II The New Orthophonic Victrola Electrola and Radiola Combinations Exclusively STEGER & SONS Piano Manufacturing Company STEGER Building Northwest Corner Wabash and Jackson 2 TI4ECI4ICAGOAN ag^Sj^ -£33=$<P» 111 T* SPRING CALLS FOR THE ULTRA SMART Discriminating women find all the artistry of1-" distinctive mode in each garment now on display at Mc AVOY 615 NORTH MICHIGAN AVENUE TELEPHONE SUPERIOR 87 20 GOWNS -WRAPS -SUITS - MILLINERY- ACCESSORIES- »fc£ic$- -fc£kS<! TWECWICAGOAN 3 9 CALENDAR Of EVENT/ THE THEATRE SUNNY— at the Illinois. Reviewed in this issue. THE STUDENT PRINCE— at the Olympic. What, again ? BIG BOY— at the Apollo. They all come back. A couple new songs. Al Jolson. THE NIGHTINGALE— at the Great Northern. Tak- mg a few liberties with the life of Jenny Lind. Elea nor Painter. Stanley Lupino. THE NOOSE— at the Selwyn. Melodrama about night clubs and doped cherries. LUCKY SAMBO— at the LaSalle. Black and tan. WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS — at the 4 Cohans. Helen Hayes and Kenneth McKenna help ing Mr. Barrie. SHANGHAI GESTURE^-at the Adelphi. Florence Reed and her Chinese myth. People still go to it. CRADLE SNATCHERS— at the Harris. Women in a laboratory using a man for the guinea pig. THE PIGEON— at the Goodman. Whitford Kane. TRELAWLY OF THE WELLS— at the Blackstone. TWINKLE, TWINKLE— at the Erlanger. Very light. THE LITTLE SPITFIRE— at the Cort. The name tells all. SWEET LADY— at the Woods. Still drawing good crowds. MUSIC DOROTHY GORDON, soprano, Young People's Con cert Hour, Sunday afternoon, April 24, at 3 :30. The Playhouse. DAYTON WESTMINISTER CHOIR, Sunday after noon, April 24. The Studebaker Theatre. Under the auspices of the Biennial of the National Federation of Music Clubs. BLANCHE SLOCUM, contralto, Goodman Theatre, Sunday afternoon, April 24 at 3 :30. THE GALLERIES ART INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO— Paintings from the Carnegie Institute International Show. Paintings by Walt Kuhn. Exhibit of New Mexico painters. Sculpture by Paul Manship. CHILDREN'S MUSEUM, ART INSTITUTE— Sil houettes by Baroness May dell, Maude L. G. Oliver and Engert. ILLINOIS WOMEN'S ATHLETIC CLUB— Exhibi tion of paintings by men artists of Illinois. JOHNSON (CHESTER) GALLERIES— Exhibition of modern French paintings. First show in America of oil paintings by Donald Shaw MacLaughlan. FIELD MUSEUM— Antique sculpture. The Edward E. Ayer collection of pewter. PALETTE AND CHISEL CLUB— Exhibition of paintings by Otto Hake. ROULLIER (ALBERT) GALLERIES— Etchings by Beaufrere, Frederick L. Griggs and James McBey. CHICAGO GALLERIES ASSOCIATION— Exhibi tions of paintings by Josephine L. Reichmann, Agnes Potter Van Ryn and Laura Van Pappelandam. THE SCREEN OLD IRONSIDES— twice daily at the Auditorium and worth seeing both times. SLIDE, KELLY, SLIDE— at McVickers. William Haines, the Yankees, a little plot and a lot of comedy concerning baseball. THE FIRE BRIGADE— at the Roosevelt. Propaganda for the fire laddies and a not bad yarn thrown in. FREIBERG PASSION PLAY— at the Playhouse. Climbing into box office success after a light opening due (wotta world) to Lent. 4 TMECI4ICAG0AN Well, I was handicapped with a headache — but I think I ke$t u£ my end of the conversation. TI4E CI4ICAG0AN TH-C TALK OF TUE TOWN The Eskimo A YOUNG doctor who has re- **¦ cently completed his studies and installed himself in a Michigan Boulevard office tells us about his first serious case. Into his office, so he says, there walked an unusually obese gentle man who, after an examination, was advised by the young surgeon to submit to an operation for appendici tis. This patient, he inferred, was no ordinary fat person; he was im mense. And it would probably be a rather serious affair, for the doc tor anticipated considerable diffi culty even in locating the ailing or gan. To say nothing of removing it. "All right," the patient said, "all right. If I have to have an opera tion, I suppose I have to. But say, doctor, can't you give me a local anaesthetic. Novocaine, for in stance. You see, I hate general an aesthetics. I can't stand ether." "But I have to give you ether. What else can I do?" "Can't you freeze it, doctor, can't you freeze it and then operate?" The doctor looked at the large expanse of flesh that was the pa tient's stomach. "Sir," he said, "there isn't enough medicine in this town even to chill that." "Well, get it as cold as you can and start cutting," the brave one replied. "Ether gives me a head ache." Suffrage WE have no intention to kick the corpse of the recent elec tion, but we can't fesist recalling one tale from the wake. A solid citizen had campaigned long and vocally for Mr. Dever. He shouted about the heritage of glory which our bleeding forefathers be queathed us from Runnymede. He alluded to the Constitution, to Lin coln, to Cicero (the Roman), and to the committee on streets and alleys. That every vote counted was the recurrent burden of his political message. Then, these civic duties done, he went smiling to the polls. Emerging from the booth in which the citizen was to cast his vote was his colored chauffeur. "Mohnin' suh" was the best the chauffeur could do by the way of greeting. And at that he beat the master by two words. It might be added that the campaigner entered the booth with a disturbing hunch that every vote, as he had bellowed throughout his campaign, would count. OUR barber is a burly fellow with a few ideas which, if some times heretical, are singularly his own and are not to be disputed. He issued recently for our behalf a few pragmatic pointers on bridge. "If you got a bum hand," says he, "bid no trump. Then your part ner's gotta take you out, see ?" Slightly unstable advice, certainly. But we looked closely at that barber, whose past history was the envy of every prize fighter in town. We saw his beefy thumb pressed against a razor handle. We heard the chilled slither of steel against a leather strap as he sharpened the blade. He came closer and again said, "He's gotta take you out, then, see?" And we decided that were we his partner and he bid a no trump we should, without a trace of pedantry, name our clubs even if we did have only a four card suite to the jack. Hyperbole IT has always been our contention that sooner or later the writer of advertising copy would come into his 6 TWEO4ICAG0AN own. And after studying the bill of fare of a certain loop sea food house we have concluded that the earth is now his, and that his meekness, to get a jump ahead of the beatitude, has won for him an undisputed pro prietorship of both land and water. And certainly all this was not ac complished without a sense of humor. On the menu of the restaurant re ferred to one finds a Gloria Swan- son sandwich, the heart of which is imported sardines packed in virgin oil. (All these to be renumerated without comment.) After Mary Pickford has been named an assort ment of breasts of young turkey. And to Mr. Paul Ash is dedicated an unflattering and somewhat alle gorical combination of ham and cheese. The cover of the menu carries this comforting bit of advice and posey: Eat More Fish— at 5 A. M. in waters blue — The same day it is served to you. IT is the same idea as the shops in the loop which specialize in no tips and big gulps. We shall make no attempt to restate exactly their sales talk copy, but the following is enough to suggest an idea of their enthusiasm. "If you could only see the poor little white hen that laid the little tgg you have on your plate. We went out and asked her for it not more than three minutes ago. She gave it up grandly, and with a gesture. And this little lobster, the poor dear is still alive and kicking. Two hours ago he was bouncing around in the water, and now you have him before you, served with American - Expressed- wrapped -in- tissue-paper potatoes to which our chef has added California-the-land- of-sunshine-green peppers." Although it has always amused us to see the names of famous people applied to gastronomic decoctions — President Coolidge cake, Emma Goldman tomato sauce, Myrtle Reed fudge, and, of course, Rockefeller oysters at the Drake — we must admit that to rhapsodize over a piece of creamery butter or a slice of bacon sends us into uncontrolled and justi fiable gales of laughter. 1 HERE is, of course, the dictum * that however bad conditions may^ be, they might be worse. But with respect to street traffic in the popu lous districts of Chicago this is rather difficult to realize. There is an ironic twist to the term, "Chicago traffic system." How ever great may be the disrepute in which the word, "system," now stands — after these years of dinning by purveyors of efficiency, so-called — it does seem quite too much to at tempt to apply it to the current street and boulevard tangle. But one must not take this mat ter too seriously or the shrill voice of Dunning might be heard calling. In sheer optimism a Chicagoan might dwell on a mental picture of that distant day — apparently — when traffic officers will realize, or be taught, if there is anyone in the And it must look like Norma Shearer. TI4ECUICAG0AN 7 department who knows, that street traffic could be halted and confused quite without assistance from them and that their job really is to keep traffic moving briskly, orderly and without confusion. JUST let the boulevard traffic es cape the meshes of the lights sys tem as far north as Randolph street and get into a swing toward the bridge. At this moment the counte nance of the officer at Lake Street lights up in delicious realization of the power of the whistle and there goes the chance of the motorist to escape the confusion that engulfs him. And then while one or two motors swing into the boulevard to add to the tangle, and a solitary pedestrian labors across the street, the whole line of boulevard traffic fumes disconsolately. Despite the constitutional provi sion against cruel and unusual pun ishment it might not be a bad plan to sentence erring policemen to a term of loop motoring instead of sending them to Hegewich. Going and Coming THE arrival of Peaches Brown ing as a professional entertainer calls to mind a similar occasion of another young lady who, for months, commanded the front pages of the newspapers. The papers played up the article, distorted, quoted state ments, and showed all pictures. And then, after this journalistic strutting, when the woman decided to do a lit tle capitalizing herself, they became righteous and wanted to protect that very same public which they them selves had so well informed — with illustrations. Incidentally, her per formance at the Rialto was stopped. It is interesting to conjecture whether or not the papers will exert the same power with Miss Brown ing. Just what she can do on the floor of a cabaret will be to us an endless source of amazement and wonder. She can't sing, she can't dance, she can't declaim nor play the piano. Nevertheless, it does seem a bit unusual that the very institutions which exploited the young lady should suddenly become moralistic and insist that her performance be stopped. Not that anything would be lost. Miss Browning would lose a little money, possibly, but certainly the public could sleep the sleep of the entertained without having seen her and her little act. 11 A Rose . . . A MELANCHOLY rumor has drifted into our office. Some body wants to uplift Clark Street and. change the name of that insti tution to Broadway. It is a matter of common — and to us gleeful — knowledge that the old time Clark Street has a conno tation all its own. Time was when that street abounded in strong men and weak though unfragile women. In that day its bartenders were wont to charge around the mahogany and subdue lusty cash customers with a bung starter applied with a long overhand swing culminating just abaft the celebrant's pompadour. Clark Street was a raucous, brawl ing, unfettered boulevard. What of it? All this has changed. It is now an innocent aVenue. And still, according to various boosting gentlemen, Clark Street must be demobilized and deo dorized under the name of Broad way. Besides, Broadway is a per fectly swell city name. At least a dozen cities have one, including Eau Claire, Wisconsin, and Depue, Illi nois. It is the belief of these gen tlemen that if Clark Street is dubbed Broadway, which in itself is none too fragrant, somebody will have been done some good. We doubt it. We even doubt that the new name will magically bring trade to merchants now doing business at the old stand. We might suggest that changing the name of Chicago to Mecca would be something niftick for attracting Mohammedan trade. There might be something to it. But we doubt it. —THE EDITORS. 8 TUEOHCAGOAN Rounding up the Rounder YOU'VE heard of them. Every one has. They're all over town ; they abound in the loop, especially at midnight and after, and they disap pear, usually, about sunrise. What are these things, then, that are all over town, come out at midnight, and disappear at dawn? Cock roaches ? No — rounders. "Oh, he's a rounder," scoffed Jimmy as B. T. nodded a greeting. I looked eagerly at the departing figure of B. T. There seemed to be nothing different about him, except, possibly, that he was very well dressed. "What's a rounder, Jimmy?" I asked. But Jimmy gave me a fast look and the matter was dropped. That is, it was dropped so far as his interest was concerned; but I de cided to find out what a rounder was. I wanted to know him, to identify him so that I could pick him out of a crowd and say, "Oh, he's a rounder," like that, just as Jimmy had done. I decided to ask the first man who came into my office. "Bob," I said, "what's a rounder?" "Oh, a high hat bum, a profes sionally entertained individual who does what he wants and never wants to go to bed." THAT was a beginning. I de cided to put the question to Mr. Blythe who sits a couple of desks away. "Mr. Blythe," I said, "what's a rounder?" "A gay dog," he said, "an amiable rake who combs the grass of the midnight loop looking for night crawlers." Now I had always called Mr. Trevors a gay dog, so I went to him. "Trevors," I said, "what's a gay dog and what's a rounder?" Trevors removed his glasses. "He's the same person," the gen tleman replied. "He's a man who is hedonistic by philosophy and epi curean by impulse. He is usually well groomed and he knows all the nooks and corners. He makes the rounds." The thing for me to do was to pick out a well groomed man to see if I could not form from him the qualities which constitute a rounder. For I had already decided, from the replies of those whom I had inter rogated, that a rounder was the type of man all good girls should try to avoid. LAST night I was waiting for Jimmy. I usually do wait for him. And to amuse myself I was trying to pick out a rounder from the crowd of men in the lobby. "There's one of the boys, there's a rounder for you," said a deep voice beside me. "Which one ?" asked another deep voice. I turned eagerly, sharply. "The tall dark fellow with the mustache and gray hat," continued the deep voice. I saw the tall dark fellow with the mustache and gray hat. I saw him coming right toward me. He came up to me and said, "Hello, there, how are you?" And I said, "Hello, Jimmy, you're late again." — EDNA I. ASMUS. ? • *V«t>. ,"v.-.« Baby, if you ask me, Springs is all about the same. TMCCI4ICAG0AN 9 PER/ONAL "Singing Alderman" There is power, power, Wonder-working power In the precious blood of the Lamb." CO sang the Salvation Army out- side. Inside, the clinking of steins— technically known as "tubs" ¦ and the occasional voice of a bar room-tenor in the moving strains of 'Sweet Adeline" or, if the evening were really growing young, "Silver Threads Among the Gold." And, above all, the incessant, merry jingling of the cash-register. The scene, South Clark Street in tne "good old days" — meaning the days before the Great Volstead Myth descended like a phantom upon the land. In that paleo-alco- holic age, the "Workingman's Ex change" (grandiloquently sociologic moniker) was one of the brightest of the bright spots in the district im mediately below Van Buren Street. And sometime, in the course of the evening, there was sure to enter an impressive apparition in a gray frock coat, a black and white striped waistcoat and a flowing cerise — or, mayhap, a pink and lavender- cravat. At once, a hush would run along the bar-rail and spread over the somnolent tables. "She-h-h ! It's the Alderman his- self." And the Alderman hisself it was. None other than the Hon. John Coughlin, representing the "old nrst" in the city council and com monly known, not merely to his constituency, but to the world as "Bathhouse John," "singing alder- man ' and municipal poet-laureate. Off would go the silk topper in a Napoleon-at-Austerlitz gesture, re vealing what even at that date was reported to be the only genuine Jim Corbett pompadour" yet ex tant in the loop. And none could doubt, viewing that impressive ap panage, that this was, verily and of a truth, the author of that popular song success, "Dear Midnight of Love." PORTRAIT/ IN those days, it is true, "the Bath," as he is still at times referred to, divided honors with "Hinky Dink," alias Alderman John Kenna. What a pair they were. The "Bath and Hink" enjoyed a celebrity that knew John Coughlin no geographic limits. When any thing had to be "fixed" in the First Ward, it was "See the Bath" or "See the Hink." It might be a basement that was about to be condemned, or it might be a little matter of bail for one of the boys. Whatever it was, the "Bath" or the "Hink" usually saw that it was taken care of. Some there were who remem bered in the case of Mr. Coughlin a less glorious past. These individ uals recalled the days when George Silver had been a power in the loop and its environs and the present al derman had been a rubber in a Turkish bath— hence, the "Bath- House." But all this was forgotten when John Coughlin would arise in his official capacity as "muse of the council-chamber." There was, al most always, a full gallery on such occasions, for the word would spread in advance that "the Bath" was going to read a "pome." And he still reads them. "Hinky Dink" has retired, but "Bath House John," apparently, goes on for ever. He is as perennial as a pine-tree, as fragrant as a nastur tium. His muse wearieth not, neither doth it halt (though it may limp occasionally). It may be a new sewer in Archer Avenue or the length of the flapper's skirts on Michigan Boulevard. The "Bath's" inspiration is never lacking. His most recent theme was "cheetahs" on the Lake Shore Drive. It was right after Brevet-Sergt. Wellington W. Britten had had a run-in with the John Wentworth following. Thereupon Mr. Coughlin burst forth with this bit of verse: "I can think of things much sweetah Than to meet a playful cheetah Promenading up and down a city street, For the minute that he'd sight you He'd very likely bite you, Mistaking you for something good to eat. Why, they tell of Sergt. Britten, Who was quite severely bitten, Investigating on the golden coast, Percy, trained to jump and grab it, Whene'er he saw a rabbit Changed his fare to grilled police on toast. For let him get behind you And he'll jolly well remind you That you should have worn a cast- iron two-piece suit." The council and the galleries went wild. As to the "Bath" him self, he was pensive. "I've missed my calling," he con fided. "I otta been a poet. That's my suppressed ambition ! Instead of being 'the best dressed man in the city council.' " THEN there was the touching occasion when Miss Anna A. Gordon, president of the National and World's Woman's Christian Temperance Union was holding a little jollification in Rest Cottage out in Evanston. Coughlin, not to be outdone, sent her as a souvenir one of the original "tubs" from the 10 TMECUICAGOAN Workingman's Exchange, accompa nied by the following ditty: "Dear gentle, gracious, efficient president of the W. C. T. U. This souvenir of pre- Volstead days I beg to present to you. My compliments go with it, and as you gaze upon it filled with flowers sweet, I prithee remember that it oft con tained Manhattan "suds" in Clark Street. There were other verses, all equ ally good. There is no record as to whether Miss Gordon wept or not. You can never tell when or where the "Bath" will break out next. The last time was when he rose in solemn protest against a lowering city ordi nance limiting the brevity of femi nine attire. The Alderman objected on the ground that such a procedure would "destroy an important element of civic beauty." When he isn't legislating or poet izing, our "singing alderman" has one other hobby, and that is horse- racing. He's going to win that derby yet before he dies. He has fifty-one steeds in training at the present time and usually draws one winner a season. His color is orange-blossoms. —SAMUEL PUTNAM. Gasoline Romance * * ~KA Y lovely Diana, why do you I 1 ignore my adoration? You are so chilled. You know my love is boundless. Come, let us elope." "Mercury, the time is not now. I care for you more than anybody else in the garage, my fleet-footed, but I have had so little night life. I am not ready to settle down yet. When one is married, you know. . . ." "That is true. But I fear for you and tremble when I think of you ac quiring so much sophistication and no escort to shield you from vulgar things. You are also without pro tection from the rude advances of some of those hideous modern images of speed. The radiator cap age is a dangerous one. I was even once forced to pummel soundly one of these ingrates a night last summer when we were all waiting in the yard of a country road house. The as sault was made on the noble Goddess of Liberty and the poor lady never did recover her torch. But the moron got what was coming to him, for a nearby grayhound chewed up a leg before we could pull him off and a gray-goose pulled out most SEL2- Na$, nothing, I merely relax for an hour or so. of his hair before the commotion had subsided. He will never again show himself in decent society. It is for those reasons, my dear, that I am so fearful for your well being." "Oh, Mercury, it is so sweet of you to think tenderly of my safety, and indeed I would need your pro tection were it not that my bow and arrow, which I am never without, were ever in readiness to stave off such advances. Many times on the boulevard these new rich and Pseu do-Gods try to flirt and only too often they say fresh things to me as I pass. They are all a scurrilous lot. But my master seldom fre quents such places and when he does he always very considerately takes me from here and puts me in a side pocket of the car. But . . ." SEVERAL days had passed since I had overheard this unique love- making. It was cold and I parked Diana in the catacombs under Wacker Drive to protect her from the blinding blizzard. Upon my re turn, and much to my great sorrow, she was gone. I pacified myself thinking that when I returned to the garage I would shake Mercury severely. But he was gone. The car was not there. I- inquired of the garage desk as to its where abouts. It had checked out during the afternoon and no forwarding ad dress was left. I have never seen Diana since. Except one cold night when the traffic was moving swiftly on the Outer Drive a motor whirred by me at a great speed. I fancied, as they streaked past, I saw Diana contentedly huddled in the arms of a Mercury. But they were gone be fore I could make sure. —JACK SHEPARD. Etiquette Never mention prunes, when, Speaking to a princess; The very idea is Simply absurd. She'd probably faint and Cause a lot of bother, It's really rather queer but Prisms is the word. WILLIAM CLOSSON EMORY. TUECWCAGOAN n Sfort clothes be hanged, Minnie, Vm not going around like a mere striding. The Virgin Sword BECAUSE Uldine Utley was once far sunk in the grossness of the world, the story of her conversion is revelatory. At a tender age she confesses to having taken dancing lessons, and even to enjoying them. But once when she was young, on the way to dancing school with her grandfather, the pair stopped to hearken to Aimee McPherson, then conducting a revival. It was a lethal dose for Terpsichore. Uldine entered the tabernacle, was moved by Aimee's eloquence, and sought salvation. Thus it came about that at the age of 11, Uldine foreswore the flesh and the devil. From that day forth she has gone about doing good. Never, she says, has she been successfully tempted to return to her former wickedness. She finds reading the Bible more en joyable than dancing. She does not smoke, drink, gamble, or bob her hair. She is careful to dress modestly. She believes in keeping simple hours — except, perhaps, when exhorting. And above all she strives to remain sinless even though im mersed in the perils of a great city. It is gratifying to note that, since her conversion, Uldine has been little tempted. She does not now use cos metics. And it is her earnest convic tion that others, fully as sorely tried as she, may likewise win to holiness. THIS Virgin Sword is no ama teur in Godly warfare. In her youth she trained under Aimee McPherson, the California La Pucelle. Only recently she has wit nessed the strivings of John Roach Straton against the Old Tempter in New York, and under the eye of that redoubtable mace of the Lord, she skirmished from his New York pulpit where she is reported to have wrought pleasing execution on the inhabitants of that large, lewd city. With Aimee ranging the south in battle-harness and Straton daily challenging the chivalry of Manhat tan, Uldine moved her tent to Chi cago where she attacked the flanks of the ancient enemy. There remains but one more item for the pious biographer. Presumably as a rewar.d for the heroic virtues displayed in one so young, the Lord has signified his ap probation of Uldine's mission by at least one miracle, although it must be added that she has never claimed the accolade personally. While in New York, during her preaching, Satan afflicted Mrs. Straton with a pain in the side. That good lady, learned in the legerdemain of the fiend, prayed vigorously in unison with Uldine. The pain, after a time, went away. This was a miracle, avers Mrs. Straton, and Uldine has not denied that it may be so. Under the circumstances, it would be a ro- 12 TI4E CI4ICAG0AN bust scoffer, indeed, who would undertake to prove it otherwise. II THE Virgin . Sword took the pulpit modestly clad in a white garb of proper length and fullness. Her pale blonde hair was slicked back from a rather appealing child ish little face. Uldine smiled very little once her message was on the air; she was very earnest. Only during the hymns was she noticeably happy and then she brightened a bit. But she is yet too inexperienced to fight against Beelzebub with the magnificent slap-dash and careless ness of an older gladiator. Her's is none of the Sunday technique with the broadsword, none of the Straton sabre work. Uldine looks like what she is: a young girl frightened with what she feels to be a message of breath-taking earnest ness and import. Naturally she is rather humorless in her zeal, though not personally undignified even when her calling tries her sorely. Against the hugeness of the Coliseum annex her small, white figure is pathetic. In that pathos lies the strength of her appeal. For a few extracts of the "four square" gospel as Uldine preached it are not especially impressive. They are of the stock stuff of revivalist exhortations — a good deal less vul gar than some, certainly nothing very new or moving to the hardy revival fans who turned out to hear Uldine's performance. "Folks say" maintained Uldine from the platform on her first night here "that there cannot be a revival in Chicago. I say : If God wants a revival in Chicago He can have it!" It is obvious that a denial of this thesis involves several virulent kinds of heresy. Lady Utley is fond of comparing man to an automobile. The machine does pretty poorly without gas. Gas, in Uldine's analogy, is the spirit of the gospels; it has nothing to do with mechanistic or pantheistic nebulae. Heaven, says Uldine, is of un questionable excellence as an abiding place — frolicsome and friendly. All this she has on good authority. How in the world do you get your virility in your pictures? IT will be plain to a specialist in revivals that none of her items are exciting as late news. But with them Uldine filled the Coliseum annex on her debut. Five hundred children crowded around the young warrior to touch her garments on that first occasion. But that was the high point. Uldine's audience stead ily fell away since that first night stand. The fusillade of a new beer war cackled evilly almost as she made her first sally on Lucifer, and Chicago has become no better since. The virgin sword stood a brave little figure between deep blue Mich igan and Cicero, defying the powers of hell in a maidenly treble. It seems, however, that it must be a wily and grizzled warrior, indeed, who is fated to see the fiend blanch in Chicago. And Miss Utley has gone east. One is sorry for Uldine Utley, 14. The devil, it seems, hasn't even noticed her. It was different, now, with Aimee McPherson, much dif ferent. Perhaps it is only that the Chicago religious have, this once, been poor fight promoters, bad matchmakers. — Francis C. Coughlin. Warning Who doth drink red wine and bellow Count him as an honest fellow Who shall call for gin and swagger In him doth no virtue stagger Who shall bawl for ale and beer Trustful maid need never fear And who lets no whiskey pass Is a strapping gallowglass But who sippeth and is grave, Fly fair maid, thy virtue save! — gonfal. TI4'E CUICAGOAN 13 MU/ICAL NOTE/ r |^HE most recent Gordon-Reuter * joint recital at Kimball Hall was an event. The evening started with little promise with a first Amer ican hearing of the Goosens' sonata for violin and piano. The work held one or two moments of serene beauty, Particularly the ballade-like section °f the third movement, an Anglo Saxon threnody treated with the dressing of the modern harmonist. Otherwise the sonata seemed woe fully lacking in ideas. Goosens has had enormous training as writer and conductor of music. He is privy to every contemporary tendency. And this very familiarity has made him an ephemeral composer. Great com position demands a certain detach ment from music that conductors are never privileged to have. After a perfunctory, inconse quential solo group from Reuter (who is primarily an ensemble art ist), Gordon played with Joe Brink- man the Mediterranean Sketches of Stella Roberts, gifted composition Pupil of Adolph Weidig. The solo violin takes with ill grace to the ran dom fluidity and vertical harmonic construction of typically modern composition. It yearns to be kept within the confines of the dance forms and the musical descendants thereof. Stella Roberts, in this handsome suite, achieves a highly satisfactory compromise. The pieces are all compact of alluring harmony and warm scoring for the pianistic background. THE following Sunday, Rosen thal, heralded as usual by many newspaper fanfares, especially from Dr. Gunn, arrived. Rosenthal seems to me to be the most overrated of the supposedly great pianists. Last year his recital was a miracle of in accuracy and his once dazzling tech nique showed plainly the deplorable results of midnight lunches and no pratcice. Never a really profound Lady, things have come to a bad close when feotfe buy pencils and walk off with 'em. scholar or a great piano poet like, let us say, Cortot, his memory had apparently failed him as he made the most grotesque slips in the Chopin B minor Sonata, trusting to his own ingenuity for horrible ex tempore improvisation. This year he seems to have done some self- disciplining. His legato passage- work was fleet and accurate and his Beethoven particularly had moments of great beauty. But he still pom pously hides the deficiency of his left hand with an ugly suffusion of pedal. Next door at the Playhouse Gabriel Fenyves, a newcomer, re vived (a pity to have to admit it) the great Suite Espagnole of Albeniz. —ROBERT POLLACK. Apologies to Keats Oft have I travelled on back country roads And many goodly mudholes have I seen, Round long and winding detours have I been Frightening foxes, rabbits, frogs and toads Trying to get back (riding on the rim) To civilization and that dear con crete ; On many a rocky rise I've set my feet And struggled with a tire's foolish whim. I venture to predict you'll never meet A man with fewer fears and who cares less What thoroughfare he's guided on by fate. I'll take a challenge driving, soon and late; But there's one test from which I will retreat — Crossing a track before a fast ex press. — LORETTA ROCHE. 14 TI4E.CUICAG0AN Dorothy, it's a matter of amplication. I did a sketch of Harry yesterday and it looked just like him. ? * Chicago Guide* After Baedeker Money, Expenses MONEY — The same currency that is in circulation elsewhere in the United States is used in Chi cago by those who can keep it long enough. Chicago bandits have a reputation for speed and thorough ness; but some persons have been known to carry a roll of bills for a matter of several days before being set upon. Silver and copper coins are useful in paying for newspapers and chewing gum, but for lunch checks and taxicab fares, bank notes or gold will be needed. A conveni ent and safe mode of conveying money is in an armored car. Police escort will be provided upon request, but is not recommended as the police are said to have an attraction for highwaymen. Expenses — The cost of a visit to Chicago depends on the amount of money the traveler has with him. A person of moderate requirements will have little difficulty in traveling comfortably on comparatively little per diem, while a pedestrian or strap hanger may reduce his expenses still more in some of the remoter dis tricts, except Cicero where the usual toll is ten days and costs. Railroads, Subways, Etc. ALL transportation systems in the city are entirely in private hands except the subway, which is controlled by the municipal govern ment. The surface lines (street cars) offer the lowest fare and the greatest variety of transfers, although the Chicago Rapid Transit (Elevated or El) is the only system which con ducts a complete circle trip, i.e., around the loop, for one fare. The Motor Coaches (busses) charge a slightly higher rate but provide "po- TWECMICAGOAN 15 lite transportation" and "service with a smile." Since the Illinois Central (I.C.) has been electrified it boasts the most rapid transportation in Chicago. The Chicago and Northwestern, Wabash, and other steam roads, however, have the in ducement of free cinders for pass engers. The surface and elevated lines and the Illinois Central are propelled by electricity, the other railroads by steam, the motor coaches by gasoline, the subway by imagination. Luggage — Passengers are permit ted to board cars and coaches with as much luggage as could be carried in three loads by one man not ex ceeding six feet in height and two hundred fifty pounds in weight. Suitcases, packing boxes, bird cages, etc. are generally kept in the aisles and under the feet of fellow passen gers. If the aisles are blocked with people a convenient resting place for baggage is in the ribs of the most accessible fellow passengers. Bags, etc. are generally placed in the ex act middle of the vehicle, especially when approaching the point of de barkation. If there are fewer per sons in the front half of the car than in the rear the person alighting always leaves by the back door. Newscasters SOME passengers bring current newspapers to read en route. Persons of more moderate tastes will find this unnecessary as papers are often discarded by passengers when they reach their destination and can easily be captured by exploding a tear bomb or otherwise temporarily disabling the other passengers and the conductor. In calculating their daily circulation newspapers gener ally figure fifteen to twenty readers for each copy which finds its way to a street car. The type in which newspapers are printed is not always sufficiently large to permit hasty reading over a neighbor's shoulder. It is "good form," therefore, never to turn a page without first inquiring if all in terested parties have finished read ing it. —RUTH G. BERGMAN. 9he THEATRE The Marilyn Myth PERHAPS it is a trifle ungrateful to refer to anything so custardly charming as a "myth." But it must be confessed that Miss Miller does nothing in "Sunny" to warrant any further enthusiasm. For years she has been a sort of adolescent female Peter Pan of musical comedy — the maiden type of star who is deemed safe by mothers of marriageable sons, and whose picture is regarded as quite proper for the walls of dormitories in seminaries. Her ap peal has been carefully built up by a series of Ziggish gestures. La Mil ler, under contract to the Glorifier, must not get married — the virginal appeal must be retained, i etc. The fact that she was married twice is a sort of politely overlooked error. But if Miss Miller remains pas sively satisfying only, there is yet the fact that "Sunny" is a fine Dilling ham production. And there is the further and far more important fact that Jack Donahue is, in the parlance, "The Whole Show." In case any body worries whether or not to see the current Illinois entertainment, let him remember that of all individ ual performances this season, in cluding that of Beatrice Lillie, the hoofing, singing and acting of one Jack Donahue stands in illuminated letters at the head of the list of merit. Everything he does is funny. There are many other reasons for liking "Sunny," but — and if this be treason, make the most of it — save for the performance of Mr. Dona hue, none of these reasons would make me urge anybody to go so far as to sit back of the fifteenth row or to patronize the scalpers — "just to say you have seen it." It isn't that good. No show is. That is, provid ing you are not a rear-seat fan, of which there are enough in this world to keep the back of a theatre filled in spite of agency techniques. Oh yes. "Sunny" is about a girl in a circus who marries the wrong man and . . . they almost don't get it all straightened out, but just when it looks as though they were going to have to call in Powers' dancing elephants to effect a rescue, Mr. Dillingham nods benignly and the Wedding bells peal forth in proper cadence. —MARIE ARMSTRONG HECHT. Marilyn Miller and Jack Donahue sufifiorting the thesis — once a good song, always a good song — still using the fiulmotor on "Who" from "Sunny." 16 THE CWCAGOAN ARTGALLERIEJ Pensive Fantasia ONE wonders, subtly, how any human being can be as thor- ough-goingly, as relentlessly stupid as the average painting critic in these back-waters. With the excep tion of C. J. Bulliet of the Chicago Evening Post's Magazine of the Art World, an up-and-at-'em modernist, and Marguerite Williams of the Chi cago Daily News, an intelligent and liberal conservative, the spinsters of whatever sex who mess up our so- called art-pages are specimens that would have delighted the heart of the late P.. T. Barnum. There is dear old Great Aunt Mathilda, with her unending "pomes," who finds fault with Picasso's old-master madonna be cause "no baby was ever as fat as that" and "granting that it's all right to distort adults, it's a crime to dis tort an infant," etc., etc. But the biggest joke of all, un doubtedly, is Uncle- Ezra. Aunt Mathilda, after all, is only a home girl, but Uncle Ez is a pontifical and braying — well, you know the animal that brays. Nobody can utter a platitude with more resounding so norousness than he, and nobody else could possibly expand a platitude to three or four columns every week. Uncle Ez once painted 'pitchers" his- self — Oh, yes, hand-painted ones. That's what ruined him. Naturally, he makes a wonderful critic. The only trouble is, he doesn't know there's been any painting since Rem brandt. BUT Uncle Ez certainly gets the fur-lined something-or-other for his "review" of the recent Inter national Show. There were, if pos sible, even more laughs in it than in his attack of acute hydrophobia pro voked by the Walt Kuhn exhibit. Personally, I should have said it would be impossible for any critic to walk through those galleries and absolutely miss every good picture. But not a word from Uncle Ezra about Picasso, not a word about Matisse, not a word about Lauren- cin, not a word about Casorati, not a word about Segonzac. Instead, he picks out, unerringly, the worst in the place. Augustus John, to Uncle Ezra, is "wild." And the old boy proceeds to go into school-girl hys terics over some canvas called "The High Road." I walked through the show time and again, and to save my life I couldn't find it. But leave it to Uncle Ez. He has an eye for that sort of thing. "T"*HE Professional Members' * Show is on at the Arts Club. It is, as usual, pretty weak. Consid ering the heroic work the Arts Club does in behalf of modernity in these parts, I am annually amazed at the work done by its painter-members. The reason is, naturally, that there are so few painters in Chicago. The show this year is, however, better than last by ever so slight a margin. That margin is created chiefly by a few very good still-lifes, among which might be mentioned those by Alice Bidwell (hers I liked very much) and Katherine Dudley. Other canvases which struck me in some degree, were the two by Marie Blanke, Anita Willets Burnham's "A Young Artist," Cecil Clark Davis' "Sonia," Helga Haugan Dean's "Sketch," Eleanor Duke's "Autoire, Southern France," Bertha Jacques' "Spiderwort," Irma Rene Koen's "A Village Street," Josephine L. Reich- mann's "Squatter's Valley Road," Eva Watson Schutze's "Spanish Iris" and Flora Schofield's "Little French Boy." I was somewhat dis- appointed in Mrs. Schofield's "Landscape," but that's a compli ment. Most of the painters present do not even merit a disappointment. Among the sculptors represented is Tennessee Mitchell Anderson. Tea was served. "THE best pictures in town at the * current moment, outside of pri vate collections and the permanent galleries at the Institute, are to be seen at the Chester Johnson galleries in the Fine Arts Building. Here there is a show of Nineteenth- century French impressionists (roughly speaking). Among the painters shown are Cassatt, Monet, Gauguin (a fine example), Forain, Degas (an excellent pair of dancers and another good canvas) Daumier (a literally priceless little head), Redon (one still-life that is a knock out — I admit it, grudgingly), Mor- risot, Pissarro (who couldn't paint a bad picture), Puvis de Chavannes, Moret, Canals, Andre (a marvelous portrait of Mme. Cezanne) and Zarroga (a Mexican, resident in Paris, who shows a startling portrait of Renoir in the latter's sickly old age). Mr. Rabelais. TUECWCAGQAN There she is — the one with the little blue hat. ? /PORT/ REVIEW Vivat Pofaulam! THE great common people have again whooped into their own. On April 12 the baseball season opened at Cubs park to the resound ing thwack of extra base hits while the populace cheered, shivered and shucked peanuts into its 45,000 laps. Incidentally the Cubs wrecked Alexander and doused the world's champion Cardinals in a 10-1 deluge of scoring. Thus the baseball season opened mt ^a)mffiiY(^mitt- after a winter of socially accepted sports which somehow look lah-de- lah to the plain voter. And the plain voter was zestfully on hand for that opening. He barged over the rear grandstand seats like a boarding party. He booed Aleck; he cheered McCarthy ; he rose up nine times by count to ogle "Peaches" Browning, who, apparently, arrived in detach ments. He rose up nine other times to gape over the stands in a wild surmise — and sat down without hav ing discovered what the excitement was about. NO sport is quite like baseball, and no crowd quite like the baseball mob. Pop and red balloons — the blind fiddler — the scorecard venders — the bleacher fights — the be nignant Law smiling tolerantly over the disappearance of each new ball into the customers' pockets — the tra ditional wise cracks — the very frank personal requests to sit down and stay sat — the heart-warming bellow for each base hit — and the expectant hush as a fielder moves under a high fly. Of course, the new mayor made a pontifical entry. Everybody cheered. He was presented with a floral horse shoe. Everybody cheered again. A testy bleacherite who had waited in the chilling wind for two hours be came irked at the fellow who snatched a foul from him and pasted the covetous one on the nose. Bravo! Two fat cops escorted him out. Tempestuous cheering! And the newest, greenest rookie on the lot stepped into a fast one and poled it out into Sheffield avenue, a home run off the great Alexander. Hoo ray ! Hooray ! Hooray ! — ROUNDHOUSE, Teasing O a teasel and a griffon Sat beneath a willow tree, And the griffon took his tiffin While the teasel toyed with tea. Said the griffon to the teasel, As he mumbled on a bun, "Now you're not much like a weasel 'Cause you waddle when you run." Said the teasel, very snooty, With a slither in his voice: "As a sample of great beauty You would never be my choice." Whereupon the griffon haughty, Stiffly stalked across the hill ; While the teasel, who'd been naughty, Had to settle for the bill. WILLIAM CLOSSON EMORY. 18 TWEGMICAGOAN OA, 7oo£, Marge, a flower — /'m almost temflted to flick it. As Paris Sees the Windy City f77*£ following gripping little drama, entitled in the original "Les Mysteres de Chicago ou Cloches Muettes et Oeufs Qui Parlent," taken from "Les Aventures de Lou- fock-Holmes" by Cami, published by Flammarion, Paris, is a good ex ample of the manner in which the Parisian litterateur conceives life in Chicago, on a Parisian morning af ter — or possibly, the night before.) FIRST ACT A Tragic Easter (The scene is the office of the Chief of Police of Chicago.) The Chief of Police (with a searching look, to the illustrious amateur detective, Loufock- Holmes) : Master, I have sent for you in great haste. Ever since this morning, a mystery without prece dent in the judicial annals of the United States has been turning Chi cago upside down. The newspaper extras must have informed you that today, on Easter Sunday, not a single bell among all the numerous churches of our city was able to ring out gayly, in accordance with tradition. Loufock-Holmes : Were the bell- ringers on a strike? The Chief of Police (with a searching look): No. But last night, Saturday night, all the bell- ringers of Chicago were stupefied to find that their bells had no clappers. Loufock-Holmes: That's strange! Winded Policeman (Entering brusquely) : Chief ! . . . Chief ! . ." . Come quick! They've just found the bell-ringer of St. John's Chapel murdered, his head soaked in rum and holding in his clenched hands half an Easter-egg! He's still breathing. . . . They're trying to bring him to. . . . Loufock-Holmes (reflecting pro foundly) : That's singular ! . . . Half an Easter-egg, his head soaked in rum, the bells without clappers. . . . (Suddenly) I begin to get a feeble ray of light on this dark af fair. Come on! SECOND ACT Darker and Darker! (The scene is the bell-tower of St. John's Chapel.) The Police Physician (To Lou fock-Holmes) : Thanks to my ener getic efforts, the assassinated bell- ringer appears to be coming to. . . . Look. . . . He's opening his eyes, his lips are moving, he looks like he's going to talk. . . . The Bell-Ringer (in a feeble voice, rolling his haggard, brightened eyes) : Oh, I'm afraid ! I'm afraid ! They're coming. . . . They're there! I see 'em! . . . Loufock-Holmes: Who? The Bell-Ringer: The talking eggs! The murderous eggs. . . . The Police-Physician (To Lou fock-Holmes) : He's delirious, he's out of his head, it's the end. The Bell-Ringer (in a voice that grows weaker) : Yes. ... It killed me. . . . because I saw what had become of the clappers. Loufock-Holmes (bending over the Bell-Ringer) : Speak, speak ! What did you see? . . . The Bell-Ringer (with one last ef fort) : I saw the . . . Oh! No, no, no, I'm afraid! The curly egg! The curly egg! Ah! Ah! (He falls back dead.) Loufock-Holmes : Curses ! But I shall find out just the same! A Policeman (To Loufock- Holmes) : Master, a cripple wants to speak to you. He says it's urgent. He's down in the street in front of the chapel. Loufock-Holmes : Let's go down. There's nothing more to be done here. (They go down into the street.) The Crippled Bell-Ringer (To Loufock-Holmes) : I am the crip pled bell-ringer of the Cathedral of the Holy Dollar. . . . Since the stock market's been going our way, we've changed its name. And now we're richer than ever! Like all cripples, I'm very strong in the arms, which explains my profession of bell-ringer. For when it comes to ringing a chime, I don't play sec ond fiddle to anybody, if I do say it. And the Holy Dollar bell is the biggest in Chicago, and. . . . Loufock-Holmes: Get to the facts! Get to the facts! The Crippled Bell-Ringer: I was just going to ring a joyous Easter chime this morning, when I found my bell hadn't come back yet. You know very well, don't you, that all bells in the world leave for Rome on Holy Thursday and come back Saturday night to their respect ive belfries? In short, here's a bell TUECUICAGOAN 19 that left Thursday with the rest and is not back yet. Loufock-Holmes (with satisfac tion) : Yes, that's just what I thought ! Meet me tonight in the Holy Dol lar belfry. THIRD ACT An Unprecedented Fraud (The scene is the belfry of Holy Dollar Cathedral) Loufock-Holmes (To policeman ambushed in the belfry) : This is the place. All we have to do is wait and arrest the band of tragic eggs in the act. The Chief of Police: The band of tragic eggs? Loufock-Holmes: Yes. A rapid investigation has confirmed the cor rectness of my deductions. These bandits, disguised in monks' cloaks, have camouflaged their heads with chocolate-colored Easter-eggs. But sh-h-h! ^Here they are! . . . Attention, gentlemen! (The bandits entry the belfry. Each has his head entirely covered with a chocolate- colored Easter-egg.) Loufock-Holmes : Hands up, eggs! You're fried! The Band of Tragic Eggs : We're chocolate! (The policemen lift up their monks' cloaks and slip hand cuffs on them.) The Chief of the Tragic Eggs: Oh, well! The jig's up! Since they've got us, we might as well make a clean breast of it. We didn't know how to smuggle in prohibited liquor. It was a few weeks before Easter that this inspiration came to me. Why not make use of the bells which leave for Rome on Holy Thursday and come back Easter Sunday? Why not make use of them, I thought. My plans were soon laid. Italian accomplices, when the American bells arrived in Rome, were on the spot to hook onto the bells, in place of the clappers which had been previously removed, cases of whisky, rum, and gin, barrels of champagne and other forbidden wines and liquors. Only, the bell- ringer of St. John's Church beat us up to the belfry and discovered the cases of rum suspended from his bell. He had already opened one and was about to drink a bottle of rum, when we surprised him. He hurled himself on me in self-defense and, in the fist-fight that followed, tore out a handful of this damned curly hair of mine, which happened to be sticking out of my monk's cloak. In this manner, he succeeded in lifting my mask half up. I didn't hesitate then to slay him with a bottle of rum. (At this moment, the tardy bell arrives and takes its habitual place in the belfry.) Loufock-Holmes : Look ! It's stuffed with cases of whisky. I un derstand now how this bell, laden down as it is, was unable to get back for Easter ! The Chief of the Tragic Eggs (With a cynical sneer) : Our Italian accomplices gave us good measure. One case more, and it wouldn't have got back till Trinity Sunday! CURTAIN (From the French by S. P.) / ebsolutely wont have a son from mine looking like an English dookl 20 TME CHICAGOAN Book/- The War Books \ A /HEN as a corollary to the * » armistice the bottom fell out of war books, it was hopefully pre dicted in publishing circles that in another ten years the war book would come back. The prediction may have been arrived at by algebraic calculations from the book situations after our other wars, Revolution, 1812, Mexican, Civil and Spanish, and after other people's wars, the Napoleonic, Franco-Prussian, Boer, Crimean, Russo-Japanese, and so on, or it may have been arrived at by some subtler process such as the Roman habit of consulting goose liv ers. In either case it has come true. Now, not quite nine years after the armistice, a new crop is begin ning to appear: Wine, Women and War, War Birds, both of them anon ymous, but not so very, a new Bruce Bairnsfather, Carry On, Sergeant, Singing Soldiers, by J. J. Niles, a book of war memories, with song as its central theme, General Dickman's The Great Crusade, T. E. Law rence's Revolt in the Desert. After ten years, the World War, like other wars, has become a sub ject for reminiscence. By coincidence, Romain Rolland's Mother and Son — third and penulti- // there's anything I hate its a mushy love affair. mate volume of The Soul Enchanted, which has been characterized now and again as a feminine Jean Chris- tophe — has to do with the war years. But there ends its resemblance to the titles mentioned above. For, in the whole course of its 415 pages, there is probably no single thing that any one in France would look upon as matter for rainbow-hued reminis cence. .CHICAGOAN For Your Convenience THE CHICAGOAN, 407 So. Dearborn St., Chicago, 111. Please enter my subscription to THE CHICAGOAN. ? 13 Issues— $1.50 ? 26 Issues— $3.00 Name. Address. Suggestions Revolt in the Desert, by T. E. Lawrence (Doran). The romantic and yet immeasurably important ex periences of a shy Englishman who became the uncrowned king of the desert. Kit O'Brien, by Edgar Lee Mas- ters (Boni and Liveright). Another boy story of southern Illinois. A Wreath of Cloud: Being the Third Part of the Tale of Genji, by Lady Murasaki, translated from the Japanese by Arthur Waley (Houghton Mifflin). Further ad ventures, amorous and otherwise, of Prince Genji. Background, as before — the court life of mediaeval Japan. Everything and Anything, by Dor othy Aldis (Milton, Balch). Baby poems which are said to have been read with enjoyment by mature bach elors who hate children. —SUSAN WILBUR. Prospective subscribers are warned to pay no money to solicitors; pay only by check to the order of "The Chicagoan." THE CHICAGOAN The Screen FOR reasons no doubt sound but certainly obscure, Chicagoans are being compelled to trail John Bar- rymore's superb Francois Villon via the short-run picture house ads if they would inspect this latest prod uct of the screen's freest imagina tion and greatest talent. Look for The Beloved Rogue and be confident that it will compensate you for wait ing through whatever subsidiary pro gram matter may subsist alongside. Barrymore's Villon may not be your Villon — nor his Paris of 1432 your Paris of like date — but Dennis King's popularity hereabouts with a vocal Villon of his own construction argues for tremendous general sat isfaction with Barrymore's visual one. And you need not identify the Barrymore figure as Villon to get a kick out of its hilarious kidding of history, its merry booting of plausi bility and its consumately successful re-creation of a priceless period. You may laugh at it all — as Barry- more laughs at it — but you will leave it with a regret that it is ended and perhaps with one for half a century of culture. Barrymore gives you things like that. OF the dozen other pictures viewed since last entry in this column, one other warrants sugges tion that the newspaper ads be con sulted for current whereabouts. That one is Afraid to Love and it isn't like that at all. It is a story about married people represented by Flor ence Vidor and Clive Brook, whose performances afford a glimpse of photoplay futurity. Nothing big or vital is attempted. A real perform ance is simply given. A splendid pic ture is the result. OTHER pictures inspected re cently, some of which are now available in the theatres and some of which will be shortly, are as fol lows: McFadden's Flats — e x c e 1 1 e n t broad comedy with Charlie Murray much the Irishman he was in The Cohens and Kellys and Chester Conklin a Scotchman he hates and loves. Madame Wants No Children — imported farce sobered by censors, who removed Madame's objections. Fashions for Women — divinely formed Esther Ralston in a dress demonstration that should have pre ceded Easter. Slide Kelly Slide — screaming base ball comedy with William Haines and the Yankees. Children of Divorce — problem stuff in which vibrant Clara Bow emotes and dies without so much as 21 ft um The Resort of Fashion • and the Epicure 18 W . Walton Place Opera Club Building For M Reservations t Phone Delaware 2592 Luncheon Dinner SPEAKING OF GIFTS PapS illustrations Fine bindings The new novels The most important recent plays You just know she reads them Telephone Superior 2601 "Books for the Sophisticate" Open Until Midnight % BOREAS BOOK S T O R E 109 EAST CHICAGO AVE. The Opera Club may be obtained, with or without cuisine service, on afternoons or evenings, for Private Dances, Teas and Banquets, with the exception of Wednesday and Saturday Nights. By reason of its ten years of service to many of Chi' cago's Smartest Social Func tions the Opera Club is the accepted place for affairs necessitating excellence of service and appointments. 18 West Walton Place Tel. Superior 6907 THE CHICAGOAN Where Fine Cigars Are Smoked Tom Palmer Predominates Wengler & Mandell, Inc. Chicago - Tampa a single chance to vibrate. Convoy — splendid views of the Navy's part in the war (official) in terrupted now and then by a sort of story. The Sea Tiger — Milton Sills in a sailboat, a fight, a isomewhat cen sored struggle with a chorus girl and a pretty likeable little yarn. The Fire Brigade — an ad for the fire department . . . any fire de partment. Knockout Reilly — Dix, and isn't that enough? Saturday Afternoon — Harry Langdon in his last start under Mack Sennett . . . short and hilarious. Bill and I Went Fishin' — an Ed gar Guest rhyme illustrated in mo tion . . . short and choppy. ? ANNOUNCEMENTS of forth coming motion picture produc tions disclose — do not feature — the fact that we are to have more pic tures made from original screen stories and fewer book or play adap tations than in any year since the adaptation idea struck Hollywood and all but wfecked it. Producers have learned (at last) that adapta tions almost invariably disappoint persons familiar with origins, where as original screen stories stand at least an even chance of success. But don't submit that scenario yet ! The line ahead of you is ten years long. «> An otherwise terrible vaudeville comedian misplaced in a Loop pic ture theatre last week said to the orchestra leader, "I seen a swell pitcher today." "What was the name of it?" the m. d. asked. "Carl Laemmle's Greatest." ? Chicago stick-up men seem to be the only residents who know defi nitely the hours at which access to the various theatres may be had without waiting. ? There is no truth in the rumor that the Ringling-Barnum show will play the picture theatres this season. ? Sousa, however, will. — W. R. WEAVER. The Samovar Cafe A CAFE OF CONTI NENTAL EUROPE ON MICHIGAN AVE NUE — WHERE SAVORY FOOD, DEFERENTIAL SERVICE AND CHARM ING DECORATION MAKE LUNCHEON, DINNER AND AFTER THEATRE SUPPER A FUNCTION RATHER THAN A MERE MATTER OF ROUTINE. 4 Dancing-Review Presenta- f tions from 7 to closing i * No cover charge during dinner For reservations phone Harrison 6630 The Samovar Cafe ADJOINING THE BLACKSTONE 624 South Michigan Boulevard TWE CHICAGOAN 23 Lake Shore Drive A permanent home in one of the finest steel frame, fireproof buildings on the Gold Coast at a cost of about onchalf of the present rental value is assured the far'sighted individual who cooperates in purchasing this won' derful ten'Story building on the 100% cooperative plan. Only two of the apartments are available for purchase — one for immedi' ate occupancy and one subject to a lease which expires September 30th, 1927. The location is the most desirable site in Chicago, being at the outer bend of Lake Shore Drive and commanding a beautiful view of the lake and shore line, which will be a constant pleasure to you and will provoke the admiration of all your friends. The value of this location is bound to increase from year to year. Under the 100% ccoperative plan, you are afforded an opportunity to share in this unearned increment as well as experience the monthly saving over what you would pay as rent for a similar apartment. As only two apartments are for sale, prompt action is advised. H.H. DECKER 6- COMPANY 714 Wrigley Building Superior 5178 24 THE CHICAGOAN nk ¦#^*«Ma«aM«> CI4ICAGOAN IT is the aim of THE CHICAGOAN to reflect the city, to boil down, sometimes to garnish, and always to serve attractively the galvanic twistings, irregularities and devel opments of Chicago. And in that respect we feel that we are entitled to a downright, unabashed boast that we have accomplished that very act, that we have established a repu tation for being the only oracle of smart Chicago. We pride ourselves on our subscription list. It is a tabu lation of the best addresses in the city, just as our editorial policy — elusive, entertaining and, we feel, unbiased — is a crystallization of the discriminating reader and the recondite buying power of this four million area. Our reader constitutes a definite, distinctive group. He is the person who, on a rainy afternoon at five o'clock, can hail a cab on a crowded Michigan Boulevard corner and get it. An accomplishment in itself. We are aware that a community as new and as vital as is Chicago is tradition-bound, in the eyes of. older and more settled cities, to be considered a bad, unruly and withal unsafe district. At that we smile indulgently, forgivingly. We do not say that Chicago is the best, the worst, the prettiest or the ugliest city in the country; all that we shall leave to the sentimentality of associations of commerce and the exploita tions of newspapers. As stated before, we shall reflect the city as it is, as our readers know it, and as they like it — entertainingly, reliably, and tersely. America's Finest Country Club Colony A Summer Home — A Country Club All Your Own AT a reasonable price you can secure a homesite and *"*¦ a life membership in Lawsonia. This is truly America's finest country club colony — a home close to the emerald waters of one of Wisconsin's most beau tiful lakes. 500 acres devoted to lawns, beaches, yacht club, two 18-hole golf courses, 14 miles of driveways, rustic walls and field-stone bridges, green houses, sunken gardens, thousands and thousands of trees. Lawsonia was the magnificient country estate of the late Victor F. Lawson, which is now being divided into smaller estates so arranged that none of the embellish ments and artistic landscaping, to which Mr. Lawson devoted 35 years, will be lost or impaired. Only late last summer was Lawsonia opened to the public. Only a few of the estates have been spoken for. LAWSONIA There are any number of choice locations left, but reservations should be made immediately. Send in the coupon at the bottom of the page. Address a letter to Lawsonia Estates at the downtown office of H. O. Stone and Company, 6 North Clark Street, Chicago, or call in person. Arrangements will be made for you to look over the estate at an early date. But send for the beautiful brochure on Lawsonia now. Learn of the finest summer home colony anywhere within reach of Chicago. Membership in the Lawsonia Country Club will be the most select, but prices are easily within your reach. ch 423 LAWSONIA ESTATES (Chicago Office) 6 North Clark Street, Chicago Please send me your brochure describing Lawsonia and full information in regard to the Country Club Colony. Name Town State , r UCKY STRIKES are mild and mellow -the finest cigarettes you ever smoked. They are kind to your throat. Why? All because they are made of the finest Turkish and domestic tobaccos, properly aged and blended with great skill, and there is an extra process in treating the tobacco. 6* It's toasted Your Throat Protection