ‘Well, my son's wife says we've been revengin’ ourselves on the King’s English ever since by murderin’ it,” Mr. Van Eck purred. “I fergit how you came to be ac- quainted with Lupus?” “In a pub you call ‘em bars — near the American rest camp at Winchester, in 1918. We got to talking horse. One touch of horseflesh makes rather a lot of us kin, doesn’t it? It’s come to be part of the human race, hasn't it —our feeling for these dumb brutes? And we're the decentest part of the race too. And then I met Van Eck again in Paris, one of those nights everybody was celebrating the Armistice. And he most efficiently took me back to the hotel and put me to bed. Didn't happen to be my hotel or my room, but he made me very comfortable. Only the American lady from —er — Texas who belonged in the room resented it when she came in. I remember sitting up in bed and telling her sheshouldn’t stay out ‘til four in the mornin’. What very good trees!” “Lupus is the nicest feller ever lived,” said pop, “but he’s stupid.” “Can't say I'd noticed that. I’m dullish myself. My boys tell me so, anyhow. I'm conservative and don’t like cocktails and young ladies who enliven house parties by dancin’ on billiard tables in their under- clothes. Spoils the cloth. I say, you can roll cigarettes! That's a special talent, eh? I always get tobacco in my eyebrows when I try.” Lupus drove slowly, pleased by this chat- ter behind him, and took his time in getting beyond the town. The valley opened its curve for the Englishman's inspection, and Colonel Beausire was silent. Everything was blue this afternoon, in a delicate mist that meant heat to the west. The pastures and the orchard behind the red mansion, and the great spread of the woods toward Rangerville, were all faintly moving, gently transfigured. Four colts, racing up to stare at the fu- neral of Bullard, seemed tall horses, a quar- ter mile from the car. “What the deuce are those chaps doing out there?” EVENING POST said “Had to shoot him “Buryin’ my big horse,” Lupus, and coughed right now.’ “Tell me,” asked the sachem, seeming almost asleep, “what would nice people, in England, say to a hussy that bribed a groom to fetch her a man’s hoss, an’ spoiled it an’ left it dyin’ and sneaked off home? And what'd they say to her dad if he just sent a hostler over to spy round and see what the was valued at No nothin’.” “One might directly tell the fellow to poison his daughter and take himself out of the county. Certainly,”’ said Beausire, “that’s a public matter! You can't pass that over! I know Americans seem to think women excusable for almost anything they do.” “IT don’t. I spoke my mind of her to her father, an’ said what I thought of him. This is his house we're comin’ to, here on *he left. He's some scum that run off from his folks when he was a pup, an’ married moaey, He's come back, now his father’s dead, an’ set himself up for a gentleman. Admire the wall?” “Not much,” said the Englishman. The pink wall of the Shuttleworth place made Lupus think of all those people who'd heard pop call Nick Shuttleworth and his daughter dirt. And then he saw the tall young English kid standing in the gateway, his sunburned arms locked on his chest, pawing the gravel with one white shoe. Maybe the boy was tired of hearing Nick and the girl tell their side of this, and per- haps he had come down to the gates for some quiet. But Lupus was sorry for him, because he seemed to flush through his freckles as he stared at the machine : Yes, he surely had flushed and was looking after the car. Lupus glanced back, and then thought how pop had told the kid to hold his tongue. And then he stopped thinking about this boy at all. A sensation came lancing through his blue shirt into his spine. He might be stupid, but he knew when someone was angry behind him. It got clear into his shoulders and crawled up his neck. He wanted to turf his head and see, but he didn’t dare. “What was the S for, back there on those highly elaborated gates of that Venetian palace?"’ asked Beausire “This feller’s named Shuttleworth, colo- nel -Nicholas Shuttleworth. His grand- daddy was a weaver from a town named Manchester in your country. His dad was a common drunk. Nick Shuttleworth an’ his woman an’ their daughter —this horse- killin’ chit -have been swellin’ round in Yurrup lately. The s'ciety reporter of the Couveris Times tells us how they had a house in London last season. When I git time, some day, I'll study out what's meant by a house in London for a season.” “Very simple,”’ said Beausire. “You leave a jolly place in the country and trans- fer the servants to a house in London, and stop there ten weeks, giving free food to your less open enemies and receiving the same kindness from them. You wonder why you do it, but you do it. At the end of July you gratefully retire into the coun- try once more, thanking God it’s over.” But he was angry at sométhing. The light, lazy voice was the voice of a man who wanted to curl a whip around something This something was intangible to the mind of Lupus. But he placed it near Nick Shut- tleworth’s gates. If it wasn't the tall boy in white, it was something he suggested or that those gates suggested. Lupus turned in at his father's gates of plain white wood, a little seared by his guest “How nice your red brick is!) How nice all red brick is,’ said Beausire, lounging up the steps to shake hands with Mary And what a nice baby you have there, Mrs. Van Eck. His composure’s extraordinary. He should be an archbishop when he grows up.” (Continued on Page 137 boy’s hoss apologies or 133 MAR HMOs » gveey

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 In the Kalevala, the Finnish epic, the divine smith—Ilmarinen — forged a bride of gold and silver for Wainamoinen, who was pleased at first to have so rich a wife, but soon found her intolerably cold—his house comfortless . . of warmth=-and comfort=—and cheer...

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 135 for in spite of furs and fires she froze everything that touched her, chilled everything surrounding her. : : : The old saga thus points, of course, in its forceftul—if indirect—way, to the /lesh-and- blood woman as the bestower of warmth, of comfort, in the houschold. And indeed, of the many-sided nature of woman, this ability to create from any background an atmosphere of warmth and comfort and cheer and peace, is the most remarkable. : : : To work with such materials as fall to her hands —in such an abode as falls to her lot—to pass on to other women those particular little ideas of her own that she has found best—to accept from them ideas she may like . . . to blend all these and other things into that saving atmosphere we call Home, is the prerogative solely of woman. And it is as near to a divine achieve- ment as can be attained on this earth. Perhaps one good reason why McCall's is now read in 2,450,000 homes is because it is edited to pass on to women those ideas of others that help to make for warmth, and comfort, and cheer in the home M£CALLS A MAGAZINE FOR WOMEN

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136 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST You are very Im PORTANT to our Railroad Spectal-feature trains East and West THE CAPITOL LIMITED THE NATIONAL LIMITED Real home atmosphere in the Observation and Club cars; rer in the specially designed Colonial Diner; a competent 1 at the service of women sveling with children. Ride and dine with us. BALTIMORE & OHIO One sentence occurs again and again in the letters that come to our offices every year: “I was led to make my trip over your railroad at the suggestion of a friend.” This is not an accident. It is the result of a def- inite plan which was started several years ago. At that time we said to ourselves, ““ What can we offer people as an inducement to travel with us?” And we answered, “We can honestly try to give people a little more than they’ve paid for. “Their ticket calls for a ride on our railroad. We are required to provide a locomotive, an en- gineer, conductors, porters, various pieces of rail- road equipment, and dining-car service. That’s what every railroad must provide. But let ws try to give them an enjoyable trip; an engineer who is doing his very best to The B SI @) start and stop his train without jolt, and a locomotive that will help him do it. Let us have tracks that are smooth, equipment that is modern and clean. Let us try to have conductors and porters who take pride in their work and who have a feeling of sympathy, kindliness, and thoughtfulness toward travelers. And let us pro- vide our passengers with meals that are really good.” People like to talk about railroads, and when they found out what we were trying to do they began talking to their friends. That’s one of the reasons our business has grown. So it’s you, after all, who have helped make our railroad more and more successful. You on your front porch, and in your club and church, and wherever you meet your friends. We appreciate it. When you ride with us, we'll endeavor to show you that we do. April 5,1930 he, errr a a ~> el ee ee a

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Ea = = a ~ eee Re ee el ere A STE TR en (Continued from Page 133) “Not in the Van Eck traditions. They’ve a racial tendency to horses. No Van Eck ever gets fat, or loses a tooth, or has a white hair, or stays far from a horse. They vary the monotony of breaking in horses by tam- ing savage bulls. Did you feed Hen- ricus any ice cream downtown, Lupus, or did Sitting Bull buy him a cigar?” “We didn’t stop anywhere, Red. Pop wanted to speak to Nick Shuttleworth. We just had time to get to the train, honey.” “So you’ve spoken to the Shuttleworths, Rain in the Face?”’ Mary asked. “And will there be an action for libel? . . . What did he call Shuttleworth, Lupus?” “Nothin’ much, honey. He just told him he was dirt an’ the father of dirt, an’ some more like that. The folks on the ter- race place must ha’ been kinda excited. But guess what that girl said back, Red! She said, ‘Well, why wouldn’t you sell me the horse, then?’”’ ““We’re in mourning,’’ Mary said to the stranger, “for my stepson’s beautiful horse. He was murdered by a young lady with a mouth like a—a lopsided raspberry.” “That’s a perfect descriptory touch,” Beausire nodded. ‘“‘And may I go change?” Mary led the gray man into the living room, and the impressed negro houseman came for the suitcases. Mr. Van Eck sat immovable in the car atid looked at Lupus, who scoured an ear violently and looked back at his father’s long face. “What was it, pop?” “Meanin’ what made him so mad? You ain’t so dumb, boy! I thought,” the sachem drawled, ‘‘he’d sizzle his clothes. But he kep’ his face. . . . He knows that English pup at Shuttleworth’s. When he saw the kid kickin’ gravel there, he near went crazy. An’ the kid got red.” “T saw ‘at. But why?” “*Cause he knows the Shuttleworths, or knows about ’em,”’ pop purred, after spit- ting twice, ‘“‘and—I dunno. But he held it all in. He’s mad as ... . Lupus boy, this is a good kind of feller. He’s well- bred. . . . Run me down to the yard.” A calf had somehow intruded on the dig- nity of the stable yard. It gaped at the motor and then fied in a rocking gallop through the arched gate to the dairy’s vul- gar territory. Lupus drove the car into the garage, so that pop could descend unseen, and then came out to examine the yard swiftly. One of the boys was sluicing water over the great truck which had been Bul- lard’s hearse, but nothing else was inap- propriate. The horse of the gilded weather vane on the biggest stable was looking fresh and chipper. Deaf old Potter, the head groom, was hissing as he polished Star- light’s black colt. “Potter!” “‘sir?” “We're showin’ Starlight an’ Colony 3rd an’ Bohunkus an’ Caramel toan Englishman right away quick. Get ‘em cleaned up some,” “For who, sir?” “*He’sa Colonel Beausire,’’ Lupus bawled. “‘He’s English, like you!” “‘Beausire, sir?”’ “Yeh!” The ancient groom stood up and stared at Lupus. “Lord Portheby’s brother or one of the duke’s grandsons, sir?’’ Then he shook his head and seemed to explain to himself: “No, the old duke’s gone. It’d be one of the Portheby lot.” Lupus grinned and left him. He walked up toward the house, and then he stopped, punishing his ear. An idea opened in his head. If that English boy at Shuttleworth’s was the Duke of Stole’s son, this name Beausire might be his private name. Even kings, when you got past all their titles, Carolus said, had narhes like anybody else. He spun and went back to Potter. “Hey, is the Duke of Stole named Beau- sire?”’ “Yes, Mr. Lupus. The old duke was named John Michael Edward Beausire. He’s gone now. Died in 1918.” “You worked for him?” THE SATURDAY “No, sir. Just was dog boy at his sister's, Lady Angele Compton’s. But there’s three or four Beausires in the House of Lords, Mr. Lupus. The family extends, like. There's Lord Portheby and the Marquis of Bore- haven that owned Insurgent and Whitsun Girl and Calumny. Lord Portheby, he’s peculiar and don’t race.” Lupus walked away again. Colonel Beausire was some kind of cousin to the Earl of Ancross and hadn't liked seeing the kid in Nick Shuttleworth’s gates. That was probably right. Mary would be fiend- ishly amused to hear all about that. He went silently through the house, glanced up the staircase past paintings and photo- graphs of horses, and turned into a little room where Mary kept the farm's accounts and Carolus indulged his harmless habit of reading books. Carolus lifted his eyes from an album filled with snapshots, and laid the flat record aside quickly. There were cer- tainly ten views of Bullard in that book. ““How you feelin,’ boy?” “All right, dad.” “You feel like hell,”’ said Lupus, lighting a cigarette. “You was up all night. You go to bed, Carolus. I'll excuse you to Beausire.”’ “Can I, dad?” “T want you to, boy. G’night.” Carolus drifted upstairs. Mary left a finger on a page in a volume of the encyclo- pedia and smiled at Lupus, remarking, “You're good and handsome and stupid, and occasionally the most tactful of men. I forgive you for taking Henricus downtown without his pants. You can kiss me. Once!” Lupus rubbed his cheek in her hair and settled her in his arms, looking down over her shoulder at the printed page. He then forgot about her and read, where her finger rested: Beausire: The name of a celebrated English family identified with the cities of Stole and Stolehaven. Michael Beausire, reputed a son of Simon de Montfort, founded the cathedral in Stole. John Beausire was made Ear! of Ancross in 1369 by Edward III. James Beausire, Bishop of Stole, was a patron of Caxton. Several sol- diers of note appear in the genealogy, represent- ing various branches of the family. General George Beausire was created Marquis of Bore- haven under Queen Anne. Colonel Marmaduke Beausire was made Baron Portheby for his services in the Indian Mutiny. Sir Edward Beausire, the banker, has established the Beau- sire Memoria! Library in London in memory of his brother, John Beausire, who fell at Gallipoli in the late war. The present Duke of Stole and Stolehaven presented his father’s enormous col- lections of Italian and German ari to the nation in 1920. See also, Stole, Tory Party and Wind- mill, Lupus wondered, ‘‘What they got to do with windmills?” “They probably patronized the man who invented windmills. I'm sorry about poor Marmaduke, Lupus. He only got to be a dirty little baron. I bet the Duke of Stole and Stolehaven is pious and makes the fam- ily have prayers twice on Sunday! Do ask your friend, with an air of innocence, if he’s related to the Duke of St Steady!” Spurs tinkled on a high step of the stair- case. Mary smoothed her hair and floated out to meet the guest. Her hair took fire in the light from the door at this end of the hallway. As she smiled upward, Lupus loved her so extremely he wanted to yell. “Ought I to inform you that the little chap’s licking my other pair of boots? They’re patent leather and won’t come off on his tongue.” “Oh, Henricus is indestructible, colonel. He does like shaving soap, though, if you value yours.” “It’s in my dressing case. I'm feelin’ slightly homesick. My eldest girl’s got twins, youknow. They’re only three months old, but ever so amusin’. Is a big lad who went past my door just then the sufferer by Miss Nancy Shuttleworth’s per- formance? . . . Hedidlookdroopy! .. . That’s one of the nastiest things I’ve heard in some time.” Lupus went out into the hall. The gray man stood on the stairs fidgeting with his waistcoat. His clothes and his boots were not even fairly new, but it would be a shame to throw away things that fitted so well. EVENING POST He smiled and yet he was still angry, in this quiet, locked fashion. He continued to be angry as they walked down to the stables, without Mary, who would be rescuing Hen- ricus from the patent leather about now “IT say, Van Eck?” “Yeh?” “Does your big lad give you trouble about girls?” “Naw! He's steady in his head. We was some scared about a little half Dago in a bookstore downtown last winter. But Red asked her out to a mea! an’ You know—that contrast thing. An’ the girl didn’t know a horse from a cow, neither. He can’t stand ignorance.” Colonel Beausire struck his crop against a boot and looked up at the golden horse of the weather vane. He now scowled openly, but he said lightly, “‘There you are! Con- trast! But the danger is when it’s some girl who's shrewd enough to—to know a good deal what people should do. It's providen- tial I came up here, Van Eck. Notice a big cub in white down there in Shuttleworth’s gates?” “Yeh.” “He’s Johnny—my first-born and pe- culiarly dearest son. Moira and I've chased him across all this ghastly ocean which peo- ple insist so on admiring. He's old enough to get his own passport and to—to be a fool about that poisonous little brute. . . . How exquisitely your wife’s noticed her mouth, by the way! A lopsided rasp- berry! . . . And how I don’t know what to do in the least, Van Eck. Nothing your father told me about the Shuttleworths sur- prised me. Moira’s been phoning and writ- ing everyone she knows in the States askin’ where the Shuttleworths lived. But of course nobody'’d ever heard of them. Portheby—one of my cousins—had this girl at his house last autumn, and she danced on the billiard table for the delectation of the younger generation. She might dance on the dome of Saint Paul's, for all I care, if she was— was well-meaning and courteous. But she’s after Johnny for extraneous rea- sons. We’re—this sounds very badly— but we're Ps “Yeh,” said Lupus, “ you’rean old fam'ly. Know how you feel, colonel.” “Quite so. Knew you'd know how I feel, Van Eck. And now, what canI do? John- ny’s of age. I can't ride down to that ga- lumphing plaster palace and drag him away by an ear. That's just what I'd like to do, Van Eck! I'm fearfully angry at him. But he’s a quiet, rather scholarly sort of lad like his grandfather. Dad went in for knowin’ all about paintin’, and so on. It's perhaps not his fault he what do Yankees say?—he fell so hard. Mike and Eddie don’t know what a book is, except that one sees them on shelves. But Johnny's a bit of recluse. Just what should I do?”’ Lupus scrubbed both ears with his fists and then said, “Let pop handle it, colonel. He’s the wisest fella I know of. He had to bring me up, an’ I’m dumber 'n dog biscuit. But I bet the kid’s through down there.” “Think so?” “Aw, sure! He heard pop lay Shuttle- worth and the girl out!” “Ah!” said Beausire. ‘“‘That’s worth hearing!" He walked slowly on. Lupus admired him, for some reason he couldn't work out, much more than he had admired anybody in recent times except pop and Mary and Carolus. The man was in awful trouble, but he managed not to be glum about it. He strolled into the yard and paused to pat Starlight’s colt as it came trotting to see a stranger. Then he stood away and looked at this American product with his head to one side. Mr. Van Eck’s stare came past the Englishman to Lupus, and he spat twice. “No question about this one, is there?”’ “None I know of, colonel,”” said Mr. Van Eck tranquilly. “‘ Lupus boy, tell ‘em to fetch Caramel.” Caramel happened to be in a good tem- per, for a prize stallion, and allowed Beau- sire some liberties with his mouth before (Continued on Page 140) 137 TOP THIS HOLE IN THE WALL Clearance cracks around the windows end doors of Gn average home are equal toe hole the size of 22 bricks. Think of the droughts and dirt that come in YOUR BEST PROTECTION IS— Chamberlin Weather Strips Windows and doors must have clearatice cracks to permit opening and closing. But is it common sense to leave these cracks unsealed? Would you deliberately live ina home that has a hole in the wall equal te the size of 22 bricks (see story under picture)? You have only yourself to blame if dirt and rain leak into such a home to ruin walls and depreciate furniture and drapes, Yours is the fault if such a home is uncomfort- able and draughty— if it's costly to heat and hard to keep heated in winter time. You can have a draught- proof, weather-tight home so easily with Chamberlin Weather Strips. And you will save enough fuel in 2 to 5 yeats to pay for the weather stripping job. Nothing is too good for the home you live in. So of course you need the best protection —and that’s Chamberlin protection. Chamberlin service is a factory- direct-to-consumer service—the result of nearly forty years of experi ence. Chamberlin mechanics do the work of installation and Chamberlin stands behind every job perma- nently. W rite for facts and costtoday, CHAMBERLIN METAL WEATHER STRIP COMPANY, Inc., Detroit, Michigan Weather Strip —Caulking —Screens Over 100 Factory Sales-lastatiation Branches DHNCE 1893 THE STANDARD Give me some idea how much it wili cost to Chamberlin Weather Scrip windows, doors Name . — —— Address ___ —_ rc

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 19350 us — Sst ASS RE nit a ert ee, Oa ye SHE y How To Get a Larger Copy of This Game Send one empty Planters Peanut Bag or one inside wax paper wrap- per from Jumbo Block Bar, together with your name and address to PLANTERS NUT & CHOCOLATE CO., Wilkes-Barre, Pa.

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= THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PEANUTS DIRECTIONS. bie Two, three, or four persons may play, ot player using three coun- ters of the same color, red, blue, yellow or green. (Each counter rep- resents a lot of peanuts.) After a counter is entered, as later described, it is moved forward on the path around the Peanut, the num of spaces indicated by the count which is secur spinning the arrow on the counter. Only one counter may occupy any one space at any time, with the exception of the entering place, the State of Virginia. A counter may be captured by a player who received a count which takes him to a space on which an opponent's man is located. Captur- ed counter must start over again. Player making the capture cancount ten spaces forward with any of his counters. If the space to which a player counts in safety zones is occupied by another counter, he may either take the space directly behind that space or lose his turn, as he may choose. Park The start of the game is from + Virginia, because the finest and most flavory peanuts (the kind Planters uses) come from there. To start, the player must have a FIVE because the Roman symbol for FIVE is V, which also stands for Vir- ginia. Virginia Peanuts are the only ones that may become Planters Salted Peanuts. V-five is also the price of Planters Bag of Peanuts. FIELD INSPECTOR. If the | ! « player passes the inspector's space it means that the peanuts are well grown and may be gathered and sent on to the Factories. If the player stops on the inspector’s space he must detour through the Pat! marked Peanut Fields, meaning that they cannot be gathered ands to Planters until they are fully ma cu i Upon farmers’ wagons and * upon railroad cars, the ma- tured peanuts travel to Planters fac- tories at SUFFOLK, VIRGINIA, Charleston, South Carolina, and San Francisco, California. f= j RECEIVING INSPECTOR. + If the player passes the in- spector at the Receiving Depart- ment of the Factories they go straight on into the receiving rooms, if the player stops on the inspector's space it means that the raw peanuts were not properly cleaned and bagged. They must detour through a clean- ing process before they can enter the factory, (Section colored blue). This is a SAFETY ZONE + called PLANTERS. You can easily remember this by saying to yourself: “When I get to Planters Peanuts I am safe.” Any counter which is in this section cannot be captured. _ oO V RAW PEANUT INSPEC- * TOR. Ifaplayer passes thisin- spector he can proceed straight into the Manufacturing Department. If he can stopat the Inspector’sSpace, it means that the peanuts are not of the right quality for Planters Products. The counter drops down the Chute and is OUT. However, he may start over again by getting a five. Vil The players are going * through the FACTORIES where the wonderful machinery shells and skins the roasted peanuts. ROASTED PEANUT IN- V | iL PD hn hone If the player Ft fis inspector, it means that can go sttaight on to the next process. if the player stops on the nspector’s apace, it means that some imperfection has been discovered that could not be seen when the pea- nut was in the shell. Out the player goes with that counter and IT CAN- NOT RETURN TO THE GAME, for no imperfect peanuts can be used for Planters Salted Peanuts. If a player moving from Process VII gets a 2, it means that it must go to the Candy Department and in con- tinuing will not go out if gets a number 1, but will remain on VII and with the next number will move the counter into the Candy Depart- ment. In order to go out, must land on VIII without stopping at the blank space before VIII. T i * isa SAFETY ZONE like . Remember, when you get to PLANTERS you are safe. Vw x CANDY INSPECTOR. This « Inspection applies only to pieces that have gone to the Candy Department. If these players pass the Inspector's space it means that they are perfect and can go down to the wrapping and shipping Pree: esses. If they stop on the Ins: tor’s space it means that somethin has been found wrong and OU THEY GO. They cannot return to the game, as no imperfect candies are allowed to reach the Customer. 134 XI. Thisprocess representeroat * ng ane ad salting for the L eanuts. is an important p ess and accounts for much of “ae wonderful flavor and crispness of Planters Salted Peanuts. For the Candy Peanuts this section represents many processes such as Chocolate Coating, Peanut Bar Making, etc. aed x | FINAL INSPECTOR. It’s + hard luck to go this far and be thrown out for good, but that’s what happens to all Planters Prod- ucts that can’t pass the Final In- spector. If the players pass this space they can go to the packing and wrap- ping processes. 6th 4 | | | Here Planters Salted Pea- “ * nuts are packed in the fa- miliar glass jars from which they are sold in the even more familiar Glas- sine Bags. Here, too, Planters Peanut Candies are wrapped in wax paper and sealed to keep them fresh. ose ys | From the Factories Plant- ers Products are Steps to the big branch offices at Wilkes- Barre, Pa., New York, Chicago, Boston, Philadelphia. (XV) fade x From the Branch Offices * they go to the hundreds of thousands of dealers all over this great country. ERE let us present to you MR. PEANUT, who greets you with a smile. We are sure you will enjoy knowing him and will like him for his qualities. The Player w has ee counters first reaching Goal wins the game. Play the new GAME Thousands everywhere are enjoying it! PLANTERS PEANUT PARTY AY cardboard underneath the page on the left, read the directions on this page, and the note at the bottom of this page—if you want a larger copy of the game, send one empty Planters Peanut bag or one inside wrapper from Jumbo Block Bar to Planters Nut & Chocolate Co., Wilkes-Barre, Pa. PLANTERS rule as a favorite everywhere, because they are the choice of the world’s sure of getting the genuine nickel lunch of supremely fine PLANTERS PEANUTS. PLANTERS NUT & CHOCOLATE CO. WILKES-BARRE, PA. finest peanut crops. Big, luscious golden nuggets selected from the finest Virginia SUFFOLK, va SAN FRANCISCO plantations. Salted and roasted by the soronro, can. one and only PLANTERS process in the giant plants at Suffolk, Virginia, the heart of the peanut country. Look for Mr. Peanut on the glassine bag, and you are ACTUAL SIZB 1 Alimg meal of superfine selected peanuts and sweet wholesome candy. Sold everywhere. Gag (11) ] NOTE CAREFULLY —Fime the arvew ond lade colored squares containing ter of colored inctiered comemqcnmining meme Use the li “a Cut out the black arrow, stick pin through center of arrow, passing pin through as Pieces, or men, in playing the game. i39

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Prices range from fifty cents up, every pencil reflecting the craftsmanship that has made the name known to every particular pencil user. For Sale At All Leading Dealers DUR-O-LITE PENCIL COMPANY 4$41 Ravenswood Avenue, CHICAGO Eastern Sales Office—-26 Cortlandt : Street, New York City Western States Representatives— Bert $3.50 M. Morris Company, 415 Transpor- Black and tation Bidg., Los Angeles, Calif. Pearl . the highway and approached pop’s THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 137) two grooms took him away. Pop walked off and sat down on a bench at the door of the garage, close to the gates into the high- road, and watched the guest examining Colony from that distance. Lupus went to join him, and saw old Potter leading Bo- hunkus down the gravel. That reminded him of something. ‘Guess this is the Duke of Stole, daddy.” “Think so, Lupus?” “**Cause he says ‘at kid down at Shuttle- worth’s is his son, pop.” “Well, Lupus bey,” the sachem yawned, “you're gettin’ intell’gent, now you're forty. He might very well be the duke, if that’s his kid. He - Go see what he’s sayin’ to Potter about Bohunkus.” Lupus paced twenty yards and heard Potter saying in a funny, shaken voice, . . . “and it gave me a turn when my sister wrote me Lady Angela was gone, My Lord— Your Grace. She wasn’t such a very old lady, at that.” ““Seventy-five!’’ Beausire shouted ami- ably. ‘“‘I say, Van Eck, what’s this chap’s name? . . . She wasseventy-five, Potter.” “She should ha’ lasted longer, Your Grace. . . . Might I fetch Starlight, Mr. Lupus? His Grace would enjoy her, I’m sure.” “Bring her along, Potter. . . . Like tu try this one, colonel? . . . Hi, Bill, saddle Bohunk up, will you?” The black colt had stationed himself alongside Beausire, not sure that a person who wore a coat in summer was correct, but much interested in the Englishman. Beau- sire kept a hand on the youngster’s neck as he said, “‘Don’t suppose this chap’s for sale, eh?” ““Well, no, sir. I’m kinda intendin’ to get Carolus interested in him. The kid’s got to have a good horse, y’ see? He'll get over this about Bully, in a week, an’ want a ride.” “To be sure. And I shouldn’t squander a sovereign, as a matter of sad fact. Been puttin’ new leads on the house in town... . I must get your father’s advice about Johnny presently, And is this Star- light?” The great mare came dancing up for in- spection, glittering all along her creamy flanks. Beausire took the glass from his eye and clasped his hands behind his back. Lupus grinned and retreated. All the hired men from the dairy were edging through into the yard, neglecting cows, and the sun increased on Starlight’s head, with the white star above her eyes. Potter led her to and fro before her newest admirer, and the colt respectfully backed away from his mother’s dignity. EVENING POST sachem, “‘has no business tradin’ with dirt, no matter how the dirt’s dressed up. How old are you?” “Twenty-two, sir.” “Then you're old enough to know better.” “Aw, pop!” “Lupus son, shut up.” a. “But I do know that I owe you an apol- ogy, sir,"’ said the perspiring kid. “‘I—I’d no business to doubt what you said. It was h-horribly rude.” “You never seen me before, son. The Van Ecks don’t tell lies, but you ain’t acquainted ‘round here. I accept your apology. Goan’ tell your dad your troubles. You got plenty.” This was what the boy wanted to do, but Beausire, out on the gravel, was impreg- nable, surrounded by a wall as he knelt studying Starlight’s ankles. He knew that his son was there, but this wall existed around him. He had locked himself up in air, just as dad froze a hired man away from him by not seeing him. Lord Ancross pawed gravel with one white shoe and rubbed his nose with a sunburned wrist. The black colt came to see what he was made of. When the gray man followed the colt, Lupus felt his feet chilling inside his boots. ““H-how are you, sir?” “Enjoyin’ yourself in the Johnny? ; “No, sir.” Beausire rested a palm on the colt’s back and stared across at his son. His face was pink rock and the eyeglass flared so that Lupus had to sneeze as he watched it. ““H-how’s mother?” “Very warm, I dare say. She’s gone to some friends at a place called Easthampton for Sunday,” said Beausire. ‘‘ Well, Mr. Van Eck, I hear I can’t have this colt.” “Not if Carolus likes him, colonel. Caro’s got to have the best hoss on the place to make up for losin’ Bully,’”’ pop purred. “Quite right too. . You see, Johnny,” the Englishman drawled, stretch- ing his words as a thong is stretched be- tween a man’s hands, “‘some worthless young woman bribed a groom to bring her Mr. Carolus Van Eck’s horse. Then she staked it and left it dying. Extraordinary, isn’t it? Quite extraordinary.” This drawl slashed the boy’s face and red- dened it. He rocked on his big feet and his mouth worked, while he stared at the eye- glass in his father’s face. Mr. Van Eck poked the gravel and spat three times. Then Lord Ancross stumbled past the cane and sat down on the bench, lifting his hands and looking at them, loose on his knees. He was shaking as though he were very cold. States, April 5,1950 Beausire strolled away with the colt and went back to talk in amiable shouts to old Potter while Starlight sedately nosed her son. Lupus heard names of race horses and people in this rernote conversation, but he had to keep watching the boy’s shoulders flatten in the white shirt as he stooped lower and lower. Then he walked off and listened to Potter recounting the adventure o: a horse named Spots at Lady Angela’s place in Devon. It appeared that this animal got loose in a bed of strawberries and after- ward swallowed a gallon of cream and was extraordinarily ill, although tended by a bishop in its pain. Meanwhile the colt strayed and looked at Mr. Van Eck, up- right on the white bench beside the motion- less boy. The weather-vane’s arrow turned above the golden horse on the roof, there, and cows lumbered into the dairy’s yard to be milked. All the noises of horses and cat- tle and their smells mingled familiarly in his nostrils, but Lupus was most unhappy. So was Beausire. It was plain in his face, because his face showed nothing, and in his voice, because his voice was blandly courte- ous, answering old Potter’s anecdotes. He might be as unhappy as the lad yonder on the bench, ashamed of himself and his blown-up love affair, and sure that he would never be forgiven. The only happy person was Potter, touching his forehead when the gray man answered him and strok- ing Starlight when she stirred. Lupus wanted to yell when the colt came nosing for attentions. It couldn’t go on! It must stop or the boy would come sobbing c ver the gravel. He was flattened down so that his chest lay on his knees. One red hand turned a straw or a thread he had picked up. At any minute he would bawl. Lupus scrubbed an ear and swallowed twice. “Aw, colonel!” “Tt’s a very thin skin, Van Eck,” said Beausire, touching Starlight’s flank. “Yeh, but you cut clean through, then. It’s He’s a colt.” ““There’s some traditional saying, isn’t there, about this hurting me much worse than it hurts him? I say, Potter, you'll remember Sir Edgar Meadham? My oldest girl married his son last year. They’re livin’ at Stolehaven Lodge.” It went on. Lupus wondered if the hired men knew that something was going on. Then he thought of the one time he had thrashed Carolus, and hastily lit a cigarette so as to forget about that. He began to hate Beausire, and then was sorry for him. The colt found an old baseball and lipped it, investigating the taste. “‘Hey, Beausire!”” the sachem shouted. “There’s Mr. Van Eck calling me, Potter.” “‘Let him find somethin’ like that in Kentucky or anywheres,”’ said pop, and spat. “He can’t, dad.” “*T know he can’t,” purred. A pair of dusty white shoes stumbled through the gates from the sachem cane, slanted on the gravel from his knee. The tall boy was sweat- ing and soiled by his tramp down the slope. His thin shirt showed pink on his chest and shoulders. He was very unhappy. Lupus flinched from looking at him. “Good day,” said Mr. Van Eck, lazily poking the gravel. ‘11 owe you an apology, sir, for—-for interrupting you just now. It was most horribly rude. B-but I thought you’d made a mistake, sir. I’m very sorry in deed.” Mr. Van Eck wrote an S on the gravel with his cane. His face was an amber carving and he per- mitted a fly to walk on the arch of his Indian nose, undisturbed, as he looked at the wretched kid. “You owe me nothin’, son. You He walked toward the sachem, and the colt came along. Mr. Van Eck was rolling a cigarette slowly in his dark fingers as the English- man got to him. He just said, “‘Enough’s enough, colonel,’”’ and licked the tobacco into its shell of brown paper. “‘T’m sure you’re right, sir.” Lord Ancross was wiping astraw on one dusty instep. His father took the glass out of his face and stood considering the boy’s shoul- ders. After a time he dropped a palm on the wet white shirt and moved it over the flat muscles of his son’s back. “You should wear something under that, Johnny, or you'll get most frightfully sunburned in this heat. Come over here and speak to this old chap. He was one of your Great-Aunt Angela’s grooms. He’ll be so proud,” said Beausire, “‘ tosee you aman grown. Come along.” Mr. Van Eck lit his cigarette and seemed not to watch the two pairs of legs retiring up the sunny gravel. He tapped his cane on his peg three times and nodded tran- was mistaken. But you owe your folks an apology for runnin’ with trash. A boy like you,”’ said the DRAWN BY ROBERT L. OCKEY The Pup: ‘‘Some Way or Other I Can't Work Up Any pus,’ Enthusiasm for the Stuff You Horses Eat’’ quilly. “‘That’s good stock, Lu- * he said. “And there’s an- other boy grown up a gentieman.” — . oP ea — = epee ee = eee

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BUSINESS as usual HE WHEELS of industry keep turning, rain or shine. And outdoor workers who wear Fish Brand waterproof cloth- ing are dry and comfortable, regardless of weather. Reflex Slickers and Work Suits (jacket and pants), with waterproof hats to match, are made for heavy duty. Sturdy, roomy, comfortable, they wear for years. Fish Brand Slickers range from the rugged ‘‘Reflex,’’ through the '“ Varsity ’’—most popular slicker made—to the ‘*Kitcoat,’’ a smart feather- weight that folds away to a handful. There is a wide vari- ety of models and colors for men, women and children. Sold everywhere. Look for the Fish Brand label. A descriptive booklet will be mailed, free of charge, upon re- quest. A. J. Tower Company, 4 Simmons Street, Boston, Mass.; Tower Canadian, Ltd., Toronto, Canada. TOWERS E TRAD YWUVWw FISH BRAN THE SATURDAY “Gosh!” exclaims Uncle Joe. ‘‘How one | ages around here! I'd better beat it before I discover she’s the late Miss Streeter.” a N OUR next bridge we have Brice to dinner. He’s been raring for a game and, it being O.K. with Luke and his sister, we invite the old singleton to pick ‘em up and lay ‘em down with us. “Have you turned all your negotiables into cash?” I inquires. “We don't take slow notes around here.” “A sound policy,”’ says Uncle Joe, “but it may interest you to know that I don’t expect to lose. In fact, my agenda call for my departure along about midnight stag- gering under the weight of unearned incre- ment.” “After all,” I shrugs, “why not? Every- body else does. To darken my door is to lighten my bank roll.” “It may further interest you to know,” he goes on, “that I’ve been taking post- graduate work in contract since I saw you “Who from?” I asks. “‘A regular teacher,” returns Brice, “with a studio, an air of decayed gentility and everything.” “What,” I demands, “did she show you that I didn’t?” “Not a great deal,” he comes back, “ out- side of a picture of the old family manse at Roanoke and a plate that General Beaure- gard ate off of, but I’ve got a lot of confi- dence in my game now.” “That’s fine,” says I, “but you’d be sur- prised at the number of times a cowardly ace takes a confident king in this pastime. Here comes the James boy and girl now,” I adds as the bell rings. “Better let me put your watch and chain in the safe.” Sadie, as usual, is dressed as if she were going to a Beaux Arts ball, instead of around the corner for a penny game in a walk-up. She’s a tall, curvy blonde with eyes big enough to bathe in and a smile you could pasture bees in. Uncle Joe lets his lamps range wide and free. “Huh!” he grunts. “I thought that dame was going to be pushed in here in a wheel chair. Where does "Livy get that forty?” “Snappy clothes I’m buying you these days,” I remarks to Sadie, after the intro- ductions. “Like em?” she flashes. “I ordered a fur today on the strength of tonight’s win- nings.”” “Better cancel it, girlie,” I’ advises. “We've got new blood in the game. Haven't you ever read Brice on Contract?” “No, I haven’t,”’ says Miss Streeter. “I know it’s a book I should read, but I've barely time to keep up with the ones I shouldn't.” “Come on,” barks Luke. “‘ You're taking the bread out of my mouth with all that palaver.”” “Will you take fifty and go home?” I asks. “IT will not,” he declared indignantly. “That's you coupon clippers—always grind- ing down us wage earners. Didn't you see where Hoover's asked the country to keep the pay rolls up?” “Yeh,” says I, “but my appearance in the soup line isn’t likely to spur the eco- nomic recovery to any marked extent.” Just for being greedy, Streeter’s cut out of the first rubber. I draws Olivia, and Brice seems pleased to hold hands with Sadie. Luke stations himself behind her for some back-seat driving. “Now, remember,” says I to the missis. ““When I lead an ace, it means I have it.” “That,” she remarks, “is probably the most valuable bit of information I'll get from you tonight.” Sadie deals and bids a couple of hearts. I've got five spades to the king-jack and the ace-king of diamonds— not such a holiday holding— but figuring to frighten EVENING POST TOLL BRIDGE (Continued fram Page 13) Uncle Joe out of a raise, I calls two spades. Brice refuses to frighten and announces the third heart. Olivia does what the barber gets for letting the East Lynne company put billing in his window and Miss Streeter offers four hearts. The fat’s in the fire. “Pass,” says I. “Five,” says Brice. “And the sixth,” declares Sadie. “Double!” I yelps, and then, following the old Sicilian custom, I looks to see what I’ve doubled on. It assays a cinch. I have a sure trick in diamonds, maybe two, one in spades, and a chance of Olivia coming through with a taking ticket. “‘Redouble!”’ says La Belle Streeter. “On what?’’ I demands. “The thirteenth of March,”’ she replies. “Play.” I leads the ace of diamonds and then re- tire entirely from the leading business. My sure trick’s trumped, the ace-queen of spades lay with Uncle Joe, and Olivia’s about as helpful as a rainstorm at a picnic. Seven runs, seven hits, no errors. “Pardon me for bringing up religion,” says the frau, “‘but what did you have fora two-spade make?” “Sundry and divers things,” I replies. “Could I tell by the shape of Uncle Joe’s ears that he held the ace-queen?”’ “Perhaps not,”’ she admits. ‘What did that brilliant coup of Pete’s cost us, Sadie?”’ “Seven hundred and twenty below the line,”” says Miss Streeter. ‘Five hundred for the little slam, two hundred for the extra trick, one hundred for making the contract and a hundred and fifty for five honors. Total, sixteen hundred and seventy.” “Good grief!” wails Olivia. “And he promised to cherish me!”’ “T think,”’ observes Sadie to Brice, “‘that we should have gone to a grand slam.” “T guess you're right,” says he. “Sorry, but we’ll do better when you and I get used to each other.” “T should love it,”” beams the wench, meaning, of course, that she should love to do better. “As a matter of fact, it was my fault. I should have jumped to seven after the double.” “No,” insists Uncle Joe. “It was my place todoit. With the ace in two suits-—"’ “Turn on the radio,” I shouts over to Luke, “and see if you can tune in on Hearts and Flowers.” I do myself rather well on the next deal and bid three no-trump. I make it, too, but it would have been a sad story for me if Brice hadn’t muffed the message behind one of Sadie’s discards. “Too bad, partner,” said Uncle Joe. “I certainly threw you for a loss that time.” “You're not a bit to blame,” declares Miss Streeter. “‘I should have thrown off a higher card. Luke would have understood my seven, but - “‘T’ll understand it, too,” cuts in Brice, “when I’veseen more of you—of your play, I mean.” Olivia and I are twenty-five bucks in the red when the rubber comes to an end, but things perk up some after that. I’m out, and the missis, playing with Brice, manages to recover eighteen hundred points from the bills payable. My next crack’s successful, too—a par- ticularly adroit maneuver cutting my lia- bilities in half. “How do you like my game now?” I asks the wife, not without a suggestion of pride. “I guess your game’s all right,” she re- plies, “‘but, personally, I prefer contract. How much are we out?” “Only eighteen smackers,”’ I tells her. “That's a killing,” says Olivia. ‘‘Let’s declare a dividend or take a run to Europe on it or something.” We're still eighteen minus when we sits down to the last rubber—Olivia and me vs. Brice and the blonde. On a fox pass by Urcle Joe that Sadie tries hard to hang on herself, we grabs off the first frame, and April 5,1950 the chances of us getting even look pretty good. While the next hand’s being dealt the phone rings and I goes to answer it. The call’s for a gal named Laura, who’s not even in our set, and I rejoins the bridgers. “‘What’s happened?” I asks. “Everybody’s passed but you,” says Luke. “Take a look and let ’em have a goulash.” Never have I seen such cards—eleven spades with all five honors, the ace of hearts and the ace of clubs. I’m about to go slum- ming with a slam when I catches a quizzical look in Brice’s eyes. Sometime I’m going to find out what a quizzical look is. “*Pass,”’ says I, flipping down the hand face up. ‘Who do you think you're kid- ding?” “Kidding!” gasps Olivia. “Who fixed it up?” I asks. “‘Sadie?”’ “Nobody fixed it up,”” comes back Miss Streeter, and I can tell from her tone that I’ve outsmarted myself. “Very well,” says I, reaching for the cards. “‘In that case I'll bid seven oy “No, you won’t,”’ interposes Uncle Joe. “You've passed.” I’m washed up. I’ve neither the spirit nor the cards to carry on, and the fina! rubber goes against us for eight hundred points. Sadie and Luke are the evening’s winners, Brice coming out even. After a bit he departs with the Streeters and I’m left alone with Nemesis. “Well!” says she. “‘ Do you realize what that wise wheeze of yours cost us? About thirty dollars. Instead of being a winner for the first time in months, we lost twenty-six dollars.” “Tough break,’’ I mumbles, “but the hand seemed just too good to be honest. Not to change the subject, did it strike you that Sadie Streeter wasn’t exactly an acute anathema to your Uncle Joe?”’ “Uncle Joe,” returns Olivia, “was just being a courteous gentleman. You must try it some day. By the way, who was it that phoned?” “Somebody wanted a girl named Laura,”’ I tells her. “I’m not at all surprised,” says the missis. “‘I can’t imagine anybody wanting you.” iv RICE goes so cuckoo over contract we have games twice a week, either at our place or over at the Streeters’. Our luck gets no better, but our losses are shaved down considerably through the cut-in proc- ess and a habit Uncle Joe has of slipping his winnings to Olivia. About a month after the start of the five- handed game I’m passing by The Ritzmore one afternoon when I pipes Brice through a window. He’s having tea with Sadie, and there's not enough room between ’em to drive an oxcart, either. The old boy appears a bit flustered when he catches my uplifted eye- brow, but Miss Streeter smiles witli calm amiability. “So you're playing twosomes now, eh?”’ I remarks to him that evening. “Purely in the interest of my bridge,” he returns hastily. “‘ You’ve got to know your people to put up a good game.” “Doubtless,” I agrees, “but don’t you see enough of her twice a week?”’ “Yes,” says Uncle Joe, “but always in the confusion of a card game. To the stu- dent, quiet and peaceful surroundings are essential. You've never heard of scientists renting space in boiler factories, have you?” “TI don’t know,” I comes back. “I’m not acquainted with many boiler factories. When are you going to begin your study of me—at a Ritzmore tea?” “No close study of you is necessary,”’ he returns. “ You are quite an obvious person. Sadie— Miss Streeter ———” “Call her Sadie,” I suggests recklessly, “and see if I care.” (Continued on Page 144) lp ne a

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(OvMERCIAL [vestment JRist CORPORATION Executive Offices One Park Avenue, New York Subsidiary and Affiliated Operating Companies with Head Offices in New York...Chicago...San Francisco ... Toronto... London... Berlin... Paris... Brussels .. Copenhagen... Havana...San juan, P.R.... Buenos Aires... Seo Paulo... Sydney, Australia. Offices in more than 150 cities, ' CAPITAL AND SURPLUS OVEL >-100.000.000 THE SATURDAY (Continued from Page 142) “ Miss Streeter, on the other hand,” goes on Brice, “is a most interesting and com- plex character. She’s not easily fathomed. There are hidden, devious depths ——” “T see,” I interrupts, “and until you plumb ‘em you won't know for sure whether a finesse’ll go through her or not.” “ Roughly speaking, yes,” says he. “It’s very vital in contract to know whether your fellow players are bold or overcau- tious. Whether they’re impulsive or hard- headed, and where can one best determine that than in social intercourse when the bars of restraint are let down?” “T hope,” I remarks, “you're not letting down any bars of restraint. Sadie’s an at- tractive woman, and even if she is around forty-five ——” “Miss Streeter,” declares Uncle Joe, somewhat stiffly, “will be thirty-two on her next birthday.” “I suppose,” says I, sarcastic, “ you found that out in your pursuit of inside bridge. Would it make much difference in a jack lead whether the gal was twenty-five or forty-three?” “Age might be an element to be consid- ered,” asserts Brice. “All right,” I shrugs, “but don’t lead your jack to Sadie. Remember, Olivia and I've been training faithfully to become your residuary legatees.” “ Don't be silly,g advises the missis when I tells her about Brice. “Uncle Joe’s had scores of women out to tea and elsewhere. There’s no more danger of him falling for Sadie than there is of him marrying his widow. He probably is studying her for bridge purposes.” being what they are’; “under the circum- stances,’’ and so on. ANSWER: These phrases are used to re- place commas. VI. QUESTION: Translate: ‘Some people think that the price of Garbel’s Moon-Glo Spaghetti—Every Inch a Caress—is too high. It costs more than bulk spaghetti, but this is due to its better quality.” ANSWER: “The impression is not infre- quently encountered that Garbel’s Moon- Glo Spaghetti—Every Inch a Caress- is merchandised at a price superior to what its intrinsic worth and the prevailing in- dices of the Bureau of Spaghetti Research would seem to warrant. While, on the one hand, it is readily recognized that the price eurve of Garbel’s Moon-Glo Spaghetti is superior to the price curve of the loose, un- packaged, untrade-marked, run-of-the-bin spaghetti which the consumer obtains in bulk out of an unsealed receptacle without having the advantage of obtaining the prod- uct inelosed in an airproof, mothproof and germproof container, as is Garbel’s Moon- Glo Spaghetti—see our literature on The Clutching Specter of Osetungulosis—on the other hand, it is to be borne in mind that as a correlation must be preserved be- tween the manufacturing expenditures and the final consumer cost of the product, the differential between Moon-Glo prices and those of the common article is not to be interpreted as an arbitrary addition to the organization’s profits, but rather as a proper and essential allocation of the pro- ducer’s production charges upon the ulti- mate beneficiary. This phenomenon, neces- | sarily somewhat difficult of comprehension, may be clarified by an alternative phrase- ology n EXAMINER: “It is sufficiently clarified.” — Morris Bisuop. Intuition BV ING man will grapple In vain to learn a woman's lore; For though ‘twas Adam ate the apple, *Twas surely Eve who ate the core. Joseph Anthony. EVENING POST “O. K.,” says I, “as long as he spells bridge with a g.” Whatever Brice has on foot, his brand of contract gets to be bang-up, but rather embarrassing to me. He’s so darn courte- ous and sweet under pressure he makes me feel like a barrel-house bum every time I open my mouth in protest. Even Sadie, who used to break one off in Luke occa- sionally, takes the veil and lets butter melt on her tongue. Olivia and I go away on a trip for a couple of weeks in May, and when we return, the Streeters are about ready to trek away for the summer, so we decides to call it a sea- son with a two-cent game on the fifteenth. It’s been a disastrous season for us, my books showing me to be about five hundred berries down the coal chute, most of it dropped in the pre-Brice days. We all have dinner at our place on get- away night and gather about the cards and spades immediately thereafter. I’m all set to play ’em close to my vest for a clean-up, and at the start it looks as though I were in for a profitable session. I get a bid of four spades, and with a little assistance from the opposition— Brice and Sadie—Olivia and I chalk up our con- tract and three tricks over. There’s also a matter of a hundred and fifty in honors. “IT think,” remarks Miss Streeter, “we'd have saved game if you'd played your queen of clubs.” “Perhaps,” says Uncle Joe mildly, “but I figured you for the king. You discarded a ten oa a “That-a-boy!” I chimes in. “Tell her where she heads in.” However, nothing further’s said and the game goes on its POST SCRIPTS (Continued from Page 32) Her Hard Luck INCE worlds were wrought of star dust, Since ever time began, The doom of every woman Is that she gets her man. — Mary Carolyn Davies. Rimed Reviews The Modern Biography HEY call him great and free of blame! We've traced the facts with fine acumen And no intent to blot his fame, But just to show him up as human. They tell his deeds in verse and prose, They laud his life in hall and chapel, And look! The startling record shows That, when a boy, he stole an apple! An awkward lout he seems upon The pedestal which Time has built him, For twenty ladies, here and yon, Have vowed that they were forced to jilt him. He served his land without reward For motives plainly meretricious, Since letters, not to be ignored, Report him sadly avaricious. He labored on without surcease If skies were dark or clear or hazy. He toiled in war, he slaved in peace, But, on the whole, we find him lazy. And though his maxims, falsely prized, Encumber countless printed pages, We prove them mostly plagiarized From abler statesmen, purer sages. Besides, the dull, deluded men Who deem it sacrilege to doubt him Should learn what time and time again The Opposition said about him! A True Biography we trace; Our method's honest, plain and simple: Let others paint the noble face! We concentrate upon the pimple. Arthur Guiterman. April 5,1950 amiable way. At the end of about an hour’s play I’m around fifty fish to the merry and Olivia’s a fair winner as well. Sadie’s hold- ing the bag. Toward ten o’clock the frau and I again hook up with Miss Streeter and Brice. We're standing at a frame apiece when Uncle Joe, unassisted, goes to five diamonds over my four-heart make. Olivia doubles and Brice takes it on the button for four- teen hundred points. Clouds rise in Sadie’s big blues and her lips tighten. “A foolish bid,” she bites off, ‘‘ when we’re vulnerable.” “TI did go a little strong,” admits Uncle Joe, “but I wanted to save the game. They’d have made their hearts.” “Suppose they had,’”’ snaps Miss Streeter. “How childish—taking a big set to save five hundred points!” “That’s a matter of opinion,” he re- turns, “and I regard my opinion in con- tract as, at least, as valuable as yours.” “Oh, you do, do you?” flares up Sadie. “Why, you poor fish, you only learned the game a couple of months ago. You haven't got out of the kindergarten yet.” “It must have burned down the day you entered,” retorts Brice. ‘What about that revoke you made? What about ——” “Say, listen,” I cuts in; “are you two, by any chance, married?” Uncle Joe looks at me peculiarly. “Yes, we are,” says he. “We had intended to keep it secret a bit longer, but,’”’ he adds dryly, “it had to come out. It’s in the cards.” “Swell game, this contract,” I remarks to Olivia later. ‘“You not only lose your money, but your prospects of money as well.” How About it, Dad? ““TYXCUSE me, Dad, but . . .” “What is it, Junior?” “Are you . . . I mean, is that piece in the paper you’re reading . . . is it some- thing funny? Youknow . . . does it make you feel good-natured and .. .” “Not exactly, Junior. It makes me think, though. I’m reading about some convicts who rioted in a prison.” ““Oh, those ol’ convicts!” “Now, Junior, the manner in which you say that indicates that you already are de- veloping a biased, mistaken opinion in the matters of criminology and penology.” “Sir?” “T mean, Junior, that you should not grow up with the idea that society should seek revenge on a man whose infraction of the law may have been purely uninten- tional.” “Yes, sir.”’ “Exactly, Junior. Punishment is not the eure for crime. It would be far better if prisons were more pleasant. The man who has offended society really deserves con- sideration, kindness, good food, recreation, entertainment! Things to take his mind away from brooding over what he has done. If we are harsh and brutal the offender sours on society. But if we are generous and forgiving he will not repeat his offense when he is liberated. Understand what I’m getting at, Junior?” “Yes, sir; I think so. You mean like if a fellow does something he shouldn’t have done, then he should be treated pretty swell and get to see shows and things instead of being bawled out and maybe walloped?”’ “Precisely that, Junior. ‘The quality of Re “Well, Dad, can I have fifty cents to go to the movies and buy an ice-cream soda and some candy afterward?” ““Weren’t you to a movie yesterday?” “Yes, sir. But I've got another one com- ing to me.” “Why?” “‘T just broke that new golf club of yours that you told me not to be hitting rocks with!” CHET JOHNSON. NL a ET BT Ty Few ~

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SS ee a a en THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Some A LAWLESS SPEED, a mis- taken turn, a sudden halt or a forgotten signal—and something has happened. Most dreaded of the acci- dents, and, as hospital and , insurance records show, most numerous of major accidents in motoring, are those injuries inflicted by flying glass. Glass, that should serve as a shield of safety, too often is the source of gravest peril. Breaking and scattering, each sharp-pointed wedge of it becomes a vicious missile, swift to disfigure, maim, or kill. Libbey-Owens, after years of unremitting efforts to produce a glass that not only removes a hazard but provides a positive protection to the motorist, now offers to the motor car industry and to the public, that modern advancement — Libbey-Owens Laminated Non-scattering Safety Glass. ing Under the shock of collision, or the im- pact of flying objects, this glass will nol break and scatler. Laminated, built up iayer on layer, if will not splinter and fly. Where ordinary glass is brittle, easily smashed and driven broadcast through the air, Libbey-Owens Laminated Glass is tough and lenacious. It holds. It is safe and it saves. This vital safety is associated with clearness of vision, so that in the car equipped with Libbey- Owens Laminated Glass you travel securely and serenely behind a clear shield of safety. The foremost automo- tive manufacturers are alert to the indis- pensable values of this stronger, non-scatter- able glass. Their me- chanical and_ artistic leadership secured, 145 4 al Mm ~ they are now devoting the same thoughtful en- ergies to what is absolutely safe and humane. The distinct trend in windshield, window and ail glassed-in construction in motor transportation today is to laminated glass. Libbey-Owens Laminated Safety Glass is pro duced for all who think enough of life to have in their cars, and to insist upon having, in any new car they buy, this final factor for security. You can get Libbey-Owens Laminated Safety Glass in your next car. Ask your car dealer about it. Libbey-Owens Glass Company, Toledo, Ohio. Write for our interesting new booklet on Libbey- Owens Laminated Safety Glass.

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146 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST You can identify the newest Hoover by the orange band which encircles the motor April 5,19350 Oe ee ee EE oe ui

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ea | | | | THE SATURDAY EVENING POST otnnouncing ot New HOOVER HERE is a new Hoover. It so far out- ranks anything previously offered that it can truthfully be said to be the finest portable electric cleaning ma- chine ever made. Its extraordinary efficiency can only be shown by a comparison with all electric cleaners which have gone before it. Of these cleaners, the one offering the swiftest, easiest, most thorough cleaning, the one ranking first in effi- ciency by its ability to remove the most dirt per minute, is the recent Hoover. The new and greater Hoover exceeds that Hoover in dirt-removing efficiency by 25%! And it does this with the ex- penditure of less human energy than is required by any competing device. The new Hoover gives to the famous cleaning principle, Positive Agita- tion, a significance still more im- pressive. It widens further the gulf between the surface cleaning of ordinary suction cleaners and the deep, . swift and % Sa thorough a cleaning which takes place he Cleaner already first in dirt removal now becomes 25% more efficient when Positive Agitation vibrates the rug to the very depths and dislodges from the deep pockets and tuft-ends the packed-in grit. The new Hoover makes still more wasteful the efforts of women who at- tempt to do their cleaning without a Hoover, still more unnecessary their sac- rifice of time, energy and strength. It gives still less excuse for rug wear that comes from embedded and unremoved An Extraordinary Feature of the New Hoovers is the Hygienisac —a new Sanitary Dust Bag Combining the filtering qualities of cloth with the reasonable cost of paper, the new Hygien- isac, optional equipment on the new Hoover . models, gives Hoover users extra convenience, extra sanitation, along with a dirt filtering ability equal to that of other Hoover dust strengthened by a patented process, the cleanings —vuntil the bag is worn or soiled. Then you detach and burn it with the dust. bags. Made of pulp-felt, treated and | Hygienisac is so stout that it will last for many grit, or for failure to protect rug beauty through the ability of The Hoover not only to remove deep-lying dirt but also to gather up all the surface dust and thread and lint, lift and straighten crushed-down nap and brighten the rug colors. In addition to its unparalleled value in offering scientific care of floor coverings, the new Hoover offers these new refine- ments: a new type cloth dust bag with an opening at the top which permits simpli- fied removal of the dirt; a more power- ful, smooth-running, ball-bearing motor; an improved fan; an automatic friction- stop handle control, which allows the handle to be placed in position without special adjustment and keeps it in this position; non-rusting, polished Nitralloy beater bars. It is also newly beautiful in line and in details of finish. Telephone your Hoover dealer or your local Hoover office and ask for a free trial or home demonstration of this new Hoover, Model 725. There is also a greatly improved new popular-priced Hoover. Only $6.25 down, including dusting tools; the balance monthly. Lib- eral allowance for your old cleaner. THE HOOVER COMPANY, NORTH CANTON, OHIO The oldest and largest maker of electric cleaners + The Hoover is also made in Canada, at Hamilton, Ontario © 1930, The Hoover Company

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the White House merely mellowed him in the end. Through no desire of his own, he was summoned to sit in a seat that did not fit him, and was fairly pushed into it, will- ingly in the end, because others wished it. When he was again living in his native element, perhaps he was able to count that time as a part of that average of the rough and the smooth which no life ever dodges. We who knew and loved the White House concert of familiars, and saw the discord which followed it, still bear, I think, the sears of our distress. Long years after it was all over, and Roosevelt was dead, I wrote Chief Justice Taft for leave to tell an anecdote for which he was authority, and for his correction, if I had it wrong. Part of his answer runs: What Doctor Thayer of Baltimore has said to you is quite true. You are a friend of Mr. Roosevelt, I know, and therefore would use the story in a way that would not bring any criticism for I would not wish to circu- late it and have any such result. Does not this draw a spirit that one would like tu resemble? Henry Adams should have been painted by El Greco. This will immediately sug- gest his appearance to those who have seen the portraits by that strange master assembled in what is called his house in Toledo. He seems to me hardly ever to have painted a face without giving it the quality of the aristocratic and the element of the inscrutable. Henry Adams often looked at you in a way that made you feel not only that you did not know what he was thinking but that he was prob- ably not going to tell you. He had the disdainful intellect of his family, and it was brilliant with rich experience of people and of books. Two of his own will certainly have to be read by anyone who wishes to ascend to the highest level of American literature, where the pages of Emerson and Poe and Whit- man and Hawthorne are to be found with Huckleberry Finn. In his youth he had seen the great world of London during our Civil War, and has de- scribed that time and society for us with the hand of a mas- ter. As secretary to his father, our minister to the Court of St. James’s, he was serving his country during those terrific years, while the future Judge Holmes was serving it in battles at the front. Both men were THE SATURDAY EVENING POST MY FRIENDSHIP WITH ROOSEVELT Continued from Page 19 Supreme Court of the United States; while Adams ended sitting bitter and hostile in his beautiful house in Lafayette Square, having written a long and wonderful book to explain himself to posterity. This is not all of him, it is the worst of him. His talk was informed and pointed; he knew an extraordinary number of things very well-— better than almost anybody you were likely to see in America; to be with him, dine with him, was a luxury and an excitement. He fascinated not only beau- ful and particular ladies but clever and aspiring young men as well. For some of these his influence was not quite whole- some; not only your patriotism but your faith in life had to be pretty well grown up to withstand the doses of distilled and vit- riolie mockery which Henry Adams could administer. There was but one antidote to recognize that they were not the whole truth. He was known as “Uncle Henry” to his circle of worshipers, and their affec- tion for him is the touchstone of his se- cret — affection dwelt somewhere deep inside him, hard to reach, shielded beneath irony, perversity and cynicism, but constant and true, once you got to it. That last day, when the Roosevelts, hus- band and wife, were going out of the White molded by that fiercest crisis we have known—none of the other familiars had come to sufficient maturity then— and this experience, taken with their straight New England tradition, classed them to- gether in a way, and in a way set them apart from the others. The others knew the Civil War well enough through their books, but they had been too young to learn it by living it. Beyond this, and their intellectual approach to the Cosmos, these two Bostonians had little in common. Neither man was easy to please, but I think of Holmes as mostly keeping the doors of his sympathy open, and of Adams as mostly keeping them shut. “If the country had put him on a pedes- tal,’ said Holmes to me once, “I think Henry Adams, with his gifts, could have rendered distinguished public service.” “What was the matter with Henry Adams?” I asked. “He wanted it handed to him on a silver plate,’” said Holmes. Now Holmes had gone after “it” tooth and nail; and hence began as a student of law and ended as an Associate Justice of the PYRIGHT BY UNDERWOOD & UNDERWOOD, *. ¥ President Roosevelt and Mr. Taft at the White House Just Before Leaving for the Capitol House and all was ended, he came over They had drawn this difficult man to them, had made him one of the familiars by what they were; nobody was to take their place for him. He could easily have quoted perhaps in his heart he was quoting —Sir Bedivere to Arthur: But now the whole Round Table is dissolved Which was an image of the mighty world . And the days darken round me, and the years, Among new men, strange faces, other minds. Henry Adams spoke to them simply: “I shall miss you very much.” He shook their hands and went away. The sound of his voice in those six words was never forgotten by Mrs. Roosevelt. Henry Adams was slender in frame, deli- cate and distinguished in countenance; he wore a beard, and his eye had a permanent and piercing alertness. For his own diver- sion it was his way at times to say what he partly meant, but to say it in excess of his meaning, and then watch for what you were going to do about it. At a dinner with the Winthrop Chanlers, where both he and John La Farge were, and the company was small enough for general talk forth and back across the table, something had brought in a reference to Gethe. At once Henry Adams opened an attack upon him. Goethe was overrated. The Germans had imposed him upon an uncritical world. Voltaire was a keener and higher intellect. To be sure, Geethe had written some good lyric verse. But a mind of the first rank didn’t keep on trying so many literary experiments. Goethe was a constant imitator — now of the Greeks, now of the Orientals. The first part of Wil- helm Meister was a hodgepodge, the second part was unreadable. Every now and then Mrs. Chanler would break in upon this with exclamations and protests. These were what Henry Adams wanted, and they made him worse. The truth was, Goethe was merely an amateur. At this point I spoke: “But don't you think there are traces of cleverness in Faust?” Henry Adams looked at me “That's the way to stop him!” said John La Farge. These two friends had sailed the Pacific together, met Stevenson on his island, knew each other well One day Adams put into my hand a copy of that first edi- tion of The Education of Henry Adams, which he had printed privately — privately because the public was not worthy of it and requested me to take it home and call! his attention to any faults which I might ob serve. That was a fine trap to lay for one —and also a piece of his pose, Beside hiin, I was an utter ignoramus. So I was just mischievous enough to write in regard to his simile of a wrinkled Tannhiuser return ing to a wrinkled Venus at the Wartburg, that I had always understood that Elizabeth had lived in the Wartburg and Venus in another establishment with quite another name. Also, that when he spoke of the old familiar custom, when society in Washington had been smal! of seeing one's frie MT to New York at the Pennsylvania Station, wasn't it at that pe riod the Baltimore and Poto- mac Station? He answered He had liked a smal! book I had writ very good-humoredly ten about George Washington, and had written me out of the clear sky about it, begging me to go on in that line “Well, how are you and what are you doing?” he asked when I went to see him one day in 1912. “I’m damaged goods,"’ I told him. Since I had last seen him, I had passed six months in bed and two years in getting about again “Oh, I'm damaged goods too!" he laughed. “‘ But that shouldn't stop you.” “It’s not going to. I gave out, but | didn’t give in.” “And what do you think of the state of things in this country?” The Repu ar convention had been held some months be- fore, and that campaign, wh knew and cared for the Golden Age wi ever get over, Was growing more and more venomous each day I shook my head and said nothing “Our old friend over there,”’ continued Henry Adams, with a wave toward the White House, where we had spent such un = forgettable hours in the days o velts, ‘‘did his best. But whose best could save us? “Oh, well, I don’t feel as black as al! that about it!” Continued on Page 151 149 » SOLO ...a@ daily event AT AMERICA’S FINEST AVIATION DEE Bo 2c oe Se FLYING is a daily event at the Spartan School of Aeronautics. For Spartan students—having the advon- tage of superior instruction, modern equipment and advanced methods— progress rapidly to the point where they fly with confidence alone. » For those who are determined to suc- ceed in aviation, who cannot waste time or money, who want the thrill of success as well as the thrill of flight... for those Spartan training is made to order. » No other American school of aviation offers as many advantages os Spartan COMPLETE COURSES: Advenced Tri-motor Trans port, Transport, Limited Commercial, Privote, Me chanics, Welding, and Business Administration Flight courses include night, cross-country and acrobatic flying. EQUIPMENT: Spartan biplanes, cobin monoplanes and all-metal tri-motor Fords GOVERNMENT APPROVAL: The Spartoen Schoo! is approved by the U.5. Dept. of Commerce os transport ground and flying school. All courses are approved; instructors and planes are licensed by the Government FACILITIES: Spartan offers excellent living condi tions —modern borracks, classrooms, lounge rooms, library and restaurant Sparton students have ax cess to the Spartan Aircraft factory, while the Tulsa Municipal Airport—operations base of the South west Air Fast Express Lines —affords them an eppor tunity to study every phase of commercic! aviation LOWER TUITION: Spartan tuition fees ore lower than those of other large recognized schools. Lib eral extended tuition payment plans are available for all courses. 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YOU probably know that Forhan’s occu- pies a place distinctive among dentifrices, and for very good reasons. A dentist first devised it. A dentist’s critical standards have ever since watched over its preparation. With the scrupulous care he would use in safeguarding the teeth of his patients, R. J. Forhan, D.D.S., devel- oped the formula of this dentifrice which bears his name. He made it mild. He made it safe. He chose only those ingredients for cleansing the teeth which the most critical member of his pro- fession would approve. He demanded con- tinual vigilance in every step of manufactur- ing—watchfulness over the purity of every tube bearing his name. It was indeed a ‘dentists’ dentifrice.” More than this, he added something found in no other dentifrice—the benefit of a prep- THE SATURDAY EVENING POST aration he had developed in his practice— an aid for the gums, based upon a prepara- tion widely known and used by dentists in the care of pyorrhea. The result was a dentifrice remarkable for the mouth of youth, and for those who wish to keep the mouth young. Used as recom- mended, with massage at the time of brushing, Forhan’s not only cleans the teeth, but helps to give healthy gums the tingling stim- ulation which they need. We, who make this finer denti- frice, know of no other toothpaste made with such exacting care and patient precision. The high stand- ards of purity prescribed for each ingredient are constantly and watchfully checked. As a matter of precaution, any- April 5,1930 TO PROTECT THE MOUTH OF YOUTH ...a dentist tells how every tube of FORHAN’S must be made one who values firm, gleaming teeth and healthy gums will want to adopt Forhan’s as his dentifrice, or hers. Forhan’s comes in two sizes, 35¢ and 6o¢ —a few cents a tube more than the ordinary toothpaste, and exceedingly well worth it. Forhan Company, Inc., New York. Any mouth may have pyorrhea and at forty the odds are 4 out of 5 Forhan’s YOUR TEETH ARE ONLY AS HEALTHY AS YOUR GUMS

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datoms (Continued from Page 149) “You don’t? With that saturnalia going on up there?” And he waved in the direc- tion of the Capitol. Again I shook my head. He continued to look at me with his most gimletlike expression. Then, suddenly, his countenance softened. His eyes grew warm, he got out of his chair, came over and laid his hand on my arm, and in a voice quite changed said: “Keep the faith.” I am not sure what he meant, but he had wholly dropped his pose and was for the moment a different Henry Adams, per- haps the real Henry Adams, the one who said good-by to those two Roosevelts so briefly and with such suppressed feeling. The next—and the last—sight I had of him was at Tyringham in the Berkshires, when the days were darker than the darkest in 1912 and the Great War was on. He was ill, but indefatigably using his intelli- gence. His researches for his book about Mont-Saint- Michel and Chartres had roused his curiosity about some ancient melodies — the music sung in langue d’oe and langue d’oil by the troubadours and trouvéres. He had procured the notes, and a lady played them for us while Henry Adams sat listen- ing and observing with his watchful eyes, and now and then commenting or explaining. A strange, tragic man; a remarkable and il- luminating intellect; not easily pleased; a true and steadfast friend. Copley, and only Copley, is the right man to have painted Henry Cabot Lodge. Many of Lodge’s kin and townsfolk did sit for him in their departed day, but this is not the reason; Copley would not be at all the right man for Holmes or Adams, whose kin and townsfolk he also painted. In those old portraits hanging in Harvard and Beacon Street, sire or dame, young or ripe, godly or ungodly, it is unmitigated Boston that you see recorded; the eye of a robust, stiff- necked race of dissenters, with its plain living, high thinking, dauntless intoler- ance, bleak bad manners, suppression of feeling, tenacity in its stern beliefs, and its cantankerousness, stares down at you with cold disapprobation. No Italian or Flemish master outdid Copley in catching the inner meaning of his contemporaries and settinc it down. Boston in its fullest measure had produced both Holmes and Adams; but so much other than this got into them as they grew, that the Copley type is marked in neither; while Cabot Lodge remained un- mitigated Boston to the end. Nothing outside of it ever really got into him deep. In his memoirs his affection clings to it; indeed, they exclude what’s outside it too much, show that despite all he had seen, read, thought, lived, achieved in an epoch teeming with*a world of things Copley’s people never dreamed of, all this had merely orchestrated him more brilliantly, so to speak, without changing his weave. When my town celebrated Benjamin Franklin’s two-hundredth anniversary two unmitigated Boston words were spoken by illustrious guests from there. President Eliot was at pains to remind us in his ad- dress that Franklin’s life had not been, in every particular, edifying. And Cabot Lodge told us plainly that Franklin was born in Boston. It brought'a smile from Dr. Weir Mitchell, who said that for a scholar of such historic erudition as Senator Lodge, this statement was a surprise; it was generally known that Benjamin Frank- lin had been born in Philadelphia at the age of seventeen. The cartoonists have not been fair to Cabot Lodge. They reduced to its lowest terms their formula for Roosevelt—teeth, glasses and sombrero— but it was generally good-natured; their formula for Lodge was generally malignant, suggesting him by a forehead and a beard about to close the rest of his face in, as a valise shuts up its contents. His politics had often made them angry, but so had Roosevelt’s. They could be savage about Roosevelt; they were mean about Lodge. It was his Bostonism that gave them their line—and his mastery of THE SATURDAY the sneer. Neither could be gainsaid; both put him in wrong with many who knew only this much about him, never knew the warm and generous side of him, cared noth- ing for his public value as a seasoned, edu- cated intelligence— very uncommon among our senators—could merely comprehend and resent his continuously narrow views and his too frequently sharp and sarcastic tongue. From Lodge’s political views Roose- velt not seldom differed without this touch- ing their warm personal relations. The friendship between them had begun soon after Roosevelt left Harvard, and among his familiars Lodge was the earliest by many years, and on a footing quite apart. It is too true that he brought upon him- self, by his dangerous gift of sarcasm, the bitter blame of those who thought that our “war to end war” had ended it, that we had made “‘the world safe for democracy,” and that our keeping out of the League of Nations had broken that pretty toy. You will hear it still, and it’s possible that his- tory may perpetuate this falsehood, as it has perpetuated many another. They say that nothing but Lodge’s persona! hatred of Woodrow Wilson kept us out of the e. I never squander my time arguing with either deserving Democrats, as Bryan called them, or deserving Republicans both are equally impervious — but in writing of Cabot Lodge, I am vindicating him by recording the exact and demonstrable truth about that business. It was no feeling against Wilson; it was to prevent the United States from registering a promise to take on foreign quarrels that Lodge with his followers insisted upon certain reservations in the Covenant; and the American people as a whole were behind him, as the years have proved since. Wilson had brought the Covenant home from Paris and ordered the Senate to sign it as it stood, as if they were a set of Princeton freshmen. Lodge was willing to sign, once his protecting reserva- tions were accepted. Wilson would not hear of opposition, would not brook the slightest change in his handiwork. When both Eng- land and France, speaking through Lord Grey and André Tardieu, readily accepted every one of the changes, the temper this threw Wilson into reveals what the matter was. With our Allies perfectly content with the Lodge reservations, what and who stood in the way? When it comes to a show- down, it is the iswlated figure of Woodrow Wilsow that blocks the road between us and the League of Nations. On that April day in 1917 when Wood- row Wilson went to the Capitol and asked Congress to declare war on Germany, the very instant he had finished, Cabot Lodge jumped up and exclaimed that the Repub- lican Party would stand solid behind the President. This is awkward for deserving Democrats. More awkward still is what followed later in the month, when the Pres- ident brought in his Conscription Bill, and Congress debated and voted upon it. For the reader who would follow the details of this debate and vote, momentous for the United States, and even more momentous for Europe, the Congressional Record, Vol- ume 55, Parts 1, 2 and 3, tells the story at length. Cabot Lodge stood faithful to his pledge. What did the Democrats do? On April twenty-fifth — Part 2, Page 1120, Volume 55 of the Congressional Record Champ Clark, of Missouri, said: I protest with all my heart and mind and soul against having the slur of being a conscript placed upon the men of Missouri. In the esti- mation of Missourians, there is precious little difference between a conscript and a convict, {Italics mine.] On May sixteenth, the House voted upon the bill, technically known as the Selective Draft Measure. Against it were 140 Demo- crats and 37 Republicans; for it were 149 Republicans and 42 Democrats. In the Senate, which voted the next day, the showing is not so clear on its face and must be analyzed from the ratio between the two parties there—54 Democrats to 42 Republicans— yeas, Democrats 34, Repub- licans 31; nays, Democrats 5, Republicans EVENING POST 3. Thus nearly five-sixths of the Repub- lican senators and not quite two-thirds of the Democrats supported the measure; while against it were two more Democrats than Republicans. Cabot Lodge voted for it, true to his pledge and to his patriotism. It was necessary to go somewhat explic- itly into this in order to give a valid reply to the slander that private antagonism to Wilson was what controlled Lodge’s public acts. He did a number which I thought un- worthy of the best that was in him, but of this he was incapable; and so far, his own caste in Boston, like the cartoonists in the country at large, have dwelt upon his short- comings only. Among his other enlightened deeds, authors owe him their present pro- tection. Before he brought about the copy- right bill, pirated foreign works could, and did, undersell the books written by Ameri- cans, and foreign authors got nothing for their books pirated and printed here. Lodge brought home to our Congress that whether it’s a book or a horse, stealing is stealing. Cabot Lodge, either in public or in’ pri- vate, was not much like what the cartoonist made of him. On the platform, before an audience, he was dignified, striking, and au- thority was in his voice. Grace, and the fla- vor of digested knowledge, and wide contact with the civilized world, made what he had to say very well said, without in the least weakening its force. Sitting at home, among his countless books, with a cigar, after din- ner, he could be perfectly delightful. Like Holmes, like Adams, he lived much in the intellect. What had happened to mankind in the way of far-off things and battles long ago, and all the consequences to the great peoples of the world, to their faiths, their feuds and their enthusiasms, was some- thing he never ceased to think on; nor did he stop at history. Much poetry was at his service for quoting. There was enough of the artist in him to be moved by beauty to the verge of tears. He read me that page in Homer one night where Odysseus returns from Troy and his wanderings to his home in Ithaca, and no one there knows who he is, except his old dog Argus. At the end he half flung the book down upon his knee and exclaimed: “The whole thing is the most beautiful story in the world!” I think of him as sitting in his office at the Senate, books of reference and official papers around him, breaking off in his dic- tation to his secretary, rising with a cordial smile of welcome'to a friend wo has looked in at the door, not an intimation in his manner or his words that he is busy and must not be interrupted. I think of him, too, in his great quiet room at home in Massachusetts Avenue, in the hours that grow serene toward midnight, seated with one long leg crossed over the other and slightly swinging as he talks or reads from the diary where he records what he is wit- nessing of curious or important events, or else from some favorite book he has pulled down from the crowded shelves which make his background. Whether at the Senate, or on his horse, or in his easy-chair after din- ner, always in the careful dress of the occa- sion. And so Cabot Lodge came and passed, a rare, memorable figure, always more sharply censured and always less heartily praised than he deserved; and he would have told you that better than the best part of him was his wife. When he lost that radiant companion, counselor and guide, he went on as well as he could alone; he did not virtu- ally cease, as Henry Adams did when he was left in the same way, but he was never the same man afterward. What guesses about this next familiar would a stranger make? Here is a head proper for John Sargent, a study that would call forth Sargent’s very best. Evidently someone who has carried through in spite of obstacles many enterprises of importance. By what means chiefly? Plainly not in the way Roosevelt's countenance suggests how he did the same thing—by kicking the ob- stacles over without too much attention to (Continued on Page 153) 151 Enough Hires Extract to make 8 BOTTLES of delicious Hires Root Beer. Just mail the coupon FREE GROWING CHILDREN Hires Root Beer is highly praised THE increasing popularity of Hires Root Beer is Nation-wide. In hundreds of schools, teachers are urging children to drink Hires Root Beer and to avoid questionable bever- ages. 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152 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 . this . AMERICAS TALISMAN | OF SUCCESS? W ASHINGTON plac ed a horseshoe over his : doorway at Mt. Vernon. Disraeli always earned a picture of his wife. Napoleon placed his faith in a ring. Dickens had to have several bronze figures on his desk when he wrote . . . For years, great men have had their private talismans which they half-seriously viewed as symbols of vood fortune. of success. But do you know that successful business men now carry a talisman in their left vest pocket that ap- sn ee parently is definitely connected with their success? \ recent investigation among bank executives in New York City proved that 69 out of 75 carried watches that were either exactly correct or within a scant half-minute of correct time. Out of 84 industrial leaders we interviewed aboard the “Century” 74 had watches just as close to exact time. Evidently, men high up in business simply can’t tolerate a timepiece that robs them of minutes—even seconds—which may mean money. That’s why so many of them carry Hamiltons. We don’t mean to imply that carrying an accurate watch—or even a Hamilton—is the simple answer Above—The Monticello — With secometer dial—in 14k filied to a man’s success. Let us send you a copy of ) : "The Timekeeper,” an invit- ut we do insist that successful men are yellow or white gold, $55. Center —The Briarcliffe—In 14k white gold, $75. Raised gold numerals, $10 extra. Left— The Raleigh— In 14k filled gold, yellow, green ing little booklet, beautifully accuracy-minded and that a surprisingly large _ illustrated, showing a com- ; : plete fine of Hamiltons number carry Hamiltons. dainty wrist watches, dignified pocket models and smart mas- or white, plain $55; engraved (as shown) $57. Right—The Cam- bridge—A new strap watch in 14k yellow or white gold, $125. Below—The Brunswick —In 14k green or white gold, engraved, with dial shown, $105 to $160. Other models, $48 to $685. culine strap watches —some of them created by designers of international prominence. Address Hamilton Watch Co., American manufacturers of high-grade watches for men and women, 850 Columbia Ave., Lancaster, Pennsylvania. lhe \Natch of Railroad Accuracy “~ nn ast. SS = we ee ee ee eee

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(Continued from Page 151) what else might topple in the process. Not that way, in spite of the power and the de- termination in this face. This man would keep force to the very last, when everything else had failed. Knowledge of men, espe- cially of their weaknesses, seems indicated. A dreamer? Decidedly not. Nor a soldier. Nor a man of letters; too much action is stamped all over this countenance. Not so much a great intellect as a great intelligence. Immense resourcefulness and acuteness in that almost fiery look. Something—is it humor or caution or the spirit which de- nies?—-something qualifies the fieriness. A person of solitude and the woods? Never. A city face; somebody constantly dealing with men and circumstances rather than with ideas, guided by externals more than from within. Very striking. Not easily for- gotten, Are those eyes watching a star or an opportunity? Elihu Root will undoubtedly bring up in heaven, but not, I fancy, until after a decent stay in purgatory. Anyone who has read Roosevelt’s published letters is aware of the enthusiastic admiration for Root’s powers as astatesman which Roosevelt held; and any- one who knows what Root accomplished as a statesman will be as sure as Roosevelt was that he would have made an illustrious President, as faithful to this duty and as capable to perform it as he had been in every position of responsibility he had undertaken. When it was necessary he could be quick and formidable in action. Perhaps fearless- ness is at the bottom of every instant decision aman makes. The Republican convention of 1912 had a temporary chairman, a sort of fluttering moth of a man, about as up to ruling those roaring waves as a cork would have been. His hammering for order brought it no more than the ticking of a watch. When Root, duly elected chairman, took the seat of the moth, the stroke he gave the desk instantly silenced the din— except in the case of one noisy delegate from Pennsylvania. This man continued to be disorderly. Root looked at him, rose, left the platform, walked along the aisle to where he sat and told him that if he did not stop his noise he would have him put out. It settled him. Some men become venerable, and some men do not, no matter what age they attain. Dr. Weir Mitchell became venerable, even majestic, without at all becoming feeble. Some of Elihu Root’s predecessors as lead- ers of the New York bar grew to be ven- erable—Evarts did, and James Carter; in Root, something boylike and engaging that I often saw sparkle in his eye and hover on his lips as if he were about to laugh or to utter some pithy whimsicality will prevent him ever seeming venerable to me. Once, when the President was busy, Mrs. Roose- velt took Root and me tosee DeWolf Hopper in some comic opera. Much of it was horse- play, and all of it was fantastic nonsense and Root, Secretary of State—perhaps our greatest — might have been fifteen and home for the Christmas holidays, the way he laughed all through the piece. He was often like that at the White House—serious and penetrating, yet with the hint of humor in ambush; listening closely and rather dangerously to what you were saying—if it was a statement or a generalization; ready to pick precisely the right hole in it, while his luminous eye was fixed upon you and that quaint rumple of hair strayed a little down over his forehead. There is a line in Tennyson about men rising on stepping-stones of their dead selves to higher things. To set forth in one’s eighties across the Atlantic, vigorous still in brain, but in body needing constant watching and constant rest, in the cause of iff€rnational understanding and good will— what word for such an enterprise is there but to call it very noble? If I had any say in the matter, Elihu Root should certainly, in due course, reach heaven. This next head could never be mistaken for an American. Race-is not always so sharply defined. Erich Remarque, who THE SATURDAY has written the most famous novel about the Great War, suggests neither literature nor that he is a German of French descent; he could easily pass for a baseball star or an alert and vigorous cashier from Nebraska; and in Sicily, a blue-eyed, blond, crisp, cynical young chauffeur drove me from Palermo to Segesta, and, to look at him from twenty yards off, you would have accepted the word of anybody who told you he had been born a farm boy in Ver- mont. The wires quite often get mysteri- ously crossed in national types, but this member of the Roosevelt familiars has an appearance true to form in every respect. Shaped by centuries of European civiliza- tion; a face modeled by lucid, exact tradi- tions, animate with keen and constant observation, critical and focused. He wears a beard; in his shrewd and very kindly glance there is something at once quizzical and analytic. A face of much training. Pos- sibly a scholar of some sort. Certainly a person of rapid tact, and accustomed to clear thinking; a man of both intellectual and worldly experience. It is Jules Jusserand, French Ambassador to the United States during twenty-odd years, and Meissonier should have painted him. The delicate complexities of his fea- tures all betoken that French quality which is so indigenous to France and so scarce anywhere else that all the other nations have had to borrow the French word for it—esprit, as well as the adjective spirituel; no equivalent words exist in any other language. This quality, and the gayety that goes with it, has sometimes misled that particular stamp of English and Ger- man that takes none but the dull seriously to suppose that Frenchmen cannot be seri- ous. This delusion has probably been dis- pelled by the Great War. Jusserand came to the White House very often because he was a member of the Tennis Cabinet. He illustrated excellently what Roosevelt said of his country in his lecture delivered at the Sorbonne on April 23, 1910, after his return from Africa: France has taught many lessons to other na- tions; surely one of the most important is . . . that a high artistic and literary development is compatible with notable leadership in arms and statecraft. This French Ambassador made a long and distinguished career in diplomacy com- patible with high literary development. Anyone who has read his interesting and most agreeably written history of Shak- spere in France knows that he can write in our language so well as seldom to betray by a turn of phrase that it is not his own. But Jules Jusserand, though so perfectly at home in our alien grammar and our ill- regulated spelling, never got the better of our utterly lawless pronunciation. Few of us Americans, I imagine, ever reach the point where we can converse in French and pass for French with a Frenchman, but many of us, I am ‘sure, come nearer to the right accent without knowing the tricks of the language half so well. Between the Ambassador’s control of our words and his utterance of their sounds a gulf was fixed; his enunciation was as “‘succlent”’ as he had comically and justly described Roosevelt's French to be. When I reminded him of that description in after years, he repeated it, and added how often he had seen Roosevelt stop in the middle of a French sentence and search and grope and stretch for the exact word he wanted, and finally catch it as you seize at length a slippery piece of soap that has escaped you in the bath; only, Jusserand’s vowels and consonants never were captured firmly. His unex- pected version of a word saved the Tennis Cabinet at their last meeting, the dinner where they assembled in March, 1909, to bid one another, and their President, and those years of delightful exercise and fel- lowship farewell. The table was decked with emblems—symbols from the years they had played their lively sets on the court behind the White House; Teddy bears were arranged at each place; Roose- velt had already, earlier in the day, pre- sented each member of the cabinet with EVENING POST his memento—a diploma of appointment, formally phrased and engrossed and signed, in imitation of a state document. The company was not far from tears. It drew still closer to them when the French Am- bassador rose and began an address to Roosevelt. The cabinet had united in a token, and asked Jusserand to speak for them; and he spoke, as always, from the heart, simply and beautifully. Just at the close, as he held out the token, he said: “. . . And I have the honor to beg your acceptance of this silver bowl'’-—pro- nouncing it to rime with howl. They all did immediately howl, and so their sadness did not overcome them. The vivacity which pervaded the mind of Jules Jusserand animated his body as well, and his muscles were as nimble as his wit. On the tennis court he could judge a ball as accurately as a footnote in a book of refer- ence; he seemed always to know where the ball was going and to be there first. I re- member my astonishment at his activity one afternoon when Stewart Edward White had arrived for a visit and was playing as gracefully as a panther would, if a panther could. Garfield was in the game, and Robert Bacon, and the President, of course, whose game about matched Jusserand’s. Others cut in from time to time when a set was ended. That Tennis Cabinet seems to me as remarkable in American annals as the Roosevelt salon. When Jusserand arrived in our country as successor to Jules Cambon, it was my fortune to make his acquaintance almost at once. This must have been in 1902; and from then on to the very last days of his stay with us, when the Great War had come and gone, and the Peace Conference had come and gone, and the world was never going to be the same again for any of us, I saw him often and in many different circumstances—holding up his witty end among the familiars at dinner, holding forth in Saunders Theater, at Harvard, as Phi Beta Kappa orator, speaking at meetings of the Alliance Francaise in New York, and in Philadelphia during my presidency of our group there, and then most pleasantly and familiarly at the French Embassy and in other houses. I remember that the last talk I had with him before he departed from our shores was at the celebration of our twenty-fifth anni- versary of the Alliance Francaise in Phila- delphia. I told him how sorry I was to see him go, how much I should miss him and Madame Jusserand. “But,” I added, “it’s too much to expect that you would never have enough of us.” “Not at all!’ he exclaimed with anima- tion. “It’s not we who wish to go away. We should like to keep on very much.” “Oh!” I said, comprehending that he was being taken from us by the political hand in Paris. He gave a short nod. He was the dean of the ambassadors by then. He was short in stature, had a way of tilting his head a little to one side, which somehow seemed to add point to his obser- vations; his beard between 1914 and 1918 had grown very gray, but his eye had re- mained unquenchably bright. The Flemish poet, Maeterlinck, has written some strangely imaginative pages, entitled Les Prévenus. In certain faces he perceives a lock of foreknowledge; they sense their approaching destiny, their eyes almost see it, they are watching for it to appear. None of the other faces—-Holmes, Lodge, Adams—none suggests being set apart from their fellows by this prescience; perhaps I read it into this face because I know of the darkness that fell around the path of the man. The same grain of aus- terity of which the face of Holmes is made is here, and the same nobility, but none of the latent mischief or the domination of intellect. Resolve, conviction, command these are present. Not a mind given to subtle formulations, not a reflective, rather a performing nature, fairly simple. John Sargent was the painter for this man, and did paint him. (Continued on Page 157) The pinging Shave high "Cin Comfort You can't keep music from your lips when the Ever-Ready coasts down your cheeks. The keen blade takes off the whiskers so quickly, so comfortably, so smoothly that you feel happy all day ...And say, when you see how many more shaves each blade gives, you'll want to dance as well as sing. Shaver—buy Ever-Ready Blades. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 155

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(Centinued from Page 153) Leonard Wood was inclined to be silent, inclined to be grave; I never saw him throw his head back and roar with laughter, as Roosevelt and most of the others did on oc- casion, but he looked the very thing that President Eliot finely entitled him at Har- vard Commencement when he gave him his honorary degree— Restorer of a Prov- ince. Ina way, I think there was some sort of latent splendor about him, something massive and capable and impressive, that brought such words as “‘Rome”’ and “ pro- consul” to mind. I even think that if a stranger had come in and seen all those familiars, distinguished and interesting, sitting at the table, his glance might have stopped at Leonard Wood, and his first inquiry might have been: Who is that? Roosevelt was apt to ask if there was any particular person I should like invited to luncheon. It was so that I first met Leonard Wood on the day following the diplomatic reception which I have described. He asked me to take a walk with him after luncheon, and if I minded stopping at his tailor’s, where he had an appointment to try on a new suit. So I had a view of him in shirt sleeves, and of his superb chest, and he seemed more impressive than ever. Not long after that dangerous accident near Pittsfield, which cost one life, and nearly cost Roosevelt’s, I went for a walk with him and Wood in Rock Creek Park. It was a scrambling walk, up and down steep slippery places; and the watchful care that Wood took of Roosevelt, whose leg had but lately healed of the wound he received in the Pittsfield crash, and the caution which he now and then reminded the President he ought to be taking—and was not—illustrated more than one side of Wood’s character. When Leonard Wood addressed an audi- ence his direct sentences, not long, and very simple, carried all the weight and con- viction of which his strong character was so full. No one who heard him at the Har- vard Club in New York City, where he came to organize that camp at Plattsburg for training Americans to serve as officers in the war, into which he knew we were bound some day to be drawn, will ever for- get that meeting; the quiet, eloquent fer- vor of Francis R. Appleton, president of the club, in introducing him; and Wood’s own words, as he told that hushed and serious crowd of men how utterly unready we were for a day that was surely coming, and how in that day our country would need in- stantly all the military knowledge and all the devotion they could give her; her pres- ent number of commissioned officers was scarce a drop in the bucket to meet the approaching crisis. And none that was there is likely to forget how from that day in 1915 until the day we entered the war in 1917, the Administration took no oppor- tunity to encourage Leonard Wood in his patriotic work, and lost no opportunity to discourage and humiliate him. When April, 1917, came it was glad enough thanklessly to avail itself of the results which his zeal and foresight had accomplished. And so, as Roosevelt said, we drifted stern foremost into the war, but thanks to Leonard Wood and his training camp for officers we had the makings of a crew to man the Ship of State. The soldiers that he then trained in the Middle West adored him; he was not per- mitted to go overseas. In my life I have known nobody, except Roosevelt, who served his country in the grand manner more nobly and effectively than Leonard Wood, whether as Restorer of a Province abroad, or as forger of sword and shield at home. His brief candidacy for the White House was a blunder of friends; no more than General Grant was he the stuff of which Presidents should be made, and in being saved from this ordeal he was more fortunate than Grant. In the performance of his last natiorfal service—which killed him—he merely added to the luster of a life already shining with honor. I hope that the story of Leonard Wood may be written right, and in full, in Amer- ican schoolbooks, and taught with zest and THE SATURDAY pride to American souls in the bud. It is spirits such as his that should people the minds of our youth and point them the true road to noble living. Our past has dropped some of this gold into our national treasury of inspiration; let us hoard every precious piece we can find. A captain of industry may set a good example, but no such ex- ample as this captain set. Let it be summed up. He was just a Yankee boy of the true blood. He came from New Hampshire to his schooling in Massachusetts, graduated at twenty-four from the Harvard Medica! School, got his appointment the next year as assistant surgeon in the United States Army and reported for duty in the distant Southwest, at Huachuca, below Tucson. Within twelve months his conduct while serving in an Apache outbreak brought his qualities and character immediate recogni- tion from those who knew of it, and twelve years after the event, Congress bestowed upon him its Medal of Honor. A greater opportunity came his way upon our going to war with Spain. He took it, was equal to it, and was seen to be equal to more than colonelcy of the Rough Riders in Cuba. To that island he was sent back as its military governor. At Harvard Commencement, President Eliot had addressed him as Re- storer of a Province; at Havana today, a statue of him stands in memory of his cleansing the city and bringing order out of forlorn and long-established confusion. This task ended in 1902, when Cuba under his rule was deemed by the United States ready to rule herself. After that he met his successive responsibilities step by step, now in our Pacific-island domain, next as a de- partment commander at home, again on a mission to South America; and so, one post after another, until the Great War. The Plattsburg Camp, instituted in 1915, stands as his own creation, his school of training for officers against the day that he saw was to come. Without this school we had a few hundred trained officers to count on. We should need several thousand. The day came. How we should have fared then, but for Leonard Wood, it is not worth while to guess. He next poured his energy into organizing divisions, regiments and bat- talions which fought in France. The Great War over, because he had been right, the Administration punished Leonard Wood by giving him all the obscurity and ingratitude at its command. In time the tide of poli- tics turned, but not soon enough to head off Congress from a typical piece of mischief. Under Roosevelt we had set up and carried on a management of the Philippines, naturally without the ripe experience of such colonizers as the Dutch; yet, new as we were at this game, in the strong and able hands of Gov. William Cameron Forbes mat- ters got along. But he was a Republican. Under the Democratic Administration he was removed in a manner—and with man- ners—that would make a good burlesque. The burlesque was made perfect by the Jones Act in 1916. Mr. Jones felt that Democrats should always undo what Re- publicans had done, but he felt more than this. He carried Jefferson's idea a long way beyond Jefferson—not merely are all men created equal, they are created identical. Therefore he gave the Filipinos what Wash- ington gave usa white system for brown men-—a congress, a court, an executive; a machinery of government devised by an English speaking and thinking and feeling race for a tropical race. Now bodies that have worn since the beginning a breech- clout, or feathers, or leaves, or paint, and practiced head hunting, can put on the white man’s pants any minute they wish, but it takes their minds longer than that to learn to think in the white man’s way. This does not seem to have occurred to Mr. Jones. A deserving Democrat was sent to govern the islands. Upon returning, it was his happy boast that he had reduced them to such chaos that the United States would hasten to cut them loose and drop them into space. This was the state of things offered Leonard Wood in 1921, when he was sent there as governor. Almost as well put EVENING POST Pershing in command at St.-Mihiel with the Army free to go or come as it preferred. Even so, Leonard Wood managed to ac- complish something until that point came when the will of the spirit could no longer surmount the body's exhaustion. On his way home to die, the pictures taken of this great and romantic figure were, to those who knew him in the splendor of his grave strength, something to wring the heart. He went to a hospital in Boston. That was the end. Duncan is in his grave; After life's fitful fever, he sleeps well. During the latest years of the eighteenth century a Frenchman, in wiiom his first master, Boucher, had found no enthusiasm for his own style and art, developed much for the new classic style, in which modern people were painted to look like Brutus. Confirmed in this by a sojourn in Rome, he Romanized Paris with his brush, beginning as painter to the king, going over to the Revolution, voting to behead the king; and in his portraits of that violent and idealistic generation all this is reflected. Louis David is the very man to have painted the next familiar. This is the youngest face among them, and one of marked and particular beauty, in which enthusiasm and asceticism seem to mingle about equally. Give it the classic treatment, and it would serve as a model for Leonidas bidding welcome to his des- tiny. There is a suggestion of zeal in excess of restraint, the possibility of following some idea too far. Neither history nor letters qualify this countenance, nor the temper of a judge. The eyes do not look as if they read books but as if they gazed upon a cause. Gifford Pinchot was obliged to read books since he graduated from Yale, but a cause did enlist and absorb him very early; it led him to do a priceless and per- manent service to his country. For this he deserves all the greater credit because he was rich and had no need to work. There are mystic tales of statues, effigies, talis- mans, which you had but to touch, and you received virtue from them. If such miracles could be, I would have set up at Yale an image of Gifford Pinchot for all boys dowered with the gift of wealth to touch and be inspired to serve their country discerningly for the sheer love of serving. It was this quality in Pinchot—this ded- ication of himself to a cause, and an un- popular cause at that-—which brought him and Roosevelt so close together in those years. Before they had found each other's quality out—the enthusiasm which was in Pinchot an ardent blaze, and in Roosevelt a fiery furnace—-Pinchot had gone of his own accord to Germany that he might study and master the science and the art of forestry. Of this, Americans knew nothing, and did not know there was anything to know. The free town of Frankfurt-am- Main, for instance, having been paid for its loan in the fourteenth century to a powerful lord by a forest he owned near by, has used that forest for its lumber from that time to the present day without using it up; while Americans had already used up some of their forests in less than one century, and were using them up faster and faster all the time. Resolving to stop this if he could, Pinchot equipped himself and came home. I was forced to try a dozen pieces of doubtful and dirficult work irrigation and for estry work, and so on. In each case partly by hard and intelligent work and partly by good fortune, we won out. This is Roosevelt, writing to me in a letter which I shall presently quote. Most of it appears in Bishop’s book about Roose- velt; yet in that excellent work in two volumes, the name of Pinchot is not to be found in the index, where the names of friends not nearly so close to Roosevelt, and not half such benefactors to the United States, do appear. This may have been an oversight, but possibly it was intentional on account of Pinchot’s subsequent career. The “hard and intelligent work"’ Roose- velt owed to Pinchot; without such an able HEN driving at night, dependable illumination isessential cosafety. Thatiswhy the careful owner selects Tung Sols. These bulbs are ma bv a great organization which specializes in miniature types Filaments are accurately placed Each bulb individually teste and inspected which meat that every Tung-Sol provid dependable illumtinatior crea ! contidencs sah For better road illum tion sc Tung-Sol bulbs THE TUNG-SOL FAMILY | iC | 157 PUNG-SOL LAMP WORKS INC. 95 Eighth Avenue, Newark, N, J.

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158 FILING TROUBLE ? Send an S. O. S. for your “Y and E” MAN Jim McConneil knows a t about ofice systems ind equipment, but he brings you more than his wa bnowledge. BS ype HING’s gone wrong with our filing systems. Get Jim McConnell on the phone”’ . . an often repeated con- versation in Los Angeles.. where James McConnell is one of a group of trained ““Y and E”’ Men Fifty Years of Experience behind him There’s a similar group of trained ‘““Y and E”’ Men in yourcity . . one of whom has been assigned to your office, and he is Waiting now for a call from you. Fifty years of constructive experience are the substantial background of every ““Y and E’’ Man. For this year we are celebrating our fiftieth anniversary! By the way. . when you see your “Y and E’’ Man ask him about the new ~Y and E’’ Steel Desks. Why not get him on the wire now? 432 JAY STREET, ROCHESTER, N.Y 1: The Office Specialty Mfg. « Led... Newmarket. Ont Export Dept. 368 Broadway, New York, N.Y. U.S.A ‘Foremost For Fifty Years* 1880 Ce 1930 OFFICE EQUIPMENT STEEL CABINETS STEEL DESKS TEE SHELVING SAFES..OFFICE SYSTEMS AND SUPPLIES..BANK AND LIBRARY EQUIPMEN' THE SATURDAY | lieutenant he could not possibly have put his project through, any more than the lieu- tenant could have carried his point without the backing of Roosevelt. He became the head of the National Conservation Organi- zation. He was thoroughly hated by free- born American citizens who didn’t see why they “‘hadn’t the right” to cut down just as many trees as they wanted. In a way they cannot be blamed for this notion, inher- ited straight from the backwoodsman who hewed his way westward through the un- footed wilderness. But Robinson Crusoe can do in a desert island all sorts of things that he would not be allowed to do in Central Park. And this is an idea not easy to bring home to a hundred million people— that there is no such thing as a natural right, that a natural right is merely some- thing a man will fight for. If he doesn’t win, his natural right is a mere ghost of the imagination. The natural right in this case was just Roosevelt's farseeing perception that trees and rivers were more important to all the people than their destruction was to some of the people — and, thanks to Pinchot, he won. “The people will take the sticks,” I re member a sulky senator from the West say- ing while the fight was on. Today ‘‘the sticks” are what is left of that part of our capital which we were stopped from eating up—the stuff our homes are made of, our beams, our chairs, our floors; the shelter where rivers are born to flow through the fields of grain that would die but for the forests; the sticks which Germany has known enough to use for seven hundred years without using up. Gifford Pinchot was tall and spare and very active on the tennis court; and his early great service to the country did not prepare one for his later public career. As I cannot speak well of this, I will not speak of it at all. More familiar in a way than any of the familiars was Winthrop Chanler. He held no office, he was a private friend, no book about him will ever be written; yet Roose- velt’s familiar letters not only to me but to members of his family as well constantly mention him. If the Civil Service Com- missioner Roosevelt is going from Washing- ton to New York for a night, and wants an agreeable dinner and a pleasant evening made ready for him, he writes his sister, Mrs. Cowles, to get it up for him, and be sure to ask Chanler. When Roosevelt, editor of the Boone and Crockett Club’s volume, writes me of the best articles for it that he has been promised, Chanier is to contribute one of these; and when Chanler, in 1902, asks him to come to Newport on the special errand of standing godfather to his boy, the President goes. A book should be written about Winthrop Chanler; and had he written such a book himself, as Trelawny did, telling of the distinguished people he had known every- where in the world and of his adventures upon land and sea, that book would be one to read, reread and to own. He once told me that he wished his epitaph to be: “ Here lies one who laughed in many lands.” He was not at Harvard with Roosevelt; he graduated five years later. When I wasa senior, I met him as a freshman; and when he had become a junior, and I a bank clerk, we fell into the friendship that lasted all his life. Roosevelt could hardiy have seen much of him until the Civil Service days in Washington. In college he had adventures enough, and was worshiped, for instance, by the Irish proprietor of a saloon in Essex Street, who hung upon every word he said, rejoiced in every act he did, would have gone to the world’s end for him, and in- stantly accepted me because I was his friend. Out of Harvard, his larger adven- tures were merely the unbroken continua- tion of his smaller ones in Cambridge and Boston. Wedlock did not fundamentally change him; and his wife, brought up in Rome, a niece of Julia Ward Howe, as he was her great-nephew—the two were second cous- ins —was far too wise to wish him changed EVENING POST as much as that. She had not chosen a sparkling belated Elizabethan in order to iron him into a flat American husband capa- ble of giving her no picturesque surprises. If, after Winthrop Chanler had grown his rich brown mustache and his pointed Vandyke beard, you had put a ruff round his neck and clothed him throughout ac- cording to the ruff, he could easily have sat for a portrait of Sir Walter Raleigh. And had he lived in the age to which so much of him belonged he would have sailed with Raleigh or Drake any day at a moment’s notice; and during his intervals in London he would have sat in the taverns hobnob- bing with Shakspere and have attended every first night of that dramatist’s pro- ductions. Chanler could have sat for his Mercutio. He would have appealed to Eliz- abeth to a certainty, and for precisely the same reasons that he appealed to Theodore Roosevelt. “‘I expected Winty to be here,” I said upon arriving one day to stay at the Chan- ler house on the Hudson. “He'll be here tomorrow,” said one of his sisters. “At least, if he hasn’t gone to Paw- tucket or Portland or Fitchburg to see some Punch and Judy show.” ““Whatever Winty does,” added another sister, “‘his conscience sits looking on, beat- ing happy applause.” I was at my law work one day in Francis Rawle’s office in Philadelphia when a vague, well-dressed, pleasant youth entered, in- quired for me in a European voice and handed me a note. It was from Chanler, and it said: Dear Dan: This is my brother-in-law. . . . Do what you can for him for my sake, for his sake, and God's sake. His various expeditions after elk in the Rockies, moufion in Corsica, were followed at length by an undertaking much more formidable, from which some of his inti- mate friends in vain did their best to re- strain him. Quite in vain. He was far from strong, undermined by a truly terrific ill- ness, when his life hung on a thread for weeks, and out of which he came with one kidney to get on with thereafter—he wrote me a letter saying that he had chris- tened this good kidney after me-—— but when we entered the Great War, nothing could keep his indomitable spirit out of it. He PHOTO. FROM THE SHOREY STUDIO At the Turn of the Road, Shet: burne, New Hampshire April 5,1930 got an appointment on Pershing’s staff on the strength of his fluency in French. I have a photograph of him in his uniform, standing on the stairs in the headquarters; smiling, it is true, dauntless, alert, but a pale, gaunt ghost of that once ambrosial Elizabethan; cheeks sunk, body gone el- derly that the years had caught up with at last, and no longer that sparkle of the irre- sponsible sprite in his eye; in its place, the somber reflection of what he was seeing on the Western Front; and yet a spirit still undaunted. He waved off the particulars of how he won his decoration, he made light of it when we met again, and assured me that he hadn’t known he was doing anything, and couldn’t locate the exact mo- ment when his behavior rose to the dimen- sions of the heroic—he merely discovered that he had been heroic when they in- formed him so. No warnings kept him back from any effort he had made up his mind to make. And so, being absolutely unfit for it; being told, in fact, that he ought to go to bed and take care of himself, he decided to go to Crete, and he went. In Crete there was but little food or lodging for one in his feeble state, but his spirit carried him through his climbings and expeditions; these accomplished, he came back to Paris, indeed at the end of his tether. He knew it, too, as was evident from some words about himself that he dropped to one of his family. From Paris he reached New York, ill al- most to extinction, but quite determined to go right on to the Harvard Commence- ment—a sustained series of functions aca- demic and convivial, covering several days, and apt to fatigue numbers of even the fairly robust not in their first youth. Amos French was actually able, by employing every protest short of physical force, to deter him from this madness and induce him to go to bed and keep quiet. He re- mained quiet at the Knickerbocker Club for a day or two, and then left for his home at Geneseo, where he had been master of hounds since the death of Austin Wads- worth. But Crete had finished him; he was done, though he did not accept the fact. He fretted to be on horseback, and to ride a particular horse—an animal that required a vigorous hand. At length, in the face of remonstrance, he carried his point, mounted, and rode out with his wife. The effort to hold the horse in was visibly a tax upon his last drop of determination. After they had ridden a short while he said: “‘Let’s have a little canter.” It was the last conscious word that he ever spoke. Almost at once he fell to the ground. Whether from exhaustion or from a stroke is uncertain and of little conse- quence; a stroke certainly followed. His magnificently vital heart continued to beat for a few days, and then ceased. “‘Let’s have a little canter.” The last words of few men have been so fitting; his life had generally been a canter when it was not a gallop. He lived more lives at once than any other man I have known. About those ladies who came to the Roosevelt salon I wish that I might speak at length—of Winty Chanler’s wife, her music, her many-sided cuitivation; of Mrs. Wendell Holmes, her quaint and wholly individual raciness, her beautiful embroid- ery, like none oiher; of Emily Tuckerman, Mrs. Cameron, Mrs. Lodge, Mrs. Grant La Farge, Mrs. Cowles, Mrs. Robinson— each an accomplished woman of the world, her native wits seasoned by experience with many people and familiarity with many books; and every one well able to hold up her end in the talk. Never in our history, let me repeat, at any other time has such a company as these familiars gathered in the White House. To the society of the present day they seem to bear the same relation that Gobelin tapes- try bears to linoleum. After all, good society is the best inven- tion of mankind. Editor’s Note—This is the third of a series of articles by Mr. Wister. The fourth will appear next week. —

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{ | ! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 159 FAMOUS WRONG GUESSES InN HISTORY — the paper theyre printed on!’ ° ON'T be fools. Take what you can get D for your Certificates and be thankful. They're worthless, I tell you, worthless. Con- gress can't even pay interest on them, let alone redeem them.” Like a horde of hungry locusts, unscrupulous speculators were swarming over the country- side. Right and left they were buying up for a song the Certificates of Indebtedness issued by the Continental Congress a few years earlier. Duped by lying tales, thousands of ex- soldiers, poor farmers, small merchants—men who had freely given their services and their money to their country in the darkest hours of the American Revolution— parted with their Certificates for almost nothing. Little did they realize that Congress at that very moment was taking steps to redeem these obligations in ful/! * + * If these misguided patriots had only known the facts’ But in 1790 facts were hard to get. Population was scattered. Means of communi- cation slow. It took weeks—months—for authentic news to reach the outlying districts. How different from 1930! Today facts are just as important—just as vital. But now they STANDARD ‘Theyre not worth 200 VARICK ST. are quickly and readily available to all. And no shrewd investor will make a single commit- ment without first getting the facts. To invest safely— profitably — you must have the facts Tips, hunches, rumors of a pool forming, “inside information” that big interests are accumulating on a certain stock—all these are will-o’-the-wisps that have led many a one to disaster. When you invest in securities you must £now whether the stock or bond you are about to buy is selling at a price justified by present earnings and future prospects. You must know the financial strength of the com- pany, the personnel of its directorate. These are but a few of the pertinent facts offered you in Standard Services. This is the kind of information Standard Statistics Com- pany is furnishing to bankers responsible for their clients’ investments—to the officers of the country’s greatest corporations —t indi vidual investors both large and small Standard takes the “guess” out of investing Established twenty-four years ago, Standard Statistics Company is today the largest statis tical and advisory organization in the world With a staff of nearly 1000 people comprising trained statisticians, security experts and busi ness analysts—it is equipped to turnish accu rate, unbiased, vital information on the finances and progress of every important enterprise You, too, will find Standard Services a safe guide in your investment activities—a way & larger profits with greater safety. Let us tell you more about these services and the help they can be to you. Write us today on your business letterhead. No obligation whatever Address, Standard Statistics ¢ Inc., Dept. P- 40, 200 Varick Street, New York City STATISTICS COMPANY. INC. NEW YORK ‘ L Ny) J J Organized 24 years ago to distribute business and investment information tt ¢ the effort 5 j / > . ° of business conce rns, investment houses and int ors by a conscientious endearor to Furnish ' . . . - i es statistics, literature and reports on every business and financial subject of qeneral interest. THE LARGEST STATISTICAL ORGANIZATION IN By § WORLD

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 “You hold my life in your hands «ays SERGEANT FRAN K HART “Tve felt that way toward my ELGIN many a time,” declares this crack railroad man, emi- nent member of the American Legion, wearer of the Distinguished Service Cross. He fought in France. Came home with the Distinguished Service Cross. And the Victory Medal with three bars. He knows the part that time played in war-time. Now an ELGIN still times his exciting hours. For he’s a star locomo- tive engineer on the Santa Fe. Took a train from Chicago to Fort Madison, Iowa ... and beat all passenger train records! And again an ELGIN ticked the triumphant minutes as he won his peace-time honors on the rails. You may never stand tense in a trench waiting for “zero hour.” Never wheel a thundering locomotive on a record run. But every minute of every day your character and punctuality are on trial. Every minute you need a fine, true, accurate watch. An ELGIN! Ask any reliable jeweler. IRE Another smart model in the ELGIN LEGIONNAIRE series... it brings you the same jeweled movement . . . the same ELGIN accuracy as the watch Sergeant Hart wears. Price . . . . . . . $19 When Hart is in the cab, thie ELCIN erves hin the B. W. Kaymond ondel jewels, 8 adjustments, wind- ing indicator. A sturdy, true ELGIN " “ A © Elgin. 1930 And when he’s all dressed up on his way to a Legion the chronometer of Engine No. ~ dinner, for example, this famous Legionnaire wears his ELGIN LEGIONNAIRE... the peace-time strap watch 406, Hart's “sip of the rails” $70 of war-time strength. Price . . . . . . . « $26 ase —~™t

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THE SATURDAY ON THE CRIMINAL SIDE (Continued from Page 25) the job; if he were the second, he would not be a magistrate. Even if he is free from money corruption, he is, at least in many places, anything but free from politics. Usu- ally he owes his job to politics. Suppose, now, that a robbery case comes up on preliminary hearing. Suppose that some of the main witnesses have been si- lenced by threats or blackmail. Suppose there is a pathetic story told of the prisoner who wants to go straight. Suppose the rec- ord of the criminal is suppressed or is in another jurisdiction; suppose the dockets of the higher court are crowded and there is general reluctance to put new burdens on the criminal calendars. Suppose the mag- istrate knows that the prosecutor will let the man go anyhow, on the next step of the mill’s grind; suppose the magistrate is tired, and suppose Bill and Joe and Mack— old political friends— with smiles of expect- ancy or scowls of menace, tell him to “‘let the guy go.” The fact—certainly in urban centers—is that the preliminary hearing is where about half, and sometimes more than half, of our accused and captured felons find their free exit from the toils and majesty of the law. Slipping Out the Back Door As to the atmosphere of such courts, magistrate or municipal as they may be called, the Illinois Crime Commission re- port is quite clear and fairly descriptive of many city courts in other jurisdictions: It seems to be customary for certain lawyers to assume a proprietary attitude toward de- fense cases. These privileged characters come to the court daily, deposit their coats and hats, and participate in the activities exactly as if they were paid attendants. They solicit busi- ness very largely through the assistance of clerks, bailiffs, assistant prosecutors and occa- sionally through the judges themselves. They mingle freely among those who are haled before the court and get business first hand. . . . Such lawyers have been known to divide the profits from their activities with the kindly officers who throw business to them. In fact, it is stated on good authority that such a privi- leged position is paid for by the lawyer. It goes on to say that some of these law- yers make their exclusive headquarters in police stations and courts. ‘In a certain instance a proposition was made by certain officials in the city to a young lawyer, and assurance was given that the cases in which he was interested would not be vigorously prosecuted.” The respectable members of the bar as- sociation never appear in this picture. These lower-criminal-court judges often reduce bail, discuss cases, and otherwise as- sist in the shortest cut to disrespect for law. They give a 50 per cent leakage, and prob- ably much more, to any prisoners so unfor- tunate as to belong to organized crime, and in spite of that fact, have been caught and arrested and have come to such an embar- rassing moment as that of being in court at all. The remaining half of all the prisoners that are held either enter pleas of guilty to lesser offenses or go up, after delays and bail, to the grand jury. The grand jury is not grand. It is a secret jury. Before it the prosecutor may often bully witnesses as he likes, and usu- ally dictates what the grand jury’s action shall be. In some urban centers about 30 per cent or more of all cases are eliminated. This process is called ‘‘no billing.” An analysis by the Illinois Crime Commis- sion in Chicago disclosed that 338 charges of murder were filed in Chicago in 1926, and fifty-five convictions were obtained for that offense. In twenty-eight cases convic- tions were obtained for lesser offenses— manslaughter in twenty-seven cases; some- times for assault with a deadly weapon; in one, murder was punished as a misdemeanor. Two defendants were found insane. Eleven cases were pending. 242 cases were dis- charged without any punishment. There were 2696 cases of robbery in Chi- cago in 1926: ‘“‘The felonious and violent taking of money, goods or other valuable things from a person by force or intimida- tion.” Therewere 151 convictions. Reduced to misdemeanor and convictions obtained in the following instances: Petty larceny, 191; assault with deadly weapon, 5; plain assault, 9. Original charge reduced and conviction obtained for less serious felony offense in 262 cases; grand larceny, 244; larceny from person, 9. One found insane. Thirty-seven cases pending. 1788 dis- charged. There were 1433 charges of burglary in the same period. Convictions on original charge in 94 cases. From burglary to mis- demeanor: Petty larceny, 292; attempt at larceny, 7; driving auto without owner's consent, 2; malicious mischief, 2; attempt to commit a crime, 12, and so on. 912 cases discharged. How large a part is played by intimida- tion of witnesses in most urban and some rural districts is shown in a case described by investigators as follows: The defendant was on the list of dan- gerous criminals prepared by the police de- partment. His criminal record extends back to 1921. In most of the cases where he is involved witnesses fail to appear against him. In 1926 nine robbery charges were filed against him, and in 1927 two charges of assault to rob, and in none of these cases was any conviction obtained. One was nol- prossed, five were stricken off with leave to reinstate, two were “no billed”’ by the grand jury, two discharged in the court of preliminary hearing, and one resulted in acquittal after jury trial. In one of the robbery cases listed above, the defendant was identified by four victims of a holdup in which he participated. The holdup occurred at 9:25 A.M. in a well- lighted room; the defendant was wearing no mask; the witnesses had him under observation for eight minutes, but later they failed to appear against him. Another instance from the practical rather than the theoretical crime survey: Three indictments were voted against a prisoner in September, 1919. Two were for robbery and one for assault to murder. He was acquitted after a jury trial on one robbery charge on April 19, 1920. The other robbery charge was nol-prossed. The charge of assault to murder was stricken off with leave to reinstate. He again appears in the court records of May 18, 1926, when a charge of larceny was nol-prossed in the pre- liminary hearing. In the robbery charges noted above, a bank messenger was held up and about $37,000 taken by two robbers. When the case went to trial, the witnesses, who had positively identified the defendants in the preliminary hearing, testified they were mistaken in their identifications. Witnesses Who Disappear The record of this person extends back to 1916. He was pardoned from the Reforma- tory on July twenty-fourth of that year. In September, 1926, he was indicted for mur- der, and in April, 1927, this case was stricken off with leave to reinstate. The defendant, with two others, was charged with having entered a cigar store at 3:15 A.M. and at- tempting a holdup, during the course of which the proprietor of the store was shot three times, from the effects of which he died three days later. One of the chief wit- nesses for the prosecution—a cab driver was murdered before the case came up for trial. Other witnesses for the state seem to have disappeared. On July 13, 1921, another defendant was indicted for attempted larceny, and was acquitted in October, 1921. The facts of the case are as follows: The defendant and another person un- locked and entered a lumberyard at 1:30 A.M., and were caught in the act by the night watchman, who testified at the trial. 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Bring light wraps... you'll need them Southern California is kept cool by breezes sweeping in from 6000 miles of Pacific Ocean! But leave your umbrella at home! Your trip out and eleven vacation days in Southern California will not only prove fascinating but a wonderfully broadening influence a liberal education. See and do things entirely new and refreshing then vou can talk familiarly with traveled people. Know your Hollywood! The orange groves, Old Spanish Missions, ‘Symphonies under the Stars,’ nearby mil to sea islands allw high mountains, ocean fishing barges, “voyages make every hour here a delight. Novelty and enjoyment night and day from daily swims in the Pacific to the glaciers of the High Sierra We have published a beautiful book picturing this Southland. It contains 71 camera Studies by the best men of this land of “pictures You may have a copy for postage cost. EXECUTIVES and INVESTORS: Los Angeles County oil fields represent an investment of 750 millions the agricultural industry over 400 millions. The port of Los Angeles is second only to New York in volume of ex port tonnage ¢ Plea € ce free li ated ltinmera a Name City State 161 IN CALIFORNIA alifornia

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THE 162 for common colds. \ . a . . Although Winter is out of the way, throat and nose discomforts remain during Spring and early Summer. Medical science shows that few of us Vv ccane — + escope. Cu «eo there is always this consolation. » » LUDEN’S give cK reer. The minute you put a Luden’s in your mouth, the irrita- + 5 is relieved: your head begins to clear and you breathe in comfort J2QUl » » It's the exclusive Menthol Action in Luden’s that does the And \ relief work. ou'll Find it omly in Luden’s. » » So . . . when tender hroats become troubled throats—no matter if it’s the weather or ciga- rette smoking that causes the discomfort—count on Luden’s for ck relief. qi » Everywhere in the familiar yellow package—Sc. show y Summer SATURDAY EVENING POST The defendant set up the defense that per- mission had been obtained from the owner | to use his truck for a moonlight picnic. . . . | Proving that even gangsters have a sense of humor! Two police officers who | went to the owner’s home were told that the accused had been given no such per- mission. The owner of the lumberyard, al- though subpoenaed, failed to appear at the trial. No attempt was made to require his presence in response to process. On the facts as presented, the court found the de- fendants not guilty, saying, ‘“‘ Defendants say they had permission. The owner is not here to say they did not.” A charge of bur- glary was filed against this defendant in December, 1926. The case went to trial in the criminal court, March 4, 1927, at which time the felony charge was waived and the defendant pleaded guilty to petty larceny and was put on probation. Restitution But No Reform The comment upon this intimidation of witnesses is plainly indicated. The point in question here is not the fact of intimidation, which, of course, everyone will join in con- demning, but condemnation of the casual manner in which the state’s attorneys per- mit cases in which they ought to know that there is a taint of intimidation to be ter- minated without heroic and complete ef- forts to bring reluctant witnesses to the bar of justice. As for restitution to prosecuting wit- nesses, wholly aside from the legal aspects of restitution, it is very evident that in cases where a dangerous criminal is involved | the public interest should be sufficiently protected too. The future safety of the public is not assured simply because a pro- fessional and unreformed criminal is per- mitted, literally, to buy off the victim. Such a case was the following from the Illinois Crime Commission report: On April 27, 1926, X was arrested and twenty charges of confidence game were filed against him. Of the twenty charges, nine were dis- missed for want of prosecution in the court of preliminary hearing, and two cases were dismissed for want of prosecution in the | criminal court. Three additional charges of confidence game were lodged against this defendant on May 5, 1926; two of which were dismissed for want of prosecution in the court of preliminary hearing; in the other, he was held to the grand jury, which returned a “no bill.” In the cases noted, the charges were instigated by one of the larger banks of the city. The bank’s repre- sentative stated to the prosecuting attorney that the defendant had made restitution, and whatever action the state took was satisfactory to the bank. On this statement, all the above cases were dismissed for want of prosecution. The defendant, pending the outcome of the criminal cases, was released on a bond signed by a surety, who, upon in- vestigation, stated that he knew nothing whatever about the bond. Further investi- gation disclosed that a well-known profes- sional bondsman apparently had conducted all negotiations for the defendant. When these cases pass through the mill of justice, no one seems to be strictly responsi- ble for producing the witnesses, and such cases are for the most part disposed of with- out definitely fixing the responsibility on either the state’s attorney or the police. The utter failure of our criminal proce- dure and practice to deal with reluctant and disappearing witnesses is equaled by its failure to deal punitively with perjury. The Cleveland Survey showed that among 3000 felony cases in Cleveland, there were only seven perjury prosecutions. Only one man paid a penalty! Professor Moley cites like conditions as uncovered in Georgia and Minnesota sur- veys. In one county in Georgia only four of 2180 defendants were charged with perjury. But in four other counties three persons were charged with perjury and every case was nol-prossed. Four thousand cases in Minnesota, in 1924, revealed only ten charges of perjury. In i926, in New York, among nearly 10,000 cases, only eighteen April 5,19350 were for perjury. Apparently there has been a complete breakdown in the courts in the punishment of the liars who, paid by gangsters, give the machinery of law the duty to punish even the slight grist of perjurers which ever gets into trial courts. So far I have touched only upon the holes which let criminals escape or allow them to take taps on their naughty wrists before coming to trial. What happens after the case is called for trial? There is almost always the possibil- ity of jumping bail; particularly when bail has been reduced to a bargain price. Even that does not always make much difference. Without having as yet made a wide investi- gation, I cannot say how much forfeited bail is ever paid in. After conversation with many judges and presecutors, I be- lieve the collection of bail is small indeed. Does the public know that? Not at all. Do the criminal-procedure reformers touch on this question? Seldom and slightly. One prosecutor said to me impatiently: “The trial is over. How much the bail bond yields apparently is nobody’s business but yours, and let me tell you it is none of your business!” Finally comes the jockeying of the de- fense for time and tricks. This, of course, is when the criminal prosecution begins to come out in the daylight. This is when the press begins to expose some of the ridicu- lous results of jury trials, technicalities and appeals which apply to that slight residue left after criminal process had set free most—from 50 to 85 per cent—of those criminals who have been charged with fel- onies. I am not speaking of misdemeanors but of felonies. Now, then, comes the game of wits—the cockpit of the trial courts. Now comes the demand for jury trial—to gain time. Now come the postponements, the motions, the waste—sometimes of months—in examin- ing jurors, and the hocus-pocus of chal- lenges. Now come the absurd questions as to whether jurors have read of a case which has been in the papers for months. Now come the experts. Now come the insanity pleas. Now come the cases where the guilty are called insane only for the brief period in which the crime was committed. Big games! Sporting events! American criminal pro- cedure and its practice! Respect for law! The Smallest Loophole The degenerate and the vicious receive flowers. Respect the law? Battle of wits in a system which in general allows cockpit atmosphere, antiquated technicalities. The defendant can refuse to take the stand. Nothing is to be assumed from his reluc- tance. The jury, unversed in law, often chosen purposely from emotional and mentally colorless men upon whom legal charlatan- ism and legai séance can play as upon a dul- cimer. A judge who has no freedom to assist, either in making witnesses intelligible or juries intelligent. The cockpit of indigni- ties and antiquity! Hair splitting. Ridiculous old forms of complaint, of indictments. Appeals to ap- pellate divisions and supreme courts for de- lays, with childish, outworn technicalities behind them. Forms rather than the sub- stance of justice. Crowding the calendars. Delay. The Association of the Bar of the City of New York reported, in 1928, that a case could not ordinarily be reached for trial by the Supreme Court of New York for fifteen terms after it had been at issue. The form of murder indictment in several states fills two closely printed pages! “A Wisconsin banker was set free,” says the Editorial Research Reports, ‘‘ because his indictment had charged that, although he knew his bank was insolvent, he had fraudulently received money ‘on deposit and for safekeeping’ whereas it should have read ‘on depesit or for safekeeping.’”’ The manager of a building-and-loan as- sociation who had defrauded subscribers of $30,000, won freedom on an appeal to the (Continued on Page 165)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST .. that’s why Spalding Cushion-necks are the only steel-shafted irons with all the sweet feel of the finest hickory, and all the advantages of the steel shaft... . HE rivet is gone — the rivet that always T joined the shaft to the head in golf irons! And its banishment gave to the golfing world the Spalding Cushion-neck Irons—the first irons and the only irons to combine the straighter shots and greater uniformity of the steel shaft with the sweet feel of the finest hickory! Is that news? Ask the great majority of golfers who now play steel-shafted woods! They know the lighter steel shaft puts greater swinging weight into the head—where it aids controllability They know that the thinner steel shaft cuts through wind resistance to give a sweeter whip to every shot. And they know that the more uniform steel shaft stays more uniform—that it can’t warp Yes, in woods the steel shaft always has been great! But in irons—ah, that was a different story For in all pre-Cushion-neck steel-shafted irons, the metal-to-metal contact of steel shaft against steel head formed a perfect conductor that carried the shock and vibration of every shot up the shaft and into the hands—causing a harsh, sour feel In Cushion-necks, the steel shafts never touch the steel heads. For before each shaft is fitted into the hosel of the head, it is enclosed in a cushioning sleeve of lively rubber. Vibrations can no more pass through this rubber sleeve than can electric current pass through the rubber insulation on a wire But vibrations can pass through that little rivet! Even though there's enough rubber in there to make a balloon tire, a rivet touching both head and shaft forms the metal-to-metal contact that could knock the cushioning idea tor a row of caddv-houses Spalding knew this—and kept experimenting un til the Spalding experts finally worked out an ingen ious way of crimping the end of the hosel around the rubber so that no rivet was necessary That has another advantage—it ‘insures perma nent liveliness for the rubber sleeve by sealing out the air. The rubber cannot oxidize. It stays lively throughout the long life of the club Other clubs may offer some rubber gadget. But only Spalding can offer steel-shafted irons with ab solutely no metal-to-metal contact. For the whole Cushion-neck principle ts guarded by patents that not even the Marines could break through Plav Cushion-neck Irons as soon as vou can get your hands on them. Play them for just one round You'll get a new thrill no matter how long you've been playing the game! In the world’s most perfectly matched clubs—irons and woods The Cushion-neck construction comes only in Kro Kro I lite Registered Irons, Kro-Flite Related Irons, and Flite Custom Built Registered Irons Kro-Flite Custom Built Registered and Autograph Registered Woods — the world’s most perfectly matched golf clubs So perfectly are these Irons related that with your eyes closed, you cannot tell which club you are swinging—from driving iron to mashie niblick, they all feel exactly alike. So instead of trving to master six or nine different swings, vou master onc. And that swing —that um ing—are right for every trot vour bag Buy a matched set in either of these two ways Kro-Flite ¢ to Built Regist ] .“ f ts nly arately. A Reg ( i »h Spa gca i Kro-Flite Standard } " K i lro id § parat ly Yo int " s = ( ) KB } t x vit ( N fe. | Sta a Regist ( ymn-N j a ? t af . ¥ {Ea 8.4 {- “4 R i ( y-Neck if ) ¥ t; é ( ym B Regist Db Bra ( Neck 4 Spoor ) mat i Autograph Regist Dr B Cushion-Neck Spoon to 0 Let your Prof malo \ S I is do all Spalding S ‘ | KRO-FLITE CUSHION NECK IRONS Registe red Sets Sold in sets only ww So

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164 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1930 They Call Him a CRANK but He 1s Really a CONNOISSEUR of Moror OIL He would buy on/y this Oi if it cost a Dollar a Quart ww Letele) MILE . OIL ee oe ECAUSE it’s the only oil he can buy, whether he’s in Maine or California, that’s made entirely from Bradford grade, the costliest of the fine Pennsylvania oils. Because he has found that after 2000 or more miles of driving, it drains from his crankcase with all the “look” and “feel” of an oil that has gone hardly 100 miles. The native richness of the crude itself, and the special Kendall processes which perfect its THE lubricating qualities . . . these are the reasons that make Kendall the aristocrat among all fine moto: oils . . . the oil. that aviators use almost universally . . . and the oil that is always sure to satisfy the cranks on quality, whether they drive a Ford or a Cadillac. Try Kendall . . . Even if it cost a dollar a quart it couldn’t be a better oil. The Kendall sign will direct you to the nearest station. KENDALL REFINING COMPANY, BRADFORD, PA. There’s always one best in everything —even among all the admittedly fine Pennsylvania Oils. Up in the hills near Bradford, Pa., is Nature’s richest oil field, producing the crude that brings the highest market price— plus an extra premium on every barrel. Kendall Oil is the only nationally used motor oil made wholly from thi: f.:est Bradford grade crude. KENDALL OIL 2000 MILE OIL

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(Continued from Page 162) state supreme court on the ground that the indictment was faulty. It had said, “‘de- fendant being in control and management of said society”’ instead of “‘defendant was then and there in control and management of said society.” Cases on appeal go up and are reversed or remanded for new trial on errors which have not, will not, and could not affect justice. They go back for retrial—and often are not retried— because higher courts will not, or cannot, under archaic laws, correct the rec- ord and then pass upon the substance of justice. Many reversals on errors by the appellate courts tend to frighten lower-court judges into the position of silent and cynical sit- ters, confining their effort, upon any at- tempt to arrive at either truth or justice, to mousy weighing of every word and sticking to their knitting. Judges are, in fact, gagged more or less completely as in no other country in the world, and outside of all common sense. Because a trial judge in Illinois said of the testimony of a child, “Of course she is a child. I realize that. But I have a notion that she will come pretty near to telling the truth as some other parties,’’ the Supreme Court reversed the case, on the ground that the judge had not passed upon the compe- tency as a witness but upon her truthful- ness. It is difficult to see that he had done more than class her as an average witness. The Supreme Court of Illinois, in a case of fifty counts, upheld forty-nine counts, THE SATURDAY but because in the fiftieth the man’s name was misspelled —a stenographer’s mistake the case was reversed. “‘The same court reversed several convictions,” says the Illinois Crime Survey, “because of the admission of evidence of other crimes.” In 291 cases reversed and remanded by the Supreme Court of Illinois, only forty- six of the accused were retried and pun- ished. In substance, this means that after the majestic law has moved through months of turns and delays, and still has hold of the guilty, nearly one-half, as an average, may be successful in their appeals, though it is possible that every appeal may have to do with some unneeded, antique rule of form and procedure. And of this half of reversed and remanded cases, if gauged by the IIli- nois jurisdiction, less than 20 per cent are punished. The years have slipped by; the law has cold feet. This article is not written in an attempt to break down the safeguards for the inno- cent, provided by any forms and rules of procedure or evidence based upon good sense. It is not written in any attempt to discredit wholesale either judges or other officers in our criminal-prosecuting machin- ery. It is not written to give the impression that no good reforms have not already been made. Many states have made reforms mostly patchwork. It is written in advance of publishing other suggestions for reconstruction of a law-enforcement machine. That machine is so open now to a political control and pull, which the public does not realize or the legal EVENING POST profession boldly admit, that its existence is a scandal. It cannot pass the main blame for our national game of organized crimi- nality, which offers material rewards rather than material pains to youth, onto the police. Nor can our legal machinery mumble around as to poverty, education, social adaptability, and so on, unless it first does its own job with some semblance of a stand- ard of efficiency, simplicity, organization, and sense equal to that, let us say, of the restaurant business. No one can spend much time asking the criminal-law enforcement to be cruel to the morons while it is being so silly as to the real criminal. No one does more than waste time who relies upon preachments to youth or to citi- zens to respect the law, while youth and citizenship in general may be led close enough to the truth to see just what our criminal procedure and machinery is in fact. We are a law-abiding, law-loving people by instinct. It makes us heavy of heart to discover that we have allowed the power of our law to lose its arms, to be humiliated and outrun by rebels of violence and au- dacity, to be wheedled and emasculated, to be burdened with duties of persecution when it fails miserably in its duties of pros- ecution, and, finaily, to be, temporarily, the victim of its creation —self-government in politics. Editor's Note— This is the fourth of a series by Mr. Child on our law and law machinery. The fifth will be published in an early issue FAMILY PARASITES sisters-in-law don’t want to cook for them- selves and their husbands when they get home Sunday night. So they all have snacks in the pantry—sandwiches, cakes, cold meat, anything left over from dinner. When they’re gone there isn’t enough left to feed a bird, no matter how much food mother has provided—and believe me she provides plenty. Nothing but turkey or chicken or roast beef or thick steaks will suit her—she knows how the boys love them—and you know how much such things cost nowadays. My household bills are appalling. To meet them and keep up the payments on the place I have to cut my personal expenses to the bone. I can’t save a cent out of my income and I’ve begun to lie awake nights wonder- ing what would happen if father or mother or I myself had a long illness or needed an expensive operation or something of the sort. That,”’ Caroline added bleakly, “‘isn’t good for my work.” A Convalescent Home “Naturally I tried to make mother un- derstand the situation,”” she continued. “But she can’t. It’s partly my fault. I’ve been so anxious not to have her and father feel that they were burdens. They’re not burdens,”’ Caroline fiercely interjected. “They’re my beloved charges—my only excuse for existence. So I’ve always made light of expense, and now they’ve both got it into their dear heads that my income is inexhaustible. “**We’re all you have,’ mother often says. ‘Who would you spend your income on if not on us?’ But the truth is,” Caroline added darkly, “‘they’re not all I’ve got. I’ve got seven others! “And it isn’t Sunday alone, any more,” she resumed. “I brought that up because it’s the biggest single item. Now it’s long holidays and summer visits too. The chil- dren love the country. So do their fathers and mothers. There’s hardly a time when two of the children are not with mother during their vacations, and the house is looked on as a convalescent home by the rest of the family. Anyone who has been sick goes there to build up.” She returned to the main point. She had talked to her brothers—or rather she had tried to. Neither of them had been (Continued from Page 39 willing to look her facts in the face. De- voted sons, devoted brothers in the begin- ning, they had been partial parasites so long that they had lost their sense of self- respect and personal dignity. To under- stand Caroline now, to meet her even halfway, would be to deprive their wives and children of comforts they had all come to take for granted. And when it became a question of imposing on their sister or of depriving their wives and children of ac- customed comforts and pleasures, they made an unhesitating choice. The older brother treated the matter as a joke. “You're like all the rest of the bloated bondholders, Carrie,”” he said jovially. “*You’re scared by the crash in Wall Street.” The younger brother showed a hesitating willingness to look at the situation, but his glance was oblique. **We have been sponging a bit on Carrie,” he conceded. ‘I don’t wonder she’s fed up with us. I'll tell you what we'll do,” he added handsomely. ‘We'll bring out a hamper when we come. Charlie and I will take turns doing it,’ he added hastily, and Charlie somewhat vaguely assented. The suggestion worked out as Caroline had expected. The hampers came for a few weeks and were then forgotten. Caroline was glad when they stopped. They did not help much, and they filled her mother with chagrin. “I guess there’s always enough in this house for our family to eat,” the mother asserted. She added forgivingly, “‘That’s so, isn’t it, Carrie?” They all forgave Caroline. She could see them doing it. The deteriorating influence of parasitism had been at work so long. Wasn’t Caroline a high-salaried, unmarried woman? On whom would she spend her money if not on her family? Caroline has not solved her problem. It may put her in a sanitarium before she solves it. I have described it here at some length, because it is an actual and arresting illustration of thousands of similar but smaller problems all around us. In count- less American homes the boys have married and gone forth to support their families, while a sister has given up the matrimonial dream to remain behind and support her parents. The boys see no unfairness in this arrangement. Men rarely do. They have their families, and the claims of their wives and children come first. The amazing thing about it is that they so rarely consider the burden they are putting on the daughter who carries it. Not one young man in fifty who has fallen in love stops to wonder whether he is justified in abandoning his parents. He is in love and the only girl loves him. Therefore they two must marry. For him the question settles itself as simply as that. When he thinks of his parents he vaguely murmurs that he will do something for them. He rarely does. His unmarried sister is looking after them. It’s her job. She “hasn't anyone else."’ He not only lets her support her parents but he lets her help him. Not many brothers, of course, sponge on a sister to the degree Caroline's brothers do. But in an amazing number of American homes, carried on by unmarried sisters, those sisters are meeting frequent demands of married brothers temporarily up against it. The brothers begin by asking small loans in emergencies. They go on by forming a convenient habit of constant borrowing. They end by forgetting to repay the loans, by regarding them as timely gifts. Let Sister Pay It One professional spinster I know, who supports her mother and an invalid sister, also invariably pays for her married brother's winter's supply of coal. This costs about a hundred dollars —and that hundred seems to be the one domestic expense the brother simply cannot meet. Invariably, each September, he borrows from her the money for his coal. He never pays it back, and the last two or three years he didn't even go through the formality of calling the transaction a loan. “Can you let me have that coal money this month, Anne?”’ is his present conversa- tional opening. “‘If you can’t we'll all freeze to death,”’ he adds cheerily if she hesitates. He, too, is suffering from the degenerating effects of sponging on someone else. It's a habit that grows so fast! Another sister I know, supporting an in- valid mother, is also forced to pay endless doctor's bills run up for her brother's little children. He has four children, and at least one of them seems always in need of medical 165 ‘When You Shift on Hills You Once Took in High Remember CAMOAH* robs the plug of its vital spark THIS UAUETRATES THE EFFECT OF CAMOAH OW YOUR SPARK PLUG wikis *#CAMOAH — a word coined by The Packard Electric Company research engineers to ex press the six causes (Corona, Abrasion, Mois ture, Oil, Age, and Heat) of failure of spark plug wires on high compression engines F your motor doesn’t streak up hills with its old time hum of power . if it lags on the pick up... rememberthis: CAMOAH* attacks spark plug wires. Electric ity escapes! Power is lost! .. . Keep vital electrical punch where it belongs with genuine Packard Lac-kard Spark Plug Wires; replaced every 10,000 miles Success breeds imitation! Get genuine Packard; standard on 75% of American makes of cars. Ask your garageman. THE PACKARD ELE« TRIC CO WARREN, OHIO FOR ALL CARS a a = & 7 @ ' SS “— wc 3 84 _ a SPARK PLUG WLRES For Full Electrical Panch

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166 Tags help give you hosiery value Accomplished with DENNEY TAGS Bho great Gothom Hosiery Mills “keep things moving” quickly, economically and systematically —- from row material to pack- aged product ~—- with the help of Denney Pro- duction Tags. And what Denney Production Togs have done, in the saving of time and money, for this leader in the highly compet- itive women's hosiery field, they can surely and quickly do for you. If you ore not using Production Tags, you are overlooking a money-making, money-saving opportunity. If you cre using such tags, per- haps a siight improvement in form would result in a great improvement in production. Denney Representatives will gladly visit your plant, study your methods and suggest Den- ney Production Tags specially suited to the particular requirements of your business. THE DENNEY TAG COMPANY WEST CHESTER, PENNA. THE SATURDAY | or surgical attention. Within the past year | she has paid for one adenoid operation, one tonsil operation and one case of mastoiditis. The last deprived her of her winter ward- robe and her summer holiday. Few of the | spinster sisters are as affluent as my friend Caroline. The majority of them are news- paper women, teachers, women principals of public schools, subeditors, file clerks, and the like, earning a few thousands a year at the most. It’s all very well for the gentle reader to remark, “If they’re fools enough to give money to their families, they’ve got to take the consequences.” The situation is not so siraple as that. Love enters into it. The spinster sister with a few hundred dollars in the bank, told that her married brother is suffering from pneu- monia and that he has no reserve fund for the emergency, will gladly hand over her few hundred dollars. I have known spinster sisters to do this in dozens of instances. How could they refuse? Possibly their married brothers would be equally quick to hand over their reserve to the sisters in emergencies, if the brothers had a reserve fund. The trouble is, they al- most never have. The average young man trying to support himself, his wife and one or two children on two or three thousand a year is balancing on one of the thinnest planks that separate us from the abyss. He has all sorts of unexpected expenses. His wife or one of his children is usually ill. They all need the fairly constant attention of oculists and dentists. The children need summer camps, or their parents think they do. The average young husband or father out of work a month is facing penury. Not so the average spinster who is sup- porting a parent. Unlike Caroline’s mother, dependent mothers are usually economical. Moreover, both mother and daughter are less able to face a budget which exhausts the monthly income. They are nervous about the future, as well they may be. They feel that they must save—and they desperately save, just a little to tide them over a rainy day. That’s why so many brothers and nephews are hurrying to Sister Kate or Aunt Jane or even to mother—de- pendent on Sister Kate—for large or small loans. It’s why mother and Kate and Jane so often find themselves without an emer- gency fund when an emergency comes up in their own experience. It’s why so many young fellows take the matrimonial chances they take. There’s always some self- supporting woman in the family who will stake them if they get in a jam. Borrowing for Luxuries I have spoken of the brothers first, not because they are the arch parasites but because it is so subversive of our traditions that they should be parasites at all. From his infancy, big brother is more or less trained to look after little sister. He himself accepts that tradition, as a working theory at least; and tc do him justice, he usually lives up to it if he has no wife and children. When he has he follows what seems to him a higher tradition, and perhaps it is. In any case, the married son invariably puts his obligations to his wife and children far above his obligations to his parents and his sister. If he is successful, an unmarried son takes a genuine pleasure in being generous to the latter. Even then, however, an unmarried brother, living at home and shar- ing the expense of that home with a work- ing spinster sister, is apt to take it for granted that he must save more of his in- come in proportion than she feels justified in saving of hers. He’s a man, and besides, on whom would she spend? If he is married and a struggling husband and father, he follows the easiest way and borrows from his sister if she is able to lend. In the be- ginning he chooses a sister because she has the money and because she is safe—that is, she wil! not blab to the rest of the family. Blabbing about her loans is something the spinster sister rarely does. If she blabs at all, she blabs to her intimate friend, who wants to know why she can’t afford a new EVENING POST coat this winter. Neither does she remind brother of the loan if she can help it. That makes it easy for brother to come again and again, until coming is a fixed habit. Sister, however, comes to her, too—mar- ried sister, with a brood of little children for whom she is as frankly voracious as brother is for his brood. Right here, how- ever, there is a marked difference in atti- tude and technic. Brother, to do him justice again, usually borrows only in emer- gencies, of which the poor fellow has plenty. Married sister looks to her husband to provide for these emergencies; her borrow- ings are often for needs that are in the nature of luxuries—better clothes for her children, better schools for them, piano les- sons, dancing lessons, the dozen of things nicely brought up children should have, and which the father of her children cannot afford. One professional spinster I know supplied all the clothes for her sister’s three children from the time each child was born. She also paid for their dancing lessons and their music lessons. Inevitably, as time passed, these benefactions were taken as a matter of course, and the demands grew. Private schools were discussed and the spin- ster rebelled. “*Good heavens, Lucy,” shesaid. ‘‘Aren’t you forgetting that I’m the goose that lays the golden eggs? If you kill me, you and the children will suffer too!’’ Very Dear Relatives Lucy wept. “I have never listened to such a brutal remark in my life!” she cried. “*George would never dream of speaking to me like that!” “Sorry,” said the spinster sister wearily, “but you wouldn’t dream of making the demands on George you make on me.” However, the outcome of her explosion was the cost of a private school for the old- est child. Whom else would she spend her money on, if not on her family? And, of course, being a starved spinster, she loved her sister’s children as if they were her own. So spoke Lucy and George. Her brother-in- law was by this time thoroughly alive to the beauty of the golden eggs. Spinsters are not always starved, and they do not always love their nieces and nephews as if they were their own chil- dren—but these are side issues and need not concern us now. The sister of another spinster I have in mind—the finely executive principal of a publicschool— married a ne’er-do-well. The ne’er-do-well periodically deserted his wife, periodically returned and had a touching reunion, and periodically departed again, leaving another human souvenir of his visit. When this had happened seven times in ten years, throughout which period the wife and the increasing brood had lived with the hard-working and nerve-strained principal in her little flat, the principal retired to a sanitarium and eventually died. She hada sense of humor or she would have died sooner. She confided to me that she had always borne with fortitude the desertions of her brother-in-law, but that the joyful reunions had been too much for her. A South Carolina Vista April 5, 19350 If the spinster aunt survives until the nieces and nephews she had helped to sup- port grow up, she often makes a somewhat startling discovery. She has inherited them as adult charges. Possibly she has sent one or more of them through college. In any case, they associate her with golden bene- factions in their youth and, quite naturally from their point of view, they continue to give her opportunities for self-expression in generosity. They often turn to her before tey do to their father. They always turn to her when father is fussing about money. Nor are they alone in their demands. About this time the limited principal of some venerable uncle or aunt is used up and the family meets to consider the situation. The husbands and wives can do nothing. The spinster sister is elected to act in the emergency. She can well afford to allow Uncle Henry or Aunt Harriet the few hun- dreds a year needed for continued existence in the old home. She does it, and does it as if it were a favor to herself; for the Uncle Henrys and the Aunt Harriets, helpless vic- tims of life’s ruthless laws, are proud and sensitive. It is about this time that the spinster makes a second and really alarming dis- covery. She is not so young as she was! When the children were children she had the fine optimism of youth. She was earn- ing largely and giving generously. Why not? She could earn plenty more—and on whom, and so on. But now she is suddenly conscious of occasional exhaustion, of un- usual aches and pains. What if she should break down? She has little or no financial reserve. She must begin to put something aside for her old age or for possible invalid- ism. There is no one to whom she can turn for support if she goes under. Her respon- sibilities prey upon her. She becomes a trifle morbid. The dear mother she sup- ported for years is in her grave. The little children are grown up. She can save—she must save! But the habits of her depend- ents are too strong for them, and toostrong for her. The nephew she sent through college develops appendicitis and goes to a hospital. He is a dear boy. Naturally he must have the best available surgeon, the best kind of nurse, comfortable quarters. She raises the money on one of her few remaining bonds. Spending on Everybody Else Another nephew, a mere boy, marries, and the next year a new baby and a delicate girl wife are added to the spinster aunt’s responsibilities. How the devil is she going to save, then? It is at about this time that she begins to grow morbid. “I’ve earned more than ten thousand dollars a year for twenty years,”’ one such spinster aunt told me the other day, “‘and I’ve spent darned little of it on myself. Now I’m fifty-seven and my total remain- ing savings are in two bonds for five hun- dred dollars each. And believe me,” she added heavily, ‘‘one of my nephews or nieces or s.sters or brothers or aged maiden aunts or uncles will have typhoid this year and use them up. Then, when I have ty- phoid, I’ll be sent to North Brothers Island!” That’s how morbid they get! It would be interesting to know how many fathers and mothers with married sons are wholly dependent on daughters for their support. It would be more interesting to know how many of these daughters are also contributing in one way or another to the support of their married brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews and aged aunts and uncles. It would be most inter- esting of all to know how much and how quickly human beings—especially when young or middle-aged—deteriorate in char- acter under the strength-sapping effects of such help and such dependence on women. And it would be a definitely upbuilding fac- tor if the countless working women who are lending or giving money to their clans could realize that every dollar thus lent definitely loosens the moral fiber of the still active man or woman who borrows or accepts it.

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ashe << ere a

THE SATURDAY EVENING POST

before the crack of the gun has died away CRACK!—and with the bark of the gun, a crouching figure hurtles into a flying leap that means a headstart—and victory. For, other things being equal, it’s the man with the head- start who wins. This is true in any race. And it’s especially true in the race to make the finest motor oils. It’s the oil with a headstart in inherent quality -the oil that is made from the highest quality crude—that gives you the greatest value for your money. The question, then, is what crude is highest in quality? And that’s easy. Oil experts call Pennsylvania “The highest grade crude oil in the world.” © 1930. P.G,C.0. A. THE HIGHEST GRADE CRUDE OIL IN THE WORLD PENNSYLVANIA GRADE CRUDE —a flying start toward QUALITY in finished motor oils There’s no explaining Pennsylvania Grade Crude’s superiority. Mother Nature made it better, that’s all —just as she made some soils more fertile, and some woods more durable. Nature favored Pennsylvania Grade Crude with remarkable freedom from impurities. It has a degree of “oiliness” found in no other crude. Such natural superiority has given refiners of this crude a long headstart in quality. And they have made the most of it! With careful refining, they have produced lubricants that are longer-lived, more resistant to heat than any others. This has been proved time and again on the toughest sort of lubri- cating tasks—in automobile, airplane, tractor and

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168 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 19350 DOLLA FOR DOLLA WE CHALLENGE TRUCK BUYERS TO EQUAL THESE VALUES CONSUMMATING 21 years of successful truck building, 1930 is witnessing Brockway-Indiana writing a new page in motor- truck history. .. . An engineering set-up composed of some of the keenest minds in the industry—a manufacturing program of absolute Brockway-controlled continuity of design—rela- tionships allying us with the foremost manufacturers of truck units—have achieved the utmost in power, endurance, flexibility, economy of operation and up-keep and stability of service at lowest possible costs to truck buyers. Furthermore, the Brockway-Indiana policy is one of special- ized standardization on the specific demands of different a BROCKWAY

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THE ; ~ . all truck-using industries. (Custom-built trucks on a mass pro- duction basis.) This as against the practice of requiring the consumer to fit his needs to the truck. Operating economically because of modern facilities and specially trained personnel, with ample resources, Brockway- Indiana, through quality supervision of mass production, is able to effect large economies which are passed on to its cus- tomers. There is a Brockway-Indiana for every haulage need. Fours, Sixes, Four-wheelers, Six-wheelers. One to ten tons. Capacity ratings determined by rigid engineering standards. Dollar for dollar, compare these values with all others. INDIANA SATURDAY EVENING POST 169 ~ S oe aS i + a BS The Brockway Motor Truck Corporation through consoli- dation with the Indiana Truck Corporation is one of the three largest exclusive manufacturers of motor-trucks. Our domestic representation is nation-wide—350 points of sales and service. We also sell and serve in 85 foreign countries through 135 distributing points. See these trucks for yourself at any factory branch, distributor or dealer. Eastern Division, Brockway Motor Truck Corporation, Cort- land, N. Y.; Western Division, Indiana Truck Corporation, Marion, Indiana; Executive Office, 420 Lexington Avenue, New York City; General Offices, Cortland, New York. TRUCKS

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170 NATURE KNOWS You Can Become Your Better Self Civilization exacts its penalties—hair that lacks lustre, teeth that decay, organs that fail, complexions that must fly to the beauty box. A dietary too nice in its refine- ments, lack of sunlight and lack of exercise, bring in their train overloads of body poisons. If civilization must conflict with Nature, then turn to Nature for your sid. Mountain Valley Min- eral Water, rich in practically all the minera! salts the diet has with- held—aids in neutralizing danger- ous acids —helps Aush the trouble- making toxins from the tissues — inspires and assists the gentle, balanced excretion of waste products through all four natural channels of elimination. We bring Mountain Valley Mineral Water, product of Hot Springs, to your door. If you would taste the happiness of good health and learn to cherish it, write for our free booklet “Nature Intended” or telephone the Mountain Valley Water Company in your city. MOUNTAIN VALLEY MINERAL WATER for 75 vears The Prescrib Wweterat HOT SPRINGS, nv THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THERE WAS A TOWN leisure and a gracious social atmosphere; where money did not count for so much as it does now and where there were great men instead of pseudo-great. It was a calm, contented, smallish city in those days, with the main business places scattered along Pennsylvania Ave- nue, where also were most of the restaurants and hotels. There were churches and old- fashioned houses on F and G streets, now busy commercial thoroughfares. The streets were iined with trees. The horse cars ran occasionally. Nobody was in a hurry, and everybody knew everybody else. You could drop into the Metropolitan Club at five o'clock of an afternoon and be sure of find- ing a hundred friends there, fellows you knew and who knew you and who were glad to see you. The fatuous idea that hustle promotes efficiency had not dawned on that quiet and moderate place. Why run after acar? There were other cars coming along | presently. It was a convivial town, devotedly inter- | ested in good eating and good drinking, and there were good places to eat and to drink. These places are all gone, the bars swept away, of course, by the coming of prohibition, and the restaurants eliminated because people now prefer dance music and Castile-soap pillars in their restaurants to fine food. There is no need mourning over that. This progress is a terribie and impla- cable thing when it comes to taking the gustatory joy out of life. However, no- body can prevent me from thinking that a Washington with a Chamberlin’s, a Har- | vey’s, a Hancock’s, a Welker’s, a Worm- leys’, a Mades’, a Reuter’s, a Gerstenberg’s, a Losekam, an Arlington, a Shoreham, an Ebbitt was not a happier and more enliven- ing place to live than the present-day Washington. I bow to progress and the new order of things, but I salute with high regard and pleasant memories these and many other great places of refreshment, companionship and festivity that have passed. There were then, and still are, two sorts of Washingtonians—the people native to the place and those who came there to live permanently, and the great transient pop- ulation, which was made up of officials of all sorts, from Presidents, Cabinet members, senators and representatives down the long corridors of officialdom to clerks, the news- paper correspondents, the Army and Navy men, the men who came on governmental business for themselves and others, remain- ing weeks, months and sometimes years. These were lawyers, financiers, promoters, big business men, and what not. And none were of the place. They were in it. Their homes were somewhere else and they were all, more or less, foot-loose in Washington. Good Food and Good Fellowship Hence the hotel life, the restaurant life, the club life, the social life was constantly shifting as to its participants, and con- stantly varied by the characteristics and customs of those who took part in it. No matter how many years a man served in the Senate or the House, say, he was always a transient in Washington, for his home was elsewhere, which is as true now as it was then. Thus the restaurants and the bars and the clubs and hotels were important fea- tures and factors in the life and atmosphere of the place; more important then than now, because back yonder we were not so stilted, not so obsessed by money, and thought as much, mostly, of having a good time as we did of making a good deal. Not | that anybody deprecated money, but that, as there was not so much of it as there is now, it didn’t rate so high as the great desideratum. John Chamberlin’s was the most famous restaurant Washington ever had and prob- ably the best. It had no architectural pre- | tensions, but spread through two or three (Continued from Page 52) brick houses thrown together, cater- cornered across from McPherson Square. It was celebrated for its terrapin, its ducks, its game, its fish and oysters, and for its cellar. For thirty years it was the meeting place and resort of the topside spenders and high-livers who were in Washington officially or for any other purpose. It was arranged to cater to any epicurean con- tingency. Gne could give a dinner for fifty at Chamberlin’s, and dine as was possible nowhere else in this country, or a dinner for two could be arranged with equal facility and felicity. The flamboyant lobbyists of the time went there, the big politicians, the conviv- ial senators and representatives, for Cham- berlin’s not only had prestige but also had the goods. Chamberlin was a great genius as a purveyor of food and drink, and a greater genius in the way of*knowing ex- actly to whom he was purveyor, and why. He was the friend and confidant of many men who were important in many ways in their time, and when his restaurant passed, a Washington institution that can never be revived passed also. It is worth while to have known Chamberlin’s. There were gatherings in that place, and festivities, and food and drink that will never again be duplicated in this country or anywhere else. Headquarters of the Notables Not far away, where now there is a pub- lic building, was the Arlington Hotel, as fa- mous as a hotel as Chamberlin’s was as a restaurant. It was the great hotel of the town, an old-fashioned stone building, with vast lobbies and dining rooms, high ceilings and Frank Bennett as its host. The regis- ters of the Arlington, wherever they may be, are a roster of the names of the men who made the greatest impression on the history of this country for fifty years. It was a genial, comfortable place, as far removed from the cubicled hotel of today as can be imagined. The food was American and superlative. No French chef officiated in that kitchen, but cooks trained to deal ade- quately with canvasbacks, quail, shad, oys- ters, sweet corn, corn meal, and all the delicious produce of the Chesapeake Bay re- gion, and the lush lands and teeming waters of Virginia and Maryland. Great dinners were given there, including the Gridiron Club dinners for many years, and the at- mosphere of the place was like that of a fine Colonial home with adept negro waiters and servants. Every President who was in office while the Arlington was open was entertained there. Scores of our greatest senators and represefttatives lived there. No distin- guished man who came to town but stopped at the Arlington. And through it all Frank Bennett moved and directed, suave, effi- cient, confidant of everybody, and useful beyond compare to the great and the near great of the land. Among other guests, on a time, was Elliott F. Shepard, then owner of the New York Mail and Express, and something went wrong in his service. He thereupon wrote a fierce editorial for his paper de- manding that the name of the Arlington Hotel must be changed, as it was “a sac- rilege to have a hotel, a mere inn, using the same name as Arlington Cemetery, where the heroic dead are buried.” This editorial demand brought no action, undoubtedly to Mr. Shepard’s astonishment, so he called in John Shriver, his Washington correspond- ent, and ordered him to continue the crusade, in this manner: “I want you to start every Washington dispatch you send to my paper with the words, which will be set in black-faced type: ‘Change the name of the Arlington Hotel.’ Furthermore, I want you to end every dispatch with the same words.” And for months, every item of Washington news in the Mail and Ex- press, no matter on what subject, whether a presidential message or a mere political April 5,19350 squib, began and ended with the demand: Change the name of the Arlington Hotel. But the name was not changed. The Shoreham Hotel was around the cor- ner from the Arlington and it was the last of the old-timers to go. It perished not long ago and there is now a large, ornate and strictly rectangular office building where this hostelry dispensed cheer for many years. The Shoreham was built by Levi P. Morton, the aged millionaire who was Vice President with Harrison, to compete with the Arlington. History does not record whether Mr. Morton, like Shepard, had a grudge against the Arlington or not. In any event, he built the Shoreham. A grand old man was Morton, who lived to be ninety- six, and who, they used tosay, had thirty-one wigs, one for each day in every month, graded nicely as to length of hair, so that at the end of each month, when he would normally need a hair cut, he took off wig Number Thirty, or Thirty-one, as the case might be, and put on Number One. Agrandoldman, andarbitrary. Onenight when he was at the Shoreham he was an- noyed and kept awake by the music of an orchestra that was playing in one of the dining rooms, and by the sounds of revelry from a large dinner in progress in one of the banquet rooms. So, in order to get a little sleep, he called in the manager, instructed him to fire the orchestra and turn out the lights on the banquet. This was expedi- tiously done, and Mr. Morton got his nap. The tradition of good food existed in the Shoreham to the last. After the Arlington closed, the lovers of the old order moved there and stuck to the end. During the war the hotel had a final flash of the glory of the fort er days. It was the luncheon and din- ner headquarters for a large number of the busy little civilian and military cups of tea who were winning the war for us on the Washington front. A great hotel in its day. Vale, Shoreham! When the wreckers began on you they closed an era. The old Willard, which stood at the cor- ner of Fourteenth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, where the New Willard now is, was the first of the famous hotels to go, just as the Shoreham was the last. They tore it down along about 1900, thereby eliminating a historic place that in its days sheltered many a famous American and served whopping American-plan dinners for fifty cents. The Willard bar was as famous as its food. It was a convenient alcoholic port of call, and meritorious The Ebbitt House was a block up the street, and was Army and Navy headquar- ters for many years. The Ebbitt bar was on the Fourteenth Street side and the bar- tender was an apple-cheeked old chap named John Something-or-other, whowasan expert in hangings. He had attended every execution in Washington since the days of the hangings of the assassins of Lincoln, and he had bits of the rope used at most of these numerous affairs. Every detail of every hanging was at his tongue’s end and freely communicated. He was not a pleas- ant companion for the person who dropped in for a pick-me-up on a morning after a hard night, but a picturesque part of the life of Washington. Bright Spots on the Avenue Farther down Pennsylvania Avenue was the Raleigh, formerly the Kirkwood, in which hotel Andrew Johnson was sworn in as President after President Lincoln was shot. The Raleigh still carries on, efficiently, no doubt, but not so gayly as it did in the days when managed by T. J. Talty, famed as the inventor of the Killarney cocktail, which consists of a hooker of Irish whisky and a pint of champagne, tastes like kerosene, and has the hoisting power of dynamite; and the Cardinal was the bartender. Still farther down are the Metropolitan and the Na- tional hotels, patronized by Southerners, (Continued on Page 173)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 171 How long since you changed GEAR GREASE 9 Youve been told, often, that crank-case oil should be changed every 500 miles. Do you realize that gear grease wears out, too? That faulty gear lubricant cripples your car? That often as much as 40% of the engine’s power never gets beyond the gears? GEAR LUBRICANT should be changed April 15 and October 15, and every 5,000 miles in the meanwhile. Light gear lubricant gives the proper consistency for freezing winter days; heavier lubricant is required for the melting days of summer. To avoid needlessly high gasoline bills and to greatly improve your car’s pick- up, now’s the time to put in fresh lubri- cant in place of the stale, worn-out grease that has stood in your car all winter. Change your grease again on October 15, and every 5,000 miles in the meanwhile. Beware of inferior lubricants—in- sist on Whiz, the gear lubricant that’s made from pure high-grade oils. Many of the so-called “gear lubricants” offered for sale are as faulty as the gritty grease they replace, for they consist of too-thin distillation residues which have been artificially thickened by adding tar,asphalt, rosin—harm- ful adulterants that seriously impair lubrication. Whiz is the gear lubricant that is blended from the finest oils—just pure oils of wonderful lubricating ability—cooked together for 48 hours. Churned and whipped, in the same way that butter is made from cream, WHIZ until at last the great kettles are filled with the smoothest, richest grease that ever cushioned a gear. It will pay you to visit a Whiz service station today and, for just a few dollars, have your old gear grease quickly replaced with fresh, efficient, economical Whiz. The R. M. Hollingshead Co., Camden, New Jersey, and Toronto, Canada. GEAR LUBRICANT THE SMOOTH, CREAMY GEAR LUBRICANT THAT CONTAINS NO ADULTERANTS

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 385°) Daud we bring -- April 5,19350 FIFTH AVENUE SMARTNE TO MAIN STREET THE NEWEST SIYLES FOR MER In NEW YORK CITY—recognized Fashion Center for men—Montgomery Ward maintains one of the largest organizations of clothing buyers in the country. This staff of experts is in constant touch with every new trend in styles for men. Materials carefully chosen from the market's finest patterns and fabrics, are designed, styled and fitted to living models . . . then tailored in nation- aliy outstanding style houses. The season’s models are interpreted in widest variety and pattern. Through Montgomery Ward’s nation-wide organ- ization of over 550 retail stores, this up-to-the- minute style service is available to men everywhere. lt is possible, today, for any man who appreciates Fifth Avenue Smartness in his apparel to step into » any of Ward’s stores and secure style equal to the smartest models offered him by exclusive shops. \t these Montgomery Ward Stores a real clothes- buying thrill awaits you. In addition to getting the last-minute styles for Spring, you also purchase at 1 marked price-saving made possible by Ward’s enormous buying power and huge sales-volume . . . Select your outfit where thousands of particular men will buy theirs this Spring—at one of our 550 retail stores or from our nearest mail order branch. Featured in Ward's complete Men’s-Wear lines, this Spring, are new virgin wool worsteds, plaids, stripes, herringbones, gabardines and serges. Ali the stylish shades of grays, tans, browns and blues, are offered, in SATIS-FASHION, CRAFT-SHIRE and other well-known Ward atines a ail hi b> AAS ba a ES tk brands; beautifully cut and tailored, smart-looking, and thoroughly serviceable. And the prices, so much lower than you've been accustomed to pay, will add to your satisfac- tion the further pleasure of a real saving! Satisfaction is al- ways guaranteed at Ward's. MONTGOMERY WARD & CO. 550 Retail Fort Worth Nine Mail Order Stores and More Than Kansas City St. Paul Baltimore Portland, Ore. Oakland, Calif. Chicago Mail Order Stores at Stores Denver Albany

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(Continued from Page 170) and both with great celebration as former resting places for men like Henry Clay and John C. Calhoun, and as drinking places for all and sundry on the way back from the Capitol. The bourbon of these bars was that elixir that now, save for a little cher- ished in private cellars, has perished from the earth. What a great highway of conviviality Pennsylvania Avenue was in those happy days. Vice Presidents, justices of the Supreme Court, senators, representatives, officials of all grades, newspaper corre- spondents, distinguished visitors, soldiers and sailors, men with big axes and little hatchets to grind, distinguished foreigners, distinguished native citizens— everybody walked along it and dropped in here or there for a meal or a drink. In my day I have seen most important and dignified chief justices and associate justices licking their chops over a snort of bourbon at the National or the Metropolitan, or George Driver's, or Ben Mades’, or Hancock’s, or Shoomaker’s, which was not so far off the avenue that it wasn’t on it. Merely a triangle between it and the main stem. And senators and rep- resentatives without number, and others of the important—then—guild. And all glad to be alive and in those Elysian fields. George Harvey's, where the important figures were Harvey himself, John Scott, the black-as-coal waiter who had the two rear tables and was Harvey’s coachman in the off hours, and Pcte, the oyster shucker. Harvey had a one-horse, open-faced carriage in which he took the air after the luncheon rush was over and before the dinner rush began. He was so fat he comfortably, al- most effulgently, filled the carriage; a short, enormous man, but a purveyor of food whose like we have never seen. And John Scott, black as night, and almost as large as Harvey, sat sedately on the box and drove the boss slowly about towr. George Harvey was a great man. He it: vented the steamed oyster; maintained hundreds of terrapin in his cellar, feeding them :d nursing them against the calls of the gourmets of the day; knew more about cooking oysters, clams, terrapin, ducks, game birds, fish, possum, and the things that go with them than any other of his time; was a master of the salad, and a connoisseur of wines. The Knockout Punch I can see him now, waddling up and down between tables, stopping here and there to put a dash of Madeira in a chafing-dish concoction, advising about the canvasbacks and the quail, or telling the customer of some new way for making oysters delec- table; putting an indefinable something ina salad, or adding a finishing touch to some other dish. A gourmet himself, he wanted above all else to have his guests feed well, and he saw to it that they did. And John Scott, big, burly, but light on his feet, and the waiter par excelience; and with his list of favorites, one of whom, I am glad to say, I was, he took out to his own house in Southeast Washington once a yea™, where he cooked for them a dinner of corn pone and ham hock and greens, and chicken Maryland and other fixin’s that will never again be equaled in this world. And up- stairs, at stated intervals, Jim Sherman, later to be Vice President, and Ben Odell, later to be governor of New York, and Bill Barnes, and Charley Bennett, Sec- retary of the Senate, and others, had their weekly feasts. What a place! What a place! And Hancock’s, up the street a bit from Harvey’s—the Old Curiosity Shop—where the walls were lined with relics and me- mentos of the early days in Washington, and there the proprietor specialized in mem- orabilia of the assassination of Lincoln, and of the conspirators who were engaged with John Wilkes Booth in that dire enterprise. Hancock’s—with the scholarly Horace be- hind the bar and the fat Mammy Jane out in the kitchen. Horace—artist in concoc- tion of pink punches, glorious drinks; who, unhurried and with the sureness of technic of the real artist, took the rum of Jamaica THE SATURDAY and various other ingredients, and from them deftly manufactured as enticing and as dangerous a drink as the world has ever known. Pink punches. One of them and there was a rainbow round your shoulder. Two of them and the world was yours. Three of them and you were a knight on the Field of the Cleth of Gold, and four of them and you passed gently and luxuriously into the seventh heaven of delight, a bit ob- scured as to where you really were, to be sure, but caring not a whit. And out in the kitchen, the gigantic Mammy Jane, cooking chicken Maryland as it never has been cooked before or since, and making corn pone, and frying ham with red gravy -Mammy Jane, the queen of all the cooks, in her manner, since John Ne- anderthal found out how to make raw meat more palatable by searing it in a flame. And desiring no encomium save a slug of gin, now and then, to help keep the misery in her bones away. Roster of the Restaurants A rare old place was Hancock’s, and down the street a few blocks, at Three-and-one- half Street, to be exact, was Mades’, pro- nounced as spelled. Here Old Man Mades sat in a chair by the window for hours, looking across at Wully Smith’s Botanical Gardens, and Ben, his son, ran things. Now this was a place for food and drink that ranked high among the real eating houses of the old Washington. Here, no matter what the game laws said or stipu- lated, there was always a wild turkey to be had, or a few Virginia quail, or a duck or two, or a possum, or a little wild pig or some knickknack like that, and the bar was old and dignified and scorned to serve anything that was not aged and reputable as itself. At the lunch counter there were slathers of Norfolk oysters to be opened fresh, and always, for fifty years, a cold roasted turkey waiting to be sliced and the summa cum laude deviled crabs to be had. They did frogs, too, after a manner of their own, re- pudiating the usual custom of serving the legs only, but placing on a platter before you a gigantic frog in all its physical pul- chritude, and cooked to the utmost and most appetizing limit. The frogs came from a pond out in the yard, and, if you liked, you could pick out your own and have him speared and served, but no one could select the giant king of all the frogs in the puddle, who was known as William Henry Harrison and ruled for many years as his subjects went by dozens to the spit. Then there was Schneider’s, out by the Navy Yard, where the specialty was cracked crabs, and where his guests cracked ‘em themselves, with hammers furnished by the host, and accompanied by great bowis for cleansing the hands, and flagons of excel- lent beer. And Fritz Reuter’s, up Penn- sylvania Avenue a ways from Mades’, on the opposite side of the street, a German restaurant of excellent repute and a good place to get a glass of beer on hot after- noons while walking down from the Cap- itol. And Boyer’s, out Fourteenth Street a ways, another fine German place, and Ernst Gerstenberg’s, on E Street near Fourteenth and Pennsylvania—Gersten- berg’s, the home of the turnover, which was a fried Hamburg steak between two slices of rye bread, where the floor of the barroom was always cluttered up with half a dozen Great Dane dogs, of which Gerstenberg said, “‘ My dogs is my children.” Mrs. Gerstenberg made the turnovers in a back room and shoved them through a little window to Charley, the waiter, with hands that were bedecked with a dozen big diamond rings; and Charley, the waiter, kept himself and everybody else poor with tips on the horse races. The beer was real Pilsener, and the Bismarck herring, and the goose liver and all the rest of the German food was imported by Ernst himself. Then there was the Losekam, on F Street, where the best chops and steaks in the town were to be had, and where private rooms were available upstairs, and The Dirty Spoon and The Broken Shutter, EVENING POST which were places to eat when funds were very low, and the puddle-duck place on New York Avenue, and a few good Italian places; and, as picturesque and colorful as | any, John Perreard’s on E Street, between Twelfth and Thirteenth, a French restau- rant, where the elect used to gather for déjeuner at eleven o'clock in the morning, to the invariable advertisement of John: “Good soup! Good soup!"’ And the soup | was good. : These were some of the dead-and-gone joy spots in the dead-and-gone Washington, | and there were others: George Driver's, down on the avenue at Sixth Street--or was it Ninth? Anyhow, as good a place for the potations of the country as could be found in all the land, and Shoomaker’s, the famous saloon on E Street, near Pennsyl- vania and Fourteenth, where Joe Rickey invented the gin rickey, and somebody else invented the Mamie Taylor, and George Williamson was bartender in the old and majestic style, and Gus Noack, who worked on Sunday as a superintendent of a Sunday school, stood outside and received the money for the checks—a grand place festooned with cobwebs, and furnishing nothing but dried beef for lunch, but with liquors un- surpassed, and with the cobwebs supplied at so much a yard by little negro boys who carefully collected them from cobwebby places. Not to forget Dennis Mullany’s, over on the corner of Fourteenth across from where the District of Columbia Building now stands. A beer saloon. No more. One room with a bar in it. Another room with a couple of tables in it. A plate of sliced bologna. A keg of beer on the ice with the brew drawn fresh from the wood. And Dennis, an interesting Irishman, and Pinkie, | a smiling negro servitor—that’s all. But here, for years, the newspaper correspond- ents came after the work of the night was over and drank perfect beer and ate the succulent bologna, and discussed with a freedom they used nowhere else affairs of state and affairs of statesmen. It was the newspaper place, and any in- truder—save a few pet senators and repre- sentatives, and now and then a Cabinet member or two, or an especially favored diplomat or justice of the Supreme Court who tried to butt in was thrown out on his dignified ear. Dennis was a bookish Irishman and liked “literary” people. One could run a bill with Dennis for quite a spell. And Pinkie—I often wonder what be- came of Pinkie—was the paragon of all the smiling coons. Places to Remember Across the street from Dennis’ there was a hack stand where aged negro coachmen stood with open-faced one-horse hacks, and another up at McPherson Square. After Dennis closed, if time was yet a slave, one could get a hack and drive in the moonlight through Rock Creek Park, or around the Mall, spouting poetry and full of high em- prise, romance and beer. Then, in season, there were the planked-shad parties down the Potomac at Marshall Hall, and the night boat to Norfolk, where the arrival was nicely timed for breakfast with Jimmie Jones, the restaurateur of Norfolk, where oysters on the hot shell, and quail and reed birds were delights to remember for all time. The catalogue lengthens, but is not com- plete. These were some of the places and | things that made Washington a joyous spot to be. And all of them, with the possible exception of a modernized Harvey's, are gone, and with them most of the spirit and atmosphere that made the old town unique. The new hotel and apartment development has been farther up town. Pennsylvania Avenue is now a shabby street, and pres- ently one side of it will be torn out also to make room for more public buildings. The restaurants are after the manner of New York and Chicago. The life is feverish and modern, and the old calm has vanished. Where there never was any hurry there is now hustling efficiency. Washington, al- beit a capital, is now just a city. It used to 173 it = Spring “touchin’ up” ever give you a funny feeling in the pit of your stomach? Accidents can happen amy- where but do you realize that one out of every four fatal injuries happens right at home. Accident Insur- ance costs so little and means so much! Atna writes practically every form of Insurance and Fidelity and Surety Bonds. Aitna protec- tion reaches from coast to coast through 20,000 agents. The 4tna Agent in your community is a man worth knowing. Look him up! The Ana Life group consists of the Ana Life Insurance Company « The Aicna Casualty and Surety Company ¢ The Automobile Insurance Company + The Standard Fire Insurance Company of Hartford, Connecticut ATNA-IZE

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174 YALE IS FINE BUILDERS’ USED THROUGHOUT THE | CHRYSLER BUILDING THE SATURDAY EVENING POST The 77 storied Chrysler Building rises gracefully 1,030 feet above the street, 46 feet higher than the Eiffel Tower in Paris. . . After the most critical inspection the architect and Chrysler Engineers selected Yale Hard- wore and Door Closers because they embody that ex- acting quality so essential to the proper equipment of this dignified and imposing structure. THE YALE & TOWNE MFG. CO., STAMFORD, CONN., U. S. A, Canadian Branch at St. Catharines, Ont. YALE MARKED 1S YALE MADE be an institution, unique, charming and full of the joy of life. These were the about-town phases of life in the Washington that are gone forever. Back of them, of course, there was a gracious and dignified social life, where abundant hospitality was dispensed in the great brick houses on Sixteenth Street, Massachusetts and Connecticut avenues and roundabout. The old Washingtonians lived calmly and urbanely in Georgetown, apart from the political and official sectors. The Metropol- itan Club was a dignified and exclusive or- ganization. Thescientists had their Cosmos Club. Entertainment and social intercourse were on the polite plane of the mid-century instead of on the jazz plane of the present day. The Chevy Chase Club was housed in a rambling wooden building instead of in the big stone edifice of the present day. The Columbia Golf Club had an unassuming plant out Brentwood way. Washington was a mannerly town. The two most interesting features of any capital are the Congress, Parliament, Cham- ber of Deputies, or what not which attends to the legislative functions of a government, and the newspaper and correspondent body which attends to the enlightenment of the people on what their legislative and other official representativesaredoing. Alongwith | everything else, there have been marked Architect WILLIAM VAN ALEN Contractor FRED ¥. LEY & CO, | HARDWARE changes in Washington both in the character and composition of the Congress, and in the structure and activities of the correspondent body. Space does not admit of a discussion of the changes and divergences of Congress since I first began to know it, back in the days of Tom Reed, Nelson W. Aldrich, and the rest, and that may come later. Newspaper Row, when I got to Washing- ton, extended up Fourteenth Street, from Pennsylvania Avenue to F Street. Most of the important correspondents were housed in a row of small brick structures, three or four stories high, that clambered up that little hill. My advent was years after the great Civil War correspondents; men like Whitelaw Reid, Joe McCullough, John Russell Young, Murat Halstead and Ben Perley Poore had come and gone, but there were plenty of big fellows left when I ar- rived, rawly, among them; men whoexerted great individual power on the processes of legislation and the functioning of the Gov- ernment, who were feared, hated, respected, admired and cultivated by the people they dealt with in their dispatches. Relations between Congress and the Ex- ecutive and other governmental depart- ments were closer then than they are now, undoubtedly because there were far fewer correspondents then, and because of the individual newspaper power of the correspondent, who, in addition to being a transmitter of the news to his paper was an editorial commenter thereon. He was the Washington editor of his paper, and what he said went. He, in many instances, for- mulated the editorial policies of his paper as regards Washington political, governmen- tal and legislative affairs. Politics was personal in those days, and so were plenty of the Washington correspondents in their dispatches. Along Newspaper Row If there were any spades to be called spades there were numerous able, even gifted, spade callers operating on News- paper Row, and they did their spade calling right out on the front pages of their papers and calmly waited to see what the spades were going to do about it. Consequently, as the politicians and legislators were then as eager for a good press as they are now, there was rarely a night along Newspaper Row when big men in the Senate, the House, TINY CCIE) ‘P.)0. faa) alo ale yoo April 5,19350 and the Cabinet did not drop in to get the lay of the newspaper land and find out what they could about the attitudes of these writers. Ordinarily they found out very little. The morning newspaper was the great newspaper in those days, and News- paper Row did not come to life until after dinner. Then it came to life with a bang. One of my first newspaper experiences in Washington was when, some years before I went there to work and live, the late Rob- ert J. Wynne, then correspondent for the New York Press, and later Postmaster- General and Consul-General to London, and Louis A. Coolidge, the brilliant representa- tive of the Boston Journal, took me over to the Ebbitt House, where Major William McKinley, then chairman of the Ways and Means Committee of the House of Repre- sentatives, was framing the McKinley Tariff Bill, working on it at night after he came down from the Capitol. Two things stand out in my mind about that visit, where I met McKinley and John Dalzell and some of his protectionist helpers. The first was the constant solicitude of Mc- Kinley over his invalid wife, into whose adjoining room he went several times while I was there, and the second was that, after he had finished, the major and the rest of us drank a couple of bottles of beer apiece, or- dered up by the major, as the night was very hot and such refreshment was grateful. Day-to-Day Historians When I finally arrived in Washington as a full-fledged correspondent I stood around in awe and watched these giants of my pro- fession, at their work and at their play: Bob Wynne, who on an idle summer’s day wrote a paragraph saying that the Democratic theory of the tariff had cost the country more than the Civil War, and was asked by his editor to prove it, which he did in the most exhaustive and brilliant series of pro- tectionist articles ever sent out of the capital; E. G. Dunnell, the scholarly man of the New York Times, an able and fearless fellow, who picked up a novel written by a colleague he didn’t like and wrote a piece for his paper pointing out four hundred and seventy-six grammatical errors in it; Maj. John M. Carson, of the Philadelphia Ledger, who knew more about the Govern- ment than the men who ran it; Lyman, of the Sun and David Graham Phillips for the World, who later wrote the greatest series of political novels America has yet pro- duced; Ambrose Bierce for the then-New York Journal; Alfred Henry Lewis, Angus McSween, Richard Lindsay, Scott, Bone, Louis A. Coolidge, L. White Busby, George Rouzer, Count Seckendorff, for the New York Tribune, who was really a count, and a whale of a correspondent besides—all these and many more. Not forgetting Gen. Henry Boynton, and Bill Starrett, of the Dallas News, nor Charles Boynton, who ran the Associated Press, nor Charles S. Albert, the best Senate reporter Washington ever had, nor Bill Bell, of the Philadelphia North Amer- ican, nor Otto Carmichael of the Detroit Journal, nor Walter B. Stevens, of the St. Louis Globe-Democrat—all great at their business. A galaxy that will not again be equaled, of whom but a few remain: Rich- ard V. Oulahan, who carries on for the New York Times with the true tradition of the time when a Washington correspondent was not engaged in mass production, and George Rothwell Brown, the most brilliant paragrapher Washington ever had, which is said with full recollection of the sparkling Harry Merrick of the old Washington Post. I cannot name them all, but I make obeisance to them, my fellows back yonder in the work of telling the world what Wash- ington was doing. B (9) a 0)/G,)0}))9)/0;falja|c 6 J) ed} [0c o oct °

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Slave’s Gate in New Orleans Has Stood a Hundred Years EW ORLEANS, rich in old objects of smith- craft, has one that is of peculiar interest. It is the great iron gate at the entrance to the gas works. Black men are said to have forged it, and it was made high and strong because it was de- signed to keep slaves within the walled enclosure. Yet it has a beauty and a nice relation of parts which could be given only by men in love with their task. Much of the cleverest work in metals for which New Orleans is noted is known to have been done by slaves.

Just when the gate was first hung on its strong hinges is not known. It must have been later than 1788, for in that year a great fire swept the city, after which almost everything was recon- structed. But probably within the next few years the gas house yard was built, with its high wall and its iron gate. That they are over a hundred years old is well established. The old gate is as sturdy and as beautiful to- RUST RESISTANCE proved by Generations of Service ; feaity Tia LLL LEE | Til HT " : Hl

] z wd «." day as it was generations ago, and swings as ~~ easily to open or shut, for it was made of rust- r wi resisting wrought iron. s | | | iy | _— | The merits of genuine wrought iron have been ‘ CO —— , weighed in the balances of time and service. The f _ = {) liad a4, es r wig : s 4 pt preference for it is due not to argument nor to r t ¢ ingenious laboratory tests, but to the facts of . ; 8) uu KE) _t & : , han For Industrial Plants . long experience under the conditions of actual Cedctins Civeedht teen Pini Pededi mel For Homes and Big Buildings use. ing Sheet vive Eoaags Genuine Wrought Iron Plumbing and Heating Pipes, Other materials have their virtues; and in the Roofing Sheets, Window Sash, Fire Escapes, Ornamental a long run each will find its own place; but the in- Old Wrought Iron mutage [Metab oe discriminate adoption of newer products instead a By re oe om 7 B89 fay of genuine wrought iron, because they were ae ee See Be a $ cheaper, is seen to have been unwise. Under cor- co Re mie of SUED Gee GiEn, onan js , | rosive attack, vibration, and shock, the durabil- good for another half centw —o*

—— 2 ity and the dependability of wrought iron are not . wir fhe ~~ ae aN fi Pair on an. equalled by any other material at any compar- — 4 << able cost. For the Farm Genuine Wrought Iron Fencing Wire, Roofing Sheets, Pipe, Nails, Chains, et chains and anchor-, ships’ rivets and bolts, vital Genuine wrourt iron pipe, boiler tubes, bars, small parts of locomotives and railway cars, hand forged specialties—not a few indispensable forms of wrought iron have always been manufactured; and the list has been enlarged in recent months. Sheets, window sash, nails, and wire of the au- thentic old-time character are again available.

For desired information please address For Railroads WROUGHT IRON RESEARCH ASSOCIATION Genuine Wrought Iron Pipe, Boiler Tubes, Stay Bolts, Engine Bolts, Equalizers, Brake Rods, Sheets, Fences n * - af 1 and Gates, Chains, Wire, etc. ; 1L1l Union Bank Building, Pittsburgh, Pa.

Wrought lron MAKE SURE YOU GET THE GENUINE

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176 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 When you go abroad ... your own ideals of luxury! The famous transatlantic fleet of the United States Lines draws its ideas and inspirations from ‘ the best mode and manners of America’s social life. So, you find . . . your smart, sunny state- room a revelation in completeness, to the smallest accessory ... your cuisine so appetizing it recently won four coveted awards... your alert stewards speaking your own language... your diversions ranging from putter to night club... your lounges and salons invested with elegance. Naturally, 103 college alumni organizations singled out these fine ships as their official fleet to Europe! For five day speed, take the Leviathan, World's Largest Ship. For economy with luxury, the superb cabin liners ... George Washington, America, Republic, President Harding or President Roosevelt. Your home ideals at sea ... under the Stars and Stripes! UNITED STATES LINES @ For complete information see your loca! agent or our offices: New York, 45 Broadway; Atlanta, 714 Healy Bidg.; Boston, 75 Stote St.; Chicago, 61-63 W. Jockson Bivd.; Cleveland, Hotel Cleveland Bidg.; Detroit, 1514 Washington Bivd.; St. Louis, Jefferson Hotel; Philadelphia, 1600 Walnut St.; Son Francisco, 691 Market St.; Los Angeles, 756 S. Broadway; Minneapolis, 312 Second Ave., S.; Seattle, 1337 Fourth Ave.; Pittsburgh, 705 Liberty Ave.; Washington, 1027 Connecticut Ave.; Little Rock, Wallace Bidg.; New Orleans, Hibernia Bank Bidg.; Paris, 10 Rue Auber; London, 14 Regent Street, S.W. 1.; Hamburg, Cor. Alsterthor & Ferdinandstrasse; Berlin, Unter den Linden 9. THESE LINES OFFER A COMPLETE FREIGHT SERVICE—SPECIFY AMERICAN SHIPS FOR YOUR FOREIGN TRADE.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST PHOTO. FROM EWING GALLOWAY, N.Y. C New 135,000 Horse:-Power Piant of the Louisville Hydroelectric Company S YOU have no doubt been informed, over and over again, one of the most objectionable phases of this machine age in which we now live and draw our wages is the large number of distressingly uninteresting jobs it provides. Thousands of men and women hasten to their posts of duty every morning merely to pull a lever at the right moment of to pick up some- thing that the machine ejects, or to feed in another piece of raw material. The machine performs the major operation and the men and women who serve it are almost its menials. Philosophical gentlemen of a gloomy turn of mind, contemplating this spectacle of dreary repetition, have ven- tured to predict what a few decades of it may do to the human mind and spirit. Their forecasts, needless to say, are not cheering. The attending retinues of hu- mans, it seems, are in grave danger of be- coming as insensate as their machines. Having drawn up this indictment, the prophets of gloom belligerently face the owners of the machines, challenging them to deny, if they dare, these allegations. Whereupon the industrialists who own ma- chines become choleric and shout that we have more to eat and wear, better houses _and more leisure, better health than ever before, and so forth. You know their speech. Also they have a few bitter philo- sophical remarks of their own to make on the subject of crape hangers who can never see the brighter side of the picture. Oddly enough, neither of these two schools of thought turns to the makers of the ma- chines for either facts or advice. By makers of machines, I do not mean industrialists but the inventors and scientists. The latter listen to the before-mentioned wordy row with contempt or amusement. Before you fight about the machine age, they would say, give us a chance to make one. From their point of view, arguing about the ma- chine age of today is very much like engag- ing in a long-winded dispute as to whether By Chester T. Crowell or not an aeroplane is over the city or has passed beyond its limits. Before the debate ends, the aeroplane is in a new place. The scientists will readily agree that everything the philosophers of gloom say is true; not only that, but everything that the industrialists say is true. However, they would also point out ‘that neither is im- portant. They are well aware of the fact that there is much dull work in the world, most of them having performed their full share of it in person. Moreover, they know that there was no lack of dull work long be- fore the machine age. As they see it, how- ever, the machine age is just out of the shell and still learning to scratch. What- ever it may be today, by the time it grows its pin feathers, it will be something else. Therefore, to examine it philosophically, as though it were a definite force or fact that had reached its maturity, is a waste of time. Most of the machinery now in use is nothing more than an excellent power plant, more or less crudely hitched up to mechanical devices that are partially auto- matic. It has become the custom to refer to such devices as semiautomatic machinery which is a misleading term. Very little of our machinery is semiautomatic. If it is as much as one-fifth or one-fourth automatic, it is excellent. A great deal of it is about one-tenth automatic. The Goal of Inventors The goal of the inventors and scientists who make machines is to produce mechan- ical devices that are completely automatic. Do you think that can’t be done? It is being done. Some tremendously important and very complicated machines are now in use in this and many other countries, oper- ating without the aid of one single human hand. The possibilities along this line are now far more alluring to the inventor in terms of financial reward than the discovery of any- thing totally new. There- fore, we may look during the coming ten years for rapid development. In any industrial establishment the jobs that pay the lowest wages are usually the most expensive. A skilled operator who turns out large quantities of goods not only earns his salt but contributes defin’tely to the dividends., The man who crawls under the machine carrying a handful of cotton waste to wipe away accumulations of dust and lubricating oil is a mere necessary ex- pense. If the machine can be taught to lubricate itself, the cost will suddenly drop from three or four dollars a day to five or six cents a day. Jobs of that sort are the least desirable from the point of view of labor, the most expensive from the point of view of the employer, and the most easily abol- ished from the point of view of the in- ventor. That is why so many of them are now disappearing. They are economically the proper point of attack in the evolution of mechanical devices. At present it is the younger industries that are making the greatest progress with automatic devices, but the principles upon which each of these inventions rests make them applicable in many other fields. In the course of this article I shall catalogue many interesting new inventions, but the list will not be complete by any means, be- cause that would require a volume. Only those inventions which open up vast and thus far almost unrealized possibilities will be described. For example: Today there is no mechanical obstacle to prevent you from lifting the telephone re- ceiver, getting a connection with your ma- chine—not the telephone operator in the plant but the machine itself—and saying into your telephone: “Go to work, Ma- chine,” and thus starting your machine. What you say into the telephone makes no difference, just so the listening mechanism is geared to start on those sounds. If the minute to shave make this test FREE Just wet your face... hot or cold water...apply LatherKreem ... shave .24% minutes...and the World’s worst job is done. Begin using LatherKreem today and learn how swift, smooth, and sooth- ing a shave can really be The penetrating and softening in gredients of LatherKreem subdue the most stubborn beards. You can shave up and down and across . . . fast ... without razor-puil or razor-nicks It is sanitary, antiseptic and leaves the face in a fine healthy glow LatherKreem is the original Amer ican-Made “No-Brush, No-Cup, No- Soap, No-Rub” shaving cream Used the world over for twenty years and sold in 17 different languages. Today purchase your tube or jar any place where shaving preparations are sold Large tubes, 35c. Medi- um jars, 50c. 14-07 jars, 75c. Slightly higher in Canada. Send coupon for a FREE 7- day trial 113, St. Paul, Minn A. J. KRANK CO., Dept Please send me one week's sux ‘ LATHER KREEM without cost Name Address

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Many Beautiful Designs with This Life-Time Material Vitrolite~— today's mode for unusual and col- orful interiors —owes its wide popularity to its Mexibility of design, due to its many col- ors, various slab sizes, and to the fact that it endures a life-time. Vitrolite will not stain, craze, warp, discolor, or absorb odors. Its original newness and beauty is restored with a damp cloth, for Vitrolite is a fused rock material, as enduring as nature's vitreous for- mations. Vitrolite is used everywhere —for bathroom and kitchen walls and ceilings, hotel, apartment, hospital and office building corridors and lobbies, meat markets, barber shops and restaurants —in fact, you will see it wherever you go. For Remodeling or Building Vitrolite is enthusiastically endorsed by architects, builders, and interior decorators. It is easily installed and can be plain or especially designed or etched to sive either i] i or © y effects. A Vit- rolite ilation is ical and the trade-mark on eoch siab is your assurance of quality. Vitrolite Fixtures Universally Used Refrigerator panels. table tops, counter tops, soda fountains, barber cases, store fronts, and Vitrolite walls and ceilings give a decorative, colorful and inviting touch that quickly wins public favor. If you area mer- chant whose business demands beauty, cleanliness, and durability of eeulpment, Vitrolite will build profits for you. Write for free catalog, illustrated in colors. Mention in what special use you are interested. Opportunity for Representatives Profitable franchises are open in some territories. THE VITROLITE COMPANY 120 S. La Salle Vilhoure Factory: St., Room 1100 TROL Parkersburg, Chicago, tlt ll A> if - West Virginia eure Offices in all principe! cities in U. S and Foreign Countries Biman playing just as soon THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1930 humidity affects many raw ma- terials and chemical processes, with the result that men are con- stantly watching and adjusting these things to meet weather conditions. Heat Control Some kinds of work must stop because of humidity; there- fore one of the changes that is surely coming in industries is the control of humidity, because it ean be controlled, in inclosed rooms or buildings. There is now in operation in the Pope's library in Rome a device that measures the humidity and automatically controls it by putting heaters into action at a given point, turning them off at another point, and at a third point it trips into action machinery that supplies moist- ure. The reason for this machine is that the climate of Rome is very dry in certain seasons of the year and very humid in others. MERRERT PHOTOS, INC., &. ¥. The Automatic Safety Board Which Guards the Holland Vehicular Tube Under the Hudson device on the receiving end is set accord- ingly, you could start your machine by reciting Hamlet’s Soliloquy or the multipli- cation table, or you could stop it by recit- ing the Twenty-third Psalm, or simply saying, “Boom, boom, boom!” The point of all this is that a mechanism can be tripped into action by the force of sound. Sound is, of course, a force, and just as it strikes the nerves of our ears in waves, so these same waves, striking a sensitive mechanical de- vice, can produce results. Now that may sound to you like a mere trick that would be good in a side show, but of no practical importance. Let’s see if it is. An Electrical Doctor Among the valuable inventions of very recent years is a little device which is hid- den away in high-voltage transformers. I shall not burden the reader with an ex- planation of what a transformer is; suffice it to say that transformers are very impor- tant and that they sometimes get out of order. Transformers make a humming sound all the time, but when they get out of order they make various other sounds. Now there are only certain things that can happen to a transformer, and each of these things has its distinctive sound. The coro- naphone pays no attention to the peaceful, industrious humming of the transformer when all is going well, but just as soon as that transformer becomes sick and lets out a squawk, the co- ronaphone notifies headquarters. It tells not only which transformer is in trouble, and where it is, but diagnoses the ailment and thus makes a complete and accurate report instantly. The prin- ciple behind this ma- chine is simply that of starting action by the force of sound. There is good reason to believe that even- tually scores of ma- chines will be served and guarded by somewhat similar devices. If it would give you any pleasure to have a phonograph in your home start 2 wa a Re | me 2S ee | ~~. iy PHOTO. SUPPLIED BY INTERNATIONAL NEWSREEL, NW. ¥. ¢ The Oscillograph, an Automatic Bell Telephone Trouble:Shooter makes you uncomfortable, that could easily be arranged. The same device could not only start your phonograph playing, but it could turn on your electric washing ma- chine, turn on your radio, switch the electric lights on or off, or turn in a fire alarm. Again this may sound like a mere circus stunt, but it has a steadily growing im- portance in the industries. The degree of This variation is damaging to the books. Many of them have been destroyed by it, but no more will be, because the machine is on thejob night and day throughout the year and needs no human attention whatever. The same sort of mechanism can and will save time, materials and labor in industry. The fact that heat and cold can be meas- ured and that the thermometer which measures them can trip machinery into action or out of ac- tion is familiar to all of us, but since we work so largely in the industries with heat and cold, devices of this kind are of prob- ably greater value at present than any longer any reason why large numbers of men should be em- ployed in watching the boiling of a cal- dron or vat and controlling the heat supplied to it. All of this work can bedone mechanically. It is being done mechan- ically right now in uncounted thou- sands of cellars where the hot-water as the humidity reaches a point that A Guidé Chart of the Manhattan Traffic Light System (Continued on Page 197) MERSERT PHOTOS, INC., N.Y. C, others. There is no.

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AY my little one grow strong and sound” —it is the prayer of every mother. Cheerfully, throughout the crucial months of infancy, she dedicates each waking moment to make that wish come true. And humane men, intent on easing her responsibil- ities, make certain she need never worry about the jars and jolts that distress so many babies. They design a “shock-proofed” carriage, scientifically constructed so as to safeguard sensitive little spines. These Lloyd carriages have bodies of loom- woven fibre— reinforced with invisible steel wire in every upright strand. PATENT PROCESS lo € Products REG.U.S e PAT BABY CARRIAGES & FURNITURE Menominee, Michigan THE SATURDAY EVENING POST She hazardous adventure of being They are upholstered with soft, luxurious fabrics. Their resilient springs are oil-tempered. They have gaily colored* balloon tires. Particularly during National Lloyd Week, April 7 to 12, stores are making a special featuring of Lloyd car- riages and strollers. There are many charming color finishes. Prices, due to the speed and manufacturing efficiency of the patented Lloyd looms, are easily with- in every family’s means. And decidedly econom- LOOM ical, too, is the colorful, smartly designed Lloyd loom-woven furniture he now so much in evidence in so many nice homes. ORILLIA, ONTARIO, CANADA 179 ONNatow A} TLOYD WEEK PAPRIV GAD For intere sting information abo Lloyd Baby Carriag ra f the other many Lloyd! n-woven prod ucts—Living R P Fibre Furniture, Stee! 1 ar Chairs and Stools, Juvenile Fur and Doll Carriages nf fress a request to Lloyd Loom Products, Dept. A Menon e. Michigan *Smart and new are baby carriage tires in color, an exclusive Lloyd innovation

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The Fire Association Fleet Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Almost every kind INSURANCE excepting life Victory Insurance Co. Constitution Indemnity Co. Fire Association of Phila. The Reliance Insurance Co. EVERY JUST CLAIM PAID IN FULL SINCE 1817 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 REPOSSESSED (Continued from Page 27) floor plan which showed the display of forty new cars and twice as many used cars on the same floor. Paul cast an eye at his five new cars and the eight used ones backed up against the brick walls of his narrow showroom and occupying all the available space, and threw the plan away. All the time he kept look- ing out of the window, hoping against hope for a sight of Joan, for a smile and a word of greeting. He was reading his mail with only partial attention, and debating the advisability of trying to talk to Joan again, when the letter he had in his hand pierced his full con- sciousness. It was from the bank, a rou- tine notice, bearing him tidings that the note for four hundred dollars which he had indorsed for Oscar Fry had not been paid on September twentieth, when it was due, that Mr. Fry gave the bank no satisfaction, and would Mr. Edwards please come in to see them about it? Paul gave a whistle. This was a new Grover four coach he had sold in mid- summer, and the buyer, a school-teacher, had refused to finance it through the regu- lar channels. He had turned in a used car for three hundred dollars’ credit, had made a small cash payment, and had given Paul a note for the balance. He was a church member, a school-teacher, with good pay, and he was a man with a family, who owned his own home and was, to Paul’s notion, as good a risk as he was likely to find in town. Four hundred dollars, plus interest and charges. “This looks like a prosperous month to me,”’ thought Paul. He was overstocked at this time, and if he had to pay this note and repossess the car, and take the loss on the geese, he was going to have to do some- thing tremendous to pay his rent and meet his expenses and Walnut’s pay. He put on his hat and went to the bank. The cashier, young Wiggins, was polite enough, but firm: “We were afraid you would have to make good on that note at the time you cashed it here, and would have told you so, if you had asked. Mr. Fry’s credit is not good. He owes nearly everyone. We wouldn’t have taken a note from him without your indorsement.”’ “You should have told me this, even if I didn’t ask,” said Paul. “You have a lien on the car, haven't you?” “Yes, of course.” “If you want advice now, repossess it without delay. That’s the only way I can see for you to get your money out.” “You wouldn't give him more time?’ “He’s driving the car a lot, and it is de- preciating fast,” said the bank cashier. “Of course, if you will take up this note yourself, we'll give you ninety days on a new note of your own, if you wish it. We have every confidence in you, Mr. kd- wards.” “I think I’!l go and see him,” said Paul. “Do. If he can pay half of it, we'll re- new the balance.” Paul went to Mr. Fry’s house, but he was at school, his wife said. The car was in the garage. “T’ll just step around and look at the car.” “The garage is unlocked, Mr. Edwards.’ The house seemed, to Paul, different from any that he had seen. It was a decent enough dwelling, on a quiet, pretty street, but the whole place bore marks of neglect. As Paul went around back, he saw that the yard had not been mowed or raked recently, and the lawn was in danger of being ruined by packed leaves. There was a child’s broken wagon, one rope of a swing dangling from a tree, an empty and deserted rabbit hutch, some partly burned trash in a dilap- idated wire basket—nothing finished or fixed. The door of the garage was only partly closed, and when Paul saw the Grover his heart sank. ’ It had not been cleaned, evidently, since it had been bought. Both front fenders were badly dented. The glass in the door on the driver's side was broken, and had been mended with adhesive tape—a strip about six or seven inches long—up in one corner. In a side pocket of the car was a miscellany of old clippings, packages, a small empty oil can, which had left a stain, and a flat purse. The upholstery was soiled and stained. You could tell, by just looking at it, that the car had not been greased regu- larly, that the oil hadn’t been changed at the proper intervals, the body bolts tight- ened, or the brakes watched. As it stood, it did not appear to be worth the four hun- dred dollars still due on it. Paul left the garage and looked at the rain-soaked desolate yard. On either side were tidy dwellings. Paul remembered the man who had bought the car—a charming, intelligent person, smiling and contented. As the young dealer stood there, undecided about what to do, he felt a wave of home- sickness such as he had never known before. He seemed to be a boy again, in his own parents’ yard. He remembered how he had had to cut and rake the grass, to clean the yard, and put his playthings under the back porch. He remembered his mother’s flower beds, the scrubbed back porch, the shining windows of her house. She had been a martinet. He still got out of bed in the morning and folded his covers back once and threw them over the footboard. He still folded his trousers with a crease in them, kept a clean handkerchief in his pocket. He re- membered how the drinking glasses had to be shined when he helped with the dishes, how feet had to be wiped and bills paid. And his mother’s decent clean pink face, with the steel-rimmed glasses, and her firm kind mouth. Without any particular reason, he was homesick. His old home was gone. His father was dead, his mother living with his married sister in a distant state. But he was lonesome for a home of his own, per- haps, now; blue because his girl, as he called her in his thoughts, was through with him. He went to the schoolhouse, and Mr. Fry came out to see him. Mr. Fry was very sympathetic. Paul could not help liking him. “IT suppose you must repossess it,”” he said. ‘I simply can’t pay the note.” ““Can’t you pay part of it?”’ “Oh, no. I’ve a hundred obligations to meet when I get my pay check.” “You couldn't pay a hundred on it? I don’t want to repossess the car.” “I’m sorry, old man. I hate to let you down. But it seems to me the simplest way out. When we get straightened out a little, I'll get a new car.”’ He was quite distressed for Paul. ‘‘We will certainly miss the car, but I think that’s what you’d better do take it. We never had a car like the Grover before. We've driven it fourteen thousand miles and haven't had to do a thing to it.” Fourteen thousand miles in three months! When had they done it? Paul wondered. He shook hands with Mr. Fry and left him, and went to the bank and arranged to take up Fry’s note and give the bank a thirty- day note of his own for the four hun- dred dollars. He paid the interest and charges out of his pocket. At five o'clock that afternoon he had the repossessed car back in his workshop. They put it on the wash rack. “Clean it first,’ he told Tom; “right down to the paint. Then let's see what has to be done. Three fenders will have to be rerolled, and it will have to be tightened all over, greased, and the brakes adjusted, one new headlight lens, oil changed, some new tires. She ought to be pretty good then, if nothing serious proves to be wrong with her.” Walnut was examining the repossessed car. (Continued on Page 182)

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (Continued from Page 180) “Tt will cost you a hundred dollars or | more to put this car in shape to sell,’’ he New York /ovef! the chimes from this great You can have a SetH [THomas Electric Clock that strikes Se FOR AS LITTLE AS $30 TEW YORKERS set their watches by the great electric Seth Thomas clock in the tower of the Consolidated Gas Cc mpany 's Manhattan building. You can count on dependable time from anw Seth Thomas electric cloc k — huge or smal But for the same reason that New York loves the chimes from this famous tower clock, you w ill want your electric clock to be a clo« k that dlrikes. Seth Thomas elex tric cloc ks do not stop or show incorrect time when there is a slight interruption in current. They continue tokeep Write to the Seth Thomas Clock Com- pany, 19 West 44th Street, New York City, for FREE booklet... In cities over 100,000, directories under “Se th Thomas."’ Prices slig y higher in Far We t and Canada BANJO No. 8 —hight-day pendulum strik Price $50. Or ' CHIME No.91—AMahogany pirek No. case. Height 9% inches. 16P.8 Fight day. Melodious West- Price $45. : minster chimes. Price $45. . ° ; perfect time even of currenl fails for bourse! lealers are listed in classified telephone ELECTRIC STRIKE NO 11—Mahogany case. Sil- vered dial. Height 9% inches. Strikes the hours and half hours on silver- toned bell metal gong. 202 inch base. Price $50. ELECTRIC STRIKE NO 12— Mahogany case with burled panels. Height 9% inches. Strikes in reso- nant, fr tendly tones on bell metal gong. Price $35. ELECTRIC STRIKE NO. 22 —American walnut. Height 7% inches. Strikes on bell metal gong. Price $45. SETH THOMAS CLOCKS said. “I should have to get five or six hundred for her, then.” “Crimini,”’ said Walnut, “it’s bad enough having to take in used jobs, without hav- ing to resell your own cars after they’ve been out.” After the car was thoroughly cleaned, in- side and out, new and more serious defects began to appear. “You ought to write an ad about this ear,”’ said Walnut, “‘saying as how the Grover will keep going with everything wrong with her. I drove her over our test route, and she’s way off. Clutch and brakes too. You'll have to strip her right down, Blondy, and rebuild. Lord knows what all we'll find. And you're going to have an awful job to sell her around here, even rebuilt. Everyone knows Fry and the way he doesn’t look after things.” “Just leave the car until tomorrow, and we'll see exactly what it needs. I’ve got four hundred dollars in that car, and I have to get it out.” “Of who?” asked Walnut ungrammati- cally, but Paul understood him. He went out to get himself something to eat, and was both cheered and made mourn- ful by the sight of Joan’s red béret, as she went off up the street with her father. He watched her out of sight. He wondered if she were coming back to town. He longed to tell her what Mr. Fry had done to a per- fectly good Grover. It had been a long day. He was tired and a little lonely. Walnut was still working on the repossessed car when Paul returned to the showroom. “There was a guy in here wants this car,” said Walnut. ‘‘He’s coming back at seven o’clock. He’s a mechanic in the garage at Sugar Ridge, and says he will fix it up him- self, if he can buy it right.” “Did you tell him what I want for it?” asked Paul. “No. But I told him it was in fine shape.” Paul laughed. Walnut left for his evening meal. Paul stood there, looking at the Grover four mournfully. There was to him a loss separate from a financial loss, in this willful neglect of a fine piece of ma- chinery. It affected him as it affects a woman to see a beautiful child bedraggled and ill-kempt. The mechanic from Sugar Ridge came in and introduced himself, and they shook hands. His name was Ander- son-—‘‘ Whitey,” he explained politely. “IT know what Grovers are,”’ he told Paul. “I’ve worked on them. I like them. Fry got stuck on Sugar Hill with this car about three weeks ago, and I adjusted the timing for him. I know what the car needs. I'll give you two hundred dollars for it.’’ “Not me, you won’t,”’ said Paul, grinning and starting on the old, tradition-bound business of trading. “I’ve got to have at least five hundred dollars for it. It’s not much more than three months old. At five hundred dollars, there is a depreciation of a third for three months’ use. I can fix it up right here, and get that for it easy.” “Yes, in a pig’s eye,”’ said Whitey. Paul laughed, and they fell into talk, and Whitey said, after an hour or two had passed in discussion of ‘this and that, with only oc- casional winged references to the Grover: “T’ll tell you what I'll do, Blondy, and you can take it or leave it. I want the car. I'll take it over there and put my own time on it. My boss will get me what I need at cost. I can fix those tires for a few more thousand miles. That way I can fix the car cheaper than you can, where you have to pay Walnut for his time. We aren’t busy in our shop now. But my mother will skin me if I got into debt. She’s old- fashioned-like. I've got two hundred and fifty dollars. And my father’s got three mi’k goats—dandies, they are—worth fifty or sixty dollars apiece, and I'll turn them in too.” “Goats!” said Paul in a hollow voice. He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t want any goats. I’ve got some geese now.” April 5,19350 “T know you have. But these goats aren’t sick. They’re regular beauties, and pets too. They come right up on the porch and blat through the screen door. They are as pretty as deer, and tame and clean. We've babied them. My sister had twins, and they were sick, and we couldn’t get any food for them. So the doctor said goat milk, and my father got the goats and we milked them. Now my sister’s boys are two years old, and they are fine and thrifty, and can eat anything. I know my old man will let me have the goats. He owes mea little money for work. See?”’ “No goats,” said Paul. ‘Sell them and pay me the cash.” “Now, Blondy, you ain’t reasonable. You’re in the selling business, not me. You ask anybody how these goats are. They’re swell ones. It’s the only way I can do it. If I sell the goats my father will want the money, but if I trade them in on the car for what he owes me, he won’t care. And then you'll have this car off your hands the day you took it back. And you won’t have to do any work on it or try to sell it here, where everybody knows how hard Fry is on a car. He’s just hell bent to ruin every- thing, that guy is. He seems to try to do it. And you can have your floor space—no stall taken up, or anything. And you'll get your price—four hundred dollars " “I said five hundred.”” Paul knew there was a good deal of sense to Whitey’s argu- ment. He believed that the goats were good. But he was so reluctant that Whitey finally offered him three hundred dollars and the goats. Three hundred cash. Even if he didn’t get anything worth while for the goats, it would cut his loss materially, and there was no doubt that he would be glad to get rid of the repossessed car at once. He groaned. It seemed he might as well buy a farm to put his trade-ins on, and get a hired man to look after them. But he remembered how Joan had taken in a cow on a used flivver, and sold it the same day. But cows were different. Anyone might want a good cow. Still, if he could get three hundred sure “T’ll bring the goats over tomorrow,” said Whitey, ‘‘and you can see them.” Paul said nothing, and in this case silence was consent. Whitey took his departure in a borrowed flivver, for rumor of Fry’s los- ing his car had brought him to Hilltown. The Spate agency was dark when Paul locked up. He walked home, three blocks. He went to look at his geese, and found them all in the shelter. He did not go into Mrs. Ferguson’s, but went across a vacant lot and on down the next street. The lights were burning brightly in the big Fox house. He could hear the radio. He could see young people dancing in there. He wanted to go and knock on the door, but didn’t— only stood under a tree across the street. “Well, if you’re not a sap,” he said to himself. “‘ March, mister. You won't get a sensible girl like Joan by calfing around under trees in the drip. Go on home and go to sleep, and get out tomorrow and find someone who wants to buy three goats.” The door across the street opened and a swell of music and laughter came out. “The poor little match girl!” Paul mocked himself, laughed with elaborate sarcasm, and went home and slept soundly, after lying awake three or four minutes to think of Joan. But he woke in the morning convinced that he had been awake at least half the night. Sleep was usually simul- taneous with a horizontal position in bed, and he felt that he had certainly had his heart broken to lie awake all night and moon. When he reached his place of business at seven o'clock the next morning, he found Whitey waiting for him. He had found someone coming over with a truck and had prought the three goats. He let down the back of the truck, and the goats jumped right out and came up on the sidewalk and crowded about the two young men. They were as tame as pet dogs. Paul laughed. He couldn’t help liking them. One of them was big with kid, the other two were fresh. (Continued on Page 184) = ti

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-_ eet) % ‘ °3 7 4 : Any house vs al gilt-edge anvestment ...when Creo-Dipts bring it up-to-date THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ooK at this house. Once it was out-of- 7 date, slipping in value. See what Creo- Dipt Stained Shingles have done for it. For your present home, lay Creo-Dipts right over the old siding. Takes little longer than a thorough re-painting; costs only about twice as much. And the Creo-Dipts reduce fuel bills 15° to 25°%—save their entire cost in upkeep alone in 5 to 7 years. That is because genuine Creo-Dipts are made only from selected cedar shingles a natural insulator—stained under pressure by a patented ¢ reo-Dipt process that forces 35% more color deeper into the wood. When re-roofing is necessary, Creo-Dipts go right over the old shingles. For a new home, there is a wide choice of Creo-Dipt colors. Distinctive, blended, variegated or thatched effects for roofs, attractive shades for side-walls CREO-DIPT COMPANY N e eet, North Tonawanda, N (Factories, Warehouses a ales Ofhces in all pr | Enclosed a ¢ architects € Mai a Ha I ( a rea le e Building new c , Re-sta g old a GENUINE CREO-DIPT PRODUCTS ARI SOLD 183 Your architect, builder or lumber dealer will gladly tell you all about Creo-Dipt savings. But first, let us send you a port- folio of 28 photographs of lovely Creo- Dipt homes, together with a booklet of color suggestions. Just mail the coupon CREO-DIPT STAINS FOR OLD SHINGLES To g ¢ old si ngles fresh \ ( I Br vat Sta Inexpensiv asy to apply hat preserve the wood. All color Mail che HANDI-IRONING CABINET Compact, all-metal ironing cat t. Heavy metal ironing board Rigid. Does not warp. Does not hav ‘ r supp neat! ca be p voted into anv desired mm t10 Fits snugly to wall. Mail che coupon CREO-DIPT Stained Shingl. STAINED UNDER PRI! Name Street BY LEADING LUMBER DEALHEI EVERYWHERI

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184 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE HANES SAMSONBAK STANDS THE TUG-O'-WEAR THIS STRONGER, BETTER-FITTING UNION SUIT FOR ACTIVE MEN IS ONLY $1 Rear view of Samsonbak. Center section of beit is blue to he > identification. Unusual valwe for the money Elastic-enit Lightweight for mild cli- mates, $1 to $1.50. Long inion Swit can t mp the SaMsonBaAK. The Hanes lealer invites vou to trv! Go see him. He'll get a strangle-hold or ye end—y grab the other, and pull with all your might. That belt stretches and stretches but never ry There's not a strand of rubber in it and it goes three-quar- ters of the wav around vour body, chance ot A cool wherever there's any stretching or binding Hanes Samsonbak Athletic Union Suit of madras Hanes Shirts and Shorts in smart, new styles and col- ors, soc, 75¢, $1. Fine fabrics and wide choice. Knit Athletic Union Suit — shoulder-bution style — made of fine combed yarn, short sleewes, three- and broadcloth with patented belt, $1. Other knitted to generous measure- quarter or ankle length union suits from 75¢ to $2 ments. Just $1 TuG-O -wak or tug-oO'-wear, vou number indeed—and only $1 If vou preter shirts and shorts or other types of underwear, be sure to see how much better thev're made by Hanes. A quarter-century’s experience in this business may be responsible—but millions of men who wear Hanes say it’s a “‘gift.’ If your dealer hasn't the complete line for vour boys as well as vour- self, write to P. H. Hanes Knitting Company, Winston-Salem, N. C. HANES UNDERWEAR FOR MEN AND BOYS -— | FOR EVERY SEASON (Continued from Page 182) | | The smallest, a soft sand color, with a white collar around her neck, came and nuzzled Paul’s pockets. The other two were white and brown. Whitey had cleaned them care- fully. Their coats were brushed, their hoofs and horns cleaned and oiled. They had great, intelligent eyes, pretty dainty feet and legs. One of them scrambled up the steps of a little loading platform next door and walked around the extreme edge. “Their names are Cora and Flora and Dora,” said Whitey. ‘‘ The big girl is Dora, and she’s dumb, too, but gentle, and this little pet is Flora, and the climber is Cora. | They've been fed this morning, and milked.” “You mean I have to milk them if I don’t sell them today?” “Of course. Got to milk Cora and Flora twice a day. Dora’s dry.” It was all Greek to Paul. He couldn't have milked a Holstein, let alone a goat. “Say, listen,”’ he said; “I can’t see this trade. I haven't any place to put these goats, nor a buyer for them, or anything.” “Boy, you've got them,” said Whitey firmly. ‘“‘They’re already yours. Pvt them in the yard behind the shop. There’s a place there. You'll have to tie them. They’ll get over any kind of fence.” Walnut came up the street at the short trot that was his habitual gait. Flora | trotted up to him and smelled in his pock- ets. Walnut laughed hilariously. “Oh, boy, if you’re not cute!” Cora had now left the loading platform ' and, by what feats of agility none of them knew, she had mounted an overhanging sign and stood on the two-by-four by which it was supported, and there she bleated loudly. She bunched her feet to- gether, made a spring, and was on the roof in half a moment. Then, as the three stood looking, she disappeared from sight. Whitey began to whistle and call. He pulled him- self up on the sign and scrambled onto the roof next door after her. A small crowd gathered in the street. It was quite a trick to get Cora down from the roof. Finally, however, the three were safely tethered in the back yard, all bleating impatiently, and Whitey drove away the repossessed Grover. Paul called up the Hilltown Crier and had an ad inserted offering the goats for sale. He also called up the stock shipper, and looked in the advertising column of the city papers to see if anyone wanted goats. All day long he had visitors, coming through | the showroom, not to see his cars but to see the goats. Cora was now up on top of the shed belonging to a blacksmith. She had eaten through her rope three times and Paul got a length of chain for her. Flora had taken a great fancy to Paul. She followed him about. Again and again she got loose from her bonds and joined him in the showroom. Her curiosity was in- satiable. She leaped nimbly upon the desk and ate a circular about the exterior finish of Grovers. She got into a car whose door had been left open. She climbed the greasing rack and the tool bench in the shop. She gazed at Paul and Walnut with limpid feminine eyes, brown and moist and beautiful. She was so affectionate that she pushed against them and butted them playfully. Paul purchased a new pail, and Walnut milked the goats at evening, for Paul’s ef- forts were entirely unsuccessful. They got some feed for them from a neighboring expressman who owned a horse. Paul was beginning to enjoy the goats. They were, at least, a diversion from the weighty per- sistence of his thoughts of Joan. He called up the Spate garage and asked Joan to come and see them, but she said politely: “I’ve seen them all day long, and I’m rather busy just now.” Nouse! She wasn’t going to forgive him. Ie was at once the creature of ill fortune again. In the morning he found Dora in the back yard, with a new kid over which she was tenderly mourning. Flora and Cora were gone. The boys had fastened them with lengths of chain, but they had departed. | It appeared that they had obligingly chewed April 5,1930 off each other’s collars. Walnut and Paul searched the neighborhood, but could not find them. Their search was interrupted by a man who said he lived north of town and worked in the quarry. He had seen the advertisement for goats. They had a baby that wasn’t doing well. His wife thought if they had a goat they could keep it in the yard. There were older children to look after it. Paul took the quarryman out and showed him Dora and her new black-and- white kid. “How much do you want for them?” “Fifty dollars.” “Fair enough. I can only give ten now, and the rest at five a week.” Paul looked at Walnut, who had spoken to the man when he came in. Walnut sig- naled him an O. K., and Paul took the two soiled five-dollar bills. The new owner took his bill of sale and his goats, the kid wrapped up in his coat, the mother follow- ing anxiously, and went away. Paul paused in the street door to watch him, and then went to search the premises across the way, but he saw no one. The telephone was ring- ing, and Paul went to answer it. An indig- nant woman’s voice came to him: “This is Miss Keith, the principal of the grade school,” she said. ‘There are two goats here, in the school building, and the children say they are yours. Will you come and get them at once?” She hung up the telephone with em- phasis. Paul and Walnut hurried to the schoolhouse with straps and chains. Walnut had to stop every few feet and lean against a tree or post to laugh, but Paul was anx- ious now, worried about everything, afraid of trouble. All at once it seemed to him that his luck couldn’t get any worse. But he was mistaken. They found the goats, as the teacher had said, in the schoolhouse. Cora was in one room, Flora in another. The goats, accustomed to children, seemed to have gravitated naturally to them. Flora came to Paul at once, lovingly, and he put her bonds on her and took her out. But Cora was more coy. She darted past Paul and went up the stairs—up and up. She went into a room on the second floor, and Paul went after her while Walnut held Flora. The children laughed and screamed. One little boy began to cry with fright. The teachers were variously amused, outraged and frightened. Cora went through the fourth-grade cloakroom, and so escaped Paul, and went into the hall again, started up some narrow stairs leading to the belfry, changed her mind, and turned back. Paul tried to catch her at the head of the stairs, but she darted by him, and he lost his bal- ance and plunged downstairs backward. He hit one erm against the wall, fell on his shoulder, his head striking the iron railing; and then goats, cars and everything dis- appeared into oblivion. It was sometime late the next day that he woke up in his own room at Mrs. Fer- guson’s. Mrs. Ferguson herself was there, at the foot of the bed, but a nurse in white, with horn-rimmed glasses over pretty brown eyes, stood beside him, patting him gently, telling him, over and over, not to move. “Lie still. fectly still.” “Please tell me ” he asked Mrs. Ferguson, and she promised to tell him later, if he would lie still, and she went, at the nurse’s request, to telephone for the doctor. It was the next morning, while the nurse was feeding him with a teaspoon, that Paul learned all about it. “You have a slight concussion. Not serious. We thought at first it might be. You'll have to stay in bed two weeks. Of course, your arm is broken— that will take a while to mend, but it wouldn’t confine you. Nor the two ribs—that’s what all the ad- hesive tape is for. It’s on account of your head you'll have to be quiet and good.” “*How long will it be before I can drivea car?” “Oh, two months, anyhow. It’s your right arm, you see. But you mustn’t think about that.” (Continued on Page 187) You mustn’t move. Lie per- —

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66 Te THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 185 of Opportunity”... includes BINGHAMTON JOHNSON CITY ete Oe 8 & ayy eee H ESE three communities are within a few minutes of each other. They are situated almost exactly half- way between New York’s eastern and western boundaries in the Susquehanna valley. To the manufacturer who seeks distribution in lower, central New York and northern Pennsylvania this is a most strategic location for a branch The ‘*Valley’’ lines of three great railroads and branches of two éthers. } office or warehouse. is served by trunk Consider the ‘‘Valley’’ also as a manufacturing site. Here are already located some of the country’s greatest industrial plants . . . leaders in the manufacture of shoes, photographic products, including motion picture film, cigars, washing machines, pipe organs, pianos, furniture and iron. Diversified industries assure a skilled, stable labor supply. In addition to its industrial advantages Binghamton now offers the finest possible banking facilities. The Peoples Trust Company of Binghamton and the Workers Marine ) the re- Trust Company of Johnson City help form the Midland Group of banks. Through this Grou, sources and the experience of one of America’s largest financial organizations are available to all who do business in Binghamton or with Binghamton. The same local officers direct these banks. All their experience and knowledge of local conditions is available to customers and wishing manufacturers information about the ‘‘Valley of Opportunity.” PEOPLES TRUST COMPANY of Binghamton WORKERS TRUST COMPANY of Johnson City Members of the MARINE MIDLAND Group. Combined resources over $500,000,000 WHAT THE MARINE MIDLAND GROUP IS The Marine Midland comprises a group of 17 banks which have joined together for greater strength and for greater ser vice te their 350,000 customers. The ownership of each ot rHESE ADVANTAGES BUFFALO ROCHESTER these 17 banks is controlled by Marine Midland Corpora- tion, which is a holding company, of an investment trust. This enables us to draw upon the experience and resources of one of the strongest financial groups in America. Yet each offers every /oca/ advantage that /ocal officers and local directors can give. I ROY NIAGARA Fatt NIAGARA FAL NIAGARA FaLi BINGHAMTON NEW YORK STATI OF s MARINE MIDLAND Marine Trust Company Union Irust Company ot Rochester Manutacturers National Bank ot Troy . Power City Bank Niagara Falls «rust Company . Bank * Peoples Prust ¢ ompany BANKS NOW MEMBERSHIP OFFER LOCKPORT Niagara County Nat K TONAWANDA } l ( NorrH TONAWANDA LACKAWANNA | kaw . B JOHNSON CITY \\ J AMESTOWN { ( East AURORA | | CORTLAND ( ( of La Salle ALBION ) ( i ( y ONYDER b

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iS6 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 Costs LESS Perfect automatic refrigeration with Electrolux is cheaper than ice As soon as you buy an Electrolux, refrigeration ex- pense stops and your saving begins. Figure it out for yourself. 25¢ to 70¢ a week is all it costs to operate Electrolux. Compare that with what you're spending now for ice or any other kind of refrigeration. This new-type automatic refrigerator costs so little to run because it uses only a tiny gas flame and a slight kle of water. These two inexpensive things produce constant, steady cold; freeze ice cubes and desserts quickly; chill salads perfectly. The temperature inside an Electrolux stays re- markably even. It varies scarcely at all, because the chilling process is continuous. There is no stopping and starting. Foods can’t help but keep indefinitely. More than that—Electrolux is silent. Silent not only when you get it, but forever after, because there is no machinery to wear loose, to vibrate, to get out of order. The refrigerant is hermetically sealed inside a rigid, one-piece steel unit. It never needs replace- ment. The gas flame is equipped with an automatic shut-off. No gas can flow if the flame ever goes out. With all these advantages, Electrolux costs no more, size for size, than other refrigerators—$195 to $430 at the factory. Can be operated with Pyrofax Gas where there are no city mains. There is a com- plete range of models and sizes, in white and beautiful color combinations. Liberal purchase terms. Don’t think of buying any automatic refrigerator until you see Electrolux. A post card to us will bring you complete information by mail. Address Electrolux Refrigerator Sales, Inc., Evansville, Indiana. ELECTROLUX _ a. REFRIGERATOR — than cartare A tiny gas flame takes the place of all moving parts } q if ge . | | ¥ Hostess Mode! Electrolux shown above has five cubic feet of food space and makes 45 large ice cubes —— OO ee a ee —

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aa SS er ST a eee — (Continued from Page 184 “But I can’t afford to be laia up. How can I?” “Walnut will look after the garage and I’ll look after you,” Mrs. Ferguson told him. “‘The nurse will only be here for an- other day or two. You mustn’t worry about anything, Paul, or it will make it harder for you to get well. Just be grateful you didn’t break your neck.” “Walnut can’t look after everything,” said Paul. “You'd be surprised,” said Mrs. Fer- guson, and she and the nurse exchanged glances. Paul heard his geese in the yard. There came a strange clatter on the pol- ished stairs. The unlatched door was pushed open and a soft-bearded black-and- tan face with moist mournful brown eyes thrust in. ‘“‘Ba-a-ah,” said Flora, and Mrs. Fer- guson got up and drove her out. Paul laughed a little, though it hurt him. Sud- denly he felt that he was going to cry, and he had to swallow before Mrs. Ferguson came back. “*That goat has human intelligence,”’ she said. ‘‘She’s been in the house ten times since you were hurt. I can’t keep her out.” Paul’s convalescence seemed very slow, though it was a revelation to him of the kindness and goodness of people in little towns. It took only this disaster to com- plete the welding of his position in the community. Food came in fine dishes more than he or Mrs. Ferguson, either, could eat. The librarian sent him some new books; callers came in and out of the house. Mrs. Ferguson wrote to his mother for him. Lew and Walnut were daily visitors. Whitey came, and Mr. Fry, and even Cap’n Fox, somewhat silently, looked in to inquire about him. It seemed to Paul that every person in Hilltown either came to see him or called on the telephone, save Joan. “It’s no use now. I’ve lost her,”’ he de- cided. Not good medicine. If he hadn't been so abundantly healthy, it might have hindered him. But soon he was sitting up in bed. And then he was allowed to be up in his room, and on the second Saturday he got into his trousers and shoes and went downstairs. Mrs. Ferguson had opened the underarm seams of his oldest shirts, so that he could wear them over his arm in its aluminum splint. “‘T don’t think you'll need me any more now,” Doctor Lockerbie told him. “You can go downtown a little while Monday. But take it easy. Come around and let me see your arm when you are out. It’s going to need rebinding in a few days.” Mrs. Ferguson went downtown to shop, and Paul was alone. He prowled around her house, looked out of the window into the sunny October afternoon, and decided to go to the showroom. He got his hat and struggled into a coat, finally buttoning it around him. He went out. He walked along slowly, feeling somewhat guilty and shaky, hoping he would not meet Mrs. Ferguson or the doctor. When he got to the garage, he stopped outside a minute to look in and see how his cars appeared from the street, and standing there he got quite a shock. Just a few feet away from him, beside the Grover six sedan in the front stall, was Joan, and with her a gentleman Paul had never seen before. Joan wore a dark suit and a white silk blouse and bright green tie. She wore a tight green felt hat, and her eyes seemed gray, her cheeks somewhat thin and white. The hood of the Grover was up, and Paul could hear her pleasant voice distinctly: “That’s the way they build their car- buretors,”” she was saying. “It gives you THE SATURDAY even distribution of fuel to each cylinder and burns gas more economically than other cars. I think I have explained every- thing. Is there anything else you would like to ask?” “No. I think I am satisfied. When could I have delivery?” asked the stranger, while Paul’s ears roared, his heart began to beat in high hard strokes. “Immediately,” said Joan. ‘Mr. Ed- wards, the dealer, is ill, but the notary pub- lic has been making out papers for us, and the cashier at the bank looks after the money end of it. We have delivered two cars for him a Paul did not walk into the showroom. Nothing so prosaic. It wasn’t a walk, it was a prancing strut. His face was shining like a newly risen moon. The gentleman looked up and saw him, and frowned a little at the interruption. Joan looked around. Paul had seen her blush like that once be- fore—-waves and crimson stains—a banner of painful color. “Paul,” she cried, “you weren’t sup- posed to be down until Monday!” “That’s all right; go ahead. I couldn't stay away. I wanted to see you.” He was looking at her eagerly, forgetting the cus- tomer. It was difficult to get through the next half hour and make delivery of the car. When the new owner had finally driven out, Joan said, ‘“‘I won’t need to stay now. You’re here ” And she started for the door. Paul caught her hand and drew her back. “Joan,” he said, “have you been here, helping out?” “Why, yes,” she said in a casual voice, looking down at something on his desk. “‘T was sorry you were hurt. I know a lot about your cars, because you’ve told me. It wasn’t difficult to sell them, and I could come across whenever Walnut gave me the high sign that there was anyone here who was interested.” “Joan, is that why you did it? Didn’t you do it because you liked me, at all? Didn’t you care for me? Aren’t you going to make up with me, Joan? I’m so in love with you. I know I don’t deserve your friendship—that I seemed unappreciative. I can’t exactly explain about Frances. I don’t understand myself. But, oh, Joan, you’re my girl. Ilove you. I’ve never said that to a girl before in my life. Can't you believe me, Joan? I’ve never said that. I’ve never asked a girl to marry me until today.” “TI can’t answer one question for the next,” she said, in some confusion, but she was laughing a little tremulously. She went on, in her low vibrant voice: “IT thought I knew a man that might want the goats; we sold them for forty dol- lars each. And Mrs. Ferguson says the geese are getting well. And we sold that old flivver truck and the discontinued coupé you had here, and this sedan today. You must show Walnut some appreciation, | Blondy. He’s worked so hard for you. You don’t need to explain about Frances, Paul, because I understand about that better than you do, most likely. And, of course, I believe what you say.” “And we’re engaged, then, Joan? You're my girl now?” She didn’t exactly answer, but she lifted her eyes to his. It was there again— the deep singing look. After alittle interval in which they forgot entirely the curiosity of Walnut, and their entire visibility from across the street, Paul said: “IT shan’t feel that you're entirely re- | possessed until this arm of mine is well and I can hold you close with both of them.” “There isn’t anything the matter with your arm,” Joan assured him. EVENING POST Nofade 1 SHIFTS i LOOK POR THIS BOX Engraved on every Nofade- cocoon Box is the price at which the shirt is sold. It is our guarantee that you get this extra ordinary shirt value at the lou price that we make possible. Priced from LE ) Well-dressed Men Come Out of this Box HIS box holds a new standard in shirts for men...A_ shirt tailored from 30 correctly cut pieces of an exclusive, specially woven shirt- ing, Cocoon Cloth...finely finished with expert needlecraft that matches custom standards...with every stitch measured by scientific gauge. A shirt with a neck-size that stays your neck-size because of many hours of pre-shrinking. A shirt that gives your proper sleeve-length in the size you wear. A shirt made as a gentle- man’s shirt should be made. See it at your haberdasher’s, fresh, un- touched, in its individual box. See its nine smart guaranteed colors ...and select those that will complete the color harmonies of your wardrobe. Nofade COCOO REG US PAT OFF SHIRTS Manufactured by The NOFADE-COCOON CORPORATION, 1239 Broadway, New York, N.Y

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188 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 ZA How SHE HAS CHANGED 9% A GENERATION AGO the whalebone corset, the wasp waist, the street-sweeping daytime skirt, the rat-supported pompadour were the accepted fashion ..... Then came the hoydenish short skirt of the flapper—and hoydenish flapper manners..... And now we are in the midst of a return to charm—femininity that combines both smartness and comfort » » » » » » » » » How woman's styles have changed! » » » » » » » But the change is no greater in her dress than in her home, her mode of travel, the groceries she buys, the cosmetics she uses, her ways of spending money and of saving time and labor. No greater No greater than in the woman herself —and in the magazine that for forty-six years has been her guide and inspiration, her greatest contact with reality and with romance. » » » » » » » » » For the LADIES’ HOME JOURNAL has changed —vitally! And those who knew it as it was are finding new and keener pleasure in it as it is today. LADIES HOME JOURNAL than in her modern spirit of young-mindedness, her atti- T H E L E A D | N G tudes toward men and business and political affairs. » » HOME MAGAZINE r ew ES > eee

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ew Ee THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE FORTUNATE COAST provisioning a pleasure. They are a highly civilized development, and characteristic of Los Angeles. As the mild climate makes possible a stucco process of building, and the vivid sun calls for thick walls and tiled roofs, the newer parts of the city present a colorful and wholly un-American effect. No other city in America gives out an equal charm. It is, in truth, Mediterranean in feeling. The people are Midwestern, but their tiled roofs and plastered walls suggest Sorrento or Jalapa. Giant palms, graceful pepper trees, flowering acacias, hedges of roses, clumps of bougainville2a and many other plants and vines add to the tropic character of the newer streets. I know of no other city at home or abroad where so many ex- quisite vistas and architectural graces can be seen. From Griffith Park to Santa Monica the houses are of this quality. When I came here seven years ago, I found the builders largely concerned with close-packed rows of fantastic little bunga- lows, but today talented architects, with careful designing, are changing the charac- ter of the construction. Motor cars and avenues of scientific engineering have made the highest of the hills available for resi- dence; and when I saw them last January, after six years’ absence, I was amazed at the beauty of the homes on these heights. They are not American in a New England or Midwestern sense, but if we pause to con- sider that Mexico, Brazil and Argentina are also American, this architecture belongs. Some of the structures are reminiscent of Spain, others of Italy, and many of them are so picturesque—there is no other word— that they wear out one’s adjectives. I have given up exclaiming. Some of these amaz- ing homes along the canyons put the dining room in the cellar and the garage in the attic. Palaces of marble gleam on the shoulders of rounded peaks or adorn the sides of pre- cipitous canyons like medieval castles, and when, at night, the innumerable lights of the level streets glitter below them in a purple haze, the city makes an unequaled revelation of joyous life. Homes in the Foothills The western wards of the city fall into two fairly distinct levels. The sharpest de- mand is for foothill lots with views of moun- tain, town and sea. This is a reg’on which many visitors do not see, for, to view it properly, one should go on foot. Only in this way can one discover architectural bits and vistas, and study garden designs. In ten or fifteen years this fortunate coastal region will be covered with well-designed, tile-roofed, embowered mansions, for, in my judgment, it is the most favored region in the United States. It is above the fog, protected from the extreme heat and blessed by the sea winds. It is an all-year-round playland. As poets speak of “the fortunate isles,” so I think of this as “‘the fortunate coast.” Some of these lovely Mediterranean homes are owned by movie stars, but others are the property of merchants from Omaha, rich widows from Boston and retired mer- chants from Chicago. There is something fine in the impulse which causes these fugi- tives from the cold and grime of Eastern (Continued from Page 31) industrial cities to erect on these barren hills palaces of Old World derivation. They are, in effect, poems. Some of the loveliest homes and gardens I have seen are the crea- tions of men from Nebraska and Chicago. No contrast could be greater than that be- tween such palaces and gardens, and the towns in which these men made their for- tunes. They are putting their longing for beauty into arch and blossom. They are representative of thousands. Another grateful difference between these coast cities and the great industrial centers of Ohio, Pennsylvania and Illinois lies in the cleanliness of their air. Los Angeles has no smoke, little dust and few drab reminders. Indeed, some visitors complain of its new- ness and its cleanliness. “It is not a real city but a colony of transplanted farmers, living on their incomes and supporting shopkeepers, gardeners, automobile dealers and real-estate men,” they say. And there is some truth in that—but what of it? Is it not all the more distinctive because of that? The studios of the motion-picture firms, with their army of actors and mechanicians, must be mentioned among the city’s indus- tries. They are only a subordinate part of Hollywood life, and Hollywood is in turn a part of Los Angeles. Unless you look for these studios, you will not see them. They are mostly built in outlying streets, and in a city of fifteen hundred thousand people their employes are but a relatively small group of its residents. They make a great deal of talk and fill the newspapers with flar- ing advertisements and wearisome personal notes, I will admit; but as I come and go I see but few of these folk, and those I know something about are a hard-working lot, attending to their jobs like any other serious- minded wage earners. Reporters make much of the fast set, but a good deal of this high-colored reporting is, I suspect, adver- tising. The star who has been rehearsing all day is inclined to rest rather than to whoo- pee. With the talking film in the ascendant, wild and brainless movie stars are fairly in eclipse. Intelligence and a speaking ac- quaintance with the English language are now in demand. We shall hear less and less of the wild ones, who are mostly the crea- tions of the publicity agent. They come and they go, leaving nothing behind. Thus far, I have been speaking only in praise of the coast, and I must continue in this vein for another paragraph. The “‘An- gelenos,”’ as they call themselves, are a pro- gressive folk. They not only believe in doing certain things better than any other time or place, but they are inventive folk. They construct the most beautiful houses and in- stall the most modern conveniences. They use unit heating —the most convenient and rapid method of heating known to them wherein you punch a button and the alert gas furnace puts hot air into any part of the house. The ice boxes are electrically cooled and the kitchens are spotless labora- tories. As an amusing instance of their deter- mined progressiveness, I mention a rapid shoe-repairing shop in which I was given a richly upholstered armchair, a magazine to read and a little robe to cover my feet. The walls were as immaculate as one of Phila- delphia’s famous chain restaurants, and the attendants had the air of being college graduates. As I sat there and recalled the dirt and noise and grime of certain New York cobbling dens, I said, “ This is civilized trade.” This is but an illustration of the wish to have the best in every shop. Of the city in general, however, I must admit that while highly civilized, it has no association with the past. It is aspiring, theoretic, but without tradition. It has few distinctively literary or art organizations. Aside from the men connected with the universities, and writers for the press, the city is nonliterary. There are few resident authors of national reputation and almost no painters or sculptors. Architecture is well represented, but the other arts are still in the struggling phase, just as they are in Cleveland, St. Louis and other interior cities. Think of Boston and her marvelous group in 1860! However, even here prog- ress is certain. A Place to Grow Old in Southern California is the happy coast to me—a vacation land. Its leisure, its de- corum, its clear air, its flowers, its fruits, its quiet, good-tempered people, are grateful to me as a man of sixty-nine who has been on the jump, in storm and sun, dust and mud, for fifty years, and all his life in dread of winter. As I look out upon the glittering, colorful city, on its palm-lined avenues, its walls of roses, its miles of orange and lemon trees, my mood is that of one who has Five NEW reached safe haven on a fortunate isle. No | doubt men and women toil in Pasadena, Riverside, Beverly Hills and Hollywood, but they do not appear to suffer at it. Here is a place to grow old in, a peaceful, lei- surely land. Some real-estate men may not thank me for presenting this view of the coast, but I am telling why I, like many thousands of other Eastern men, am making this my winter home. Let us be quite candid about this. In our final migration we are leaving many poetic things behind. Here are no grassy hills, no winding, vine-clad stone walls, no singing streams, no gold and scarlet leaves of frosty autumn. We who settle here must say good-by to exquisite winter landscapes and | to the associations of gray Thanksgiving | elms and snow-laden Christmas pines, but shall be leaving behind us mud and slush and biting blasts. The fear of frost, the dread of drifting snow and the struggle to keep warm are already dim memories. It is in this respect that I find myself in fear | of homesickness. Will I long for the drably significant some day? This may turn out to be merely the mood of one who is in close touch with his seven- tieth year. At the end of another six months I may be tired of vivid bloom, picturesque tiled roofs and eternal sunshine, and find myself longing for the ugly, the decaying, the traditional; but at the moment I find it easy to forgo the traffic jams of New York, the insane skittering of human in- sects in the Chicago Loop. I am writing as one suddenly free from pain and care. Not yet certain of my temperament, I am trying to retain some part of my New England inheritance while rejoicing in the clear air, exotic architecture and brilliant color of The Fortunate Pacific Coast. 189 LUMINAIRE The FAN BEAUTIFUI with Amazing Featurese See this attractive new fan — it offers you some- thing never known before ; real beauty ~—soft lights and graceful design which blends with any setting. The patented Victor BREEZESPREADER sends the cool air in all directions. Being on a standard, the Luminaire can be placed anywhere. New air plane blade design moves more air. Neo radio interference. A marvelous convenience for homes, clubs, hotels, exclusive shops and showrooms Write for nearest dealer's name! DEALERS: These Victor products hold great possibilities for you— Write for complete details at once! Don't Offend Your =) Dinner Guests! 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190 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST mi i- e TAA Awe even - SNE Two Good Reasons Why You Need the RIGHT Brake Lining We could name a dozen good reasons. But they all come under the head of **Safety First.” Your brakes have individual requirements according to the make, date and model of your car. The Thermoid Brake Lining Chart shows the type of Thermoid that meets those individual requirements. Only a lining specially adapted to your brakes can give you the most safety at the shortest notice. Ask for **Thermoid” by name. THERMOID RUBBER COMPANY Factories and Main Offices: TRENTON, N. J. Brake Lining Transmission Lining Universal Joint Discs Radiator Hose Clutch Rings Mechanical Rubber Goods he "F-M-L*’ (FLEXIBLE MOULDED LINING) «2° CeA-L” "HYDRAULIC COMPRESSED" aa" INTERWOVEN” BRAKE LININGS CONSULT A THERMOID “BRAKE-ANIC” AINIM SLL CR Verses by Carolyn Wells. Sketches by Strothmann April 5,19350 HE Whale disports himself within The oceans, north and south. He doesn’t have a dimpled chin Nor yet a rosebud mouth. He has no soft and fleecy fur, No feathers in his tail; He cannot sing or bark or purr; I'm sorry for the Whale. And yet he’s very fond of fun And has wide smiles for everyone. HE Leopard is, from all accounts, a temperamental sort; Sometimes he will not play at all, sometimes he’s keen for sport. And those who know him best admit he’s very, very vain; And often quite dejectedly he mopes along the plain. eee wee eee oe At these sad times the Leopard’s heart is filled with angry passion, Because his spots are out of date and Zebra stripes in fashion. But other years, when pattern books say spots are all the style, The Leopard proudly stalks abroad with wide complacent smile.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 191 a ee ee Se bad ol gves no warning IRTY water does little damage to the radi- “Today the makers of good automobiles realize the importance ator of your car. . . dirt in the gas can only : } : : : ae) clog temporarily . . . but dirty lubricating oil is Of protecting their fine engines with oil filters a menace to every moving part of your motor. You never know when dirty oil will give you trouble. There is no warning. The first sign of It intercepts the oil as it circulates through the until it has caught and stored away from the | its presence is a complete breakdown . . . scored lubricating system, and filters it. Removes the moving parts of your engine all of the dirt cylinder walls . . . burned bearings . . . worn grit and the road dust and hard carbon deposits and grit that it will hold. This usually pm pistons or valves or gears. and metal particles—then sends it on its way, after about 8000 miles—and to put it i You may buy the finest grade of oil . . . strain clean and purified operation requires only a few mi it carefully when you fill up . . . but it won't The Purolator adds immeasurably to the , . eg : . Your garage man simply. remo d continue to give you the proper sort of smooth, sweet, quiet performance of motel ieusiien ond tnscets 8 1 ere ‘ lubrication unless it stays clean. your pS — carmen of a5 ond vous car elle away sitll SMM) rails : ' to its hfe and increases the trade-in 3 onan In this day and age of motor refine , a : of smooth running nother (My ; . : value of your car. The Purolator re ' ment cars should be equipped with motor Insurance ° quires no care It operates perfectly every device that makes for perfect : — Just ask vour garage ma ibe e Purolator performance . . . and one of the most é‘ ; , i f these i flici il filt p U R LATOR He'll tell vou that every good engine deserve important of these 1s an efhcient o1 er. this protection, His job is to keep your car on The Purolator Oil Filter has proved THE OIL FILTER ON YOUR MOTOR CAR the road—and he ky Motor Improvement its efficiency to millions of motorists. LICENSED UNDER SWEETLAND PATENTS Inc.. 868 Frelinghuysen Avenue, Newark, N. J

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 UICKER than Steak or Chops Fry Chicken this New Way Hormel Fried Chicken—5 Minute Magic Cut the whole, ready-cooked chicken into parts as usual; or into halves. Roll in flour. Brown quickly in hot fat. gs is the new—quick—easy way to enjoy a chicken dinner. No planning ahead necessary. An hour of kitchen labor saved! Hormel Chicken is cooked, ready for instant use, just as it comes to you. All you do is heat and brown it. Tasty, juicy chicken! For it is cooked a neu) way—Flavor-Sealed. That means cooked after being sealed in its package. c None of the flavors and juices can es- cape, as in ordinary cooking. Every Hormel Chicken is a selected milk-fed chicken. Plucked and cleaned HORMEL “AL shed READY COOKED—MILK FED perfectly. Inspected and certified to be healthy and wholesome by U. S. Gov- ernment inspectors. Then sealed in its package and cooked immediately. The whole chicken—not cut up nor boned, with all the white meat, dark meat and natural juices. At all leading food stores. Whole Chicken or Halves—2 to 4% Ibs., net weight. Sealed and U. S. Certified. Keep a package on hand for instant use. Geo. A. Hormel & Co., Austin, Minn. Distributors inthe British Isles: Marples, Jones & Co., Ltd., Liverpool, England. U. S. INSPECTED and CERTIFIED Jelled Juices—These contain the very essence of thechicken, obtainablein no other way. Marvelous for soups and gravies. Cold Chicken—Chill the package thor- oughly in your refrigerator. Open and servea WholeChicken in its own jelled juices. Broiled—Warm package in hot water and pour off juices. Wipe chicken dry. Dot with butter. Place under broiler 10 to 12 minutes. Baste often. *FLAVOR-SEALED ECONOMY In Flavor-Sealed Chicken you do not pay for head, feet, viscera—about 1/4 the weight of chicken as usually bought. There is almost no cooking shrink- age in Flavor-Sealed Chicken, compared to a shrinkage of about 1/3 the weight in home cooked chicken. Only Hormel Foods are Flavor-Sealed Includedare Chicken (Whole and Half), Ham (Whole and Half), Spiced Ham, Pork Tongue and Luncheon Meat. CHICKEN WHOLE OR HALVES ow ewes tee a) ae a

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threats had been made against him in any quarter. No one knew anything, nor did the detectives find the trail. More and more convinced that someone was gunning for him in earnest, Dempsey continued to ask questions and to keep de- tectives searching and months later in De- troit he learned authoritatively that it had been an attempted kidnaping for ransom. Dempsey characteristically dropped the matter there and said nothing except to such friends as inquired. Most of the best ballyhoos I think of were like the Jock Malone story —sudden inspira- tions, jack rabbits that popped out of the brush and were off winging. Malone, with an Irish distaste for anything English, was chaperoned to Boston by his manager, Tommy Walsh, no rumdum as a ballyhoo artist, to meet Frank Moody. Moody claimed the English light-heavyweight title, champion of the cruiser division, as they say over there. Fighting for His Partner Malone and Walsh were riding over the Charlestown bridge together several days before the fight. “If this lime-juice mug, Moody, decisions me, know what I’m going to do?”’ the boxer asked his manager. “I’m going to jump off this bridge.” Walsh eyed Malone critically. “Jock, will you stand for that one? We'll crack a double-column headline with it in every sheet in town, sure.” Like a good boy, Malone left all such weighty matters to his manager, and Walsh headed for the nearest newspaper office. The story he dressed up as he rode was that Malone hated the English so fanatically that he had sworn to punish himself and to wash the honor of Ireland clean by jumping off the 80-foot bridge if he should lose to Moody. Jock played his réle to the hilt as they went from sport desk to sport desk. It was a perfect freak story, particularly in a city nearly half Irish, and the news- papers had a merry time with it. Then Malone lost the decision to the Englishman. He could have laughed off his promise or taken the first train out, but he did neither. At an appointed and properly publicized hour, with thousands looking on, he dived off the bridge. Now for the second barrel. The fight had been close. By his gameness in keeping his threat at considerable risk to his safety, Malonewonnewsympathy. Thusprepared, he demanded a second chance. “If Moody licks me again,” he swore, “I'll not only jump off the bridge again, but I'll agree not to come up.” With such a hurrah, the second match was inevitable. And Malone, with the ad- ditional inducement of avoiding a watery grave, beat Moody on points this time. Jock and his manager were homeward-bound for Chicago the next day. ‘‘ Tell me something, Jock,” ventured Walsh. ‘“‘What was going to be your out in case you hadn’t grabbed the decision?” “Easy,” the boxer explained. ‘ You were the lad who was going to make the second jump. We split 50-50 on everything, don’t we? I tossed in my half the first time. That’s why I fought so hard and snatched the decision. I didn’t want to lose my partner.” Since when Walsh has been more con- servative with his ballyhoo. Any promoter leads the life of a fireman, always on duty. His letterheads carry both his day and night telephone numbers and most of the managers do their long-distance talking after midnight when the rates are lowest. Substitutions are the worst news. The public does not like them, yet they will happen. When a phone rings I ask myself automatically, “‘Who’s off the card now?” This is so likely a mischance that I al- ways carry a string of possible replacements in my mind. There was a time when we let fighters in free on the chance that we might THE SATURDAY BALLYHOO (Continued from Page 36) use them at the last minute, but that was in a day when boxers weighed in at the ringside. We still speak of ringside weights, but that ceremony takes place at 2 P.M. now under careful medical inspection. We have at least six hours in which to fill up the ranks and the boy who has starved himself or dried himself out until he feels like the Mohave Desert in September in order to make weight, can go out and replenish his wasted tissues in safety before the gong rings. “‘Let’s eat” is the stock remark of a boxer stepping off the official scales. It often is wiser to cancel a main bout rather than to try to patch it up, yet at least once I picked up a substitute for an important match who was better than the original. Carl Morris was to meet Gunboat Smith at Buffalo on February 4, 1918, and the Gunboat cracked up a fist in training. Heavyweights of a size to tackle the hulk- ing Sapulpa fireman were few and far be- tween. I put in three or four telephone calls for managers; we call it fishing. The best prospect my partners and I could think of was Homer Smith. About 1 A.M. the phone rang. It was Horace Lerch, sporting editor of a morning paper, and one of my partners. “You don’t need to bother with Homer Smith,” he informed me. “A guy named Dempsey laid him low in Racine, Wiscon- sin, tonight.” “Dempsey?” “He calls himself Jack; no other details,” concluded Lerch. “Get the winner” is an old rule. Ed Smith, sporting editor of the Chicago Amer- ican, was a clearing house for the trade in that territory and the operator got him for me about two o’clock. “Yes, I just saw him fight at Racine, Smith answered. “‘ You know Jack Kearns? He’s managing the boy. He just came in with me and is sitting here. Want to talk to him?” “How good, actually, is this unknown of yours?” I asked Kearns just as if I expected him to tell me the candid truth. Don't Let Dempsey Get Hurt The manager described something that appeared to combine the best features of John L. Sullivan, Corbett, Jeffries and Fitz- simmons. “But is he big enough for this Morris mountain?” I insisted. “Sure, sure,”” came back Kearns’ voice. “You'll like this fighter.” We settled finally on $750 and two rail- road tickets, which was about $250 more than Dempsey ever had been paid before. Kearns, I learned later, did not tell Demp- sey that he was meeting Morris. He let him believe that Gunboat Smith would be in the other corner, the reason being that Dempsey had some misgivings about the Oklahoma fireman. Had I looked in the record book, I should have learned that the two had met before. If Dempsey had misgivings, so had I. You may think of him as a big man. He isn’t, particularly, and alongside Morris he was a lightweight. I didn’t see him until Sunday afternoon, and the fight was Mon- day night. Had there been time I should have found another substitute. Morris weighed in at 226. We announced Demp- sey’s weight as 196; actually it was 182. This was the only time in my life that I spoke to a referee in advance of a fight. I asked Dick Nugent to stop it quickly if it proved too one-sided. In the dressing room, I said to Jack: “Do me afavor? Don’t take off your bath robe until the last minute.” “Sure, but what’s the idea?” “Just a whim of mine,” I put him off. The whim was that with his robe hanging loosely about him, his relative frailty would not be noticed. As he sat waiting in his cor- ner he saw me giving the timekeeper a message similar to that I had given the EVENING POST referee, and Jack knew well enough what I was saying. It is hard for me to believe in the light of what happened that Dempsey had given the giant Morris a second thought. He told me so himself. I shouldn’t have be- lieved anyone else. If you ever have seen a bullfight and the maddened charge of the bull into the arena out of the suddenly opened gate, you will know what Dempsey was like when the gong sounded. He cut the bigger man to pieces, was the greatest fighting machine I ever saw. When the round ended, instead of going to his corner, he came snorting along the ropes, shaking his head like a bull, to within hailing distance of me to call: “How am I going, kid?” “O. K. O. K.” I yelled and waved him back. Corbett’s One Winner In the fifth round Morris in desperation began to throw his punches wild and fouled his man. When Nugent stepped in and warned Morris sharply, Dempsey jumped back, protesting, “‘Don’t let them give it to me on a foul. I don’t want it on a foul.” By the next round Morris was out on his feet and Nugent stopped the slaughter. They met once again at New Orleans and Morris was knocked out. The Buffalo fight put Jack on the main road to the championship he was to win more than a year later. From that day on I would have backed him to defeat anyone. In my enthusiasm I wrote to Bob Edgren and Hype Igoe to exhort them to get on the band wagon. Jim Corbett came to town playing a vaudeville skit. We are old friends. Presuming on this, I told him, “Jim, you are supposed never to have picked a winner in your life. Here is your chance. I don’t know who is writing your syndicate stuff for you, but tell him to get aboard Demp- sey with the family jewels.” Without hav- ing seen Dempsey, Corbett took a chance. | That was one more reason why Willard was a favorite at Toledo. A year later Corbett and I met in the Secor Hotel in Toledo. “I’m sunk again, Charley,” he mourned. “I’ve seen Demp- sey. Man, he’s too small!" We went out to see Willard spar and Corbett sighed, “What a man! What a man!” But he stuck to his guns. Willard did look magnificent, but I al- ways have contended that he dieted himself into condition instead of working. Willie O’Niell disposed of my last doubts, if I had any. He was a Buffalo boy and Wil- lard’s trainer. I went to him before the fight. “I only want to know one thing and that for myself alone,” I told O’Niell. “Is Willard really in shape?” “See that red barn?” He pointed to a building not more than two hundred yards away. “Jess couldn’t run that far. His feet are no good.” Every good fighter has his days when he | is unbeatable; none was ever uniformly good. They are not machines. July 4, 1919, was one of Dempsey’s days. I think Willard was unbeatable at Havana. I think Dempsey never was better than at Jersey City. Though Carpentier seemed to give him more trouble than others had, no one could have beaten him that afternoon. His own opinion is that he was at tops against Firpo, but I doubt it. They still tell the story that Dempsey’s hands were over- taped at Toledo. I helped to cut the band- ages off and know that it was not so. “You don’t see the knock-outs you used to,” the old-timers shake their heads. Tape is one of the reasons. Fighters used to wind their hands with heavy bicycle tape until their fists were like cast iron. Now they are restricted to a limited amount of adhesive tape. They used to “break” their gloves, too—that is, shoved the padding back until nothing but thin leather was left over the ridges of their knuckles. Dal 193 The Perfect Work Desk for TYPISTS COMPLETE “office” for typists and secretaries requiring less than 5 square feet of floor space! This com- pact, wonderfully efhcient office desk affords ample work- ing space—at the right level and has a place for letter heads, envelopes, carbon paper, everything—within easy reach. Steel-Built—to Give Lifetime Service Solidly built of U-shaped steel. Will not shake or wobble under the fastest typing fingers. Roll top. Fold- ing side leaves. A good looking, long wearing, highest quality desk. Write for complete details of this desk and the complete line of UHI Steel Furniture for offices sc hools factories, **Postur-Chairs"’ stands, stools, tool tr ys, vault aS trucks, cafeteria and tables. /} Dealers — Write The Toledo Metal Furniture Co. 1908 Hasting St. Toledo, Ohio ‘ hairs eeting Spring * Showers \! Let it rain—but be fully protected —yet stylish!y dressed. The secret is in the new VANITEX Fabrics These are rubberized materials — Leatherettes Jerseys, Tweeds or silk-like Crepes in the latest patterns and finishes for men, women and children Ask for VANITEX Fabrics— guaranteed waterproof — label in every garment VAN CLEEF BROS., Rubbericing Division Woodlawn Ave., 77th w 78th Su., Chicago RETAILERS! — Rain wear of VANITEX Fabrics in all the emart stylish modes is sold by leading raincoat manu facturers—names fur nished on request The Towels that the well - dressed bathroom wears are BOOTT own TOWELS mass. At your Dealers. 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194 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Wake up, old scalp- and grow new hair! RY this setting-up exercise once a week and you need not fear baldness. First, a little “Vaseline” Hair Tonic applied directly to the scalp. Then a brisk massage with the tips of the fingers—round and round, with special attention to the crown of the head and temples. Then your usual shampoo. The massage stimulates circulation and loosens the scalp. The Tonic cleanses every part of the scalp and leaves just the right amount of oil around the hair roots. Watch your heir respond! It will be thicker and more alive and your scalp will feel better. “\V/aseline’’ Hair Tonic is sold in convenient shaker- type bottles —2 sizes—at all good drug stores. A Hawkins of San Francisco used to knock opponents out with a simple twist of the wrist. His hand scarcely seemed to move, yet he knocked them cold. It was a trick blow, but iron-taped hands and broken gloves made it possible. It is the fashion now to dismiss Willard as just a ton of flesh. If you believe every- thing you hear, Johnson sold him the title for cash at Havana, then reclined grace- fully on his back and blinked into the Cu- | ban sun, and Jess held the title a while by | Hotel one night enough years ago. leaning on a few spavined has-beens and never-wasers until he crushed the wind out of them. The story will do for Sweeney, but not for Murray. I knew him when he still called himself Cowboy Jess. I remem- ber the first time I ever saw him. A February nor’wester blew Paddy Lavin through the revolving doors of the Iroquois Lavin saw me at the cigar counter. “I think I’ve got something you can use,” he said. “An outsize heavyweight who can both put and take and won’t trip over his ears.” I told Lavin to bring himin. He was im- mense, but no fat. At no time was Jess Willard a dub. He had all the motions of a fighter and he got better before he got worse. Marvin Smith and George Rider, rival promoters, put him on against Sailor White in a little club bout. He hit White on the chin and literally lifted him off his feet. It was said that Willard never hit his hardest in his pre-championship days for fear of crippling or killing an opponent. It was a good story and I happen to believe it. Bringing the Boys to Market He went to Youngstown and lost a de- | cision to Dan McMahon some time later. | came back discouraged. Willard believed that he had won and he I found him drooped over the Iroquois cigar stand and low in spirits. “Tell me the truth,” he asked me. “Is there any use in my going on with this? I’ve about made up my mind if the McMahon sort can whip me that I'd better get a job as a cop or go back to farming.” I rallied to the rescue. I not only be- | lieved in him, but he had made himself a | drawing card in Buffalo. To keep him go- ing, I hustled up a match with Dan Daley, | another giant and a slugger. That was one | furious tangle and for eight rounds it was a | toss-up who would win. In the ninth Wil- | sitting at the ringside. lard knocked Daley out. Jack Curley was He had been on a still hunt for a White Hope to send against Jack Johnson and he chose the Man Moun- tain that night. The woods were full of White Hopes—the three Als, Palzer, Kauf- man and Norton; Morris, Luther McCarty, Frank Moran, Tom Kennedy, not to men- tion Fireman Jim Flynn and Gunboat Smith, but Willard was elected. Managers are a maligned class. In the popular picture they are sharpshooters who pick up a promising boy or two and live in idle ease by exploiting them as per the story of the boxer who looked up at the count of ten to see his manager taking his royal ease at the ringside. “I lit a fighter, but I got | up a manager,” the boy announced to the | wide, wide world. The popular picture is wrong, as usual. True, the fight manager has changed much. In other days he was a trainer as well, probably an ex-fighter. He lived with his boys, bet his all on them out of loyalty and was out on the road with them at sunup matching stride for stride. When boxing became a business, the | fight manager became a business man. He | may never have had a pair of six-ounce product of the Chesebrough Manufacturing Co., | Cons’d, 17 State Street, New York. Vaseline HAIR TONI REG. U.S. PAT. OFF © Chesebrough Mfg. Co., Cons'’d, 1930 gloves on his hands, but he is a salesman and he needs to be. He is on the long- distance telephone much of the time and | mailing out a stream of literature to pro- J moters and sporting editors across the country, planting leads and contacts. If they can’t use his boy this month, they may the next. April 5,19350 He has something to sell and has to sell it in a market as competitive as automobiles, radios or face creams. Most of his goods will be run-of-the-mill boxers of which there is always a surplus. If they are to stand out of the ruck, his ballyhoo will have to doit. If he develops a champion or finds one on his doorstep, he at once becomes general manager of a big business which re- quires all the time and ability he may have. To readers who only glance at the sport page and who hear of fights only when they make the front page, champions seem to spring from nowhere. Their rise is rocket- like at times, even to followers of the sport. I probably know as many boxers as any man, yet the heavyweight champion of 1932 may easily be a boy whose name I have not heard to date. You may depend upon it, however, that he is pounding away somewhere, with his manager carrying the banner. Championships are not won with- out preparation. Dempsey’s name was unknown to me in February, 1918, seventeen months before he hit the top, yet he had been fighting for three or four years then and Kearns had been grooming and ballyhooing him for a year anda half. After several years of ring experience, Dempsey was worth only a rail- road ticket from Ogden to San Francisco and $5 to Kearns. The former had fought Fat Willie Meehan in San Francisco and lost. The manager, returning from a stay in Australia, decided on what he heard of Dempsey’s showing, to match the two again and wired the ticket and $5. Kearns did not meet the train, nor even bother to look the boy up for a week. He did, however, send a messenger to the station to conduct Dempsey to Kearns’ mother’s home. The home cooking and regular sleep he got under Mother Kearns’ roof had much to do with Dempsey’s turning the tables on Meehan, on which showing Kearns took him on. Every city is honeycombed with young- sters who dream of managing champions. They pick up some other boy in a gym- nasium and begin ballyhooing him to the local promoters and sporting editors, the clearing houses of the trade. If they don’t succeed at first, they try, try again, or until father demands that they go to work. If they succeed they may be selling a string of seven or eight boxers and trading shares in them with other managers on the curb mar- ket. But I see no exploitation. Usually it is a happy-go-lucky fifty-fifty partnership, the manager carrying the purse direct to the dressing room and cutting it in two there. Hunting a Soft Spot for Vernon I get as much mail as Clara Bow and there is more variety to mine, I’ll bet. Pulling a letter at random from today’s heap, I read: “If it is not too late, I wish you would try to use Dickie Dugan on the Slattery-Scozza card February tenth. Dugan owes me a little over a thousand dollars and I would like to get out of the barrel with him. Trusting that you will be able to do this for me, I am.”’ Probably times have been dull with Dugan, and his manager has been financing him on tick. Another letter at random, the names changed of course. “‘Am turning my Ca- tawba District amateur heavyweight cham- pion, Vernon Vicious, professional, sending in his application to the state today. Now if agreeable, I would like you to put Vernon on for me against someone not too warm for a starter. Have seen this Young Mc- Goofus, I think his name is, working out at the Newsboys’ Gym and I believe that he and Vernon would make a nice 4-round argument. One thing is sure and that is Vernon has a big following in this section and would pull a big bunch from here and if you would take him along easy he would make you some money.” Editor’s Note—This is the second of two articles by Mr. Murray and Mr. Stout. . Le ha eT. > OS SO re eee RE 4- = ee

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Sl NOt a OPO Oe ——————— ee a ee © 1930, T. C. & C. Corp THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ae . “ PO ih Se pos oe eo fe * After the fifth day— T may be a severe test of a plant food to apply it to a lawn in poor shape, but it’s a still more severe test to try it on a lawn that is already beautiful. The lawn of Mrs. Lloyd P. Hepburn, of Philipse Manor, New York, was such a handsome piece of smooth, green sward that it seemed impossible for anything to make it look better. But Mrs. Hepburn is very much interested in new developments affecting gardening. She is, in fact, president of the Philipse Manor Garden Club. So last Summer she permitted a demonstration of Loma to be made on a sec tion of her lawn. ‘Actually, in less than a week’s time, there emacs > tet Mt \6 es pe a l ™ ain, s 2, — e ’ ws ’ Apply it now the grass on the LOma-treated side needed cutting” was a marked difference in the thickness and growth of the grass on the Léma-treated se tion. Ordinarily the grass wouldn’t need cut ting for ten days. But at the end of the fifth day, the grass on the Léma-fed section was ready to be mowed. The Léma-fed grass, too, was very rich in color, a fine, vivid green.” Following this demonstration, Mrs. Hep burn decided to have her entire lawn treated with Loma. 4 » The demonstrations supervised by such gar dening enthusiasts as Mrs. Hepburn have led thousands of other 195 home-owners throughout the country to prove for themselves the power of Loma E.vervwhere the results are the same. In less than two weeks’ time, the grass treated with Ldma is noticeably taller, thicker, greene: Trv Léma on vour own lawn. Try it, too, on your vegetables and your flowers. This rich, concentrated plant food nourishes the roots, produces bigger and juicier vegetables, larger and brighter blooming flower You can get Loma in convenient sized pack- ages from any dealer in lawn or garden sup- plies. Tennessee Copper & Chemical ¢ orpora tion, New York, N. Y. ee va ‘The Lima-fed plants were alread) ’ d f int “Te ‘i f he rinir id 7 VJ lohy erintes f \ ’ ‘ North Abin n, M \ a “per ed the dew I ndiltons, on a be d of lark The Bay State Nurseri¢ recetve the pecial centennt Centensial Exhibition of t \ Society last Spring + for a beautiful Lawn and Garden

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196 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST Hit the INDIAN TRAIL ... to Health and ; High Adventure NLY a sportsman appreciates a motor- O cycle. No box of glass and wood for him... he wants to feel the sun on his back, the breeze in his hair . . . to watch the road slip beneath him, to see the blue sky above. Out in the open, to see all around, to breathe pure air, to venture into places no motorist can go—that’s sporting transportation. And it is no wonder an Indian is the out- door man’s choice—it snaps away like a ball off Babe Ruth’s bat... it slips through traffic like a clever quarter-back ... it takes the steepest hills with the smoothness and grace of a pole vaulter . . . it skims the open road OUTBOARD MOTOR INDIAN goes nautical, too! Now you can enjoy on the waterways famous, depend- able Indian power in the new Indian Silver Arrow Out- board Motor. It is a Class B motor—strong, clean cut in design, loaded with power. April 5,19350 with the flash of a sprinter or throttles down to the smooth, steady pace of a cross- country runner. If you've never driven an Indian, go to a dealer for a demonstration .. . ‘‘kick” the motor over, settle down in the comfortable, springy saddle... feel the thrill of the power that throbs out of its big motor. Try it on the road .. . put it on the steepest hill you know ... test it in traffic for snappy get-away —for quick, sure stopping. Then you will know why an Indian Motocycle is ‘The Sportsman's Steed.” INDIAN MOTOCYCLE CO., DEPT. C3, SPRINGFIELD, MASS. It embodies all the experience Indian has acquired in 27 years of building small power plants. Power, speed, stamina—all you look for in an outboard, plus an ease of starting hitherto unknown. Here is a dependable, sturdy motor designed to make carefree many hours of happiness on the water. =~ cc res ee Ss qe

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= ei coe ® a ——_- a THE SATURDAY EVENING POST GIVE US A CHANCE tanks are equipped with thermostat control that turns on the gas or electricity when water is withdrawn from the tank and turns it off when the tank is again hot. The same mechanical principle operates in automatic refrigerators. As soon as they have reached the proper degree of coldness the machinery ceases to operate, and when the tempera- ture rises this device trips the mechanism inte action. We have now dealt with humidity, heat, cold and sound, as instruments for tripping machinery into action. But time can also be measured, as you doubtless are aware, and your clock can trip machinery into ac- tion. For example, if you would like to have the plug pulled so that a tank of water would be emptied every day at three o'clock, that would be very simple. Light can be measured, and therefore it can trip machinery into action. It is now doing so in many places. For example, if you want the street lights to go on whenever the vis- ibility is very low, regardless of the time of day, that can be done by a mechanical de- vice that is absolutely automatic. Light is also used for counting in various factories where goods are carried on endless-chain conductors. A beam of light is shot across the chute on which the goods travel, and every time an article passes through that beam of light, it breaks a circuit. Each breaking of the circuit registers, and thus the articles are counted. But that isn’t all that this machinery will do. It will trip another machine into action at each count of one dozen or twelve dozen, or any other number that you fix upon, and thus assist in the packing and shipment of goods. Saving Lives and Money Weight can be measured, and the scales which do this can be made to trip machinery in and out of action. You can thus open a trapdoor and the automatic mechanism will hold it open until 100 tons of coal or sand or molten metal have passed through it; the scales will then close that trapdoor. Mechanical devices of this type abolish some of the most boresome jobs in the world. The degree of fullness or emptiness of a tank or any other receptacle can be meas- ured, and the device which does the meas- uring can trip machinery into action. The importance of this machinery almost equals that which measures heat, because in the processes of manufacture there is a great deal of filling and emptying of tanks. If you must have a tank of water on the roof of your factory and that tank must be al- ways full, you can arrange this by very sim- ple automatic devices. The moment the water falls below a certain point, a pump will go into action, and when fullness is reached the pump will be turned off. Men have been known to go to sleep when they had nothing more interesting to do than watch a tank of water, and this device, now in very general use, has saved lives as well as money. Speed can be measured, and therefore you can trip machinery in and out of action by the measuring of it. The importance of these devices now relates largely to safety, but the possibilities are just beginning to be explored. If the operator were to drop dead while the throttle was wide open, in- stead of his machine going crazy and killing people, an automatic device would shut off the power and put on the brakes just as soon as his speed passed a certain fixed point. That is the present general use of speed control. But power is being applied to a great many tools formerly operated by hand, and sometimes the demand is not only for a safety. device but a regulator that will in- crease the speed gradually, from nothing to, let us say, twenty miles an hour, and then reduce it, again at a fixed rate, until the mechanism stands still. I could cite (Continued from Page 178 dozens of machines in which this demand has been met in order that they may oper- ate automatically, but one will suffice. It is the newest type of high-speed elevator for very tall buildings. In the newest types of elevators the operator simply indicates to his machine, by punching a button or pulling a lever, that he wishes to stop at the forty-fifth floor, and the machine does the rest. It begins to slow down at exactly the right point, and it retards with carefully meas- ured progression until it comes to a fault- less stop without having thrown anyone off his feet or, for that matter, giving the pas- sengers an accurate impression of the rate of speed at which they had been traveling. Most of the elevators now in use are open, so that you can see the floors go by; the newer types of elevators are closed, because you wouldn’t like to ride in them if you could see how fast the floors whiz through your line of vision. This kind of speed control is really mirac- ulous and opens enormous possibilities. Just to start an electric locomotive at twenty miles an hour and keep it at twenty wouldn’t be much of a trick; but to start it at one, bring it by almost imperceptible increase to sixty, and then back to nothing is important. To make the point clear let me cite just one field of usefulness for this kind of speed control. Let us suppose that you are setting an automatic planing de- vice to smooth a shaft of steel to perfect roundness. The blades must start slowly and work up to a certain speed very gradu- ally, otherwise too much pressure resulting from resistance would generate heat and spoil the job. Very well. You can set that mechanism so that it will begin slowly, work up to a certain speed, then go slowly again—in other words, it can be made to behave just as a skillful workman would handle it. Thus the machine becomes com- pletely automatic instead of only par- tially so. Electric power can be measured. It is, therefore, possible to attach with entire safety delicate machinery to wires carrying enough voltage to burn it up. Automatic devices limit the amount of power that may enter the delicate machine. These devices are also useful when the source of power is unsteady and variable. The measuring de- vice then becomes a regulating device, so that no matter how the electricity flows through the feeding power wire, the deli- cate machine is supplied with a steady, un- varying diet. Distance can be measured; thus it is pos- sible to trip machinery in and out of action when a car, for example, has gone a certain number of yards or miles. An electric loco- motive with no one attending it could be sent five miles, with the machinery set so that it would immediately return or stop. The foregoing brief statement of the princi- ples on which automatic machinery depends will help to give a clearer understanding of the miracles that are already being per- formed and that are destined to amaze us in ever-increasing numbers. Packing the Razor Blades Thus far I have tried to explain each prin- ciple with a machine employing only the one principle in question, but the normal, indeed the inevitable, trend of development toward more automatic machinery will call for the use of from two to half a dozen of these basic principles in one device. An in- teresting example of this is the little machine that picks up safety-razor blades, counts them, then wraps and packs them. When the safety razor was new, young women were employed to do all this, and they found it painfully slow work, not to mention cut fingers. Now the blades are picked up by the vacuum process. Next they are counted mechanically, and each operation, upon completion, trips into action the machine which performs the next. Quite a number of the basic principles upon which auto- matic machinery rests are employed in this one device. At this point it may be worth while to turn back again to the gloomy philosophers, because their point of view with regard to this achievement would not check with that | of the inventor. All they would see is that a great many deserving young women had been robbed of employment. What the in- dustrialist sees is that safety-razor blades are much cheaper and therefore more of them can be sold. The inventor regards both events as mere incidents. He is striving toward totally au- tomatic machinery, and every achievement in one field must eventually open new pos- sibilities in others. He knows that we have barely sighted the shores of a new world of applied science. He is aware of a great many inventions that are not yet on the market because they would cost too much. But each development toward the totally automatic brings them nearer. If we are going to stop right where we are and merely improve our present machines, unemploy- ment might eventually result from too much mechanical perfection, though even that is open to debate. But scientific exploration into totally new fields promises more today than ever in any past era. We are at the dawn, not noonday. Industries based upon applied science will be born year after year, sv that the demand for skill cannot decline. As he sees it, every human being relieved from an unimportant job must find a better one unless progress ceases. And that is unthinkable. Two Men for Eight Generators The most striking progress toward to- tally automatic machinery has been made in the hydroelectric field. There are now in operation in this and many other countries hydroelectric plants that operate without the aid of a single human hand. Just as a matter of precaution, inspectors visit them, possibly once in two weeks, but they seldom find anything wrong. Results approxi- mating these are also obtained in much larger plants, but since there is no economic necessity for dispensing entirely with hu- man supervision where the value of the product is large, a few men are generally engaged to watch the machines. The larg- | est automatically controlled hydroelectric plant in the world is on the Ohio River just, below Louisville, Kentucky. It generates 100,000 kilowatts and is under the guidance of two men, a supervisor and a floor at- tendant. There are eight generators in this plant, but the only operation which the floor attendant must perform is to start one of them. Thereafter the machinery will take care of itself. In order to make clear what this means as an engineering feat, you must have in mind the many possibilities of trouble in a generator. For example, over-voltage, low oil pressure in the governor system, overspeed, overheated machine bearings, and ground fault in the generator armature windings. Each one of these is guarded against by automatic devices that will stop the machinery and give notice of the trouble. Beside each generator there is a small cubicle of glass and steel housing a panel on which various lights and buttons report the condition of that unit of the plant. Wires from this panel lead to a cen- tral control board where the whole plant can be supervised and controlled by one man. Ordinary routine at this station calls for hourly inspection of meters and indi- cators in each cubicle, and that is just about all. In times of emergency the throwing of one single switch would place the entire plant under manual control. Now, this is the kind of machinery that scientists, en- gineers and inventors regard with pride. I have described here the largest plant of its kind in the world, but it is less important from an engineering point of view than the 197 Cracked Walls made good as new You can easily make cracked walls and ceilings good as new with Rutland Patching Plaster—the quick, money- saving mender. Just mix with a little water, then fill crack or hole. If you want a perfect, lasting job, be sure to ask for Rutland Patching Plaster— made by the secret Rutland formula that insures absolute whiteness and permanence At paint, wall-paper and hard ware stores. Rutland Fire Clay Co., Rutland, Vermont RUTLAND PATCHING PLASTER AFRAID TO WEAR A DARA SUIT? a dandruff « be checked? Here are the facts: Why tolerate dat ? It can be checked Pine tar and cl ss will ep your scalp dandruff-free ir doctor will il you that Th treatment ndorsed for 60 years, combines both remecdic Wet your hair. Massage the rich, toni pine-tar lather of Packer Tar Soap well into the scalp. Rinse Again lather, mas sage and rinse—finally in coid water to close the pores In severe cases do this every other da until scalp clears. In milder ca ever 4 or 5 days Then keep up regular week! Packer shampoos, to prevent recurr You can't reasonably expect “ then care to keep your dandruff —and it won't Sample Cake and book on hair | Packer's, Dept. 27-1, ror W. 5 rk PACKER’S Tar Soap Built for Comfort! Genuine black kid $5.50 ~ om mor know is ri ers | 5. Ask your dealer al MT. SHAW. In \ 7. Coldwater, Mich (Ark, Cuppy *Tom"™

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198 THE SATURDAY Eliminate this hazard — Perched on a narrow window ledge, the window washer endangers his own life ond the lives of those who pass below ... Outside window washing is ¢ needless and costly hazard—an abnormal expense in wages and insurance... The new IN-SWINGING SEALAIR WINDOW may be washed from the INSIDE—safely, thoroughly, economically. .. SEALAIR operotes with ease and is weather- proof when closed. It provides controlled draftiess ventilation and requires no up- keep. These accomplishments make SEALAIR the sofest, most satisfactory win- dow for commercial buildings. Write for information on in-swinging windows. THE KAWNEER COMPANY Monvufacturers of BRONZE STORE FRONTS, WINDOWS AND DOORS 2520 Front St., Niles, Mich. Subsidiary: Berkeley, Calif. in-swing:ng wiadow. (Parents applied tor) WINDOWS CONSULT AN ARCHITECT - THE SERVICE was meas EVENING POST much smaller plants that are totally auto- | matic, for the reason that the expense of a | score or more of employes would not be \ Teed = Yah 1S VALUABLE burdensome in the generation of 100,000 kilowatts, while one employe would be bur- densome to some of the tiny generators that nestle in remote creek bottoms. Some of them are tucked away in obscure little val- leys on obscure little streams that freeze over in the wintertime. They work away day and night through all the summer and fall, and when winter comes the ice stops them, but in the spring they resume opera- tions. This type of machinery makes pos- sible the use of water power that would otherwise be wasted. In 1911, Mr. Alex Dow, president of the Detroit Edison Company, remarked that Detroit was spreading all over the map. Prosperous industrial and residential sub- urbs were sprouting on all sides. It occurred to him that his company could supply electric light and power to all of these new communities if he could set up inexpensive substations at strategic points. He presented the problem to the General Electric Company of Schenectady, New York, with the suggestion that the most in- expensive type would be an absolutely automatic one. The engineers went to work on this idea and the first automatic substa- tion without a man in or around it was plugged into operation on Christmas Day, 1914. Now they are in service all over the world. In order to make machinery work without the guidance of the human brain, some- thing approximating a brain has to be sup- plied. In the electrical field this device is called a “‘relay.’””, When copper wires first began to carry electricity, if anything hap- pened, men had to go out and hunt for the trouble. Thousands of men were so em- ployed. Nowadays they don’t have to hunt for the trouble, because the relay tells them exactly where it is. The relay not only tells them where it is but the moment anything goes wrong it shuts off the power. Still more remarkable, if the trouble is of brief duration the relay will turn on the power again. Thus, wires can be subdivided into cir- cuits very much like the divisions of a steam railway system and each circuit is guarded. If trouble occurs on Circuit 5 only that one is thrown out of action by the relay. Every other part of the system remains in service. Making Statistics Usable One of the most picturesque uses of auto- matic machinery is in the larger switching yards of important trunk-line railways. Formerly railway cars were shunted about by switch engines and a switchman rode on each car to apply the brakes when it had arrived at the proper place. Now the tracks are equipped with automatic car retarders. Long strings of cars are pushed up over a hump in the tracks and start rolling by gravity. Men in towers operate the switches so that each car goes where it belongs, and when it has arrived the retarder stops it. An amazing achievement, typical of mod- ern development toward totally automatic machinery, is the electrical device which tabulates statistics. For example, you have statistics relating to 100,000 persons; there is a card for each person, and it tells that person’s age, income, occupation and a lot of other things about him. Now let us sup- pose that you want to know how many out of that 100,000 live in the country and own automobiles costing more than $1200 and are less than thirty-five years of age and are married. Your cards have little holes in them instead of printed or written words. A hole at a certain point indicates that the person is married, at another point single, and so forth. You drop these 100,000 cards into your machine and you set the various triggers and gadgets so that only the facts you want will register. Then you pull the lever and those cards go through the ma- chine as though driven by a whirlwind. When the operation is completed, a box will contain each card that describes the sort of April 5,1950 person you have in mind—that is to say, those who live in the country, own automo- biles costing more than $1200 and are less than thirty-five years of age and are mar- ried. Without machinery of this kind, sta- tistics covering large numbers of persons would be almost valueless, because the in- formation would be too old by the time clerks had tabulated it. Moreover, it would probably be too expensive for any practical use. The principle on which this machinery works is electrical contact through the punch holes which take the place of printed matter. A Permanent Market for Skill When the subject of automatic machin- ery is discussed outside of technically informed circles, one encounters much mis- information and cloudy thinking. Under the head of misinformation, first position should be accorded to the often-reiterated statement that the machine is invariably more accurate than the artisan. That is not true. Within certain easily attainable lim- its the machine is just as accurate as the man while working more rapidly and at lower cost, but as the demands for accuracy rise the machine loses its job to the artisan. Machinery will serve very well to punch out pieces of an automobile that must be accurate within one or two thousandths of an inch, but when the requirement is ac- curacy within the hundred-thousandth part of the inch, a skilled human hand must re- turn to guide the tools. The machine can’t do that sort of thing. No matter whether it is in the field of fine measurements or in some other demanding delicate accuracy, the skilled artisan remains indispensable. Every new machine makes new places and well-paid ones for indispensable men. This is what the inventor and the scientist see when they look at the trend of our development. At present we have reached the point where power plants lift the burden from the backs of labor. Partially auto- matic machinery lifts another part of the burden and we come to the point where there is less slavery and more wealth, but we haven’t yet banished dull jobs. The goal toward which we are moving, however, is to take the man out of the dull job and put him to work making the machine that makes the machine that makes the product. At present we are still busy making the product. On the way to our ideal achieve- ment the inventor attacks the points of least resistance, and these inevitably turn out to be the poorest-paid jobs, and the dirt- iest jobs, and often the most dangerous jobs industry now affords. There is tremendous economic pressure upon the makers of ma- chinery to liberate industry from as many of these jobs as possible. If the workman is in the truest sense a mere menial to the machine and not skilled, he is probably completely side-tracked so far as promotion is concerned. And that is bad for the organ- ization as a whole. [It leads to discontent, bad morale, heavy overturn of labor. More- over, the poorest jobs must pay a living wage which may be out of all proportion to what the service is worth in dollars and cents, judged on the basis of comparison with the wages and salaries paid to indis- pensable men. The inventor who has something totally new usually finds it difficult to develop a market, but the industrialists listen eagerly to news about any device that reduces their pay rolls in the bottom brackets. These inventions mean an immediate financial return. Scientists no less than other humans re- spond to an eager demand for their work; that is why a great deal of attention is now being turned toward making machinery really automatic. If, in the course of ten or twelve years, we can strike a general aver- age and say that our machinery is on the whole approximately semiautomatic, the scientists and inventors would consider that a reasonable time to begin talking about the machine age. Their present opinion is that we miglit postpone discussion of it until we make its acquaintance. —_ Se eee es oc Ee Se - SS —

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 199 CJiny Medallion tells you what fur experts know we mown sr OU ee = You, Too, CAN IDENTIFY THE GENUINE FROMM PEDIGREED SILVER FOX a ern oer Se ee PS. . ss ‘Be Sure This Medallion és Attached to the Scarf You Buy... Every GENUINE FROMM PEDIGREED SILVER FOX bears this medallion, attached to the pelt at the furring ranch. Each medallion OR twenty-one years, fur experts have recognized the pelts from the Fromm Bros. Fox Farms in northern Wisconsin as symbols of superiority in furs. Your fur expert can instantly identify the full- bears a number, identifying the pedigree ness and silkiness of fur and the perfection of marking . . . the heritage of a Fromm Pedigreed Silver Fox, handed down through twenty-one the sc buy. Y it—and . . . : , , . ; | virial, aca cTT 5 years of pure strain breeding and scientific feeding and rearing. Now, in return it to Fromm Bros. for pedigre ‘ Anew teed the present crop of 4,000 pelts, you are offered the culmination of all those of the fox. Be sure this medallion is intact this interesting and in- structive booklet. } certificate, a transcript from stud book, “ae ; ; ‘ ‘ oe years of striving and achievement in the snow-swept forests of northern describing the scarf you have purchased. : i : . . ‘ Wisconsin. And when you see a silver fox scarf, marked with the silvery ! medallion shown above, you will | know that you are looking at HIS COUPON BRINGS = [ FROMM BROS * a genuine Fromm Pedigreed BOOKLET—ON THI | Hamburg, Wis . ‘ L STORY OF FROMM. It i Gentlemen j ; Silver Fox... most perfect, ets the story behind the a f | most beautiful of furs. $,000 Silver Fox Pelts = | prced Silver Foxes. This entails o worthy to bear the name I blic Si eats ! F of Fromm. Ittells you how ——- ' | ROMM p EDIGREED Ss ILVER F OxXeES to care for a fur scarf. Send | Name | FROMM BROS. HAMBURG, WISCONSIN ‘he coupon—now—for | ! |

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ma is DIRT MOVING Greater traction, due to longer tracks. Weight balanced well forward. LOGGING Perfectly balanced. Easiiy steered, Monarchs weave their way with the least damage to young trees. FARMING Greater power to pull larger implements at greater speed. Increased farm profits. Lower pro- duction costs OAD BUILDING Combination of clutches nd truck-type steering el makes steering easy. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST ‘That accuracy in production assure more perfect performance T is said that genius consists of an infinite capacity for taking pains. If this be true, then Allis-Chalmers has most certainly displayed infinite genius in producing its Monarch Tractors. Accuracy to minute thousandths of an inch guards their perfect performance .. . perfection of the most minute detail builds into them a rugged strength that has extended the meaning of “‘low- est cost per drawbar horsepower” over a period of years ... and made the Monarch the most out- standing track-type tractor of the age. As a product of Allis-Chalmers the Monarch is truly a remarkable accomplishment. It has raised the standard of track-type tractor performance... It has brought mechanical refinements that reflect llis- Monarch | | the highest engineer- ing ability . . . It has less- ened man’s labor in building good roads ... in harvesting crops ...in constructing great buildings and in accomplishing public improvements. It has lent a powerful hand to progress . . . And just as the world has always looked to Allis- Chalmers for power machinery . . . it now looks to Allis-Chalmers for tractors . . . and is answered by Allis-Chalmers with Monarch. ALLIS-CHALMERS MANUFACTURING COMPANY (Tractor Division) Specialists in Power Machinery Since 1846 Springfield, 1. MILWAUKEE, WIS. La Crosse, Wis. Allis-Chalmers 20-35 Tractors — United Wheel and Crawler Tractors Monarch 75-50-35 Crawler Tractors — La Crosse Implements almers Tractors April 5,1930 In this room the great power machines used by Allis - Chalmers lose their magnitude to be scruti- nized in terms of minute thousandths of an inch. The micrometer used in testing the dies and gaug- es is one of the most ac- curate in operation . even the heat of finger- tips affects its delicate measurements. Monarch Tractors are sold by author- ized dealers in the United States, Can- ada and Foreign Countries. Wy waue™) Sa wy wt 2 er oer ee Pe SS ee me — OT re eee

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ti eee RE rer ee _- LEE OEE LL LOE LL EL I _ THE SATURDAY EVENING POST THE OVERTHROW IN SPAIN metallic quality fused into the make-up of Cortés and Pizarro. In September, 1923, Primo was fifty-three, or exactly fourteen years older than was Mussolini when he be- came overlord of Italy. This was the type of man who became second charter member of the European dictator club. Primo’s debut as dictator was in sharp contrast with the tumult and shouting that swirled about Mussolini’s appearance on the official scene. The Spaniard arrived in Madrid by regular train and without dis- play. The Italian was announced to Rome by the famous march of his legions. He himself made a dramatic flight to the capi- tal by plane from Milan. Standing along- side the king, whose power from that moment he assumed, he reviewed the black shirts which were henceforth to be the sym- bols of rule. Drama, so conspicuously lack- ing in the birth of the Primo régime, found full play in the arrival of the Duce. Primo lost no time in getting into action. He dissolved the Cortes, suppressed the constitution, replaced juries with judges of his own choosing, put a drastic censorship on the press, and declared what amounted to a state of siege. The army was behind him to a man. Being a soldier, his first outstanding task was to redress the military wrongs. The army had suffered terrific reverses in Mo- rocco. He placed himself at the head of the force in the field and reorganized the cam- paign. Abd-el-Krim played into his hands. Inflated by success, he committed the in- discretion of attacking the French. This led to a joint Franco-Spanish offensive, en- gineered by Primo, against the wily Moor. It ended in his capture and the crumbling of the Riff revolt. Primo came home in triumph. He had registered in his first adventure. He fol- lowed this up with the repacification of Catalonia, which had again been in turmoil. He laid his hand on political offenders with the same firm grip that he had put on the labor insurgents. So far so good. First Steps of a Dictator This brings us to still another fact which marks military dictatorship. Primo had comparatively smooth sailing so long as he stuck to the job that demanded soldierly experience. It was the work he knew. But there is a big difference between arms and statesmanship. General Grant learned it to his cost in the United States. In more recent time the distinction has beea drilled into Marshal Pilsudski, in Poland, and Kemal! Pasha, in Turkey. Nor was Primo an exception. His real troubles began the moment ihe Moroccan war was a closed in- cident and he turned to the task of economic and political regeneration. Again we arrive at a kindred point of con- tact in all dictatorships. In a dictatorship some kind of crisis always impends, from the emergency that brings it into being until the contingency that precipitates col- lapse. Sometimes it is almost entirely eco- nomic, and sometimes purely political. In Spain, Primo was up against both. Once the Moroccan War was polished off, he chose the line of least resistance which was the economic phase. With every agency to impose the national mandate at his com- mand, he could initiate public improve- ments which gave employment to the idle. He could impose subsidies for monopolies which stimulated production. He could encourage consortiums which brought about effective distribution. Hence you invariably find that for a cer- tain period the economic advantages of a dictatorship outweigh the evil of its repres- sive program. But a dictatorship cannot amend the law of supply anddemand. When force is applied the orderly course of eco- nomic events is perverted and reaction sets in. This is precisely what is going on in Italy today, as I pointed out in the preced- ing article. The same procedure reached its (Continued from Page 15 climax in Spain with the overthrow of the system. At the start, Primo strengthened the social and economic structure. He built roads, established thousands of schools, sub- sidized large families, inspired the moderni- zation of the telephone system, advanced social legislation, encouraged airports, es- tablished monopolies in petroleum, tobacco and matches, fostered consortiums in lead, fish, naval stores, rice, cement and cork, reduced the term of military service, nego- tiated treaties of peace, commerce and arbi- tration, and invoked a new respect for Spain in the outside world. There is no doubt that in Primo there was the spirit of the empire builder. His ambition was to reassert some of the authority once wielded by Spain, Mother of Twenty Nations, when her red- and-yellow flag was the symbol of a con- quest upon which the sun never set. Proposed Constitutional Reforms Any post-mortem on the Primo dictator- ship shows that the history of iron-fisted rule always repeats itself. A people acqui- esce to stern authority so long as they are prosperous. In Spain, as in Italy, there was no complaint so long as a full meal ticket was provided. In addition, the be- lief persisted at the start that the dictator- ship would be short-lived. When Primo came into power, he said: “I only need ninety days to complete the job.” From first to last, he was the incorrigible optimist. Instead of three months, he hung on for six years and three months. Each year not only made his task more difficult but his tenure increasingly precarious. The first hostility toward him grew out of his failure to formulate a constitution. It is necessary to dwell on this for a moment, because, when all is said and done, dictator- ships stand or fall through the eventual assertion of popular will. Fundamentally, a dictatorship abuses an inherent right which is untrammeled expression, whether vocally or electorally. It can get away with a perversion of this privilege just so long. Then popular nature, so to speak, takes its course even in a country like Spain, where half the population is illiterate. For four years Primo oozed statements and articles—he was one of the world’s champion letter writers—to create the illu- sion of real constitutional reform which never materialized. What he did was this: In 1927, heset up what he called a National Consultative Assembly, to which was des- ignated the task of writing a constitution. He asked the guilds, universities, labor syn- dicates, and the old and now defunct politi- cal parties, to name delegates. He also made a special appeal to former prime min- isters and ex-speakers of the Senate and Chamber. With a fine sense of irony, the educators named practically all their repre- sentatives then in exile. Labor refused to participate, while the political parties practically remained aloof. In consequence, Primo had to name the assembly himself. When the Consultative Assembly sat down to write a constitution, it framed a document which expressed absolutism in- stead of liberalism. Summed up, the pro- posed constitution, which consisted of more than 40,000 words, reduced the old Cortes, which had a senate and a lower house, to one chamber with 400 members. Half were to be elected by universal suffrage, but from among a restricted group. Thirty members were to be named by the king, which meant that they would be Primo’s choices, while the rest were to be indicated by the various labor and other corporations. Primo had set up employer and employe bodies similar to those instituted by Mussolini. What galled the general public most was the section of the draft constitution which provided that any legislation approved by the Cortes could be rejected by the Royal Council of State. Moreover, it did not give the great mass of the people freedom in choosing the national legislative body. Ina word, the whole document made for a con- tinuation of centralized power. Primo’s plan was to submit the constitu- tion to a plebiscite. He thought that he could get by with it because the average Spanish peasant and city worker lack the intelligence with which to assimilate a com- plicated state paper. The dictator had a precedent in the plebiscite which he caused to be held in 1926 on his régime. He was the one and only issue. For three days the populace was invited to come to the various polling places throughout the country and inscribe their names on books especially prepared for this purpose. Each name reg- istered was regarded as an individual ap- proval of Primo’s acts. Every conceivable name, including those of American motion- picture stars, was inscribed. By this farce Primo got 5,000,000 indorsers. This show was run by the Patriotic Union, which was Primo’s personal political organization, formed in 1925. The proposed constitution never got to a vote. Asasoldier, Primo could strike swiftly | and hard. In politics he was the inveterate procrastinator. He was finally forced to the point last autumn where he had to lift his censorship in order to permit the discus- sion of the constitution in the press. The moment that the lid was off, he found how unpalatable was his plan to the general public. A curicus paradox developed. In most other monarchies what might be called the baron element is opposed to any wide con- stitutional latitude. In Spain the exact re- verse emerged in the controversy over the constitution. The bulk of the aristocracy save those most closely associated with Primo, as well as the old political chieftains, opposed the draft framed by the Consulta- tive Assembly. So far as the politicians were concerned, it meant that they wanted to get back to the old era of rotative gov- ernment, with all its fruitful by-products. The point to be emphasized, because the same situation will inevitably develop in Italy, as it has already developed in Poland, is that an autocracy masquerading as con- stitutionalism “will not wash,” as the Brit- ish say, in the long run. Revolt in the Army Up to 1926, there was no formal protest against the Primo order of things. The strict censorship prevented any expression of disapproval. The café, therefore, suc- ceeded the newspaper as a public forum. In this respect Spain enjoyed an advantage over Italy, where, in many cafés in the big cities, you see the sign: “Politics must not be discussed in this establishment.” For two years Primo depended on the army as his principal prop, and with good reason, because he had restored its prestige by winning the African war. He now made one of his supreme mistakes. He enforced a rule of promotion by merit instead of sen- iority. This struck at the root of army tra- ditions. Each group in the Spanish army has a so-called junta de defensa, which, freely translated, means a council of defense. They were soon literally up in arms. In May, 1926, the infantry framed a coup which was to wrest power from the dic- tator. The soldiers were joined by a group of old-line politicians, including Count Ro- manones, a former Liberal leader, and Cap- tain General Weyler, of Cuban-revolution days. Romanones headed the wing that demanded the restoration of constitutional government. Primo got wind of the move- ment and beat the conspirators to it. Both Romanones and Weyler received heavy fines, but escaped imprisonment. In the following September the artillery corps—the élite of the army and the king's special pet—revolted. Primo put this down with an iron hand. Martial law was de- clared and the ringleaders sentenced to be shot. 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circtep the house before settling the Travel Air on the lower lawn and as usual, Dad watched from the steps Once down, Gwen sprang out without my help. “Dad's always on hand, isn't he?’’ she asked as we waiked toward him ‘Never misses a take-off or landing,”’ | answered, “‘even though I've ceased to be a novelty to everyone else." Gwen's next question was simple enough, but it stopped me. When she asked, “Has he ever been up?’’ what could I say? Neighbors, schoolmates, even the gardener had been passengers But Dad, never. He didn’t seem the type Now I know you can’t always tell. Dad,” I said, when we approached, Isn't it about time you and I went up to look at a few silver linings?”’ “Well, son,” he smiled, ‘if you hadn't invited me I was just about to take her 4f the ground myself.”’ We lost no time. Gwen's helmet and an overcoat were his flying. clothes. We were over the elms in a twinkling. We swung around the house. Dad was get- ting a new idea of his world—a bird’s- eye view of our grounds, the neighbors’ homes, ihe country club where he spends so many happy hours. He was having the time of his life and his face wore a rapt expression. I took my hands from the controls held them over my head to Dup’s FIRST FLIGHT show the plane's automatic stability A half hour later, back we came to the lawn in a slow glide. Dad's face was all aglow. ‘Wonderful experience,”’ he said, “Never felt so big or so small before.”’ And he keeps getting keener! Air minded? He's positively airhungry. Why, this afternoon after we flew from the club, he said, ‘Say, don't you think it would be sportier if we changed the 165 engine to a 225?" * * * Sportsmen penetrate the wilds in their Travel Airs. In commercial flying, Travel Airs daily ply their way over mail, transport and business corporation routes. They constitute a major proportion of all commercial planes in service in the United States. And in distance and speed contests these planes capture firsts with a regularity that is almost monotonous. Full particulars about Travel Air planes, their construction and performance for commercial, industrial and private flying will be gladly sent you. Write Dept. T-9. * * * The Travel Air open cockpit biplane is Wright Whirlwind powered at either 165 or 225 H. P. High speed, Wright Whirlwind 165 H. P. Engine, 122 m. p.b. High speed, Wright Whirlwind 225 H. P. Engine, 132 m. p. h. Every Travel Air Airplane is entitled to full Curtiss-Wright day and night service at more than 40 bases throughout the continent. TRAVEL AIR COMPANY Division of CURTISS-WRIGHT 27 West 57th Street, New York THE SATURDAY EVENING POST deprived of his rank. Subsequently the king commuted all the death sentences. Now began the friction between the artillery and Primo which continued with increasing antagonism until the end. In all succeed- ing outbreaks, this branch of the service lent itself readily to every move against the existing order. The entire military force became disaffected, and it spelled Primo’s ultimate doom. From the close of 1926 until the begin- ning of 1929, Primo staved off disaster largely with his gestures about constitu- tional reform, despite a growing feeling that real reform was remote from his purpose. Spaniards, however, are so accustomed to promise and procrastination that they took him at his word for a time. There were no overt acts until January of last year, when the abortive Ciudad Real revolt was regis- tered. This demonstration differed from the artillery incident of 1926 in that it was led by Sanchez Guerra, who had been Con- servative premier four times and who was in exile. According to all accounts, Sanchez Guerra, then residing in Paris, was visited by his son, an artillery officer, who bore a letter from the Queen Mother, asking him to return to Spain, head an uprising to de- pose Primo, and save the crown. Artillery groups at eighteen different points were mobilized to strike the moment that the ex- premier set foot on Spanish soil. It was arranged that Sanchez Guerra should sail from Port Vendres to Valencia in a private yacht. On the day that he was to set forth he was instructed to send a telegram saying: “Josephine is coming” —one of his names is Jose—to all the artillery garrisons in- volved. This he did according to program. Now came the event that spilled the beans. The yacht was delayed two days by storms and a machinery breakdown. San- chez Guerra, therefore, sent a wireless to the eighteen centers of disaffection saying: “* Josephine is two days late.” All telegrams in Spain, whether incoming or outgoing, are subject to more or less po- lice supervision. When eighteen telegrams conveying the same message arrived, the authorities became suspicious. The plot was then discovered. The moment that Sanchez Guerra landed at Valencia he found out that the various artillery units had got cold feet, with one exception, which was the one at Ciudad Real. Here the corps rode out of their barracks, planted machine guns in the streets, and took possession of the civil offices. The first intimation that it had of the failure of the conspiracy was a message dropped from an aeroplane sent from Madrid, which apprised the soldiers of the fact that the show was off. Kindly Criticism or None It was typical of the slackening up throughout the country that Sanchez Guerra had to ask to be arrested. The ex- premier was eventually tried. Despite Primo’s desire that he be punished, the court acquitted him. This was the worst slap that the dictator had received up to that time. He ordered a retrial. Mean- while Sanchez Guerra was permitted to re- turn to Paris unmolested. He was never brought to judgment again, because Primo fell before the case could be revived. As I have already pointed out, Sanchez Guerra received a full pardon under the general amnesty of February sixth. The Ciudad Real incident showed how the wind was veering. As 1929 lengthened into its stride, unrest throughout Spain became acute. This was followed by the invariable consequence of popular discon- tent, which is an impairment of the financial structure. Despite an adequate gold re- serve, the peseta began to fall until it was considerably below its real value. Every- where the economic situation reacted unfavorably to the force rule. The establish- ment of the petroleum monopoly, which drove all the foreign companies, with their trained organizations and abundant sources of supply, out of the country, was followed | by the usual results of a government in April 5,1950 business. In order to keep the price normal, the monopoly had to sell an inferior grade of product. This, in turn, created dissatis- faction among consumers. The heavy sub- sidies for aviation and other enterprises failed to yield adequate return. The financial failure of the Seville and Barcelona expositions, attractive and praise- worthy as they are, put a further dent in the national finances. It was inconceivable that a second-rate world power like Spain should hold two pretentious shows in the same year. The Seville display is exclusively Ibero-American, while the one at Barcelona is international. Each exhibition had a huge subsidy from the government. Primo encouraged them because he felt that they would increase his popular support and at the same time help the prestige of the country. All the while the force mandate continued. No criticism of the government was per- mitted. Instead, only fulsome praise, the kind of adulation that floods the Italian newspapers about Mussolini, was per- mitted. The government reserved one-sixth of the text space in every newspaper for its statements. An Opportunity for Study Even private conversation was censored. As in Italy, remarks derogatory to the gov- ernment were made punishable by both fine and imprisonment. When a well-known Spanish author satirized the dictator in an after-dinner speech in Madrid, a decree was published prohibiting post-prandial re- marks. This was one of the few restrictive measures that the outside world, having long suffered from dull and lengthy ban- quet orations, could approve. A barrister in Madrid told me that shortly after the posting of the ban on after-dinner speeches, the president of a well-known club got up to address his guests. Instantly a policeman reminded him of the decree to which I have just alluded. The president thereupon made his speech in pantomime, much to the amusement of the assembly. Catalonia felt the full impact of the force rule, as this episode shows: You have pre- viously been told that the Catalans are zealous of their language and customs. An ardent separatist, who happened to be a journalist, received an invitation in Cas- tilian Spanish to attend a banquet in Ma- drid. He replied that if the bid were conveyed to him in the Catalan language he would consider it. Two days later he was placed under arrest and sentenced to prison in Toledo. In the order placing him in cus- tody for a year was the following injunction: “You will now have ample opportunity to study Castilian Spanish in a Castilian environment.” With the exception of the Socialists, who, strangely enough, were coddled by Primo toward the end, all the old political parties ceased to function in Spain. In 1924 the decree forbidding meetings for the forma- tion of political groups or the formal dis- cussion of politics went forth and remained in effect. This reminds me of an apt reply that a well-known Madrid banker made when I asked about the state of parties. It was: “The only party remaining in Spain is the party of silence.” The force mandate was imposed on the educational institutions just as it was on all other activities. With the universities, however, it proved to be a boomerang. After the Ciudad Real revolt, Primo strengthened the censorship in every direc- tion. In March, 1929, the first of the decrees on educational reform was pub- lished, and it stirred up a hornets’ nest. Through this decree two Catholic universi- ties were permitted to set up examining boards and confer degrees. The eleven state universities were barred from this privilege. Meanwhile, more than a score of eminent authors, philosophers and educa- tors, including university heads, had gone into exile for uttering criticisms of the dic- tatorial rule. One of the first to be pro- scribed was Blasco Vicente Ibanez, the (Continued on Page 204) = or TS ee

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WRIST-WATCH with chromium-ploted metal strap, $ 5:00 With pigskin strap, $ 45° Tip-Top Pocket gon design, Tip- Top Pocket Watch, compensated for temperature, . 1 re than the ordinary dollar watch; $1.50 dial, $2.25 Rughe) Tip-Top Quinte, compensated for { tw a nur eral re 1 t ket watcn at anywi dium dia , $2.5 14458 Pr The New Haven Clock Co., New ae mate Makers of good clocks and with silver dial, Krack-proof Krystal nd all ss other refinements, costs only fifty cents stlver face, full chromium-plated case, raised and Krack-proof Krystal is the handsomest vere near its price; $2.00. Ra- ow low-priced watches that are com- pensated tor temperature. The only low- priced watches with so many refinements. NEW! Tip-Top Jr. Wrist-Watch. Fashionably small with full chromium-plated case, silver dial, raised dust-proof case, detachable pig-skin strap; and compensated for tem- With radium dial, $5.00. With chromium-plated metal bracelet, only soc extra. Tip- Top Wrist-Watch. Slightly larger than Tip-Top Jr. With Krack-proof Krystal, silver dial, detachable pig-skin strap, dust-proof case. While this regular Tip- Top wrist-watch is not ie a watch that millions numerals, Krack-proof Krystal, perature. Only $4.50. compensated for temperature, it is so have been sold at $3.50. A great value at $3.50. ial $4.00 ‘ = > asian Tip-Top A TE + me Quintet, Radium tempera- Canada lightiy higher in a watches for more than five generations @BY spinor WATCHES ture, $2 up. Now at your dealer's. NEW HAVEN a 12" —_ op a (Continued from Page 202) famous Spanish novelist, who, until his death, conducted a bitter campaign against | both dictatorship and monarchy from the French Riviera. A second Primo decree closed the Artil- lery Academy. This was a jolt at the dictator’s most persistent enemies in the army, but it worked a great hardship on the young cadets. Primo then permitted loyal cadets to enter the engineering school in Madrid and receive credit for the work which they had done in the Academy. This brought about a hot protest from the en- gineering students, who regarded the ar- tillery cadets as intruders. The educational pot boiled. All this meddling with educational pro- cedure led to a succession of student strikes and riots throughout Spain. The decree mill again began to grind, this time with orders closing the Central University of Madrid, the University of Barcelona and the University of Oviedo. When Primo applied repressive measures to the universities, it meant that the whole range of public and private activities had fallen under some kind of duress. It also indicated that a one-time sound judgment was beginning to waver. Every boy kept out of college became an advance agent of protest in the home and out of it. We now come to the closing curtain of the Primo drama. Two events, each touch- ing the great mass of the people, hastened the crisis. One was a renewal of Primo’s promise to modify the constitution that he sponsored. Buteven Spain, with hermafiana creed, was tired of such gestures. The second event was the continued slump of the peseta. At par, it is worth 19.3 cents. Early in September it went down to 12.5 -ents. Instead of improving the finan- cial situation, the dictator’s methods had impaired it. Local and foreign bankers | agreed that, with her gold supply and her Radium | general economic equipment, a different tale would have been unfolded if the stew- ardship of the nation had been in more competent hands. Primo’s Resignation In December, when I visited Spain—I crossed the country from Algeciras to Bar- celona—it was apparent that the hand- writing was on the wall. Everywhere I heard the question: “‘How long can the dictatorship last?” The end seemed a fore- gone conclusion. The verdict was written on Primo himself. In 1926 he looked sturdy and strong. Con- fidence was stamped on every gesture. His manner was aggressive. Now he appeared worn and haggard. Yet he continued the optimist to the last, although, in the one contact I had with him, I felt that he realized that all was over. It was, perhaps, a portent that he received me in mufti. I had never seen him previously except in uniform. A violent student riot in Madrid on Jan- uary twenty-fourth marked the beginning of the end. All the taxicab drivers in the cap- ital also went on strike. The press, with the | muzzle off, carried on a persistent hectoring | would have their support. of the premier and his program. He was sniped at from every side. Primo then de- cided to stake his fate on the military chiefs. On January twenty-sixth he asked for a vote from the seventeen leading generals and admirals to decide whether he and his government should continue. Despite the revolts, he believed that he Instead, they rendered an adverse decision. It was the final straw. If Primo needed any further | evidence of his status with the king, it was | shown in the choice of his bitterest foe as successor. On the evening of January twenty-eighth, Primo, in the full uniform of a general of infantry, handed his resignation to the king and became a private citizen. Spanish eti- | quette decrees that gala dress be worn on such an occasion. The designation of Gen- eral Berenguer was immediately announced. While these historic events were in progress April 5, 1930 at the palace, students ranged up and down the principal streets yelling, ‘Down with monarchy!” “No more generals!” and “Up with the republic!” The new cabinet was announced within twenty-four hours. Berenguer, who is fifty- seven years old and ranks sixth in the hier- © archy of Spanish generals, became Premier and Minister of War. With the exception of the Minister of Marine, he is the only military figure in the new cabinet. In the selection of the Duke of Alba as Minister of Education, there is an indication of the change toward liberalism. He is one of the greatest, as well as one of the richest, gran- dees in Spain. A few years ago he divided up his estate among his retainers. Like many of his caste and type, he consistently opposed the Primo draft constitution, fa- voring an instrument framed along the lines of the constitution of 1876. The duke was largely responsible for the immediate conciliation of the university students, who, at the time I write, had returned to their studies. All the educational institutions closed by the Primo decree were immedi- ately reopened. The Duke of Alba is one of the king’s cronies. Discipline the Only Formula Within a week after Berenguer’s acces- sion, the Patriotic Union, Primo’s personal political organization, was in collapse. Members resigned by wholesale. Once their leader’s flag was down, they fled from the ship. An affiliation that once spelled privilege was now synonymous with failure. In Spain the constitution forbids any officer from participating in political activities. Primo will, therefore, be obliged to resign from the army if he is to continue the Pa- triotic Union. In any event, the party has ceased to be a factor. When Alfonso intrusted the dictatorship to Primo in 1923, the elder statesman, Maura, said to his king: “Your Majesty, you have placed your crown upon the hilt of a sword.” Force of one kind or another was the principal agency employed. In justification of his acts, Primo always declared: “‘I am a soldier.” Stern discipline was the only formula he knew. To his credit it must be said that his patriotism was sincere and his aim high. He failed because he overshot the mark. He did not know, let me repeat, when to let go. The preceding reference to overshooting the mark raises the question: Whither dic- tatorships? Ten years ago the establish- ment of an absolutist régime was regarded as a natural consequence of what seemed to be the failure of European democracy. The troubled hour made strong-armed manipu- lation easy. Today the first defection in the mailed-fist club only inspires wonder that it was deferred so long. The war made Europe safe for dictatorships. Are dicta- torships now safe for Europe? Is the re- action against reaction setting in? A review of the situation is invoked by recent events in Spain. What most Americans do not realize is that on January first of this year approxi- mately 250,000,000 people lived under some form of dictatorship. The list included four republics— Russia, Poland, Portugal and Turkey, with Greece more or less eligible; and five monarchies—lItaly, Spain, Jugo- Slavia, Hungary and Albania. I include Hungary because, though no formal mon- archial system exists, Admiral Horthy, the regent, is a monarchist at heart and en- joys kingly prerogatives. The rule of his premier, Count Bethlen, is certainly auto- cratic. Whether it is a case of government by decree or otherwise, all dictatorships mean personal government, a one-man show, with its vagaries of will and way, and al- most complete disregard of constitutional privileges. Practically all the contemporary dicta- torships intrenched themselves under iden- tical conditions. In Italy, Spain and Poland, for example, parliamentary con- fusion reigned. To meet the crisis, it was

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necessary to take the short cut to action. Once the emergency that inspires a dicta- torship passes, however, the ancient im- pulse for freedom asserts itself. “Many have gone about to destroy parliaments,” said a great Englishman, “but in the end parliaments have destroyed them.” Even so popular a hero as Pilsudski is now finding difficulty in bending the national assembly to his will, despite the intrusion of his co- hort of colonels. The second aid to dictatorships lies in widespread illiteracy. In Hungary, the figure is not less than 33 per cent; Italy, 35 percent; Spain, nearly 50 per cent; Greece, 57.2 per cent, and Russia, 69 per cent. China, with an even greater percentage, would be the ideal stamping ground for absolutism. Lack of cohesion, partly due to conflicting dialects, has interfered. Be- sides, each provincial governor regards him- self as the autocrat of all he surveys, with the result that with the present Nationalist régime the country is a succession of in- dividual dictators, each zealous of his own spoils. Contrast the illiteracy statistics that I quoted with those of the three oldest repub- lies, and you see why a dictator cannot raise himself within their confines. In Switzerland, illiteracy is .3 per cent; in the United States, 6 per cent; and in France, 14.1 per cent. As more than one competent observer has pointed out, no literate coun- try has followed the lead of Italy or Russia. There are Fascist organizations in Ger- many, Austria and Britain, but they are merely reactionary groups. They have no connection with the system in operation under Mussolini. Fascism, as originally projected, needs the volatile Italian tem- perament. Democracy holds its own in countries where freehold agriculture, improved ma- chinery and a high degree of capitalism flourish. To this must be added universal suffrage exercised freely and intelligently. Why was the old Prussia able to enforce her autocratic rule? Simply because, as a sep- arate kingdom, she had a system of class suffrage which enabled a comparatively small number of taxpayers to elect two- thirds of the assembly. Encouraging Cowardice If ever a country needed a dictator, it was France in the dark hours of 1926. Due to the collapse of the currency, finance was in chaos. Yet the chamber of deputies put petty partisanship above the national wel- fare. It quibbled while the franc fell. Poincaré became fiscal czar and enabled the country to find itself economically. He did not depart one iota from legitimate consti- tutional procedure. Once his task was ac- complished, he retired. Take Britain in that distracted postwar period which began with the first of the coal strikes and culminated in the general strike. Here was a genuine defiance of the consti- tuted order, with social revolution lurking in the background. But Britain saw it through. More striking was the steadfastness of the German republic when the French were in the Ruhr and the mark sank to almost unbelievable depths. To a greater degree than either France or Britain, she was ripe for autocracy. Doubt, despair, inertia and suspicion gripped the Reich. On the one hand, sovietization loomed as the one way out, while on the other the only hope seemed to rest in a czarship. The Weimar Constitution, which was the mandate for the republic, had bestowed universal suf- frage. The people knew that it was within their power to find adequate redress and leadership through the exercise of the bal- lot, and they did. It is only fair to the dictators to say that most of the absolutist régimes—the one conspicuous exception is Russia—had am- ple justification, nowhere more so than in Italy. There is no doubt that Mussolini’s swift and courageous entrance on the scene saved the country from communism. The THE SATURDAY trouble with personal governments is that they become intoxicated with power, de- velop a force obsession, and in the long run undo the benefits which their initial strong rule achieved. But they do more. As Sefior Cambo, an eminent Spanish critic of Primo de Rivera, put it: “ Dictatorships paralyze citizenship, encourage individual and collective cow- ardice which begins in cowed silence and ends in shameful conformity.” He further makes the point that after some years the dictator no longer knows the real feeling of the people toward himself, his authority and his work, and becomes increasingly un- aware of what may be the real desire and feeling of the country. This is why some dictators, while believing themselves strong, are in reality losing their hold. Egoists all, they are blinded by the praise and adula- tion which the very circumstance of their power creates. Italy’s Early Dictator Another fundamental defect in the sys- tem is the problem of succession. No dic- tator can perpetuate himself in office. He faces the relentless dictate of mortality, overthrow or retirement. It so happens that the last of these alternatives is always the most remote, which gets back to the original thesis that they almost invariably | hang on too long. Furthermore—Italy once more provides a concrete illustration—the personal dicta- torship, if prolonged beyond the point of its highest usefulness, can maintain itself only by still more force. The experience of his- tory shows that, in every instance where this is imposed, the almost certain outcome is failure. There is no need of rehearsing the Italian | situation. One point not brought out in the previous paper is well worth emphasizing here because it constitutes a striking com- mentary on the Mussolini method. As most people know, Cavour was the creator of the unified Italy and the greatest of all the Italian statesmen. What many people do nox know is that he was also a dictator. At the high tide of his career he held five cabinet posts, practically dominating every | important governmental activity in the same way that Mussolini grasped super- | Despite | vision in his less formative day. assumption of myriad powers, Cavour was the constitutionalist from first to last. In Paléologue’s recent life of him, he makes this illuminating statement, which Fascist Italy may well heed: “His—Cavour’s—dictatorship partook | of a singular, not to say paradoxical, na- ture, in that it was exercised through per- suasion and with the most complete regard for constitutional form and in strict accord with liberal principles. He never even sought or used a method other than that of public discussion under the authority of parliament. Hence his was not an auto- cratic dictatorship. It was, on the con- trary, a parliamentary dictatorship. He once said: ‘The worst of parliaments is preferable to the best of anterooms.’” Before we bid farewell to Italy for the present, let me show the contrast between Mussolini and Primo. Mussolini created an entirely new political faith which, under his magnetic sponsorship, has developed into a religion with its adherents. Primo followed conventional dictatorial lines only using the old brand of force. Mussolini has a many-sided mental equipment and possesses qualities of statesmanship. Primo, on the other hand, is a soldier pure and simple. In Spain the ambition of every general is to save his country by becoming her ruler. Mussolini is the Duce, which means “leader,” in every sense of the word. Moreover, he has been deified. His life is sacred and his word law. Primo was in- vested with no superhuman attributes. He was content to be regarded as a mere man, doing what he believed to be his duty. The | régimes also differed. Save at the start, Mussolini has encountered no organized op- | position to his rule, whereas Primo, as you EVENING POST t oO n | eNow_a real Electric Clock N° springs, no winding, no time errors due to weather .. -You merely plug this new elec- tric clock into the alternating cur- (for faithful time in warmth or cold) WITH BEAUTIFUL DIALS AND CASES, AS LOW AS $ 7 95 Merely plug into your light socket; no winding; no time variation from tempera- ture; and the finest value in electric clocks! rent outlet, press simple starting lever on dial, and for years it tells time, “faithful as the stars.” An accurately-timed, trouble-free, tiny motor banishes the need for all repairs to spring-wound escape- ments. But this is the most sur- prising of all: this new Elm City line now gives you a real electric clock for as low as $7.95. Made by the New Haven Clock Com- pany, these Elm City Electric Clocks have the beautiful cases for which this company has been famous for five generations. The $7.95 square model is ideal for desk or radio. All the other Elm City Clocks are equally exceptional values—each one a tasteful, modern gift! Ideal for the io or the business man’s Electric a Clock. home ra desk. Mahogany finished case and Krack-proof Krystal. A gift to trea- sure for years. Extraordinary value! Larina Electric Clock. For kitchen, breakfast nook, office, store or hos- pital. In a choice of pastel colors: rose, yellow, blue, green or white. A finer electric clock at a lower price. 8¥2" wide. The New Haven Clock Co., New Haven, Conn., LM CITY See New Haven'’s beautiful ARTLARMS— Now! clocks compensated for tempera- ture, $2 up. Now at your dealer's Alarm ee Warwick $ 50 Electric Banjo 16 Tastefully gay, this true banjo lends old romance to a new, modern home. Mahogany finish; decorated panels; convex crystal. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST WHERE IS THE “‘TENDER SPOT’ ON YOUR FACE? Double-dense lather soothes as you shave Prove it— make this “tender spot” test Am months ago we announced ... “Lifebuoy Shaving Cream is bere!”’ Overnight we were deluged by requests for trial tubes. Men— thousands of them—wrote “Fine! Let's try it. With that wonderful Lifebuoy ingredient it must be a wow!"’ Now they've tried it. And they write us again. “It’s great! Won- derful! Just as good as we expect- ed.’ Every day their letters pour in. “Gives me the smoothest shave I ever had,” say hundreds. “Never knew shaving could be so easy,” say others. Still more write, ““Those painful tender spots have com- pletely vanished.” No need for “tender spots” now Almost every man has a pet fender spot that hurts when he shaves. On the neck, chin, upper lip, cheekbone or Adam's Apple. LIFEBUOY crezm® But there’s no need for them now. With Lifebuoy’s double-dense healing lather the razor slides right over even the tenderest spots— without the slightest irritation. Thousands know this to be true. Make this test yourself Don’t wait until you need more shaving cream. Ger the big red tube of Lifebuoy Shaving Cream at your druggist’s today. Or send coupon below for a free trial tube. Then lather up with Lifebuoy. Shave as you always do. When you come to a tender spot, notice the difference. See for yourself how easily the razor takes off every hair —slick as a whistle—without leaving a bit of sting or burn. That’s because Lifebuoy’s lubri- cating and antiseptic lather soothes and protects. Try Lifebuoy Shaving Cream now! ends tenderface r ! | | ! ' Lever Brotuers Co., Dept. 124, Campripce, Mass. Please send me a 12-day “Show me” trial tube of Lifebuoy Shaving Cream. Name Address ‘ity State have seen, fought intermittent revolt dur- ing the last three years of his stewardship. After Italy, popular interest is centered more on Russia perhaps than on any of the remaining dictatorships. The Mussoliniza- | tion of Italy is matched by what has come to be an almost complete Stalinization of the Soviet domain. No member of the dic- tator club wields a heftier hand than the man who has ruthlessly forced his way to the Bolshevik overlordship. Force is effective when employed to bol- | ster the political end of the dictator show. Inevitably it rebounds when laid on the economic structure. Mussolini has felt the repercussion in Italy. It is within the possi- bilities that Stalin wrote the death warrant of his autocracy when he started his new offensive against the peasants. To understand what may develop into another milepost on the road of European dictatorships, you must be told that the Russian peasant, who constitutes 85 per cent of the population, has hitherto em- bodied the one self-dependent economic unit of the country. The 5,000,000 so- called kulaks—rich peasants—are the back- bone of production. In 1921, following the collapse of militant communism, Lenin in- troduced the famous New Economic Pol- icy —NEP—which was a partial return to private initiative and business. It proved to be so successful that, tosave communism, it had to be suppressed a few years later. With the second failure of communism in 1925, it was brought back to life again. The NEP system stimulated what might be called capitalistic consciousness in the peasant. Stalin last year determined to exterminate it with his communal farm plan. Originally aimed at the kulak, it soon included the whole peasant class. In consequence, the peasant has become a serf of the state, just as he was a serf of the barons in a departed day. The workers are grouped for collective cultivation of large tracts under the supervision of government officials. All idea of individual enterprise, profit or land-holding is abandoned. It is nothing short of a return to feudalism. Scrapping the Fez The evil consequences of the swing to the extreme left are already apparent. Farm spirit is paralyzed and output suffers. Fail- ure of the project would automatically mean Stalin’s downfall. Hence this year of grace is likely to be historic in the annals of Bolshevism. Everywhere economic institutions are feeling the weight of the dictatorial hand. The parliamentary crisis in Poland, due entirely to Pilsudski’s militaristic interfer- ence with its functions, has complicated business no less than in Turkey, where Kemal! Pasha’s passion for westernization has already scrapped the fez in favor of the derby and changed the alphabet. About the only western institution that he has failed to introduce is democracy. Both Pilsudski and Kemal are national heroes, but the glamour of past performance, how- ever brilliant, cannot stimulate business. One of Europe’s little press-agented dic- tatorships—Jugo-Slavia—has assumed pe- culiar significance. The country, upon its reorganization after the war, was first known as the Kingdom of the Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. Each unit, especially the Croats, has a powerful nationalistic wing. Constant friction was in evidence. When the feud spilled over with a riot in parlia- ment in which Raditch, the Croatian leader, was shot, King Alexander dissolved the assembly and made himself the head and center of governmental authority. He also changed the name of the country to Jugo- Slavia, because each one of the three com- ponent parts wanted its name to come first. So successful has been the consolidation of power that in February it was announced that the dictatorship, having revived the economic system and reorganized the army, is to end with a return to parliamentary government, headed by a civilian. A King May Run for President Thus, some kind of change is in process all along the dictator front. Only time can tell whether the lesson of Madrid will be heeded. It is well to recall that the demo- cratic principle has always survived arbi- trary individualism. For the final word we must return to the Spanish situation. Possible release from dictatorship does not mean that Spain’s troubles are over. The future is full of men- acetothethrone. Berenguer’s cabinet was chosen in a hurry to check the growing re- publican movement. Sanchez Guerra’s first post-pardon speech was a violent attack on the monarchy. It expressed a widespread conviction favoring the establishment of a republic. The Spanish royal succession is compli- cated because the king’s two eldest sons are physically handicapped, one from deafness and the other from hemophilia, which is a hereditary tendency to spontaneous bleed- ing. This is why Primo favored a fernale succession. The royal daughters are all strong. As a man, Alfonso enjoys wide popular- ity. He possesses undoubted courage, is a good sportsman, and is free from swank. That he has no illusions about monarchial permanency is shown by his oft-repeated remark that he is willing to run for presi- dent, once a republic is proclaimed. Whatever the outcome of this period of transition, one thing is certain: Spain was the first country to start a bear move- ment in the dictator market. Editor’s Note—This is the second of two articles by Mr. Marcosson dealing with European dictator- ships. PHOTO. BY WILLIAM M. RITTASE A Pennsylvania Country Scene en ee ee a et

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{ ~~ ee TT The votes in the committees in the House and the Senate were all unanimous. To the suggestion, in debate, that bonds of some of our associated powers were selling at far below par and that money should be ad- vanced on the basis of the market price for these bonds, the answer was: “All the more necessity for us to loan them this money at the lowest possible rate of interest.’’ When one congressman said, “‘ They will use it to retire private loans,”’ the sponsors of the bill replied, “ Leave it to them; and do not limit or qualify the use of that money.”” When a provision requiring mutual guaranties among the borrowers was advanced, the reply was: “If we get this money back at all when the war is won, weshall get off cheap.” I think we shall see that this was our atti- tude throughout—a prompt and compre- hensive vision of the bitter thing the world was up against, a whole-hearted willingness to face it squarely, without bargaining or cavil, an assumption of all burdens, not only of those forced upon us by the exigen- cies of war but also of any—however un- usual—that we could reach out and take to make the task of our associates easier or to smooth the way to victory. Where Did the Money Go? Thus, in 1918, the shortage of silver available to the mints of India threatened a difficult situation in foreign exchanges. We immediately withdrew silver certificates from our circulating media, replaced them with Federal Reserve notes, sold the Treas- ury metal back of these certificates to the British, at a stabilizing price, and loaned them the money to make the purchase. Among Allied war expenditures out of our loans to them will be found such items as ““Exchange and cotton purchases, $2,644,- 783,000; maturities and interest, $1,378,- 750,000.” No one will ever know how much of our advances to all our Allies went for purposes as remote from direct military participation as the retirement, through our Government’s unsecured advances to them, of loans secured by them to American bankers by collateral before we ever entered the war, because funds advanced by us were commingied with other funds. As just stated, maturities and interest alone were reported as $1,378,750,000, which does not include a so-called overdraft owed to cer- tain New York bankers, of $400,000,000, which was later liquidated, making a known total in this item of $1,778,750,000. How much more is included in such so-called blind items as exchanges is not certain, but, in view of unknown credits opened by munition manufacturers, the total is prob- ably not less than $2,000,000,000. Part of the money advanced by us was used to feed the Allied civil populations, for which the governments were paid in part by their own peoples. Some of these items were: For cereals and other foods, $3,051,- 000,000; for tobacco and other supplies, $758,206,000. Indeed, of a total of nearly $12,000,000,000, only about $2,443,610,000 was expended for munitions, including re- mounts. Much of the money we loaned was used artificially to stabilize Allied ex- changes so as actually to make our pur- chases from the Allies far more expensive than they would otherwise have been. Finally, under the terms of the actual debt settlements, the amount to be received by us is reported by our Treasury to be only about 60 per cent of the value of these foreign debts based on the terms of the original obligation.* We never questioned that use of money or these settlements, and we do not ques- tion them now, but they certainly carry secant comfort to critics of American whole- heartedness in this matter either at home or abroad. Our consent, in 1917-18, to this use of such vast sums is some indication of the spirit in which we took our place beside our friends in the Great War. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST A FEW KIND WORDS FOR UNCLE SAM (Continued from Page 7) Our attitude was the same from begin- ning to end and after the end. We simply opened our treasury and met all Allied de- mands during the entire war and long after the Armistice, until the specters of pesti- lence and starvation which stalk in the wake of war were abolished from the hori- zons of both friend and former foe. We have thus far discussed only our con- tribution of money directly to the Allied governments themselves, and have said nothing about our appropriations for our own effort toward victory—not only as to the amount of money we expended but as to the very much larger sums which would have been required by the man power, ma- terial and financial programs upon which we had embarked. In the fiscal years 1917 to 1928 our actual outpayments on account of the war passed the unprecedented total of more than $49,- 000,000,000.* Deducting from this certain receipts, such as interest accrued on the debts and proceeds of the sale of surplus war material and certain assets on hand— principally obligations funded and due from Allied or associated powers—we find a net war cost of $36,360,232,063.98 as of June 30, 1928. These figures, as nearly as may be com- puted and supposing that every cent of Allied obligations to us will be discharged, indicate what we actually spent, but it is only a portion of what we expected, in- tended and were prepared to spend and would have spent had the war not collapsed so suddenly in November, 1918. What the latter amount might have proved to be must be pure conjecture based on the fact that by the latter date we had taken over the whole financing of our Allies’ requirements in this country and had embarked on a pro- gram of our own many times heavier than that of 1917, all of which actually did, as we have seen, result in a total gross outlay of more than $49,000,000,000. In 1918 we made a single contract abroad involving an outpayment of $500,000,000 for artillery and ammunition. On November 14, 1918, the Secretary of the Treasury wrote a letter to the Senate Finance Committee in which he said that, on the basis of our increased military programs, he had estimated that expenditure between June 30, 1918, and June 30, 1919, alone would be $24,000,000,- 000. Asa matter of fact—regardless of the sudden Armistice and the abandonment of purchase programs on November 11, 1918 we actually spent in the fiscal year 1919 more than $18,500,000,000. In the opinion of the writer, had we gone ahead with the program requested by General Pershing for the expected 1919 campaign, our actual ex- penditures for the fiscal year 1919 alone would have been nearer $35,000,000,000 than $24,000,000,000. Holding Back Nothing The entire net cost of the whole six years of the war to Great Britain has been esti- mated at $43,812,000,000. For the years prior to our entry, the gross cost of various countries has been estimated, as follows: Great Britain, $18,250,000,000; France, $9,000,000,000; Italy, $5,000,000,000; Rus- sia, $12,300,000,000; total, Allies, $48,500,- 000,000; total, Central Powers, $21,000,000, 000. It seems quite apparent that, had the war continued into 1919, and on the basis of what we had done and were preparing to do, our net war costs would have been greater than those of all the Allies combined, up to the date of our entry into the war. {All computations of Allied war costs are by Harvey E. Fisk, Inter-Ally Debts, pub- lished by the Bankers Trust Company, 1924, and cited as authority in a letter from the United States Department of the Treas- ury, August 7, 1929.] But, as mentioned before, all figures on probable expenditures are mere conjec- tures—the amount might have been very * Report of Secretary of Treasury, 1927. * Report of the Secretary of Treasury, 1928, p. 564. much larger than the estimates just dis- cussed. If we had not ceased to put any limit on appropriations, we had at least ceased to count the costs of any promised effective effort. As Chairman Swagar Sherley of the House Appropriations Com- mittee rather tartly put it in August, 1918, we were then “appropriating all the money there is for any useful purpose whatever.” We were holding back nothing that could possibly advance the common cause, and we faced the year 1919 with no thought of change in this policy. Man Power in the War In discussing those days of universal sacrifice, money seems a sordid topic, and so it is as a measure of material gain. But here is no talk of gain. Here money itself was merely a measure of help. We con- sider it first because our outpouring of it came first in point of time. At the same moment we prepared to give a more sacred thing—the very flower of our youth and manhood—and we did that with precisely the same scorn of “stint or limit.” On May 28, 1917, General Pershing sailed for Europe. Within a few days he cabled back requesting 1,000,000 men and preparation for 3,000,000 more. As the crisis developed he estimated a requirement for the expected 1919 campaign of eighty and later of one hundred divisions in France.* With auxiliary troops, this latter looked to an overseas army of 5,000,000 men. This would have required replacement and other home army organizations of 1,500,000 men; a total armed force, including men in the Navy and Marines, of more than 7,000,000 men. Nobody ever questioned these re- quirements. As to Pershing’s eighty- division program — 4,000,000 men in France for the spring of 1919—we promised it. As to his one-hundred-division program, we ac- cepted it as a goal subject only to available shipping. As our work progressed, it be- came apparent that we could accomplish it. We acted with all the energy and resource at our command to fulfill his requests. On May 18, 1917, Congress authorized the registration of 10,000,000 men for mili- tary service, and on June fifth they were en- rolled. Thus, in seventeen days was created the pool of man power which eventually overcame the German numerical advantage on the Western Front. The male popula- tion of the United States was 54,000,000. Of these, 29,000,000 were under eighteen or beyond forty-five years of age. In succes- sive enrollments, we registered, in one way or another, 25,000,000 men for military service. There the registrants, not yet classified or called, stood awaiting the ad- ministrative process by which they were to be grouped in classes in the order of their relative availability for immediate induc- tion. This classification process was carried on far enough in advance of actual calls for men to insure an ample pool of instantly available and fully qualified man power against any demand. {At the date of the Armistice we had placed under arms by all methods and in all categories 4,727,988 men. There were then presently fully class- ified and available for immediate service 1,500,000 more, and there was in process a further classification estimated to bring the total of available and qualified regis- trants not yet inducted to 3,600,000 under the rules then existing—a number far in ex- cess of any immediate prospect of require- ment even on the full 7,000,000 program. A prime question was how to take them with least dislocation of our industrial system, and I recall a visit from General Crowder when we had already taken 4,000,000 men in which he asked me, as chairman of the War Industries Board, where industry could best spare its share of a total withdrawal of about 300,000 men a month. * Report of Secretary of War, 1918, p. 10. tAll figures on man power from report of Provost Marshal General, 1918, p. 226 ef seq There is only one way to be perma- nently rid of corns—remove the cause— friction and pressure of shoes, Dr. Scholl's Zino-pads do this. They cush- ion the sore spot, while their soothing medication ends pain instantly. Once gone, corns need never return if you apply Zino-pads at first eign of soreness from new or tight shoes. Cutting your corns may cause blood- poisoning. Harsh and caustic prepara- tions often result in acid burn. Zino- pads are guaranteed safe. Thin, dainty, cushioning, healing. 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We went further in this regard than any belligerent, for, by the so-called Work or Fight order, we were making the draft serve the uses of industry by providing that any man not usefully and faithfully em- ployed in an industry declared by the Gov- ernment to be essential to victory should be taken at once for military service, regard- less of any other claim he might have for deferment or exemption. Industry was further served by the abolition of volun- teering. In other countries any man, re- gardless of his essentiality to the war ma- chine at home, could volunteer to march. Here only those selected for military service could undertake it. Experts in industry re- mained at their tasks. As the President put it, “though a sharpshooter pleases to operate a trip hammer for the forging of great guns, and an expert machinist desires to march with the flag, the nation is being served only when the sharpshooter marches and the machinist remains at his levers. The whole nation must be a team.” In two sentences he thus outlined a new concept of a nation in arms—a system which, in mobi- lization of military and economic power, was never before approached in war or peace. This classification system was a skim- ming process. It was designed to send to battle first only those who, above all others, were best circumstanced to go. Others were merely deferred in strata of relative avail- ability, not excused. This had two impor- tant effects—first, the 7,000,000 first taken or to be taken were the cream of our whole manhood; second, the resiliency afforded by the deferred classes was such that the total provision of military effectives af- forded by the system was very great— greater by 50 per cent than the man-power resource of England and France combined. This vast pool had been made fully ready for any demand that might be placed upon it. In all these preparations there was neither complaint nor murmur from our people. No family was exempt. The door of every home in the nation was thrown wide open for the Government to enter and take as its needs might require. No show of force was necessary in this taking. It was executed by the civilians of each local community. It was unique in the annals of military levies in that it had no background of bayonets. As the President said, ‘It is in no sense a conscription of the unwilling. It is rather selection from a nation which has volun- | teered in mass.” “Send Us Men!” Nor was there any lack of stern reality in this. In a single month we withdrew more than 400,000 men from civil life—more than 1,000,000 men in ninety days. No- body was under the slightest illusion. The heavy drafts came when the British stood with “their backs to the wall” against an overwhelming German superiority in num- bers which was blasting the way wide open to the Channel ports. The bloodiest tolls of the war were being taken. The Allied mis- sions were proving in Washington that, at the then rate of losses and relative strength, projection of victory for Germany had become a mere matter of arithmetical com- putation of consumption and available reserves. They had changed their minds completely about the advisability of a great American fighting force in France. It had suddenly become their one salvation. At their almost desperate request and belated release of shipping, we stepped our contri- bution of men up from 70,000 a month to 300,000 a month. Our equipment was not ready, but the literal Macedonian cry was: “Send us men in their undershirts. We can equip them.” We took every ton of available shipping and jammed it with men packed like sar- dines. Divisions were stripped of their artillery and other special troops. We were sending only infantry and machine guns. In five months we sent 1,500,000 soldiers abroad and raised the American Expedi- tionary Force to more than 2,000,000 men, April 85,1950 which was a larger number than was ever attained by the British Expeditionary Force in France.* Herein resides a point of telling importance against those who belittle our actual combat effort. Had we not ignored Allied advice in1917 and proceeded to create these vast pools of man power and supplies, there would have been no overwhelming American reserve to stop the German flood at Belleau Wood and Ch&teau-Thierry and cut square across France through the Ar- gonne to the German lines of communica- tion. At the low ebb of Allied fortunes, Per- shing—abandoning for the moment of ex- tremity the American determination to preserve the independent identity of the American Army—said to Foch: “All that we have is yours to dispose of as you will. Others are coming which are as numerous as will be necessary.” Of this, the British official announcement was: “President Wilson has shown the greatest anxiety to do everything possible to assist the Allies, and has left nothing undone which could contribute thereto.” A Bridge of Ships There was no voice then to say that American military contribution was a slight weight in the balance. All that was then heard was that it was indispensable to salvation. So much for our giving of the second ele- ment of war—men. As we had done with treasure, so did we do with blood—gave all that could be taken as fast as it could be shipped overseas, and with complete sub- mergence of every thought of selfish interest. There is no difference in the theme of this story when we come to material, but the subject is far more complex. No true meas- ure of the lengths to which this country went and was rapidly going can be had without brief reference to the various departments in which this energy was expended. In the first quarter of 1917, submarines destroyed 2,000,000 tons of Allied ship- ping—more than 800,000 tons in April alone. The world’s combined output of new shipping was replacing less than a quarter the loss. Great Britain had only 6,000,000 gross tons available for ocean transport, and shipping was the factor which limited the amount of man power and material aid we could give the Allies. The dwindling of the world’s mercantile fleet threatened defeat in many other ways. So dependent was victory on nitrates for explosives that the sinking of an old tramp freighter from Chile was a greater loss than the destruction of a whole infantry division. Tropical mahogany for airplane propellers, wheat from the Argentine, rubber from the East Indies, were all basic elements in a vast economic strategy which, if less obvious in the dispatches, was perhaps even more im- portant than the strategy of arms. We at- tacked this problem instantly. Within eleven days of our declaration of war we established the Emergency Fleet Corporation. For the purpose of creating a fleet of carriers, Congress authorized alto- gether an expenditure of $3,700,000,000. To measure this figure, it should be re- marked that, excluding naval vessels, it is nearly 3.7 times the value of all American shipping and canals in 1912 and—to show the small proportion of it that went per- manently to improve the economic status of the United States—it is 2.5 times that value in 1922—both estimates of value by the United States Census Bureau. We embarked at once on a shipbuilding program looking toward the construction of 12,000,000 gross tons, and actually built nearly 10,000,000 gross tons of this. The energy and progress of this work were amazing. We expanded our shipbuilding capacity ten times in ten months, paying material and machinery costs nearly three times normal costs, and labor rates about double normal rates. We started with 234 shipways, and by November 11, 1918, had *Report of Assistant Secretary of War, 1917-18. (Continued on Page 213) Ree — a

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EVERY MINUTE, Electricity keeps the Telechron Clock in your home or office as accurate as the Clock in the power house SILENTLY, smoothly, Telechron takes its place in the routine of your existence. You forget that you were ever annoyed by timepieces that had to be wound and oiled and cleaned and regulated. There remains only the grateful consciousness that here is time to depend upon! The accuracy that your Telechron delivers from an electric outlet is made possible by a Telechron Master Clock which controls generator speeds in your local power station and insures even im- pulses of alternating current. The synchronous, self-starting Telechron motor merely translates these impulses into time—correct time—and you catch your train, keep your appointment or cook your steak perfectly in consequence! EVERY THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 211 DAY, YOU NEED “TIME YOU CAN TRUST” Cathedral, an inexpensive clock for desk or dressing-table. Gothic design. Bakelite case $ with mottled walnut finish. Three-inch sil . wered dial. Height 7 3/16" . . . Price RB yte infallible Telechron Master Now a tiny wire tells time There are Telechrons in rich variety —models le. for wall or mantel, desk or dressing-table—some Tt Bi ‘ is lige: fH ‘ This is the Telechron Master Clock in your power house. Checked with illuminated dials, even with alarms. There are Telechrons for the office and for the kitchen too. All of them are worthy of the unerring pre- cision ‘— encase. And prices are only $9.95 to Ashland, Mass. * The Revere Clock Co., of Cincinnati, O., produces grandfather's clocks and other distinguished examples of fine cabinetwork equipped 55* Warren Telechron Co.. , b overns the speed of the with Telechron motors. Their prices range from $40 to $1200 y radio with naval observatory time, it gover peed = giant generators that supply impulees of alternating current t regulate the Telechron in your home. These are nly master clocks used by power companies to furnis h regulated time cy o Listen for Telechron chimes ‘ ef et the clese ef evers COW 6 @ General Blectric radio hour . . « electric time-keepers

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212 tHERMD BLuE Boy with Bakelite Cup and a greater MMERMDS reve Biue Boy is the newest development in } — \ eee Ka HAT NO THE AMERICAN T by (en *) 5 CHICAGO CINCINNATI \ all oS , In England: Thermos, Ltd., London — «=? Gemma S'S 2m tren THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,1930 REG. U.S. PAT. OFF. “Thermos” bottles. Comfort in use is its out- standing feature. For only BLuE Boy has a molded ‘Bakelite cup. No matter how hot the liquid, the edge of the cup will never be un- comfortably warm. Only BLuE Boy gives you this satisfactory service. Quart size has three nested aluminum cups under the “Bakelite’’ cup, so hot or cold liquids for the family are easy to serve. Stores that feature the only Thermos bottles are good stores to know—such stores don’t sell “just as good.” Insist on Thermos when you ask for Thermos. v4 Canadian Prices on Application = = ~ vad = » = j \ i ; , tide 4 SSENBS = es a** 1 at ‘. i ‘ 8 pet x oe f eA Cae } eee y, \% ; Nas s ~§ > 7 HERMOS BOTTLE CO., SAN FRANCISCO GENUINE EAM \ REG. U.S. PAT, OFFICE ° , CUUM BOTT! | fonel! lod a ‘Ue . » ee 7 LS "© by Americans in 366 Madison Avenue, New York NORWICH, CONN. HUNTINGTON, W. VA. In Canada: Thermos Bottle Co., Ltd., Toronto ET a ere

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(Continued from Page 210) created 1099 shipways—a potential pro- ductive capacity equivalent to the aggre- gate of all the rest of the world combined. Before our activities began, nine months was considered excellent time in which to turn out a 3500-ton ship. Inthe summer of 1918 we built one 12,000-ton ship in twenty- eight days. Sixty days had become our standard rate. Ships were not the sole requisite of trans- port. The harbors of France were so in- adequate to the greatly increased traffic that there was not a day between August, 1917, and the end of the war when the cap- ture of the Channel ports would not liter- ally have starved the Allied armies in France into prompt surrender. They could neither have been fed nor withdrawn. The southern ports which were assigned to us were of a capacity so limited that, without almost complete reconstruction, they could not ac- commodate an American expeditionary force of any great military value and, even when so rebuilt, they were not adequately connected with the front. It was necessary practically to double-track existing French railroad systems from the coast across the whole country to the sector assigned for American operations and to rebuild the ports of entry. No Time for Bargaining By improved methods and vast port con- struction, both here and in France, we cut seventeen days from the experienced rate of turn-around for transatlantic freighters. We chartered the available shipbuilding and shipping capacity of Japan and China, commandeered a Dutch mercantile fleet, hired all available neutral and Allied ton- nage and, by combination of all these things, were able to supply our Allies and our Army in France and to increase our overseas force at the rate of 300,000 men a month. By the date of the Arniistice we could see clear day- light ahead on the transport situation and there seemed small doubt—in that aspect, at least—that Pershing would have had his hundred divisions for the projected 1919 campaign. Food was becoming a serious problem for our Allies. Even in normal times, Great Britain produces only about 20 per cent of its breadstuffs. Under war conditions the domestic production of all the Allies was greatly impaired and their normal sources of supply shut off—Russia by the hostile barrier of the Central Powers and her red revolution; South America, Australia and India by magnificent distance, shortage of shipping and the menace of the submarines. With a poor 1917 wheat crop in the United States and a vast impairment of the world’s supply of animal fats, the condition was threatening. Armies must be fed at all costs, but home population cannot be neg- lected. National morale is one of the most essential elements of military strength, and it has never been maintained on empty stomachs. The United States was the ulti- mate source of food for all our associates, and the first preliminary survey showed that, without drastic readjustment, there simply was not enough food to serve the re- quirements of victory. The President acted at once. On May twenty-first—long before the necessary legislation could be passed—he projected the Food Administration and asked Herbert Hoover to undertake the task. From that moment President Wilson backed him with all the war powers of the Executive. De- bate on questions of prohibition delayed the passage of the Lever Act, but when it became a law, its practical if not its textual effect was to place plenary control of our whole food industry, including agriculture, in the hands of the Government. To secure the necessary increases in producing acre- age, it provided for a guaranteed minimum price for wheat. It placed all dealers in con- trolled foodstuffs under a licensing system. As to wheat, the Food Administration used this system to maintain the guaranteed minimum as the actual price. It pooled the purchases of the Allies and took in a firm THE SATURDAY grasp the entire visible supply of certain foods. It allotted these products among our own and Allied needs at the same con- trolled price for all. There was thus, in the ordinary sense, no market for these basic foodstuffs. There was merely a division with our Allies of all that we had to eat. Bargaining was adjourned. Through the latent power of the licensing system, the Food Administration put the whole nation on rations. It eliminated much waste and increased the acreage devoted to food production to such an extent that American agriculture has never fully re- covered from the increased surplus thus in- duced. By a combination of all these means it supplied our soldiers and fed our friends. As to France alone, Clémenceau has said, “In eighteen months the United States sent us 5,000,000 tons of foodstuffs and fed 12,- 000,000 Frenchmen for a year and a half. If this help had not been forthcoming our army could not have held.” Like veteran soldiers in a siege, our people broke their loaves and halved their rations with their comrades in the fight. Fuel was administered in much the same manner as was food. There was a serious coal shortage against the greatly increased demand, and it promptly became a limit- ing factor in the production of steel—the great organic material necessity of modern war. President Wilson gave the fuel prob- lem to Dr. Harry A. Garfield, under whose able direction our people—with no more compulsion than a statement of the neces- sity—accepted a rationing system quite as rigorous as that of the Food Administra- tion. The use of automobiles was reduced toaminimum. Fuel was doled out in sack deliveries to our homes on a fixed basis of rationing. Only so much fuel for industry was allowed as was sure to be used for a purpose determined to be essential to the winning of the war. Money, men, food and fuel—these we have considered. There remained the whole congeries of things which are needed to make war. The problem was to increase produc- tion by all possible means—greater effi- ciency, increased per man output, new sources, increased manufacturing speed and capacity; to conserve supplies to the limit of our ability—elimination of waste and of all but essential uses, substitution for short- age items, standardization of types and control of supply; to preserve the morale of our people by making these serious re- strictions with sympathy and common sense, and by controlling the rapidly rising tendency in price. Everyone as an Equal Great were the sacrifices made by Amer- ican industry to make these policies effec- tive. There was a general and willing codperation in every branch of business. If not set aside completely, profits and the hope of profits were, at least, the last con- sideration. The much-bruited swollen war profits of American industry occurred be- fore our entry into the war and the institu- tion of the system represented by the War Industries Board and other war agencies of our Government. There was some delay in taking complete control and it was not until March, 1918, that the War Industries Board was given those definite powers necessary to admin- ister so great a task. Much congestion and price inflation had been caused prior to our entry into the war by competitive Allied buying in our markets, and there was still further congestion and inflation due to lack of definite controlling authority over gov- ernmental buying after our entry. But long before the Board had real control much was done by willing coéperation of great indus- tries with the Government. When we en- tered the war, steel prices had been bid up out of all reason in frantic Allied competi- tion. For example, in the chaotic spring of 1917, Japan had offered as high as fifteen cents a pound for ship plates. In discus- sions between the writer and the great steel masters, we agreed on a price of 2.5 cents a pound for our own Government, and later, EVENING POST after more careful study of costs, we fixed | 3.25 cents for plates for ourselves and all our friends, and proportionate prices in all other classifications. Prices for copper and many other nonferrous metals were simi- larly determined by agreement at early dates, on schedules far below those in the open market, and wholly by amicable agree- ment between the Board and the leaders in the various industries affected. But important as all these things were, it was only after March, 1918, that the or- ganization and control of the Board and other wartime administrative units began to integrate cleanly with the vast and intri- cate pattern of American industry, and the gigantic economic power of the country to take form as the most facile and forceful engine of war that ever appeared on this earth. By means of complete contro! of out- shipments and of close relationships with Allied and even neutral governments, there was instituted an economic blockade—a close-meshed barrier through which noth- ing could slip to contribute to the military subsistence of the enemy. By a system of so-called priorities, fuel, transportation, finance, raw material, power and labor were pooled and rationed on a rule of relative essentiality to Allied victory and to the stark necessities of our civil population. A Nation Volunteered A scientific and effective Price-Fixing Commission regulated prices of basic com- modities, checked sharply the threatening inflation, and brought order out of chaos in | all markets. Through a system of Commodity Com- mittees our overburdened industrial plants were carefully designated for such uses as seemed most to contribute to the winning of the war. These committees consisted of the leaders in each commodity group of in- dustry meeting with experts of the Board in the several industrial groupings, officers | of the purchasing bureaus of government, and guardians of civilian interests. They allocated facilities, supervised the placing of governmental and Allied contracts, pro- cured for essential demands priorities in power, labor, transportation and materials, | assured the fairness of contract prices and expedited production and delivery of every needful thing. They erased competition and substituted codperation, with a result that all conflicting industrial elements were welded into a single team—an economic in- teger—the United States of America armed and accoutered for economic conflict. A Nonwar Construction Section con- trolled the building industry against all de- ferrable or avoidable consumption of labor, materials, equipment and supplies in non- war construction. A Conservation Section had charge of every means to eliminate waste and to cut off nonessential use. The theory of the Board’s whole policy was that, if shown the way, our people would bring any sacrifice and all devotion to the common cause. The method was first to procure organization of national in- dustry in commodity groupings, and then to deal with the head of each group. In practice it was found necessary only to state a particular problem—giving and taking suggestions as to how it could be solved and then to leave it largely to each indus- trial group—aided and supported, of course, by the Board’s extraordinary powers—to work out its own result. Behind all this, of course, there were always such latent forces as the right to commandeer, or through the priority system, literally to starve or choke an industry to death. But these powers were never used and seldom mentioned. It was not necessary. As the President had said, “the nation had volunteered in mass,” and its industry was actuated, as were its armies, not by coercion but by the spirit of a vast crusade. This transformation of the peacetime in- dustry of a great modern nation into an economic menace more terrible than an felt they were not justified in What tea does Society serve? we all the teas in the world to choose from, Society almost in- variably serves the Tea of Teas.... India Tea. 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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST OU'LL get a real “kick™ out of these prizes! Whir-r-r—just watch that convertible seaplane go! Look at this “official” Scout flash- i and many other prizes, besides plenty of spending money, by sell ing Curtis magazines to your friends and neighbors. It's lots of fun— and good business training, too. NOW is Your Big Chance to Get Started! Thousands of boys, in small towns and big cities sell The Saturday Evening Post, The Ladies’ Home Journal and The Country Gentleman regularly, just as this boy at the right does. Youcan, too! Here's your chance! Talk it over with Mother or Dad. Then fill out this coupon and mail to The Prize Man. We'll show you how to get started quickly. And we'll help you to make good! Want a The Curtis Publishing Company 760 Independence Square Philadelphia, Pennsylvania Dear Prize Man: Sure thing I want to earn prizes and cash. Start me as soon as you can. Name Street City (Parent) light and knife! Great for hikes and eee te camping. You can earn ‘em all- izes Curtis ove earn every day. cycle? We'll are bi- State (Have your parents sign the following statement.) I shall be glad to have my son take advantage of your business training. A typical Curtis boy salesman serves a new customer. Age Must I Leave Home To Make More Money? The answer is NO! WE might take paragraphs to tell you of people who feel that they must “go to the city,” or “downtown,” to earn extra dol- lars. But it isn’t necessary, for here is a plan by which you should make $5.00, $10.00 or more a week extra right in your own neighborhood. » » » And without experience. Or THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY How can I make more money? Name Street City -—— capital. Just send the coupon for all the comforting details. 753 Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania State Age army with banners cannot be too strongly emphasized, because the sudden collapse of the war completely obscured the effects of it. It was the first historical instance of complete economic mobilization, and it reared a giant of potential menace which I have always thought was much more clearly appraised by the Germans than by any of our Allies. The very shadow that it east across the sea had much to do with | the enemy collapse. Said Hindenburg of America: Her brilliant if pitiless war industry had en- | tered the service of patriotism and had not failed it. Under the compulsion of military ne- cessity a ruthless autocracy was at work, and | rightly, even in this land at the portals of which the Statue of Liberty flashes its lights across the sea. They understood war. Corporations and men accepted without whimper conversion of their factories to purely war uses which they knew would hamper and might ruin them. They under- took contracts which under no ordinary business conditions would they even have considered. They gave up their key men, | pooled their patents, trade secrets, and even | their own facilities, organizations and sup- | plies. In brief, they ceased to be com- petitors in order to become integrated parts of the great national war-industrial unit | which, by the fall of 1918, was beginning to function with deadly precision and perfec- tion. Indeed, a spontaneous masterpiece of the | war was this universal coéperation of our whole citizenry. Whether it was the small boy gathering peach stones for gas-mask charcoal, the girl | tending a war garden, the county clerk burning the candle at both ends to get off the draft contingents, the Red Cross worker, | the Liberty Loan solicitor—everybody had | a part in that war. The whole nation had | become a team, and that very fact raised | its morale to a higher pitch than it has ever been before or since. A single incident which should be inter- polated here shows the extent to which both industry and civil population were willing to go. It occurred in the work of the Con- servation Section. Citizens in Uniforms Studies showed that much waste or avoid- able use of essentials accrued from the di- versification in type required under normal conditions by individual fancy and that a reduction in types would release important quantities of material. We had already cut the flaps off pockets to conserve wool, taken stays out of women’s corsets for the sake of steel, and practically stopped the production of so-called pleasure automo- biles. But the final conclusion of these studies was even more drastic. It was, to all intent and purpose, to “put the civil population into cheap but serviceable uni- form.” We began immediately to prepare to do this. The first industry approached was the manufacturers of boots and shoes. Agree- ments were reached limiting types and styles to three classes, A, B and C, to be sold at fair price ranges within each class. Only the limitations of time and the coming of the Armistice prevented carrying out this program at every useful angle. With the exhaustion of inventories and wardrobes, our people would gradually have emerged in uniform garb—-the same for rich man, poor man, beggar man or thief. If any na- tion ever did a thing like that, I have never seen a record of the attempt. In November, 1918, these methods were becoming effective beyond our hopes. The War Industries Board was in control of its field. The stream of raw materials was pouring forth into fully controlled channels accurately calculated for the greatest military-economic effect. The control of storage and transportation had proceeded to a point where clear currents of uninter- | rupted flow of finished materials to sea- board seemed assured. The submarine menace was being abated and the almost daily splashing of ships from a thousand April 5,19350 new ways into the ocean made transporta- tion of men and things to Europe more certain. We neglected our Allies in nothing. We took no step without consultation and agreement with them. We appropriated nothing to our own uses without providing on a like basis for theirs. When we fixed prices they were the same for our Allies, our Government and our public. Control of steel prices alone has been estimated to have saved our Government and the Allies $3,000,000,000. When we saw our friends floundering for sources of supply we took their needs in hand and allocated them with our own. The price shared with them for our farmers’ wheat was less than some of our friends allowed their own peasants. We not only gave them all we had to give but we furnished them the money to pay for it. Who Won the War? No other nation did these things in this comprehensive fashion. Even after four years of war, neither Allied nor Central Powers had reached any such stride as we had attained at its close. Even the vaunted German efficiency and proprietorship of the nation-in-arms idea had not achieved any such economic organization as was almost perfected here. Great Britain accepted conscription only late, and very warily. The universal-service laws of Germany and France did not contemplate selection of men for industry as well as arms. As we well knew, so complete a metamorphosis of “every resource of men, money and ma- terial’’ from a community of peace to an instrument of war was not certainly neces- sary. The productive capacity built up in Britain and France to support a much larger man power than, by 1918, they were able to maintain was being released, and except in a few instances we could have utilized these facilities and, by sending raw materials and perhaps labor abroad, avoided a vast disruption of our own eco- nomic pattern and left our country in a most advantageous postwar status. Though we also used their facilities as fast as they were released, we declined this easy reliance upon them because it threatened to skim too thin the margin of safety against a pos- sible German invasion of Allied industrial areas. Our policy was to leave nothing un- done to insure victory, and we followed that policy regardless of present cost or future vantage. One might proceed for thousands of pages with this factual catalogue. There is enough here to picture a nation of 110,000,000 people literally converting itself within the space of eighteen months into a compact organization for war with an effect which, though lost to sight by reason of the sudden failure of the Central Powers, constituted a more menacing display of defensive strength than the world has ever seen. “Who won the war?”’ is a foolish ques- tion never more appropriately answered than by our returning dough boys: “The M.P.’s won the war.” As bitterness re- cedes with the years, we can say with sin- cerity that no people ever put up a braver fight against overwhelming odds than our late enemies. No people ever defended more valiantly or endured more faithfully than the Allies. The long, ruinous period of bloody attrition came before we were a belligerent. Criticism that we did not fight sooner is gratuitous and unwarranted. This country does not make war. It accepts it only when there is no remaining alterna- tive. We learned by the mistakes of both friend and foe, and found an enemy worn by three years of conflict. The end came before we were called upon to contribute blood in the measure of our associates. It would be an unfair and invidious distinc- tion to attempt to say which of all these in- cidents of war contributed most to Allied victory. But it is not so difficult to say that without Britain or France or America there could have been no victory. No one will appear with temerity to deny us a place in that trio. We began to move to war with (Continued on Page 218)

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NO SCREWS NO PINS NO SNAPS NO HOOKS Attached in five minutes without damage to your car or upholstery « « By this ingenious yet simple principle, a self-adjustable concealed frame (pat. pend.) fits neatly into position, con- forming perfectly to the con- tour of the seats, holding the fabric in made-to-order trimness over the upholstery. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST tv on forecast: 1,000,000 CAR OWNERS in 1930 will purchase these modern SEAT COVERS the auto-matic age AUTO-MATI the sensation of HE reason ‘is simple. These amazing seat covers slip into place and keep in place without fasteners of any kind. No pins, tacks, snaps, screws nor hooks. Will not injure the car or upholstery. Whatever the make or model of your car, these amazing AUTO-MATIC seat covers can be put on and removed in five minutes! No Damage to Car Upholstery Easily and quickly attached without damage to car uphol- stery. AUTO-MATIC covers fit with tailored snugness before and after cleaning . . . slip into place as easily the tenth time as the first. A Self-AdjuStable Concealed Frame The principle of the AUTO-MATIC is unique. The cover is made over a self-adjustable, concealed frame (patents pending) that conforms automatically to the shape of the seats, holding the fabric smoothly and firmly over the upholstery. Lasting Beauty and Protection The materials are of quality usually found only in cus- tom-made covers—handsome, harmonizing tapestry designs in browns, grays or blues. Now the inside of your car can be as smart and trim as the exterior. Of exceptional wearing value . . smooth, dust-resisting . . and non-fading They Fit Any Car Perfeétl) Workmanship, fit and fabric guaranteed by the makers, pioneers for over twenty years in auto seat covers all the satisfaction of made-to-order sets . AUTO-MATIC covers fit any type of car, give absolute . y ty} i protection to the upholstery . . resale value. adding immeasurably to PRICES for Complete Sets of AUTO-MATIC SEAT COVERS REG. U. § OFT 2-passenger coupes On S-passenger coaches, broughams and sedan A og » >> Sold by leading department stores, automobile accessory dealers, car dealers—and the 550 RETAIL STORES and 9 MAIL ORDER BRANCHES OF MONTGOMERY WARD & CO. Also a less expensive fabric—an attractive and durable striped material—' ‘'AUTO-MATIC” construction and work manship, at $4.45 per set tor 2-passenger coupes——$8 »* for 5-passenger coaches, broughams and sedans. KCK K AUTO-MATIC SEAT COVER CORPORATION .- 120 East 16th St - New York City © 1930

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216 “The Longest Gangplank in the World.. .” from the heart of Manhattan to Le Havre de Paris Main Foyer “Tle de France™’ | Five and a half days to Plymouth RANCE in miniature, given wings below the waterline... “Paris” that's every French Line ship April 11 - May 2 ...the chic of the boulevards, the “Ile de France” gayety of the cafes and dance places, April 18 - May 15 the thrill of the shops, the elegance of Ger the ancien régime, the electric modernity France that sets a pace for the world...all here, Mediterransan- : Carthage Cruise in the stately salons, the broad white decks, April 25 the marvellous suites and cabins. ** The “DeGrasse” cuisine is Paris, too, in flavor as in name...the —s service anticipates every wish...Breton seamen ‘‘Rochambeou” whose ancestors tamed the Atlantic inthe fifteenth june 7 P ° P . 2 century swing their modern miracles of speed and ——a luxury from New York to Plymouth and le Havre.-* The “Ile de France,” the “Paris” and the “France” maintain Weekly de luxe Express Service. ~~ The “Lafayette,” the “De Grasse” and the “ Rochambeau” form a cabin fleet that makes economy smart. French fine Information from any authorized French Line Agent or write to 19 State Street, New York City THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5,19350 Index of Advertisers April 5, 1930 p £tna Life Insurance Company and Affiliated Companies Allis-Chalmers Manufacturing Co AGE 173 200 All-Year Club of Southern California . 161 American Chicle Company 124 American Farm Machine Co 201 American Laundry Machinery Co., e ee hae , 116 American Rolling Mill Co., The. 105 American Safety Razor Corp. 153 American Thermos Bottle Co., The. .212 Arch Preserver Shoes 102 Armstrong Cork Company 89 Auburn Automobile Company 49 Auto-matic Seat Cover Corporation. .215 AutoStrop Safety Razor Co., Inc 60 Ayer & Son, Incorporated, N. W.... 69 Baltimore & Ohio Railroad. . 136 Bauer & Black. . 79 Berry Brothers, Inc. 81 Boott Mills. . 193 Brockway Motor Truck Corp... . 168, 169 Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corp.. .117 Buick Motor Company 108 Bunting Brass & Bronze Co., The 126 Burgess Battery Company 68 Burroughs Adding Machine Company 181 California Crushed Fruit Corp. 143 Campbell Soup Company 33 Carey Company, The Philip 208 Caterpillar Tractor Co. 141 Chamberlin Metal Weather Strip Co., Inc. 137 Chase & Sanborn 53 Chesebrough Manufacturing Co. 194 Chevrolet Motor Company 40 Chrysler Sales Corporation 45 Cincinnati Victor Company, The 189 Coleman, Watson E. 193 Colgate-Palmolive-Peet Co. 62 Commercial Investment Trust Corp..144 Congoleum-Nairn Inc. 82, 83 Creo-Dipt Company, Inc. 183 Cudahy Packing Co., The IV Cover Curtiss-Wright Corp. 202 Delco Products Corporation 113 Denney Tag Company, The 166 De Soto Motor Corporation 59 Dill Company, J. G. 125 Dodge Brothers Corporation 55 Duke Power Company 218 Du Pont de Nemours & Co., Inc., E. I. 61,73 Dur-O-Lite Pencil Company 140 Electrolux Refrigerator Sales, Inc 186 Elgin National Watch Company 160 Enterprise Mfg. Co., The 128 Estate Stove Company, The 132 Evans & Co., Victor J 209 Faultless Caster Company 84 Fire Association Fleet, The 180 Fisher Body Corp 38 Fisk Tire Company, Inc., The 106, 107 Florsheim Shoe Company, The 210 Forhan Company, Inc 150 French Line 216 Frigidaire Corporation 120 Fromm Bros. 199 General Electric Company 74,75 General Foods Corporation Maxwell House Products Co., Inc... 103 Sanka Coffee Corp 64 General Motors 47 Gillette Safety Razor Co 114, 115 Glover Co., Inc., H. Clay 76 Goodyear Tire & Rubber Co., Inc., The 110, 111 Graham-Paige Motors Corporation 51 Grand Rapids Store Equipment Corp. 8&5 Graybar Electric Co. 219 Grigsby-Grunow Company 94 Hamilton Watch Co. 152 Hanes Knitting Company, P. H. 184 Heinz Co., H. J 129 Hires Company, The Charles E 15 Hirsch! & Bendheim. 209 Hollingshead Co., The R. M 171 Hookless Fastener Company 154, 155 Hoover Company, The 146, 147 Hormel! & Co., Geo. A 192 Hudson Motor Car Company 96 Indian Motocycle Co 196 India Tea Bureau 213 PAG! Johns-Manville Corp 77 Johnson & Son, S. C 66 Johnston Company, Robert A.. III Covet Kawneer Company, The 198 Kendall Refining Company 164 Krank Co., A. J. 177 Lambert Pharmacal Co 65 Landers, Frary & Clark 133 Larus & Bro. Co 93 Lever Bros. Co. 206 Libbey-Owens Glass Company 145 Libby, McNeill & Libby 35 Lincoln Motor Company, The 57 Lloyd Loom Products Company 179 Lorillard Company, P. 58 Luden’s, Inc. 162 Lupton’'s Sons Co., David. . . 91 Marine Midland Corp. of New York. 185 Masonite Corporation 80 Maxwell House Coffee 103 McCall Co.. 134, 135 Mennen Company, The 70 Monroe Calculating Machine Co., Inc. 217 Montgomery Ward & Co. 172 Moto-Mower Co., The 213 Motor Improvements, Inc 191 Mountain Valley Springs Co. 170 National Cash Register Co., The 98, 99 National Casket Company, Inc. 119 National Vulcanized Fibre Co. 201 New Haven Clock Co., The 204, 205 Nofade-Cocoon Corporation 187 Oakland Motor Car Company 71 Olds Motor Works 92 Old Town Canoe Co. 209 Packard Electric Company, The 165 Packer Manufacturing Co., Inc., The . 197 Paramount Famous Lasky Corp. 42 Parker Pen Company, The II Cover Penney Company, Inc., J. ¢ 203 Pennsylvania Grade Crude Oil Association 167 Philco 63 Planters Nut & Chocolate Co. 138, 139 Pratt & Lambert-Inc 148 Probak Corporation 69 Procter & Gamble Co., The 2 Rastetter & Sons, Louis 213 RCA Victor Co., Inc 101 Remington Rand Business Service 118 Reo Motor Car Company 86, 87 Rutland Fire Clay Co 197 Sanka Coffee 64 Schalk Chemical Co 130 Scholl Mig. Co., The 209 Sealright Co., Inc 95 Sears, Roebuck & Co 127 Sharp & Dohme 207 Shaw, Inc., M. T 197 Simoniz Company, The 100 Spalding & Bros., Inc., A. G 163 Spartan School of Aeronautics 149 Spratt’s Patent Limited 201 Standard Statistics Company, Inc 159 Studebaker Corp. of America, The 156 Switzerland Cheese Association, Inc. . 220 Syracuse Washing Machine Corp 131 Technicolor, Inc........ 78 Tennessee Copper & Chemical Corp... 195 Thermoid Rubber Company 190 Thomas Clock Co., Seth 182 Toledo Metal Furniture Co., The 193 Tower Co., A. J coo 142 Truscon Laboratories, The 189 Tung-Sol Lamp Works Inc. 157 Universal Pictures. 56 UL. S. Lines 176 Vacuum Oil Company 37 Valentine & Company 122, 123 Van Cleef Bros. 193 Vitrolite Company, The. 178 Warren Telechron Co. 211 Watkins Company, The R. I .. 88 Waverly Oil Works Co 90 Western Clock Company 1 Wheeling Steel Corporation 67 Wrought Iron Research Association. . 175 Yale & Towne Mfg. Co., The 174 Yawman & Erbe Mfg. Co 158 While every precaution is taken to insure accuracy, we cannot guarantee against the possibility of an occasional change or omission in the preparation of this index.

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THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 217 No time to look ahead Sell this man a motor for his boat? You wouldn’t have to sell him, he’d buy before your sales talk was half started. He wants to get ahead as fast as possible, to set his face towards the bow and give his whole attention to avoiding reefs and rapids in his course. How is the course of business different? There are reefs and rapids to avoid, a port to attain—and figures are so vitally neces- sary that business is quick to appreciate a machine that will give prompt, accurate figures and do it so smoothly, easily and quickly that there is ample time to devote to the real job of steering the proper course. The Monroe representative has no sales talk beyond asking you to let him study your figuring problems and tell your own clerks how to apply intelligently Monroe methods and short-cuts to your Own system. In a very few days, your routine work will be running smoother than ever. Your clerks will be producing results with first-time ac- curacy, and you'll be getting the additional figures you’ve always needed to give you a daily picture of your business. You can determine for yourself how the combined knowledge and experience of the Monroe organization, gained through its every- day contact with all types of businesses—large and small—may aid in solving your own special problems. Just telephone your local Monroe representative, or write Orange, New Jersey. SERIES 3 MONROE ADDING-CALCULATOR with full automatic diviston MONROE HIGH SPEED ADDING-CALCULATOR “The Machine for Every Desk.

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) O T Il | RAWN by the irresistible pull of economic forces, Industry has gravi- tated to Piedmont Carolinas in the most amazing migration of the Nation's history. What advantages have attracted experi- enced men, capital, and substantial busi- nesses? What has lifted them from the rooted security of old, long established locations and brought them down here? What is the magic of this tier of 58 mid- Carolina counties thet constitute the Piedmont? LABOR —Some people will tell you these thriving industries have come here “to get cheap labor” — and they are wrong. Other sections may be able to offer low wages and long hours but Piedmont Carolinas advances no such doubtful advantage. Wages in this busy section reasonably reflect the section's lower cost of living. But that does not explain the much lower production costs obtainable here. Pied- mont Carolinas workmen are active, racially coherent, and ambitious. They turn out @ full day’s work, and are proud of their ability to do it. RAW MATERIALS—A wide range of agricultural, forest, and mineral raw materials in abundant nearby supply has contributed to the upbuilding of many Piedmont Carolinas industries. You will find complete lists of these available raw products catalogued in the book illustrated below. MARKET AVAILABILITY Over 66% of the nation’s purchasing power flies within a 600 mile reach of Piedmont Carolinas. (The chief eastern seaports serve only 44.5% in a similar radius.) Freight on products made up from local raw materials enables goods to get to market at considerable savings. The local market is far from being sup- plied in many lines: Nearly 87° of the food eaten here is shipped in. Textiie mach neny and parts have only meade a start. Ceramic tile, electrical porcelains and other clay products would have ea tremendous edge over those brought from other states. Clothing manufacture, par- ticularly that of shirts, dresses, ad chil- dren's wear, is still in its beginning. POPULATION -—The peo- ple who live in this progressive section of the Carolinas are unique in the settling of the South. A large proportion of them THE SATURDAY industry migrated here years ago from Pennsylvania, New York and New England. Another important element is the heavy infusion of Scotch. The region is 99% native born and preponderantly white. The Piedmont region is made up of a multi- tude of small towns. The largest cities are 70,000 to 80,000. That makes for pleasant living conditions. CLIMATE—Unlike other sections of the South, summer tempera- tures here are almost exactly those of Pennsylvania and New York. In winter, the region is 15° to 20° warmer. The Piedmont plateau is dry and bracing. Its humidity is 10 to 20 degrees less. Its air is keen and sparkling. Nights are almost invariably comfortable. There are 20 to 6O fewer rainy days. LIVING CONDITIONS — Homes are reasonable in cost. Servants are readily available. Life is pleasant as well as cordial and neighborly. Within an hour or two, over splendid roads, you can be in mountain resorts 3,000 to 4,500 feet above the sea—places where it is amazingly cool in mid-summer. Golf Clubs touch every sizable town. Many internationally famous courses are only a few hours away. The coastal re- sorts offer bathing, boating and fishing. People here earn enough to be able to enjoy life as they live. Underlying all the pleasant things is the solid fact thet here industry is sound, earning, and expand- ing. Its earnings are larger, more easily obtained, than in sections where industry has been established for generations. OPPORTUNITY — Manufac- turers who seek reduced overhead, greater production per machine, and mar- keting advantages find the facts about Piedmont Carolinas good reading. To such executives, the book illustrated here is a gold mine of data and figures. It is brief, yet comprehensive. Send for “Piedmont Carolinas—Where Wealth Your request, addressed to Industrial De- partment, Room 501, Mercantile Building, Charlotte, N. C., will receive a prompt and courteous response. Write—today. DUKE POWER COMPANY SOUTHERN PUBLIC UTILITIES CO. AND OTHER ALLIED INTERESTS MONT INDUSTRY (ppm CAROLINAS EVENING POST (Continued from Page 214) everything we had at the very instant of our declaration. If anything more than we did could have been done, I have never been able to conceive what it was, and I have heard nothing to suggest a step taken too late, not taken at all, or taken with too little resolution, foresight or courage. I think we might even claim a further dis- tinction without offending anyone. In view of our tremendous concentration of force for a 1919 campaign, there can scarcely be room for doubt of the assertion that no power on earth could have withstood the shock of men and metal that were being mobilized to throw against the Western Front. American men, material, money and morale had made defeat impossible and victory certain. April 5,19350 I have yet to hear a participant from any nation boasting about the war, and there is no boast in these assertions. They are a recitation of facts—some not well known, some obscured—the meaning of the collec- tive array of which I have never seen de- fined. They are marshaled here in the hope that to our critics they may give a better and, perhaps, a more sympathetic under- standing, to our self-constituted apologists some suggestion of their own fatuity, and to the generality of us comfort and confi- dence that America did her part beyond fear of any criticism or need for any apology. She assumed literally an unlimited burden. She made her hazard in such fashion that, had she lost all that she ventured, she could never have suggested to any nation an as- sumption of her load, or any part of it. never authorized. THE SATURDAY EVENING POST (More Than Two Million Seven Hundred and Fifty Thousand Weekly) IS fully protected by copyright and nothing that appears in it may be reprinted, either wholly or in part, without special permission. The use of our articles or quotations from them for advertising promotions and stock-selling schemes is First Blood—F. Scott Fitzgerald Toll Bridge—Sam Hellman Mr. Mole— Everett Rhodes Castle Detour !— Anne Cameron Race— Thomas Beer Blood Pressure— Damon Runyon Family Parasites— Elizabeth Jordan Table of Contents April 5, 1930 Cover Design by Henry J. Soulen SHORT STORIES Repossessed— Margaret Weymouth Jackson The Indispensable— Thomas McMorrow lilustrated by Raeburn Van Buren ARTICLES A Few Kind Words for Uncle Sam— Bernard M. Baruch The Overthrow in Spain—Jsaac F. Marcosson My Friendship With Roosevelt—Owen Wister On the Criminal Side— Richard Washburn Child The Fortunate Coast—Hamlin Garland Ballyhoo— Charley Murray, With Wesley Stout Lapels Will be Higher— Mary Margaret McBride and Helen Josephy There Was a Town—Samuel G. Blythe The Lost Arts in Baseball—“* Bullet Joe”’ Bush Give Us a Chance— Chester T. Crowell . SERIALS Hard Money (In six parts)— Clarence Budington Kelland Off the Arm (In two parts)—Dor Marquis I/lustrated by R. F. James 10 Happy Landings (Second part of six)—Fanny Heaslip Lea Illustrated by Henry Raleigh 28 MISCELLANY Editorials 30 Post Scripts 32 The Poets’ Corner 62 Out-of-Doors 64 Getting On in the World 68 Cartoon and Comedy . 70 Animal Cracks . 190 PAGE Illustrated by H.R. Ballinger 8 I}ustrated by Charles Lassell 12 l/lustrated by F. Vaux Wilson 16 . Illustrated by Raeburn Van Buren 20 Illustrated by C.W. Anderson 22 Illustrated by Will Grefé 26 41 . INustrated by Tony Sarg 46 Cartoon by Herbert Johnson 6 Photographs Photographs Decoration by Wyncie King Photographs Illustrated by Ernest Fuhr Photographs . Photographs Photographs . Photographs Illustrated by Orison MacPherson 3 a proportionate refund. on request. A REQUEST FOR CHANGE OF ADDRESS must reach us at least thirty days before the date of issue with which it is to take effect. be sent to replace those undelivered through failure to send such advance notice. With your new address be sure also to send us the old one, inclosing if possible your address label from a recent copy. Persons canceling their subscriptions will receive THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY Independence Square, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania ’ Publishers also of the Ladies’ Home Journal! (monthly), in U. S. or Canada 10c the copy, $1.00 the year, 2 years for $1.50, 3 years for $2.00; and of The Country Gentleman (monthly), in U. S. or Canada Sc the copy, 3 years for $1.00. Foreign prices on editorial or title page, or quoted Duplicate copies cannot

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pes THE SATURDAY EVENING POST 219 EVERYTHING Wi ra now that you can “cleanerette’ ¢ **Now, I know why Jim swiped my Cleanerette!"’ Re SLTECTRICAL en ae eis Osepee late: Sana . the Handy The Graybar Cleanerette, at only $13.50, is the quickest, easiest way yet discovered to clean stair car- pets, mattresses, car interiors, clothes . . . and what difh- cult spots Aave you! . . . But its usefulness doesn’t stop 7 there. With the clever Vaporette attachments (also mod- erately priced) it sprays insecticides and deodorants | . .. protects clothing . . . deodorizes kitchens . . . etc., Name : etc.! ... Actually, this ‘*handful of vacuum cleaner”’ Addres | is a whole cleaning outfit in itself! Convince yourself! Glance at the pictures at left. Then mail the coupon! 7 a ee ' Cleanerette S1s350 GRAYBAR ELECTRIC CO GRAYBAR BUILDING, NEW YORK, N. ¥ Gentlemen: Please tell me a!) about the Cleanerette and the Vaporette attachments. Tune in on the Graybar Hour every Tuesday— 10 to 10.30 P. M., EB. 8. T. —Columbia Network

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AND ITS FLAVOR CAN'T BE COPIED! THE SATURDAY EVENING POST April 5, 1950 THIS PERFECT CHEESE IS KNOWN TO EPICURES AS A: MAAS TERPIOCCE OF FINE FLAVOR!... REGARDLESS of how many cheeses you have eaten you do not know how subtle, yet full-bodied, cheese can be until you bite into a piece of genuine Switzerland Cheese. Its unique position in the sphere of fine foods is unchallenged. It deserves a place on the tables of every one who recognizes that eating is more than a mere necessity. * There is a creamy, tasteful edge and 3 fine nut-sweetness to Switzerland Cheese that is the despair of all imitators. This favor cannot be copied, for it has its origin in the pure mountain streams, fragrant pastures and bracing Alpine air of Switzerland. No aspiring imitator in any country can ever copy this. * Buy a pound of Switzerland Cheese and know how good, how satisfying, this cheese is. You can tell Switzerland Cheese from all domestic and imported substitutes by the name ‘Switzerland’ stamped many times on the rind. Switzerland Cheese varies in color from rich butter to cream, according to the time of year when made. The size of eyes may also differ. The flavor never changes and can never be attained by the so-called “’Swiss-style’”’ or “Imported Swiss” varieties. Fa. TOE, Coe ea: , AS 8 Fa Roe oh a 3 = . _ Now it's easy to make sure of getting Switzerland Cheese. The rind is stamped with many imprints of the word “’Switzer- land.’ No othercheese canbe thus marked. May we send you a copy of the beautiful booklet in color—"Switzerland Cheese— How to Use and How to Serve It’’—show- ing many unusual and attractive dishes? It's free for the asking. Switzerland Cheese Association, Inc. 105 Hudson Street, New York City Name Address IW ELERCAIND GREESE AN ADVERTISEMENT PUBLISHED BY THE SWITZERLAND CHEESE ASSOCIATION OF BERNE, SWITZERLAND

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for Easter As correct as a gardenia in your button hole for the Easter parade, is a timely gift to make someone happy on this glad spring holiday! And what, may we ask discreetly, is more fitting than . . . this piquant Chocolate Bazar by Johnston ...100 luscious pieces to the pound... Smartly boxed in metal, at two and four dollars . . . There are Johnston agencies in all good neighbourhoods. y. CHOCOLATES NEW YOR K c RCC AS Mititw aA vu N WN E A POL S

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The microscope shows, as pictured in the illustration to the right, that the particles of Old Dutch Cleanser are flaky and flat-shaped. These unique, soft particles lie flat on the surface and come in full contact with it .. . not simply touching the surface with hard sharp points like chunky grit does and naturally they cover more surface. This explains the secret of Old Dutch Cleanser’s efficiency, safety and economy. Old Dutch is perfect... it cleans without scratching the surface, it contains no scratchy grit or crude abra- sives. You will convince your- | self by making this simple test. — . Sprinkle a little Old Dutch on the porcelain drain board of your sink; take a smooth coin, lay it on top of the cleanser and rub gently. You won't feel or hear the scratching of harsh, gritty parti- cles. Avoid scratchy cleaners. They make scratches which destroy the beauty of the surface and are lodg- ing places for health-endangering invisible impurities. Old Dutch Cleanser is the greatest advance in modern cleaning efficiency. It is the safest, most convenient and practical method of cleaning. The flaky, flat-shaped particles of ‘‘seismotite’’ which form the basis of Old Dutch Cleanser possess a natural distinctive, detergent energy. hey capture andremove the invisible impurities as well as the visible dirt. Old Dutch, therefore, pro- tects your home and family with Healthful Cleanliness. Old Dutch has innumerable uses. In the kitchen; for pots and pans, all kitchen utensils, for cleaning the sink, stove, kitchen cabinet, painted walls and woodwork, etc. In the bathroom, Old Dutch quickly end easily removes the unsightly water rings, stain and soap accumulations in the bathtubs and washbowls, for cleaning metal fixtures, tile, wall and floors, etc. Old Dutch is perfectly adapted for cleaning modern colored as well as snow-white porcelain and enamel. The use of Old Dutch exclusively assures the lasting beauty of these fine surfaces because it is free from acid and caustic which dull their lustre and it doesn’t scratch because it is free from harsh, chunky grit. There is nothing else like it C) Old Dutch Cleanser on its 25th Anniversary celebrates the greatest es GC} | achievement in modern cleaning efficiency - Healthful Cleanliness | , © 1930 The C. P. Co.