Rtober 15, 1926 Th, Price 15 cents :i4ICAG0AN « ^ ^ Chic PROPERTY' Of W :kicago Historical society 632 N< *RBORN STREET ftuooy HANS FWTO ouJovm w\oi oicflidaz frfeue A U W A Y X M E B t U £ O Q C M I D COQDAY.PAQir IMPORTED BY LIONEL. , 3QO flFTH AVE, NEW YORK CORDAY L IP-TUCKS"— fUPERL-ATIVE/ The Chicagbsfnr published semi-monthly by The Chicagoan Pub. Co., Inc., 417 Main St., Wilmette, 111. Executive and Editorial offices, 154 E. Erie St., Chicago, 111. Frederick M. Kosen, Pres. : I. H. Marth, Vlce-Pres. ; Kurt S. Pallbacher. Sec; L. B. Rosen, Treas. ; John K. Kettlewell, Ade. Mgr. Subscription, $3.00'; single copies, 15c. Vol. 2, No. 3, October 15, 1926. Entered as second class matter August 11, 1926, at the post office at Wilmette, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. Copyright 1926, by the Chicagoan Pub. Co., Inc. 320 MICHIGAN AVENUE • NORTH Just South of the Bridge GOWNS « WRAPS • MILLINERY J7XTC Cjfrom Taris to 'Powell's — we bring to our patrons an inward feeling of confidence in the purchase of their fall and winter wardrobes. For here you will find models revealed that literally breathe the air of authenticity of the smartness that will prevail in Taris for the com ing season. t-And with the same meticulous care that attended these exclusive selections, each model will be faithfully and faultlessly reproduced in the renowned Powell work rooms. Upwards from $89.00 French Bags * lingerie * ^^Accessories Very moderately priced 2 THE CHICAGOAN RT ect(T. OOI9 S04to%2^t>' SAT. £VE.$3— j/£p.MAT.$2fio I FUNNICST SHOW IN TOWN 1 ALL CHICAGO 1$ HOWLING ^ WITH LAUGHTER AT "SENSfiMONAL HIT" AMY LESLIE "GOOD SHOW *GOOD FUN" ILLINOIS NOW THEATRE 2SS Evening 8:15 Matinees, Wed. and Sat. 2:15 Aarons and Freedley Present 'Tip-toes' The Musical Comedy Triumph of Two Continents With GEORGE GERSHWIN Music Queenie Smith, Andrew Tombes, Harry Watson, Jr., Richard Keene and America's Greatest Dancing Chorus THE THEATRE DRAMA KONGO — About white men being tantalized by* dusky maids in the heart of Africa. THE PRINCESS. THE MENDER — A harmless drama. Excellent for your cousins or aunts of tender minds. CENTRAL. SQUARE CROOKS— with Dorothy Appleby. THE PLAYHOUSE. COMEDY THE POOR NUT— A mixture of a college track meet, co-eds, psychology and a typical Phi Beta Kappa that is drawing many to THE CORT. COAL OIL JENNIE— Frank Craven's play in which a powder-mill girl goes to New York to splurge on $7,000. BLACKSTONE. MY COUNTRY— Like ABIE'S IRISH ROSE, just as bad, and it may, therefore, enjoy a long run. LA SALLE. ALIAS THE DEACON— A play about a like able card-playing hypocrite. STUDEBAKER. FIRST LOVE— In which Fay Bainter is amus ing. Bruce McRae and George Marion are her aids. SELWYN. (Evenings at 8:30) Matinees Wednesday . and Saturday Introduces to Chicago a' safe, established, sure hit which ran at the Hudson Theatre, New York, all last season to tremendous crowds. Samuel Wallach Presents the Ace of Comedies ALIAS THE with BERTON CHURCHILL AND ORIGINAL NEW YORK CAST THE JAZZ SINGER— Concerning a lad who sang on the stage and in the synagogue. Pathos, hokum, and laughter. HARRIS. STYLISH STOUTS— A comic play with Lou Holtz. ADELPHI. WHY NOT?— A comedy by Jesse Lynch. GOODMAN MEMORIAL. MUSICAL COMEDIES CASTLES IN THE AIR— Last two weeks. No one is sorry. OLYMPIC. THE VAGABOND KING— IF I WERE KING well set to music. Dennis King as Francois Villon. GREAT NORTHERN. SWEETHEART TIME— Youtlx, music and ro mance — not a great deal more. GARRICK. REVUES LE MAIRE'S AFFAIRS— Still the dirtiest and best show in town. THE WOODS. . THE PASSING SHOW— New York's THE MERRY WORLD plus New York's PAS SIONS OF 1926 with a few new comic spots. THE FOUR COHANS. EARL CARROLL'S VANITIES-'-Last winter's issue with' Frank Tinney and Joe Cook. APOLLO. TIP-TOES — George Gershwin's music, surround ed by a good show. With Queenie Smith. ILLINOIS. THE COCOANUTS— The Marx Brothers feeing very funny, and Irving Berlin being not quite so tuneful. ERLANGER. OPENINGS THE GREENWICH VILLAGE FOLLIES— Last season's issue in New York. Oct. 24. APOLLO. PRINCESS FLAVIA— THE PRISONER OF ZENDA with a musical injection. Oct. 24. OLYMPIC THE RUNAWAY ROAD— The Insull's first. Nov. 1. STUDEBAKER. PLACE AND DATE NOT KNOWN QUEEN-HIGH. TWELVE MILES OUT. YOUNG WOODLEY with Glenn Hunter. THE LAST OF MRS. CHEYNEY with Miss lna Claire. rtE SHANGHAI GESTURE. CRAIG'S WIFE. TUEO-flCAGOAN 3 > o » CALENDAR, OP EVENT/ VODVIL PALACE— First class bills. STATE-LAKE — Next best bet. First run movies also. MAJESTIC — Continuous from noon to 11 p. m. MOVIES MEN OF STEEL — booked for three weeks. ROOSEVELT. DUCHESS OF BUFFALO— Oct. 4; IT MUST BE LOVE— Oct. 11. CHICAGO. GREAT DECEPTION— Oct. 4; STRONG MAN— Oct. 11. Paul Ash. ORIENTAL. ALOMA OF SOUTH SEAS, Gilda Gray.— Oct. 4. CAMFUS FLIRT — Oct. 11. TIVOLI. CAMPUS FLIRT— Oct. 4; ALOMA OF SOUTH SEAS and Gilda Gray— Oct. 11. UPTOWN. VITAPHONE— MCVICKER'S. AFTER THEATRE CHEZ PIERRE— Pierre Nuyttens' artistic res taurant. Dancing, dining and after theatre sup per. "Snapshots of 1926" an entertaining re vue. Ontario Street and Fairbanks Court. BAL TABARIN — with Jack Chapman and his band. HOTEL SHERMAN. GARDEN OF ALLAH— Romantic and preten tious. A pleasant drive along the North Shore, west to Waukegan road lands one there. POMPEIAN ROOM — Charming surroundings, a good floor, adequate entertainment and Henri Gendron and his orchestra. CONGRESS HOTEL. THE DRAKE GRILL— Redecorated. Bobby Meeker and his Drake Hotel orchestra. DRAKE HOTEL. THE BALOON ROOM — New surroundings. Johnny Hamp and his orchestra. CONGRESS HOTEL. THE MARINE DINING ROOM— Good Music, good food, good floor. EDGEWATER BEACH HOTEL. SAMOVAR— Russian surroundings, entertain ment and good music. 624 S. Michigan Ave. VICTORIAN ROOM— Supper, dancing, Jules Herbuveaux and his orchestra. PALMER HOUSE. THE ALAMO — Good entertainment, lighted glass floor and Al Handler and his orchestra. Dinner. 831 Wilson. L'AIGLON — Dining, dancing and good music. 824 N. Michigan. GALLERIES ROULLIER GALLERIES— the most complete collection of the etchings of Morris Achener ever shown in America, through the month of October. ACKERMANN'S— many exhibits, with no em phasis on any one of them. ART INSTITUTE— The Tibetan banner paint- ings are now being shown. The thirty-ninth annual exhibit will come the end of October. DUNBAR EXHIBIT— Here you may see the artists of the modern school, including Edgar R. Payne, Francis Murphy, Charles Haffin, and Alexander H. Wyant. O'BRIEN— Nothing special. ANDERSON ART CO.— A very unusual ex hibition of seventeenth and eighteenth century English portraits to be hung through the first two weeks of October. Paintings by Gains borough and Sir Thomas Lawrence. ERLANGER (Clark near Randolph) BEGINNING SUNDAY October 10th Matinees Wednesday and Saturday SEATS NOW SELLING Sam H. Harris Presents the Marx Brothers Of The Cocoanuts Music and Lyrics by Irving Berlin Book by Geo. S. Kaufman WORLD'S GREATEST LAUGH RIOT -NOW- ARRI £ Theatre ^^^ America's Youngest Emotional Star GEORGE — IN — The Perfect Comedy - Drama The Jazz Singer Direct from Year's Run in New York — BY — SAMSON RAPHAELSON Staged by Albert Lewis Matinees Wednesday and Saturday TRIPLE TRIUMPH for Star, Play & Company The Exquisite FAY BAINTER IN THE DELIGHTFUL ' FRENCH COMEDY First Love With BRUCE McRAE and a distinguished cast including George Marion, Geoffrey Kerr, Orlando Daly, Mortimer Weldon, Leonard Booker and Robert Davis at SEL W YN NOW Popular $2.00 Matinee 4 THECWICAGQAN (^DiicwhD sejek smaAtlJur\g5 You are invited to a showing of imported models and original McAvoy designs - - Day Dresses, Dinner and Evening Gowns, Suits, Hats, Wraps, Furs and Novelties - Whether made to order or ready to be worn, McAvoy models give the joyous satisfaction only smart things can give - * and you will find moderate prices - - - iWAVQY^o 615 N Michigan Avenue in III m Pans * ^ A^ '*"*' ~ ~^ .. i.hu^UHMVCIIUC jji CHICAGO !!! in m in in • J. McGRATH, Editor A. RUDDY, Art Director CHICAGOAN TM-E TALK OF TUE TOWN EVERY day, so a kind garrulous bus conductor tells us, a cer tain bejeweled woman, expensively attired, boards one of the south bound north side busses at Ran dolph and Michigan and rides around the loop; and, since the fares are not collected until the bus starts north on Michigan, the fash ionable lady rides free. Sometimes she goes around the loop two or three times, for the conductor says she gets off his bus in front of the library and always gets on another. What do you make of that? Perhaps she's poorer than she looks and has a fetish for common car riers. If that's the case, if she ever got her hands on a stray dime, think of the marvelous time she could have on the "L". theatre in the evening quarter. another I It's the Upkeep A MAN pays six dollars for his hat, and thinks he's made a bargain. Then he goes to lunch and checks it : item : twenty- five cents. He goes to dinner and checks it — twenty-five cents. And if he can bear the thought of check ing his hat again, he may go to the Anyone but a real estate agent will tell you that it's cheaper to rent than to own a house. It's not the original cost that counts, it's the upkeep, runs the bromide. And so it is with a man's hat. There seem to us to be but one way out. A system whereby a man would rent a hat — from his news boy, the corner drugstore, a hotel bellboy, the street car conductor — and secure with it a sort of parking tag good for any place in the city. The system should be planned so that he would be able to pay his hat-rent out of what would have been the initial cost of the hat with no trouble at all. Don't you think that a rather good idea? The Magic Clock IT was during one of our sudden fog storms which wrap the city in grey, wet blankets. A young man sitting in his office on Michi gan Boulevard was too busy with advertising to notice any change in the weather, and, we might add, he wouldn't be able to do much else if he intended to keep an eye on our fickle weather. All this took place about five o'clock and, so the young man, who, incidentally, was just out of college and had his own ideas re garding working hours, decided that it was about time to quit for the day. He looked through the window at the Wrigley clock to see what time it was. But there was no clock; there was no tower. He looked again. The building had always been there before; twenty times a day he had looked at that clock and had always, found it there. Sometimes the clock was not running, and sometimes it was not keeping the correct time, but at least the clock and the building were there. He took one more look, a long, eager one, then turned to his secretary and said, "Well I'll be damned. Have they moved the Wrigley Tower?" And when the secretary looked out the window she saw that all the buildings along the boulevard were sawed off at the third floor. AFTER years of successful vot ing and croprraising, a cer tain obese gentleman from the hinterland decided to take a week off and "do" Chicago. Of course he had been to the city before — conventions, food shows and the 6 rodeo; but on this particular oc^ casion, he intended to see every thing (certain reports and results had been bothering him for some time). We've all seen plenty like him, for, despite the theatre and the insistence of easterners, all the sight-seers, unfortunately, do not go to New York. In due time, this particular man had gone, seen and done much, in cluding dinner at Terrace Gardens, and a few hours at The Haymar- ket Theatre. At last, curiosity prevailing over whatever hesitancy the press had inculcated, he left the Sherman House, finally found a pleasant looking taxi driver (a proof of his patience), and made known his destination. "I suppose," he said as he was leaving the cab, "that with the On Leongs and the Hip Sings on oc casional rampages, a man ain't very safe in Chinatown." ' "Aw, you're safe enough" the ca!b driver told him, "you're safe enough—if you keep away from the white people." and now that we are speaking ilof Chicago and its long dis tance visitors and reviewers, we tredy wish that some brave, unmar ried man would write an article — a whole bookr in fact — about Chi cago as it exists, and not as our trans-Mississippi River, trans-Ohio River and, certainly, our trans-Ap palachian brothers insist. In the first place, curiously enough, the stock yards are not in the loop, although we recall certain warm summer nights when we thought they might be. But think of the illusions that statement would shatter. Of course, our long distance visitors wouldn't believe it, nor tolerate it ; nor, for that mat ter, would they tolerate the audac ity of anyone who claimed that the steel mills were not on Michi gan Boulevard next to the Library. Don't be silly. Weren't they in Chicago for a cloak and suit con vention last August? Or weren't they here for the better corn grow ers convention last April? This is all very amusing, partic ularly when one realizes that half the people in Chicago, we're ashamed to admit, know "only vaguely where the steel mills or the stock yards are. "Steel mills and the stock yards? Let me see. I don't know exactly, but they're some place south. Yes, that's it, they're south — take an 'L' or the I.C. and ask the conductor." As a matter of fact, the steel mills are marvelous, and, we feel, worthy of the attention of any artist. Certainly it would be suicide — at least literary suicide— for any one to state that Lincoln Park was not a wilderness (we wish it were), and, although no one would believe him (and certainly some of our merchants and smart hotel keepers would object), this daring man might even say a word or two to the effect that every person in Chicago does not have a knife gash across his face. There is, of course, no need to carry education too far ; too much of anything, even truth, looks sus picious. But this brave unmarried historian really ought to slip in a phrase to dispute all newspaper, magazine, and verbal reports that Carl Sandburg runs amuck in the loop, tearing his hair and writing verse to cattle cars and mad dogs. TUEOHCAGOAN That gentleman happens to be liv ing a most normal life, writing very conservative, if uninteresting, reviews for the Daily News. And one thing more. It should be known that Sherwood Anderson does not spend every rainy day in Grant Park studying hoboes and beggars. As a matter of fact, the very cap&ble Mr. Anderson, so far as we can learn, is at present living in a smug eastern apartment — pot- boiling for Vanity Fair. And to say that there are other things in Chicago besides the above mentioned would be as un believable a heresy as to tell an Episcopalian bishop that Henry the Eighth was a sexual lunatic. COMING in on the train the other night we saw on one side of the tracks the rolling steel mills with their strength and dig nity; on the other side, huddled among the workmen's cottages, was a little church with a pathetic Gothic steeple that didn't reach half so high as the smoke stacks across the tracks. There was a burst of flame. The whole sky burned for an instant before the color died out, leaving the mills dim and flat in the light of their electric lamps. The train slowed its pace; there seemed to be something wrong with the signal system. It was warm, and our window was open. No sign of life issued from the houses facing the roaring mills. Their window shades were drawn closely; and the lights from the steel mills shone on them as on the black glasses of a blind man. Two Eugene O'Neill workmen came along the tracks and stopped near our window. There was another sweep of red in the sky, the roaring of the mill TWE CHICAGOAN 7 increased, and we sat there hypno tized by power and beauty. One of the laborers nudged his companion and pointed his sul phur-colored finger at us. "What the hell they lookin' at?" he asked. "What the hell they want?*' THE other day we were in Gray- . ling's. It was late and rather cold, and as we had some work to finish that night before we left the pfnce, we thought some hot choco late might help us along a little bit ; we've been overdoing the coffee. The. waitress appeared with amazing promptness, and, as she seemed pleasantly broadminded, we ordered, as we had already de cided, hot chocolate. "Hot chocolate?" she asked. "Why we don't serve hot chocolate in September". Her's was the patience of a bon vivant waiting in front of Ireland's for the oyster season to open. "We don't serve hot chocolate in September" she added. "Not until October". And so we learned that, like rab bit, deer and galoshes, there was a close season for hot chocolate. There is probably nobody on earth who is so aggrieved as the user of the telephone. •He tells his troubles to the op erator, to the supervisor, to the manager, to the marines, and calls upon heaven to witness that he said one six nine four, the whole one six nine four, and nothing but one six nine four. "Just let me get at that operator I" he howls. You've done it too, and so have we. That was why we jumped at the chance to go through a telephone ex change. A friend of ours — when she's off duty — does something at the telephone office. The sights that we saw were im pressive. We felt that we were betraying ourself and all the other aggrieved telephone users, but we couldn't help admitting that it was rather wonderful to see rows and rows of girls making a lace-work pattern of telephone keys and wires as nonchalantly as though they were working with D.M.C. cotton and a number three crochet hook. Of course we couldn't tell how many wrong numbers they were getting and how many people they were disconnecting in the middle of a sentence ; but at least they were going about their work very quietly and with the appear ance of doing their whole duty and nothing but their duty. "This is a dull hour," said the friend and guide. "You should see what uptown exchanges have to handle during the rush hours." We remarked that rainy nights were- just as bad. "Why I had to wait—" "You're all wet, dearie," inter rupted the -voice . with a smile. "You get quicker service over the telephone than you get anywhere. You'll wait fifteen minutes for a malted milk, but if your operator doesn't answer your flash in ten seconds you want to murder her." We apologized, and that en couraged our friend to tell us how the operator is constantly suffering insults from the irate, irascible and irrational subscriber. We heard how gentle and patient the operator has to be under all circumstances. We shuddered at the recollection of how we had sworn whenever we were • given the wrong number. We thrilled with admiration when we were re minded of telephone girls who had stuck to their posts while their buildings were slowly inundated by flood, consumed by fire, torn by shells. We were full of applause and sympathy for these fine girls. And then we saw the club room in which a number of them were taking their rest period. There they were, these girls who sit for hours at an abominable instrument in order that we may make a date or reprimand the printer, these martyrs who suffer our abuse and turn the other ear, heroines who risk their lives in order that the service may not be interrupted, there they were; and how do you suppose they were spending their rest period? They were telephon ing. NIGHT after night, in plum- colored uniform, a chauffeur idles in a corner cigar shop watch ing the limousine parked in front. Next door is a tiny movie theater. Inside the ten cent theater the rich est woman in Chicago and a friend sit absorbed in the latest thriller. One night some young man saw the wealthy woman in the ten cent theater and was so surprised he blurted "Look who's here." The voice was audible above the atro cious music. But the graven head of the lady who has faced the gat- ling eyes of countless festive opera nights didn't turn a hair. But the companion — he looked around and smiled. At the same time, two rows back s THE CHICAGOAN a bright-eyed, young and rhythmic girl cried to her Joe : "Gosh, kid, aincha ever gonna take me to any thing better'n a movie?" And Joe who has shot it out down many an alley with no bands playing doesn't turn a hair either. ADVERTISING outdid itself in a recent mausoleum dis play which appeared in a recent issue of one of the newspapers. The following is a fragment of the advertisement: ". . . .friendly welcome of warmth, cleanliness, and electric lights." And then again, "Family rooms for six thou sand five hundred dollars". Everything but elevator service. Doesn't it sound like advertising copy for one of the Gold Coast hotels ? How Old Is Ann? THE other day we found it nec essary to visit the different newspaper morgues in order to se cure a certain photograph, and, for those of you who do not know what a newspaper morgue is, we might add that it isn't nearly so clammy as it sounds. First we went to the Daily News, where we found three people read ing the Tribune ; and when we re membered that the Tribune makes a specialty of last words and fun erals, we thought the situation rather amusing. At the Tribune, however, we found two men read ing the Post, and that made the story even more unbelievable — to think that the Tribune would read any other magazine, even in a morgue. And when we arrived at the Daily News and • found one man reading the Tribune, we de cided that the incident was com plete. This mutual admiration of the newspapers is interesting, and if the Post, News, and Tribune re serve the morgue for their appre ciation of their contemporaries, we wonder in what room they seclude themselves for the supreme privi lege to wallow in the atrocities of the Herald - Examiner and the Evening American. LAST week we saw a great com motion caused by a few hun dred men parading up and down Michigan Boulevard and going through a series of boy scout drills. No one seemed to know quite what was happening. Someone suggested that it might be the firemen on a parade, but we all knew that no one could get that many firemen away from their cards at one time. It smacked, faintly,, of what the theatre considers the well dressed Civil War veteran should wear, so we thought it might be an adver tising scheme for one of the musical comedies. The stenographer had her say; she insisted that, if she remembered correctly, they looked astonishingly like the ushers at the New Granada Moving Picture Pal ace. But the office boy said no. In fact he was very indignant about it. "Ushers?" he said, scorn fully. "Moving Picture Ushers? Why they can't be. Where's the turbans and sashes? Have you ever seen an usher without tur bans and sashes — or at least gold braids?" THE headline "Two Thousand Butter and Egg Men Meet Here October Fourth" certainly gave us a start. We always knew that the cab arets of Chicago would, with im punity, handle at least that many, but we never suspected that they would get together and organize. In our experience, we've never found one who would admit it. Each one knew that his friend was, of course, but that was a different matter. Now, doubtless, we can expect ^to hear of such things as The Amalgamated Association of Gold Diggers, The Universal Order of Drink and Cigarette Spongers, The The first thing you know one of those balls is coming over that net. And you know I'm not athletic. THE CHICAGOAN 9 Gate Crashers Union, Go-Home- Earlies, Limited, and The Trouble Makers, Incorporated, Just who started- this organiz ing of undesirables no one knows; frankly, we think it sprang from several people who took The Birth of a Nation too seriously. Furor Yesterday our foreign book councilor, as she likes, to call her self, came into the office with much waving of hands and expletives (she's French). It seems she had just had a bad day at the store and related to us a series of grievances against the public. The one about the great German pleased us most. She told it to us in the short, ner vous manner as is her custom and, we suppose privilege. It went something — translated of course- like this: The complete works of Goethe (pronounced GO-TEA). Did we understand right ? Com plete? Oh yes, nothing but the "Com plete edition" was wanted. Sorry to say, that no such edition was on hand, but . . . , What, a regular bookstore, and no complete works of GO-TEA; that was simply outrageous. But was Madame aware of the fact that the complete edition com prises something like seventy vol umes and would require some space in a library ? How insulting . . . She knew what she was talking about and she owned a large enough house for such an edition. We regret, but could we secure the edition in question, could we radio for it? No ... It was needed imme diately and intended as a gift. Did we have any idea as to the price, not that it mattered very much? Possibly around four hundred dollars. That was all right, only as we did not have it on hand the sale was off, and "Thank you." Shoot It All The other morning, about two thirty to be exact, we sat over a waffle at Child's and listened in on the following conversation. "You lose! Give me the dice. Shoot fifty," said the girl in the little blue* dress. "Piker 1 Why don't you take a chance?" asked the big brunette next her. "Shoot a couple hun dred, anyway." "You can, when it comes your turn, Gladys. I'm too low." "Here's five hundred she wins," says the big boy standing over the table next to the little blue dress, while he makes an appropriate gesture toward the center of the table. "Go ahead and cover it, Gladys, if you think she'll lose." The dice romp across the table. "Snake eyes," gasps the blue dress ^and absent-mindedly Shoves the cubes to the dapper youth on her left. Nobody seems to object. "Here's two thousand,", says the youth, leaning over the table to place his bet. "Take it all or any part of it," he advises, meanwhile cuddling the dice between his palms. "I'll coyer it," says the young ster next him-r^but a. gentle voice from the manager interrupts. You know the managers at Childs. They will have their say — politely, of course > but they say it, never theless. "I'm sorry, ladies and gentle men, but rolling dice is not per mitted in the restaurant. I'm sorry." The group agrees that it will de sist, and the dice are retired. "Some party," ventures the mid dle-aged gentleman who eats poached eggs and bacon by him self at an aisle table. The manager stops his promenade and smiles down. "Yes, they're nice kids. They're all right." "Must have a lot of money to gamble for such stakes," continues the bacon-and-egger., "Oh, didn't you see?" asks the manager. "They weren't risking any real money. That bunch had made a lot of chips out of their menus. They were shooting reck lessly for thousands and thousands of calories." —the editors 10 THE CHICAGOAN Isn't it a shame no one knows what happens Saturday Ni&hts? But no one can ever remember THE CHICAGOAN 11 PER/ONAL PORTRAIT/ EVEN to-day there is, perhaps, a majority of persons who re gard a tenor as either super lative or smile-provoking. I recall reading a certain funny yarn, once, in which one of this, genus was called "His Tonsils" because of the absurd way in which he coddled his living-maker. Tito Schipa, who probably pos sesses the most limpid tenor voice of his day, isn't at all like that. When one meets him, he sees what appears to be a business man of parts and quality. Of course, he is utterly healthy — couldn't sing and wouldnft be good to look upon if he were *not. I think he is a pretty good example of an Eight eenth Century beau in Manon. I Relieve one could almost tolerate fie vacillations of a Lohengrin if he vocalized that part into actual ity, or something near it. One can tell at a glance he is a humorous man, that he understands men and manners, that he has a thirst for information, but, also, that he is, perhaps, on the side of the credulous. After all, isn't he an Italian? and wasn't he born in a small city? I've talked jazz with Schipa, and the thing never grew serious — just trailed off in the mists that veil the feet of a very good dancer who just escapes making the Charleston aerobatic. He is fond of reiterating his regret that he did not follow the medical profession; that he thinks the cult of the pill purveyor very good fun. And, when he talked to me, he was absolutely in tamest— -so far as the theory of the profession was concerned — I am sure. The picture, however, of Schipa seated at the table of a consulting room toying with a Mrs. Over- stuffed's mitral valve, or the neu- A Singer in Spite of Himself rosis against rice pudding of a pampered "miss" from a modish finishing school, is rather incon ceivable. Is it possible that he's laughing at himself? Playing some ingenious game wherein he is a swashbuckler surgeon ? or a dreamy Paracelsus? ... or is it just an agreeable affectation, something done to show" that everyone of us is a mighty small thing, prone to play at make believe to while away the hours of reality? One cannot say. It is merely that it is difficult to see Tito Schipa faced by a life of perpetual compromise. Queerly enough, we fell to the discussion of jazz after attempting to analyze the transitions in Ital ian music, from the days of the drastic Caccini, un-missing link between the emerging Gregorian and the cloying sweetness of the platitudinous days of Donizetti. And Schipa likes jazz. Didn't one of the eminent Victorians "think in magenta?" These things will be. SCHIPA is not , interview-shy. At least, meeting him socially, one gathers that impression. The frightful hordes that mob the cete: brity and make America ridiculous to the foreigner, or at least some thing to dread, have left him care free. Our customs are nothing to our reporters, so incoming artists have told me. It's quite probable that Schipa has many a time suc cessfully fooled both. Good luck to him I '\S£\^ \ui Tito Schipa 12 THE CHICAGOAN I imagine Schipa would be a problem to the psycho analyst. To search his subconscious would re veal, perhaps, a physician's bag or so, but I think it would be vain as a dissection performed about the shadow of a Peter Pan. He's an athlete. Plays games well. He says so, that is, I haven't seen him on any golf course. Not conceited, one understands, in the least. Glad to be outside the role of popular tenor for as long as may be. Very natural. After all, it is not everyone who is born in a small Italian city where people are mainly happy because no one has ever troubled to trouble them. That, in itself, is the most charm ing adventure in carefully chosen ancestry. His voice, as we all know, has a pleasant habit of floating petal-like, rather after the fashion of Mura- tore in Faust. But there is more color, more apparent intelligence back of the effect, a keener sense of ultimate dramatic values. Then, too, Muratore invariably looked mediaeval. Schipa is a good ex ample of whatever time and place he needs to make plausible, though as yet he is second to Johnson when it comes to giving recitals. His is ever the operatic medium, and, when it comes to uncostumed, vicarious interpretations, Schipa, I think, falls short. BUT never let us forget that a great physician is lost in Tito Schipa. He tells us so. And he knows . . . perhaps. Yet it's rather funny, too, this amiable obsession. Music is in itself a science . . a mighty game, too. It means either a great passion or a supreme re nouncement . . . whichever way one chooses to regard it. In perspec tive, the lot of the doctor is small beer. But noting that "merry face with the somber eyes and keen mouth one wonders again. May not Schipa have fathomed something of the psychology of his public — the larger section — and realize that he has lost a tremendous joke? Wouldn't it be superb fun to fool oneself as well as a whole Main street of Babbitts? Writing little prescriptions of dubious stimula ting nature? seeing, in effect, a whole series of emotional and dramatic denouements in one's daily life before which the situa tions of the most bizarre opera ever staged are pallid as the reluctant dawn of an Autumn morning? --LILLIAN MACDONALD Beach Peaches My son, my son,. Beach peaches are fruit you should shun. The flirtatious peaches who frequent our beaches Are peaches from whom you must run. But dad, oh dad, Why are pleasant things always forbad? Youth's lexicon teaches that luscious beach peaches Are good for a young growing lad. Nay boy, my. boy, Pray flee from the wiles they employ. Seductive sand swimmers 'neath summer moon glimmers Your morals will quickly destroy.. Why dad! Oh dad! What charming swims you must have had. The teacher who preaches of peaches on beaches Once learned what he teaches, begad! —PAUL ERNST m, in- y ' v;r Play the one about the'dook,' Toney. I want to walk on air every litre I hear it. THE CHICAGOAN 13 Going to the Dogs ? WILL sport-loving society of Chicago have decent oppor tunity to "go to the dogs" next year is a question heard oh many lips as the finale at Hawthorne marks the close of a most successful track season in and around Cook County. Greyhound racing has gained popular favor in many cities, and, in comparatively short time, has flourished. Chicagoans who have attended the "dog- tracks" at Hialeah, Montreal, East St. Louis and other points where it has become fashionable are quite enthusiastic about the sport. With the exception of Chicago and Cin cinnati, the greyhounds have won instant favor. In the latter case, the Ohio state betting laws rather than society's decree, barred the racing. Accord ing to reliable advices, greyhound racing in the Ohio city bade fair to draw a smart patronage before the authorities closed the mutuels. But at East St. Louis in particular, where the "Ladies Contribution Funds" baffle the state anti-gam bling bugbears, a second meeting was necessary to satisfy St. Louis fans. And reports have it that the fall season promises an attendance that will rival the more popular summer racing. Wherever the sport has been instituted, it has been found an ideal supplement to the turf, for greyhound racing is conducted at night with the aid of powerful searchlights, and enables the race-goers to make a thorough day of it. The small track in operation at Thornton, across the road from Washington Park, this summer, was inadequate to the demands of society. Several factors have con spired to prevent society from lending a sympathetic turn to the turnstiles at the local track; The Thornton greyhound track is an "outlaw" in the category of the power s-that-oe in dogdom. It is not a member of the Interna tional Association of Greyhound Races which dominates the racing field in this country and Canada. Its power is exerted through its control of the dogs, for practically all of the better pedigreed racing dogs are running on the Interna tional circuits. Whether such an association will prove good or bad for the sport cannot be determined this early ; but it is a certainty that the tracks operated by members of the association are the successful ones and the fashionable ones. Then, too, "outlaw" would well describe the average Thornton at tendance. Blue Island, Aurora, and even Cicero, contribute liber ally to the local track's patronage, and rough clothing and still rougher voices are profuse. So it is to be hoped that next season may bring an improvement of the Thornton plant, or a new track of more inviting environment. Of course, the owners of the local track were experimenting to some extent this season. And it must be remembered that they met quite a bit of opposition. States Attorney Crowe even halting his interesting war on crime long enough to de scend upon Thornton and Wash ington Park, and order the mutuels closed. However, it has been said upon good authority that East St. Louis is in the same state as Chi cago, and possibly is governed by the same state betting regulations. The owners of the track there ap parently had more faith in its ul timate success, though, for the plant there represents a much larger investment. It stands up in white shiny contrast to the carni val appearance presented by Chi cago's only dog circuit. Football KEYED up for nearly a month by advance press dispatches and bulletins, all predicting a most glorious future for the individual elevens of the several universities of the section, Chicagoans began searching wardrobes this week for suitable sport togs to wear to the numerous opening games of the 1926 football season. No games of - titular consequence mark the Con ference opening with the possible exception of Purdue, and for Chi cago enthusiasts, the prospects for Saturday, October second was largely selecting the favorite for the purpose of "looking 'em over." Neither Northwestern nor Chi cago promise much excitement, as Mr. Stagg and his colleague, Mr. Thistlethwaite, are stepping rather gingerly into the forbidding Conference waters. Remembering the sad upset of not- so long ago, when Missouri turned back Chi cago 3 to 0 in the debut of the Maroons, Mr. Stagg spared no effort to have his somewhat green eleven ready for the southern in vaders. A number of new faces are promised in the supporting cast to Mr. "Moon" Baker of Northwest ern, and after a rather mauve dec ade of ordinary elevens, great things are expected from the Evanston team this year. It is 14 said that Mr. Lowry is well replaced, and the new stadium was comfortably filled Saturday when South Dakota appeared to open hostilities. Glancing over the early games on mid-western schedules, it is ob vious that other popular favorites hereabouts are to be more closely watched in their opening games. Chicago and Northwestern have fairly easy opposition for a few weeks, as Maryland visits the Soutfi Side on the 9th giving Mr. Stagg until the 16th to prepare for his game with Pennsylvania Univer sity at Philadelphia. And North western has only Carleton and then Indiana on successive Satur days, and meet no dangerous team until the 23rd when Notre Dame comes to Evanston. All eyes were on Purdue for one Saturday. For the first time in history, the Indiana university played an intersectional game. Mr. Phelan took his team to An napolis to meet the Navy, and all were wondering if he acted rashly or if rumor that an exceptionally good team will wear the Old Gold this year is correct. Purdue showed symptoms of a rise from its football lethargy last season. A Mr. Wilcox may tear up several Conference flower-beds before winter comes. Notre Dame and Minnesota are the most talked of elevens at the present writing. Dr. Spears and Mr. Rockne are wasting no time in getting under way this year. North Dakota met Minnesota and Beloit went to Notre Dame on Saturday, and on the 9th, the Irishmen go to Minneapolis for the first important game of the section. And as a final opening touch, Notre Dame will entertain Penn State the following week while Dr. Spears will go to Ann Arbor. Dr. Spears is certainly being watched. It is his second year at the Minnesota school, and he pro duced alarming results last season, so it is highly possible that he is reckoning with his host in attack ing two of the most formidable teams in the middle west. As to Mr. Rockne, he knows his profes sion, and Chicagoans may rest as sured that his elevens will win a comfortable majority of the games scheduled. While most of the old stars are gone, it is never the indi vidual in Mr. Rockne's gathering, and his remarkable machine will undoubtedly go on, after the man ner of Mr. Tennyson's brook. Many Chicago football fans went to Ann Arbor Saturday to see the greatly respected Michigan team begin its season with the Oklahoma Agricultural and Me chanical eleven. Friedman, Mo- lenda, Osterbaan, and others are all back, and it is safe to say that Mr. Yost has the least to worry about of all the Conference in structors. The great team of 1925 is practically intact, and Oklahoma Saturday, and Michigan State on the 9th, should put the Wolverines on edge for their game with Min nesota. Michigan is unquestion ably the favorite of the Conference. Iowa is another team that will be dangerous. With a veteran line, from end to end, and the colorful Mr. Kutsch to lead the attack, they should just about upset some of Mr. Zuppke's best laid plans. Illinois and Iowa are out to defeat the other from the start, both teams having easy opposition be fore they meet on the 16th. THE(CHICAGOAN Ohio State will draw no early attention from Chicagoans. The most exciting thing in prospect at Columbus is the development of a team to meet Columbia at New York, the 16th. Wittenberg Satur day and Ohio Wesleyan the 9th, should prove little concerning Ohio's strength. Wisconsin, too, has little to offer this early. Cornell opened the season at Madison Saturday, and offered little opposition to Mr. Little's more formidable team. Little can be predicted about the style of play the several teams will employ, other than the certainty that the forward pass will be used much more judiciously this year. The new rules call for five yard penalties for the second and third incompleted pass which shall be made before a first down in . any series of plays. This will probably result in more "straight football," with the tendency running towards an open attack. It will call for clever football, and should not take from the interest of the game. It is hoped that it will not cause too much of a reversion of style, for the open game, with frequent passes, is far more interesting to the spectator than line attacks with close formations. The rule forcing the team making a safety to put the ball in play on its twenty yard line by a punt, place kick, drop kick, or onside kick, will undoubt edly revive popular use of the on- side kick, which makes the kicking eleven eligible to recover the ball This will add to the general in terest of the games of what promt ises to he the greatest football sea son ever. —JACK SCOTT THE CHICAGOAN 15 The Parade Passes By 'Tis hinted that Jlayor Dever will be a candidate to succeed himself in 1927. But — there's nary a hint about subways. The Irish are foxy, however. So, if we're not careful, he'll be pullin' a wee subway from his sleeve. William Hale Thompson, our quiet, modest ex-mayor, came out of retirement not. long ago to play tit-tat-to with Barrett and Crowe. The stakes were small change and a mayoralty. Who won? Well — our ex-mayor is again in retirement. With mega phones, Chronic Smiles, Election Cigars, Baby-kiss ing, Baloon Prom ises, and much Waving of the American -Flag Marketing for meat and potatoes proved much simpler to Mrs. Bertha Baur than marketing for votes. But — her theory of "cash and carry'* seems to have found amazing popularity in practice! Edna I. Asmus and Albert J. Carreno The spirit of channel - swimming seems to have gripped even our politicians. Dr. John Dill Robert son, after wading around as presi dent of the school board, health commissioner, and president of the west park board, has decided to try an over-hand crawl to the mayor's desk. "You're all wet," retorted Colonel Smith. And George E. Brennan, democratic boss in Illinois and hope ful "senator maybe", merely bowed his big head and smiled blandly. TWE CHICAGOAN ameieon she profiled her head to them, and then with a quick indrawing of the breath she protruded her breast, at the same time bringing her hands up to either side with a lazy move ment and letting them slip down slowly, over the corrugation of her ribs, her torso, and finally to rest her waist, with slim fingers HJ looked across at her in the dim of that small room. The light caught the yellow-red flame of her hair and the bronze of her slipper. Gad! she curveted her ankle — carefully, meticulously, with pre cision. Had he seen anyone do that in the last decade? Didn't that belong back in the days when maidenly ethics demanded profici ency in those triple arts of moon ing, swooning and spooning? Wasn't that part of the impedi menta of the professional coquette of the 'eighties? A twisted half- grin of amusement erased the sudden hot irritation he felt at her and at himself for his ungallant mental comments. There were other women in the room, but till a moment ago, he had been the only man. Immedi ately he had noticed her laugh change in tone quality, he had sensed her sudden vibrant alert ness, her almost predatory eagerness at the entry of other men. He recalled now the patronizing smile with which she had languorously acknowledged feminine wit; for masculine words, prefaced by a guffaw, she had a long, quite loud, almost hearty, thoroughly compli mentary laugh. Rather amazing. ( With what sudden little jabs she harpooned attention. And she had a waspish, clever way of insinua ting , rather nasty stings at that pretty black-haired girl in green who valiantly chuckled them off. Damn her! Damn her anyway! What a rotten sport she was to keep it up. DURING the music, he looked across at her again. The man next him he found also watching her. With a long histrionic sigh distended. "Claws", he thought. It was obvious that she fancied herself thus, for she held the pic ture — head turned, elbows gleam ing white angles, and her breasts like bubbles under the grey mist of her blouse. God ! Was she trying to lure him ? Him ! Or was it wholesale seduction! He had the grace to kick himself and laugh. But he was conscious of a grind ing nausea each time she produced from her bag of tricks ^ome gesture, some phrase, some ch^ap wile or a tawdry bit of persiflage made rough by long usage. As the evening grew he had bet ter opportunities to watch her. At a casual mention of poetry, a con versational morsel flung to be. THE CHICAGOAN 17 volubly torn, she advertised her silence by widening her green-blue eyes and fixing, them on some dis tant shore line. And by a careful, thoughtful, just - about - to - dawn smile,— as who shall say — "I am Being wistful. Note my wistf ul- ness. Mark well that I am the helpless, appealing feminine." Her hands were appealing — slim, feck less, apparently boneless, as if they had dropped from exhaustion into whatever position they chanced to fall. Looking at them he re-ex perienced that feeling he had had upon first meeting her. This was a long evening. How long ago had that been ? In the formality of introduction one of thos,e white hands had been gently laid. in his like a cold dead oyster. that it was an old Mediaeval Ger man song. What a technique — what a capacity she had for always saying precisely the wrong thing. Then he heard her make a snatch for stage center by a few feeble- assays at Baudelaire (which he could have sworn she had never read !) and from there she leaped to etchings and aquatints. She carefully placed her right foot on the floor, crossed her left foot over and curveted that to a — perhaps, — jusf-a-dash more fetching advan tage, and tilted her chin, the better to pat her hair artlessly. Stupid ? Mostly. And yet clever the way she manufactured propin quity. Having just elaborately arranged herself, by recrossing her knees, to stay where she was, she rose and walked over to the piano. She stood there with her feet .gracefully placed at that conscious music. The boy's voice ... he must hang on to that ... let it displace the wretchedness that was in his mind ... . in some way^ alchemize the venom of his thoughts. With such conscious introspection, he let the voice play down all his brain paths. Could it have been in "The Beggar's Opera" where he last heard that acheful quality . . . something almost disquietingly satisfying about it. And it minded him, too, of some tripping random lines ..... "She'd slip me clean for a nun or a Queen, or a beggar with knots in her voice" Ease was getting to him some how. He had rescued himself, blanked out something not to be thought of, snatched himself back from the precipice. There was a plucking at his sleeve; that white feckless thing was over his hand; that voice like D UT the bitter sick feeling had ¦*-' him once more. He looked at some one else till music drew him her way again. There was a boy singing at the piano and his voice had the quality he particularly liked. She was smiling — her spe cial incandescent smile of gracious patronage. He saw her play it full on the engaging youth at the piano. Her high, thin, impotent voice cut through his last note. "Don't you think that has just a strain of Debussy, Mr. Canby", she said. x Mr. Canby laughed politely and a trifle embarrassedly, remarking T-angle which fashion figures af fect. She brushed against the blond boy's muscular flank like a lewd little tabby cat. Once more the acute sense of soul-nausea ravaged him. He looked at her hair, the red-yellow flame of it. Morbid, unhealthy, warped, a chameleon; a mental pervert ex travagantly sexed, pathetic, hor rible, maddening. THESE thoughts were acid etched against the chaos of his mind; they screamed inside his heart ; they were debauching him. In a moment they were so strong they would cry out above the a thin knife cut through to his consciousness. "Come along, Dave, you dull egg. We must- put up the car, and put out the pup, and put down the morning's cream bottles." Brushing against his flank — as she brushed against the flank of the blond singer — brushing against him, like a lewd little tabby cat. "Come along. I'll never be able to get you up in he morning as it is." And she raised her eyebrows carefully, took one last look at the boy near the piano, and held out her feckless, white hand. -^e. c. 18 THE CHICAGOAN i N the last two weeks your correspondent has seen three excellent revivals of Gilbert and Sullivan, "Iolanthe" in New York and "The Mikado" and "Pina fore" in Chicago. There is nothing in particular to ac count for such a sudden efflorescence except, per haps, that producers and public alike have a peculiar habit of rediscovering real wit and pure, gracious music just at the critical moment that these two great English names, so far as the United States are concerned, threat ened to slip into the hazy past. Wit itself is at a pre mium in American musical comedy and revue, both of which are so often good to look at and listen to. We have to content ourselves with little more than the humor of Lester Allen's trousers, Leon Errol's antiquated bum leg and Ray Dooley's awful travesties of infant innocence. When an English revue appears (like Char- lot's) with a plentiful sprinkling of modern Gilbertianisms we gape wonderingly as if bright fun on the stage had just recently been discovered. It is the immortal Lord High Chancellors, Lord High Ad mirals and Lord High Executioners of Gilbert and Sullivan from which such fun originated. Although I may be contrasting the Siamese twins, I think Sullivan was a much greater fellow than Gilbert. Tradition to the contrary, Gilbert was not a fine librettist. In the brief moments of speech in the operas he has a hard time keep ing the plot boiling and even the glorious buffoonery of the lyrics seems to have temporarily van ished. He frequently has a diffi cult time concluding his story as in the stilted and rather foolish ending of "Pinafore". He relies chiefly on his lyrics to carry on the action of the opera and rhymes with them fiendish cleverness never seen before or since his time. But Sullivan is much more than the supreme satirical versifier of MU/ICAL NOTE/ his era. He is a great composer worthy to be mentioned seriously with Weber and Mozart, if not with the more majestic Bach and Beethoven. We often do not take our comedy seriously enough. It does not immediately occur to us .that Verdi's "Falstaff" is greater art than the mawkish tragedy of "II Trovatore". We are apt to forget that in the opulent comedy of "Die Meistersinger" Wagner reached the summit of his genius and that one of Mozart's satirical comic operas is worth a hundred bombastic and pretentious "Tos- cas". In listening too carefully for the lightning thrusts of Gilbert we become careless of the purity and strength of Sullivan's music, advancing over the clouds like a divine athlete. To cite an example or two. In the first act of Iolanthe the Lord Chancellor makes his diverting and burlesque entrance to a per fectly modelled fugue in C minor, the subject of which serves as his leit-motif for the rest of trie opera. In the ridiculous scene in which the assembled British Peers beg the shepherd lass not to let the dis advantages of blue blood and great riches interfere with their mass courtship, the choral writing and orchestral background achieve the massiveness of Wagner at his best. But Sullivan has stern com petition as we strain to lis ten to Gilbert. "Spare us the bitter pain of stern denials Nor with low-born dis dain augment our trials ; Hearts just as pure and fair, May beat in Bel- grave Square As in the lowly air, of Seven Dials" And simultaneously we are confronted with a parody of the Lords in stage ermine and tall coronets sobbing on bended knee before a dis dainful Arcadian maiden. It is like listening to the Choral Symphony and watching Charlie Chaplin in "Shoulder Arms" at the same time. As for the individual productions the Chicago performance of "Pina fore "was better than "The Mikado" and the New York presentation of "Iolanthe" better than either. The Shubert Company at the Auditorium included the vet eran William Danforth and Frank MoUlan, gentlemen of considerable experience and skill. "The Mikado" Was marred by the conductor of the orchestra who allowed too many repeats, by the bad singing of a genuine Japanese lady named Misa Koike, as Yum-Yum, and by the inexpert characterization of the termagant Katisha by Stella De Mette. "Pinafore" was fine from stem to stern. In New York Winthrop Ames has undertaken the revival of all the comic operas and with the first of his series "Iolanthe" has made the kind of a hit usually reserved for the glittering revues and the plays about the careers of fashionable Harlem ladies of plea sure. There is not a minute of "Iolanthe" that is not perfect. Orchestra, mounting, casting, and direction are joined with an un canny felicity. —ROBERT POLLAK THE CHICAGOAN 19 WELL, for many nights, Claude and I pored over the diary of Calvin Moralesi, Chief Gay - Turtle, the oldest man in Chicago. And what we pored. And over what we pored. My, my. However, Claude suggests that it is best to present our gleanings as quickly as pos sible and run. According to Chief Gay-Turtle's diary, he had heard quite a lot about Chicago while still a youth on his father's stock farm down near Bloomington, Illinois. His father, Conway Moralesi was quite a fellow in his day and certainly a power in his county. He had run for congressman several times on the Free Soiler's ticket only to meet defeat. Calvin, named after Sheriff John Henry Calvin, of Derbyshire, England, got the Chi cago bug pretty badly and decided to make a break for the big town. So he packed his carpet bag and hit across country for Chicago, there being no freight cars or highways in those days. Here, however, the diary is a little blurred. Claude, who did the translating, couldn't make out whether The Turtle wrote that in 1788 he came upon the She-kag- orig River and found the town of Chicago, or founded the town of Chicago. It does make some dif ference too. It is obvious that the writing is smudged, but I think too that Claude has forgotten some of his Ojibwa conjugation. The verb "to find" is an irregular verb in Ojibwa, so I really don't blame Claude for having slighted or for gotten it. GODFREY goes on to say that in the fall of 1788 (he had arrived in June) Chicago looked pretty much as it is deliniated in the window of Kirk's Soap house on North Michigan Avenue, only there was a pool-room. That win ter of '88 was a long hard winter with lots of snow and cold days, most of both not coming till late Did You Say History Early Chicago A town that was a town in April, about as it usually does nowadays. Godfrey soon became a leader in community life and with the spring elections (that's when they were) he was elected chief of police because he was al ready a chief and Was more often than not called chief, so the good townsmen thought it would be nice to let him continue to be called chief instead of maybe professor or captain. Everyone, *you see, in those days had to have a ^tle of some kind, whether or not it was clear didn't matter a great deal, so long as it was a title. Well, Gay-Turtle was certainly a moving spirit in urban life, that is why he can never rightly be called a settler. The Chief became attached to the Washington Park district and made his home there and there he is still making his home. What do you think of that ? Mr. Cyril Muddlesprocket erred slightly in saying that Chief Gay- Turtle never left Washington Park, and that because he couldn't get out. The Chief did leave the park and he could get .out whenever he so pleased mainly because there wasn't any park to speak of at that time. In fact in Volume IV of the diary the chief tells in brief just how Washington Park came to be Washington Park, but that really is another story. CHIEF GAY-TURTLE says he ran for mayor several times on the Anti-Slave ticket and was elected several times. Claude opines that this bit of information is of the greatest importance be cause at the times when the Turtle was elected (1800-04-06-07) there wasn't an Anti-Slavery party. Pos sibly the Chief just made it up as he ran along, he seems ingenious enough to have done such a thing. Gay - Turtle doesn't say much about the Fort Dearborn mass acre, except that he was the Indian who saved Mrs. Homer R. Helm, wife of Homer R. Helm, alderman of the first ward, from a nasty death by the tomahawk of an unfriendly Indian whose name he couldn't remember or didn't see fit to put down. The Turtle says some other Indian got all the credit for the kind deed and adds that such is the reward of the great often. Anyway he says later that this other Indian was in the local Boy Scout troop and had several demerits against him and that he really needed this good deed to be recorded in his favor, thus work ing off some of the demerits. This generous deed was not without it's own reward, however, for on the very next Sunday Godfrey got a nice gold star and a brand new bible from the Sunday School Sup erintendent and was patted on the back and hand-clasped by Mr. Kittymeyer, the superintendent. 20 THE CHICAGOAN In volume VII of the diary the Slavery question and the Civil War is discussed pro and con, and there fore not very entertaining. Gay- Turtle was snubbed right and left. People thought because he was copper-skinned that he was a Cop perhead. , As Chicago grew into a city the chief dropped out of the social and political whirl and sought life in his Washington Park encampment. He mentions the Chicago fire only casually and says: "It was pretty to watch ; much nicer, in fact, than any Fourth of July celebration in White City." He was Firechief Emeritus at the time, and a stock broker came along with some in teresting stories about the fire, but the Turtle didn't take any stock in his stories which was just as well, because the stock broker re ally was not a stock broker. He was none other than Leon Czol- gosz who had not long before shot President McKinley and who was a pretty bad customer. When Godfrey discovered whom the stock broker Avas he collected his lieu tenants all of whom could appre hend quite well and they appre hended the fellow just outside of Whiting, Indiana. Uf^iHICAGO was pretty dead V^ in those days" to translate literally, "because no one could tell whether it was an Indian town or a christian town, as the reds and whites were evenly divided. But after the Palmer House was built and there was a great Pow Wow called the World's Fair, the town got even deader. A fellow could hardly go horse back riding and there wasn't a buffalo within fifteen miles of the loop, so the Indians decided that it was time to move, so they went to Los Angeles and started the movie business, which I understand is pretty prosperous." —DONALD PLANT EDITOR'S NOTE:— In the next issue will appear the final finding of Professor Purple and his man, Claude, in which they bring Chi cago up to a point where it is capable to take care of itself. Did you say wear? why these sox are guaranteed to outlast three pairs of shoes and a washboard Song Life's but a parody — Love is the song! . . Wisdom flees suddenly, Wonder is long! Truth is a mystery- — Half - truth a fetter! . . Any dull fool can see Dream - truths are better! "Love" is a moonlit stream Babbling a tune . . . "Life" is a sunlight-gleam. — Give me the moon ! Sages may die and -rot — Kingdoms may scatter — Passions may be forgot — What does it matter! Wisdom flees suddenly — Wonder is long! Life's but a parody Love is the song! —RALPH HACKETT Chestnut Street A friend replete in city sin Has found the man who found the gin. The maid who sipped the gin's dilution Laments her gin-proof constitution. The gallants fondle hands and smile Unfeared, if obvious, in guile. At which that very daring wench Aborts a mot in high-school French. The witless smoke, and so remain Intriguing, if a bit inane. Books, paintings, and a song or two Trick out a borrowed point of view, With fancies better wits have sped Repeated, not accredited. And sins denied by definition And rediscussed as inhibition, While each sex in its own repres sion Finds vehicle for self-expression. - GONFAL FHE CHICAGOAN 21 tike ART GALLERILf It's the Cat's Meow BLACK cats, black Venuses and those flowers, unearthly bright, that grow in dark and deadly- fragrant places — Black cats, silhouetted against an urban fire-escape to the light of an urban moon; black Venuses, posing primly on a studio dais; nightshade and rue in a carved ebony vase on the mantelpiece. Such is the work of Helen West Heller, visible in the atelier of Todras Geller, 59 East Adams Street, perhaps the most alluring of exhibits current, as these lines are written. For Miss Heller is a Baudelaire of the housetops — a dainty, femi nine Baudelaire — and her work is the most delicate of Fleurs du mal in paint. Wicked, yes: but as the Fourth Dimension or Mr. Brac- que's still-lifes are wicked, as was Saint-Martin, the "unknown phi losopher" of the Middle Ages, with his "esprit des choses". The truth is (and I have not measured Miss Heller's blushes as she admitted it), she is, perhaps, the only descendant lineal of Odilon Redon who is to be found in Chicago. You remember the Nineteenth Century French im pressionist who stemmed from Gustave Moreau more than he did from Impressionism, and who, in his predilection for the classical— the Venus rising from the foam sort of thing — went back to David and even further. Curiously mod ern and curiously unmodern, Redon is liked and intensely dis liked by modernists. The fact that you like him, as does Ramon Shiva, for example, proves nothing against your modernism; though it may prove that you have an in clination toward the poetic which is always dangerous in a painter. Or, you may merely regard him with a tolerant fondness — In any case, I think you are more than likely to encounter a certain novel titillation in Miss Heller's exhibit. Her metaphysically crumb ling back stair, her tombstones in the light of a moon that never was are little less than diabolic: but in the diablerie there is, somehow, a touch of New England restraint. ONE of the most talked of re cent exhibits has been that of the brothers Baer at the Art In stitute. These two brothers, Mar tin and George, are quondam com mercial artists who have repented at the shrine of Modigliani, not forgetting a few orisons to Father Chagall. The canvases which they have brought back with them from the wilds of northern Africa reek with modernity, and for this rea son, it is a mild wonder they found housing in the Institute — miracles do happen. The chief criticism which might be made of their out put is a suspicion of facility, of cleverness. There are, perhaps, six good canvases in the show. THE Chicago Galleries are showing paintings by Glen C. Sheffer and John Adams Spelman. Mr. Sheffer's catalogue is quite enough to keep me away. It is the worst I have ever seen. The Angarola exhibit in December will be the first real show, to my know ledge, that the Galleries have had. At the Carson, Pirie, Scott gal leries, the first exhibit of the "All Illinois Society of the Fine Arts". Alas ! we have to go to press with out a chance to view this event. So far as we can make out, it ought to be quite an item in the social^ climber's calendar. We suspect it does not mean much otherwise. —SAMUEL PUTNAM The Young Farmer's Wife How can she stand it — that young farmer's wife — Working in the field . . . Carrying the sun on her back half the day . . . And the moon on her breast half the night . . . —RALPH HACKETT Sidewalks of Chicago The city is a dark and mirthless dream Circled about me like a whirling mesh . . . A maze of streets — each one a churning stream Of bitterness conceived in steel — and flesh. I drift through teeming canyons where the sky Hangs like a dirty awning over head; The walls which rise about me are but high Grey catacombs to house the living dead. And in these sunless grottoes there will gleam A million suns at night, to blind the eyes Of those, like me, who walk as in a dream, Remembering calm hills — and calm wide skies. —RALPH HACKETT • 22 THE CHICAGOAN VAR-SIT-EE Miss Wisconsin singing "Varsity" to the tune of the Ohio State hymn, while a Phi Beta Kappa botanist runs around the track, picks a few armsful of algae and wins the relay race. The Ohio State co-ed in the upper right hand corner registering what our cheer leaders acrobatically refer to as "school spirit. " THE CHICAGOAN 23 Just where to begin a discussion of Pay to Bearers is, indeed, a problem ; it is approximately as difficult as a skeptical spinster trying to decide whether the one- day-old baby looks like the mother or father. And if you have seen the show, you will, certainly, for give and understand the simile. Possibly- a person should begin the review by singing a lullaby; undoubtedly the word "baby" (to say nothing of the background concerned) has never before ap peared so many times in two hours — except, possibly, in a west side free maternity hospital. The first act, curiously enough, is comparatively forgivable ; at least it creates a question : Who is to have the first baby, and, conse quently, receive the two million dollars ? Whether or not you con sider that an episcopal question, even for the stage, you must admit that it affords an amazing oppor tunity for below-the-belt jokes. And don't think there weren't plenty of them ; the play was wob bly with them, and the first ten rows and the gallery loved every one. Besides that, there is a prepon derance of slapstick of which any cinema producer would be proud; one man throwing another in a fountain, someone sitting on the eggs, the cook, in an epileptic fit, falling in the mashed potatoes — all, thank God, off stage. And all the time a burglar, who has nothing to do with the plot, bouncing from one room to another. Outside of one or two good lines, and some competent acting on the part of Miss Crews, there is but one thing for which to feel grateful — all the action in the play, for tunately, takes place within one month. Dearest Enemy The name, Dearest Enemy, is discouraging, but the show is fair. Though it is a musical comedy, there is but one number that can be said to poke its head above the muck of mediocrity. The' dancing is good and the stage sets, when The THEATRE not quivering under the strain of over- activity of the actors, are ef fective. Colonial costuming gives Mr. Anderson a chance to dress the "ladies of the ensemble," as well as those of the cast, very at tractively. The men, however, wear their '76 clothing less commend- ably. Even the leading man looks rather a monkey in his red coat, and as for the "gentlemen of the ensemble" — "monkey" is not quite the word. Miss Ford has* a charming per sonality. The Poor Nut The adjective — if the Poor Nut can be dismissed with an adjective — is "clean" ; that is the one favor able word which describes the show. To say that it is collegiate is to say that Gentlemen Prefer Blondes is allegorical. There is a story, but it is rather foggy; it deals with a young man who was elected Phi Beta Kappa, pledged his favorite " fraternity, kissed for the first time by two women, had his libido turned in side out, discussed his ego (and it was interesting to note that the Phi Bete didn't know what his ego was), just missed marrying one woman, promised to marry an other, and won a track meet — all within twenty-four hours. The second act was a variation of the pre-war Turkish bath com edy, with college track trunks tak ing the place of sheets. The last act is positively ridicu lous. Even Mr. Nugent who, up to that time, was doing comparatively well, fell into the spirit of the play and did his share to prove that col lege is to be taken about as se riously as the orchestra at Huyler's. Coal Oil Jennie In Coal Oil Jennie, Mr. Craven has used frankly most of the stock moves and characters he knows. There is no point in the play where one is too entranced to comment to his neighbor, or to reach for an other chocolate bon-bon, if you're the kind who does that sort of thing. The story, as you may guess from the title, features a young girl, portrayed by Miss Blyth Daly, who takes practically all she owns in the world and goes to New York to enjoy life. An av erage play, providing a mild, un inspiring way to spend an after noon or evening. Variety Variety is a picture that helps justify the people who spend most of their spare time and extra money going to shows ; by the law of averages, they'll be pretty sure to see this one, and they will be, consequently, just that much further ahead of the man. who never goes to motion pictures be cause he knows that most of them are a waste of time. —J. McGRATH Virginia, God, how I loved her! But "Artists and Models" left town. My amorous pleadings had moved her, — Virginia, — God, how I loved her! She faltered not when it behooved her To put on her travelling gown. Virginia, God, how I loved her! But "Artists and Models" left town. _rt p 24 THE CHICAGOAN That Simple Little "Colyum" Complex Have you made the "Mine-o~Tripe" this Morning? If so, better cancel that Mercury subscription WHEN George F. Grabbit enters the breakfast room of a morning, what do you think is the first thing he grabs for ? His orange juice or the grape fruit spoon? Guess again. It's "The Morning Buffoon." And does he waste any time reading >the front-page holocausts? He does not. Does he tarry with the "Grumps," or with Suzanne, Ger trude, "Red" Grange or Gene T.? Not so you could notice it. Does he take time out for Old Doc Hoozitt's recollections of the dray- mer? Huh, don't make us laugh! George F. turns, at once and with avidity, to the editorial page. Is it because he hankers for an opin ion on the Lucarno pact or the un- protective state of the tariff? That's a good one; know any more? No, George F.'s consuming interest— "My dear". No answer from George F., beyond a rumple of paper. "My dear." This time, there are italics in Mrs. Grabbit's voice for Mrs. G. hankers for the "Beauty Hints." "MY DEAR!" Set it full face upper case — and then some, if you know what we mean. "Yes, dear." "Reading the 'Mine-o-Tripe' again, I suppose, and there is a sigh of uxorial resignation. "Why, I— er— ", and George F.'s blushes stammer for him. "I just happened to glance at it — after I had finished reading the editorials. By the way, here's something that's rather good — " And over goes the "Buffoon" to Mrs. G. The latter takes it and reads : "Huh", sniffs Mrs. G., "I don't see anything so awfully — Why, my dear! Why didn't you tell me you'd made the 'Mine' again !" "Oh, did I ?", and George F. does his utmost to register a bored un concern. "And so clever, too ! I'm so proud of you, dear. I always knew you could write, if you would only take the time!" "Oh", is George F.'s lordly come back, "that's nothing — just some thing I tossed off at the office the other afternoon. Thought I might as well send it in." COMES then business of pulling out watch and leaping for hat and topcoat. In the distance, the whistle of the 8 :45. "By the way, here's a little some thing for that hat you were telling me about seeing at Clarisse's the other day". And Mrs. G. finds a twenty nestling at her elbow. She smiles, a knowing, wifely smile. The "Mine" has its uses when the "chips" fall the homeward way. "Hello, George F." sings out Jones as they flip the 8 :45 together, "see you made the 'Mine' this morning." "Did I? Suppose it was a little something I tossed off the other afternoon. Thought I might as well send it in." And all the way to the loop, our friend, Grabbit, en deavors not to look the great man he knows he is. At the office, a waiting smile from Marjorie, his stenographer. "Good morning, Mr. Grabbit. See you made the 'Mine' this morn ing." "Did I? Suppose it was a little something — etc." Even Archibald, the office boy. "Good morning, Mr. Grabbit. I wondered if you'd seen the 'Morn ing Buffoon." And he hands the boss a paper, opened at the "Mine". "Thank you, Archibald. Oh, by the way. You've been a good boy lately. Here's a little something." And Archibald departs, exactly one simoleon the richer. Yes, the "Mine" has its uses. For the truth is, the "Mine" is the most American of our Ameri can institutions. It has come to be, in fact, a national complex, not to say a national menace. THE explanation lies in that sus picion which lurks in the breast of every realtor to the effect that he is a devil of a fellow, literarily as well as sexually speaking, if he only had an outlet. The "Mine" provides that outlet. It is, if you remember, what our "village"- maiden-psychologists used to call an "exhaust," but that was before the days' of Herr Freud. " 'Tis pleasant sure to see one's name in print", and it is upon this that the institution of the American "colyum" (the orthography a sam ple of the tribe's humor) is based. It grew up quite naturally and quite as haphazardly as most things do in the local room. It was sired by Vox Pop out of Filler. The communications of "Constant Reader" are the prototype. The exigencies of filling in an editorial column that was a stick or two short did the rest. The Editorial Writer was, frequently, a bit weary when he got as far as that, and he would sometimes turn for ideas to the mail on his desk, from "Old Subscribers" or "Plain Citizens." . Jove had a headache and gave birth to Pallas Athene ; the E. W. had ones will arise to offer a correction, It is impossible, without a de gree of research, to which we are not inclined, to state with accuracy who was the First Offender. It was, in all probability, the late B. L. T. Here, of course, numerous ones will arise to offer a correction, but that's a part of the fun — it's like giving a beauty talk over the radio and inviting the audience to write in for recipes. T is certain, nevertheless, that B. L. T. was in the field a long time before the famed F. P. A. and his Conning Tower. And before him was Eugene Field (Mr. Schlogel's guests will please re main seated). In any event, B. L. T., if he wasn't the first, is the archetype of the species. My own impression of I THE CHICAGOAN 25 Mr. Taylor was that of a gentle man who had spent his life regret- ing the fact he had never learned Greek. A degree of culture, yes; a hardy sort of culture, achieved despite the local room ; but a cul ture manque, as the French would say. And, the point is, the "col- yum" has assiduously retained this characteristic of its real creator. Indeed, the two words that best describe it are the Gallicism quoted and the Scotch "stickit." There is something decidedly "stickit" about all column-conductors, and even more so about column-contributors. I think I know now what Messer Titian meant when he referred to Aretino as the "column-conductor of literature." But B. L. T. dwells on an aloof and lofty Parnassus, when con trasted with his puny successors — with the exception of "Riquarius," who is the only one entitled to wear his mantle. From B. L. T.'s real, though at times overworked, sense of humor to the asinine sentiment ality of an "R. H. L." Our sobs choke us — . —SAMUEL PUTNAM (In the next issue, Mr. Putnam will take up the case of "R. H. L." Other "conductors" will follow.) /MART RENDEZVOUJ The Tall Timbers IT looks like just another of those candy shops with a soda foun tain and restaurant after thought; the space it occupies is no larger, and the decorations aren't nearly so imposing as they might be. The only thing that differenti ates this particular place from all the others infesting Chicago is that its candy is justifiably world-fam ous, the two tall men presiding be hind the soda fountain are geniuses, and the cooking is probably the best in the downtown district. Here is a rare restaurant which furnishes food of the cucumber sandwich variety and the chicken and noodle dumpling variety with equal expertness. The debutantes indulge in the former and the doc tors in the latter. The doctors' table is a tradition at Wood's — it is absolutely sacred to the profes sion, this long table just inside the inner door; and woe unto the per son who unwittingly seats himself thereat. For between twelve and two-thirty nearly every doctor in the Monroe Building takes nour ishment at this table, and many a hurried shopper, too rushed to make an appointment, stops at the table for a friendly chat about her gallstones or Mary's measles. The white haired, snubnosed, pleasant faced little man, who is the city's most famous child specialist, al ways presides at the head and ac- :ording to the two eye-nose-and- throat men, at the end, tells the best stories. The waitress refuses to verify this. BUT the doctors' table is not the only tradition at Wood's — Ada, the headwaitress is one, a most dis creet young woman to whom one can trust her messages for meet ing friends or one's meals after meeting them with equal confid ence. Mr. Woods is another, with his grey suit appearing the first day of Fall and giving way to a white one the first day of Spring, dispens ing smiles, checks and ash trays from table to table with equal graciousness. The little carved Swiss boy with the pea-green lute over the clock is one, and the stur- geon-on-rye is another. Fridays, before the concert, Wood's is jammed with Vogue hats, white gloves, iChristmas Night odor and musical intentness ; Wed nesdays and Saturdays before the matinees it is jammed with fine coats, green orchids and jasmine pour la jeune fille. And everyday you will always find the great architect, the designer from Les- chin's, the directors and premieres etoiles of the opera ballet, Pavley and Oukrainsky (who have ab sorbed soup and buttermilk every noon at Wood's for the last five years) and the banker who can't get his omelettes cooked well enough anywhere else — all at their accustomed places — and, of course, your best friend right at the next table. Glorified Rice ON South Clark Street, right across from the Pentecost Mission, "Jesus Saves", is Fu Chow's. — up a flight of impres sively wabbly steps, through the swinging doors, into a room blatant with Mother-of-Pearl tables, year old calendars and Chinese cooking — Chinese cooking, that is, accord ing to the best American standards, which demand Chop Suey, Chow Mein, Egg Foo Yong, and other culinary atrocities never commit ted in that land where the art of eating is part of the ancient culture. As at Wood's, Fu Chow's always holds familiar faces — indeed if you go there for several years with the pure and pious purpose of devoting yourself to Chinese food, you are sometimes presented with a pair of exquisite chopsticks by the smil ing golden god, who runs the estab lishment, and are permitted to take home the preserved gingers and quam quots which are poems of delight, even in Clark Street sur roundings. —RUTH FRANK 26 THE CHICAGOAN Call It a Day One of our staff writes from London Outside my window, I can see a flickering, uncertain light and rain drops. I know it must be eight o'clock because the maid gently knocks on my door and enters with a small pot of China tea and an, infinitesimal slice of thin bread with sweet but ter. London is awakened this way. While I sip my delicious tea, the maid re-enters with an antiquated bath tub, unrolls a floor blanket, deposits the antiquity thereon, and vanishes to reappear with two gi gantic brass cans, one filled with hot (Really hot, boiling), the other with cold water. She then noise lessly closes my window and exits. London has much to learn about plumbing accommodations. The trees are draped in faltering fall tints, never the frank gaudi- ness of the maple or hickory, but the decorous pageantry of trees that recognize they may at any moment be merely background foi such vigorous expressions of mori: archy and old worldliness as an opening of Parliament, with Cin derella's coach come to life. The air is moist. Taxis with wet roofs glit ter in the light of a lamp — whether left lighted by error or whether de signed to illuminate any further vagary of weather that may turn to fog, one cannot say. But it is London, London in the Fall, in Mayfair, with the vicarious excite ments of a winter season still ahead. For breakfast, London kipper Not a thing that has traveled, but something salted that retains in a mysterious way hints of the sea. A wonderful thing is an English kip per, as yet, I believe, unsung. And marmalade. Much of the leisurely disregard for the passing of the day is due, I am convinced, to that marmalade without which no Eng lish breakfast is complete. It is childish, this invasion of a sober morning hour, with a flippant quasi-Oriental tang half sweet, half bitter, that we of the States have relegated to a relaxed hour, that of afternoon tea. But there it is, and the habit of marmalade grows on one. It is insidious. One reads the Morning Post. "Hatch, match and despatch" (births, marriages, deaths). One reads the naval, military, diplo matic appointments. Then one glances at the pessimism about war debts; the plays, music, the accounts of the shooting. (Grouse, of course, has been a topic since August twelfth, the partridge is "protected" until Sep tember.) What are the hunting prospects? And so forth. No wonder one eats enormous meals when in England. The famed Harrods Stores. where I linger to mark the essen tial differences between London and Chicago. It is one of person ality, purely psychological. Both stores are well bred. But the Eng lish woman is sure. She needs no subtleties of advertising to assure her that she knows just what and what not to buy. Generations of being a law unto herself lie behind her classical profile, her serenely shingled head. She KNOWS. The floorwalkers know that she knows, they bow to her unexpressed com mands. She is less smiling in her demands than we are, but isn't she, perhaps, more sincere? I admire the English woman when she shops. Indeed, I think she is admirable in her best ex pression wherever one finds her. Her feet may take a larger shoe, perhaps, but think of her car riage ! Her poise indicates as surely as her non-adenoid lips and chin that her health is perfect. How do the London women man age to retain their beauty on four canonical and goodness knows how many furtive meals daily? Dinner a ritual. They have de lightful consomme. English sole (Rectors once imported him, and possibly he may still survive trans- Atlantic travel for some gourmet — who knows?). I never want to eat any other fish after eating English sole. Of course, grouse appears in its course, and the talk idly drifts to the condition of the moors rented by my host's brother who sent a brace. We talk dogs, a little. We wonder if Wells has a secret understanding with Mos cow, and a callow youth who has taken me into dinner asks me if I don't think Americans are awfully poor sportsmen, "acting that way, you know, after we tried to give them a good time." I gather he is slightly confused between the shooting of grouse and that little trouble in the trenches. At least in bridge we join hands across the sea. In London people play bridge ferociously. One woman confides to me, in that gor geous subdued, clear murmur that is lowered English voice at its best, that "Mrs. Ffulkes-Forrester pays for all her hats from her bridge winnings." And I am prop erly impressed, and lose cheerfully. At bedtime the maid brings a glass of milk, warmed, with crack ers. She draws the velour cur tains close. "Does madam wish anything more?" I tell her no. She bids me a curiously indifferent "good night." And then I called it a day and went to sleep. —CECILIA CLINTON ^"HE CHICAGOAN 27 UNTIL the other day I had read only two horse stor ies in my life. One was a tale smacking of erudition, that concerned the magnificent but man-eating Sejanus which was owned by four successive Caesars and proved a jinx to each of them ; the other, equally classic in its way — quite another way, to be sure — ¦ was Black Beauty. Neither of these impressed me very much. Black Beauty was too noble to be true, and Sejanus seemed a rather unpleasant creature, although, of course, it was gratifying to be able to astonish a company of high brows by speaking nonchalantly of him. As for "horsy" stories — those are something else again, and we mustn't digress too far from the present point, which is "Smoky". Book/- "S MOKY" is three hundred pages of horse-story, ex clusive of the preface. Let us con sider for a moment the preface, wherein the author protests his veracity and declares on his honor that there is nothing ichthyologicajl about his yarn. One hopes that he is serious in his protestations, for "Smoky" is really a horse what is a horse; that is to say, he has in telligence enough to be a hero, but there's no sentimentality superim posed on his nature. In line with the accepted pro cedure, Will James begins with an obstetrical overture and pictures Smoky's debut on the plains of Arizona. I don't know what is considered the best thing in the way of family among horses, but Smoky, who is "mostly mustang with a strain of Steeldust or Coach thrown in", seems to have an ex cellent background, judging by his Prancing Bronchos Another yarn about the west, horses and the dust of the prairies: The West sings its songs in its own language. Take it or leave it later performances. He leads a normal and carefree life out on the range for a few years. Then one day a man comes along, ropes him, and brings him to the corral of the Rocking R ranch. That is where the story begins. Smoky has many adventures — such adventures as a horse can have; he couldn't be a hero otherwise. First of all there is the breaking in. A noble cow boy named Clint does the break ing, and Clint, by the way, seems a relief after the cinema variety. He makes one believe in Smoky. Smoky, being as he is a preco cious young one, soon learns his stuff. Clint makes a one-man horse of him, and once, as so often happens in such stories, Smoky actually saves Clint's life. Pre sently Smoky becomes famous in tales of the roundup. It's too bad that he can't realize on his fame — there's the disadvantage of being only a horse. But that fame has dire results. Smoky is stolen, falls into the hands of cruel masters, (these animal stories persist in sticking to the dusty novels) be comes, later on, a head-liner of the rodeos, then, growing old, is ship ped to the city, where he experi ences life first as a saddle-horse in a swanky livery-stable, then as a draft-horse. It seems to be all over for poor Smoky; for by this time you've begun to feel as though he's your own pet. But of course there is a happy ending. By the most felicitous of chances Clint finds his horse again and takes him back west, where he turns him out on the range. And about a year later, Smoky "comes back". THE outline sounds suspicious ly like that of "Black Beauty". But that's as far as the likeness goes. Will James' western stories have the flavor of truth. In "Smoky" he uses of course his racy western lingo, with all the pictur esque and hardy idioms which are making of the American a growing- ly distinctive language. To sum up, in the usual manner of reviewers: If you're the sort of person who likes that sort of thing, viz.: a clean and wholesome story breathing of the wide open spaces etc., you'll like "Smoky". If you don't like it — well, probably most of us are exceedingly civilized. —CECELIA GAUL 28 THE CHICAGOAN If You're An Epicurean Stay Out of Jail Caged and Preached at Bread and Sausage "W ' HAT do the prisoners eat?" "They'll have chicken today, on Sunday. Say, what do you want all this stuff for, anv- how?" "A sociological report." "A socio — Well say, you know they don't really. Have chicken I mean. I was just . . . ." I smiled. f "That's all right," I made the policeman let me into the room he said contained the plumbing so as to be sure there wasn't an underground cell hidden there. There wasn't. But then, really, there didn't need to be. Ail the cells in that particular jail are in the basement, the air is foul and damp, the windows too small and high to let in daylight. "What do they really eat?" "Bread, sausage, and coffee. It's all good stuff. Look here. Feel this bread — looks good, doesn't it? Taste it?" But I'd had too good a look at it for that. Silly, being per- snickity about a few flies, and smells, and things — "They don't get very hungry you know, with no exercise — " But I wasn't listening just then. I think I must have had a temperamental streak, for suddenly an overwhelm ing desire came over me to go out and buy all those men salads ! I decided to go to the back of the cell house to see — I'd been hearing them for half an hour — the group of negro religious work ers who were cooperating with the Salvation Army representatives in a — well — revival meeting is a mild term. The prisoners, four or more in a cell, in torn and filthy clothes, sat motionless on the benches, or lay on the floor, their faces without expression, eyes staring, or closed. Pamphlets were poked thru the bars at them. I asked for copies. They were headed "Why Be a Fool all Your Life?", "Ungodly People, the Only Kind God Saves," etc. I heard a sermon on "dances and shows and picnics and vice" — please, I'm quoting literally. And the climax came with this : "We're not here to get you out; we're here to get out of you what got you in here." Caged, and preached at. Recreation for the prisoners — I wonder, at that — but it's a bit hard on religion. THE men in jail represent a class apart from our world, a class that novelists have idealized or made inhuman villains, a class that a few women have sentimen talized, and that most men have despised in a brutal sort of way. The last attitude, with a single exception in my experience, that of a grand, good-natured Irishman who is called Saint Peter by his prisoners because of his big keys, or more informally "Dad", I found typical of the police force. The men are all thrown in to gether. Baths, the men told me, are mostly mythical, and held any where from a few hours thru four days. "We're most crowded on Satur day nights," said one officer. "We've had as many as eighty in that cell there." He pointed to a space about seven feet wide and four or five times as long. I turned down a great many privileges. I had a chance to try the broad jump in the "coppers' " gymnasium. I was told I might pass out the midday food — (let's call it the least noticeable word possible). And I could have inter viewed a negro charged with murder. THAT word "charged" is an important one to remember when one is going thru a jail. It's the only conclusive answer to the "Well, why didn't they behave themselves?" argument. A man is supposed to be assumed innocent until he is proved guilty. Not a single man in the jails of Chicago, these jails I have been describing to you, has even been tried. Sta tistics show that only a small per cent of them will be convicted. And yet, if I were to be put in jail in Chicago under present condi tions, I think I would want to be guilty of some heinous offense. One's crime would be his only con solation in a place like that — the assurance that one at least gets a trial. As I went out of the third and last jail I visited, I looked back at the horse shoe and the rabbit's foot over the door that unlocks the cell house. I had laughed over them with a comfortable warm feeling when I had gone in. Now they were ironic. —A. w. If I Were Dean My charges would have "A's" and gin And biscuits and molasses. And no term themes, but lots of sin, And never any classes. — D. p. THE CHICAGOAN 29 "The BOULEVARD I ER /Iutumn leaves, golden urns, /-% gladiolas and ribbon arches. Fresh paint, sparkling windows, polished shelves and freshly marceled, satin salesladies. The Fall openings are in full blast. The new clothes look grand but the days are sunny and warm and our Spring coat really cleaned very nicely. We are a bit panicy, torn between buying now and regret ting later or ordering later and then receiving our Winter ward robe along about December. Speaking of openings — Oving- tons, six floors of gifts, have come to our town and opened their doors a couple of Wednesdays ago. .Both windows are lovely, but one of them especially so with moss covered stones for a floor and an oaken door with wrought iron hinges spread like sprayed lace, for a background. They have a huge collection of exquisite Lalique glass figures. There is a cigarette novelty of Dresden, in blue, pink and yellow, with tiny cupids hold ing little receptacles like Pan's pipes, for the smokes. For the benefit of people whose early musical education has been neglected, or who, as they became of age, with shrieks of joy threw their music and practice teachers into the river, the Ampico people are showing stunning new players, regular size. And a tiny model, lower than an upright piano and not so long, lacquered in Chinese red, blue, green or any color de sired, with decorations of flowers and designs. These are charming in the small apartment and you won't, in order to satisfy your yearning for a player-piano — if you like them — have to sleep on the fire escape in order to create sufficient space for it. At Fifield's, imported flannel bathrobes for men, in Roman stripes, blue, rose, green and Pull man slipper sets in colors to har monize. The robes wash beauti fully and have considerable warmth without the weight of the heavier woolen ones which usu ally, after a bit, look as musty as the old horse blanket out in grand pa's barn. Brant, Linens are showing soft, light, basket weave covers for chaise lounge or day bed, in lovely colors and bound with satin. Ken wood throws, they are called, and they are cheaper, as a gift, than five good handkerchiefs. They have the Windsor bath mats, soft and thick, in any number of deli cious colors and something new in moth proof blankets. Even so conservative a place as Dunlap's have fallen for the feather boa. The shops are all showing them. The brown ones, shaded and in one color, are really charming. Yesterday, I saw a tall blonde wearing slick black satin, a soft, rippling stroller hat of velvet and a black feather boa high about her throat. Lovely. But, most women, wearing 'em, look much like the movies of Our Dear Queen as she enters the royal motor after viewing the troops. The bank vaults and home wall safes are bursting with the put- away-for-awhile real pearl neck laces of smart dressers. And the large, synthetic pearl ropes and chokers are being worn more than ever. Never in these modern days has so much jewelry been used. Crystal and pearl pins as hat trim mings, some with brilliant insets. Chocolate and maple fudge in huge, nut-studded squares. Ob long deliciousness in traille toffee. Rich horseshoes in' almond paste — nut wafers that first were hidden in the ice box over night before being baked in tissue-thin slices. Tiny, fruity pies. These and heaps more like them and so reasonable in price, at the tiny shop on upper Michigan in, I think, the Allerton 1 1 ?5^H / 9 ,^fl 1 ^d& m ... .ftoooSffil .'^ wM ¦ w Club building. "Socatch" forms the modest lettering on the win dow. Only women bakers are em ployed and they certainly can bake. O'Brien's show two bright sun lit squares of peonies in pottery bowls, by Agnes Harrison Lincoln. THE DISTINCTIVE GIFT WITH A PERSONAL TOUCH DRAKE. CAMERA PORTRAITS Oie Vjiakt Sliidio DRArsE HOTEL "SOCIETY'S OFFICIAL PHOTOGRAPHER" 30 THE CHICAGOAN Chicago has already paused - noticed ¦• and cordially ap proved of the Boreas Book store, even in its adolescent awkwardness. NOW we in vite you to inspect a stock quite worthy of your taste Open with surprising regu larity % BOREAS BOOKSTO R E 109 EAST CHICAGO AVE, Smart Tailored Clothes for The Chicagoan BUSINESS DINNER SPORT EVENING Correctness in every detail has long characterized the tailoring artistry of Dinato TAILORS 337 West Madison Street They would be delightful on the walls of an ivory dining room. The little new house, an airier apartment, furniture sales, moving day terribly near wistful women gazing into the windows of Frigidaire, Zerozone and Cusack's, along the Avenue, hanging back on their man's arm for a last lingering look. Out of ten women having to choose, these days, between one of these and a new bracelet, wouldn't nine of the ten choose the ice box? You win. They wouldn't. Hipp and Coburn are showing something very new and odd in a luncheon table decoration. A cen tral spray and four smaller ones of French glass in amber, garnet and opalescent colorings. Delicate sprays of glass flowers with their graceful branches of wound silk in wood color. These, to harmonize with glass or china of a decided color, create a stunning and novel luncheon table. I notice that silver sticks are being shown again with the accompanying low silver bowl filled with flowers. The colored pottery and glass are lovely, but it is nice to see the silver once in a while, for dignity if nothing else. ORREA. Movie Manners The way the stars of movie land Partake of food is simply grand. The hero in the dinner scene Eschews the sloppy soup toureen; He concentrates on placid fish Or other well behaviored dish Amenable to dainty work With Book-of-Etiquette-al fork. Fair heroine across from him, Her little finger upraised prim, Attacks a harmless demitasse Each movement registering class. While on the screen the model pair Enjoy a deuced slender fare. They eat their eats with birdlike nibbles And drink their drinks in tiny dribbles. Why are the slippy, drippy things, The flappy, floppy, flippy things, The deshabille cream whippy things Consistently taboo'd? —PAUL ERNST T_TOW would you like the convenience and luxury of a most soothing and effective facial given right in your own home ? Miss Engstrand is offer ing this service to women ex clusively. The very finest of preparations are used together with the most scientific skill. For Appointment Call Graceland 2216 Beauty and Utility THE large measure of beauty and utility afforded by artistic lighting fixtures, tables, flower stands, chairs and floorlamps is far out of proportion to their moderate cost. If you will call at the Crafts man Shop we will show you how happily beauty and utility are com bined in our hand wrought fixtures and metal furniture pieces. Our distinctive fixtures are hand forged in our own shops by artis ans who take pride in reproducing and creating the best of designs. MASTERS of the METAL ART 152 East Erie Street DESIGNERS AND MANUFACTURERS THE CHICAGOAN 31 Musings from a Tank Town Let tell of jolly Rabelais And Balzac and his tales Petronius to smile and say The naughty Greek details Louys, and Brill, and Krafft, and Freud With cases rich and anthropoid And I shall sigh no single sigh When Eddie Guest regales Go fetch me my Heptameron Of Margret of Navarre Or better the Decameron (Which tome goes 'round in par) And let me have the gibe and gist Of Restoration dramatist And H. B. Wright may write of right And Little Eva star With Juvenal to whoop and tell Of pagan rout and frolic The Hindu Kama Sutra well May give the godly colic — I care not how the godly thrive While merry jests are still alive At phallic slips by lesbian lips And Cassanova's week-end trips I shall laugh strong and sinful long Amid these vales bucolic L'ENVOI But why go on in merry muse Of happier times and dead withal When rural swains make manful use Of petrol on a pastoral And maids belike draw amorous breath Who never heard of Ashtoreth — GONFAL In Passing I've taken Love's gay little plumes And laid them all away. I'll sing no more those winsome tunes, Of lonely stars and silvery moons. Pale gestures of another day, Seem awkward now — For Love was just a matinee. <jV«.»* t • \ **•••• I • \ ••••• i • \ *?••#•* f • \ ••••••* i • \ ••••••• / • A ••••••* V r : • v. ..•• -•.. Bags Novelties Smoking Accessories Costume Jewelry PARIS- CHEZ -VOUS IMPORTER— COMMISSIONER HELEN HAFFENBERG m EAST CHICAGO AVENUE -5- ?*5 • : :* . V ••«. •••« .«•• The tickets Cupid gave to me Were for the evening show, dearie. —ED. B. GRAHAM NEM> CREM KDNSOFME t-A>iJ\s i Aeoel- Studios 82>5W.WA^)1H)0W<Di1I<D)W §B". HAND DECORATED WASTE BASKETS BOOK ENDS ETC SOLDATCHICAGOS EXCLUSIVE GIFT SHOPS IISCUU OltslO MARSHALL FIELD &GO. - CARSON PIPJE SCOTF 3nd CO. THE ORIENT SHOPS LTD,- THE EDOEWATER CH.GIFT SHOP. 32 THE CHICAGOAN Catalogues Booklets Publications Commercial Stationery M. P. Levine Printing Company Incorporated 161 W. Harrison St. Telephone Harrison 8765 Chicago Price Service Quality Day and Ni&ht The Book Shelf The Chicago Group: Tar, by Sherwood Anderson, a story of midwest childhood in which is exhibited the x-ray per ception of the author; Chains, by Theodore Dreiser, a group of short stories admirably done ; Complete Works of Carl Sand burg, attractively bound, a copy of which every smart Chicagoan should possess ; Show Boat, by Edna Ferber, a story of gay days on the Missis sippi River. If you liked So Big you will like Show Boat. Other Recent Releases: Wedlock, by Jacob Wassermann, translated by Ludwig Lewisohn, an uncanny story of marriage and insight ; Music From Behind the Moon, by James Branch Cabell. A lim ited edition, and worth the price. Worth Resurrecting: South Wind, by Norman Doug las. By all means read it; Zuleika Dobson, by Max Beer- bohm, the one great college story — but don't let that mislead you; Against the Grain, by Huys- mann, an amazing book; Jean Christophe, by Rolland, an unquestionable masterpiece. If you've read it, you'll agree; if you haven't, you're unfortunate. Books Received : The Chinese Parrot, by Earl Derr Biggers ; The Club of Masks, by Allen Upward ; The Corbin Necklace, by Henry Kitchell Webster; The Cheyne Mystery, by F. Willis Crofts; I want to Be a Lady, by Maxi milian Foster; The Red Haired Girl, by Carolyn Wells. CHICAGOAN When Facts Justify Faith Some months ago THE CHICAGOAN was an innovation, a struggling idea embraced by the enthusiasm and faith of a few men with sound vision. With the issuance of the first issue it became a reality; a little disap pointing, but possessing the qualities which pre dicted a brilliant future. At the time The Chi cagoan promised in good faith a circulation of 10,000 within a few months, promised a smart, sophisticated re view of metropolitan subtleties in which the more privileged groups were interested. We are justly proud of the recent issues of THE CHICAGOAN. It is smart, it is sophisti cated as well as just a bit satirical; it embraces a group of more than ten thousand ardent readers, evidencing a voluntary response from individ uals whose appreciation of anything is considered a note-worthy indorse ment. The very stability of this remarkable record measures an effectiveness that warrants the use of THE CHICAGOAN by any advertiser attempt ing to sell the most dom inating unit in the Chi cago area. As a Warning The Dead Line on the Special Rates is Oct. 15. Address Inquiry to IOHN I. KETTLEWELL Advertising Manager §<&foe^Jt "(\ Case of Good S, Judgment y ^uy It Today g The Brew You Wanted Many of our old customers en* thusiastically tell us that the New EDELWEISS is the finest brew ever to bear the name. In taste, color, full body and foam it is all that could be ex pected of any beverage today* The New EDELWEISS is a per* feet brew, in spite of reservations in its manufacture* Buy a half- dozen bottles today and prove to yourself that it is just what you have always wanted* You can easily recognize the TSJew EDELWEISS by the Red Cap on the bottle. Buy it from your grocer or delicatessen, or call CANal 2000— a case of the New EDELWEISS is aU ways ready for you* ^^T/^UAJU^ President, Schoenhofcn Co. eiv^^^^^v^^* i vvs^^s^^^vv^^'^'^^^^g^'^ v A: .T $2.995 — t^ie nrst enclosed Pierce- Arrow ever priced under $3000 — this two-door, five-passenger, custom-built coach is soundest economy. Built in its entirety in the Fierce- Arrow factory, the body is the masterly custom work of men whose whole life times have been devoted to producing the finest there is. Available in your choice of six charm- Body by Pierce-Arrotv ing color combinations, exquisitely ap pointed, richly carpeted, and upholstered with soft finish wool , i t is mounted on the economical , wear-resisting Series '80 chas sis which means 14 to 17 miles per gallon of gasoline, 15,000 to 18,000 miles from tires, and years of dependable service. A demonstration should be of interest to every person with a love for the really fine thing in a motor car. A moderate payment now, balance to be distributed evenly over a period of months, will secure immediate delivery. PIERCE-ARROW 2420-22 S. MICHIGAN AVENUE SALES CORPORATION Telephone Calumet 5960 CHICAGO f Series 80 Cjfive-cPassenger •. « Two-T)oor Custom-built COACH $2995 Other coach models with four doors, $3250 to $3450 All prices at Buffalo — Plus tax