flay 7, 1921 rice IP wents I4ICAG0AN <Tk CI4ICAG0AN 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. The Chicagoan— Martin J. Quigley, Publisher; published fortnightly by Oakdale Publishing Co., 407 South Dearborn St., Chicago, 111. New York Office: 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 5617 HoHywood Blvd. Subscription $3.00 annually, single copies 15c. Vol. Ill, No. 4— May 7, 1927. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office at Chicago, 111., under the Act of March 3, 1879. TUEGWCAGOAN 1 *>€?&=%- &$3&$t SPRING CALLS FOR THE ULTRA SMART Discriminating women find all the artistry of-* distinctive mode in each garment now on display at Mc AVOY 615 NORTH MICHIGAN AVENUE TELEPHONE' SUPERIOR 8 7 20 GOWNS -WRAPS -SUITS * MILLINERY- ACCESSORIES- fe -fcOc^ 2 TWECWCAGOAN feiviik fowell 320 MICHIGAN AVENUE • NORTH Just South of the ~B r i d ge s^Jfv Sports Wear^ A oeautilul collection ol Angoras and Cashmeres — also tke new English Tweeds in two or three piece models. Ihese are the smartest new tnings in sports wear lor all occasions 4$ "m Y~^ TWECUICAGOAN 3 OUENDAK OF tVENT/ THE THEATRE Musical SUNNY— at the Illinois. Elaborate Dillingham pro duction and, although just the least bit whiskered, still Popular. Marilyn Miller and Jack Donahue. BIG BOY— at the Apollo. Al Jolson keeping them howling until the stage electricians get mad and go home. Until about May 15 when Mr. Jolson leaves for a western tour. THE STUDENT PRINCE— at the Great Northern. (Beginning May 8. Moved from Olympic because of large crowds). Another old one. Can't give them UP- ' But this, they insist, is the last call. It is very well played. THE MADCAP— at the Olympic. Beginning May 9. Rehashed French farce, with Mitzi. TWINKLE, TWINKLE— at the Erlanger. A villian, a lot of cocktail shakers and a few tunes. Non-musical WHAT EVERY WOMAN KNOWS — at the 4 ^ohans. Helen Hayes, demure and twenty-six, in the Barrie Comedy dedicated to subdued wives. Good. THE LITTLE SPITFIRE— at the Cort. Sufficiently mierior to guarantee a long run. Reviewed with enthusiasm in this issue. HABIMA PLAYERS at the Princess. In Hebrew. Excellent production. Reviewed in this issue. THE NOOSE— at the Selwyn. viewed in this issue. A crook play. Re- NOT HERBERT— at the Minturn Central. Reviewed m this issue. THE BARKER— at the Blackstone. With Richard Bennett. Good performance. TENTH AVENUE— at the Adelphi. With Edna Hibbard. THAT FRENCH LADY— at the Playhouse. With Louis Mann and Clara Lipman. MUSIC GUILIO RONCONI, baritone, first Chicago recital, Sunday afternoon, May 8. At the Playhouse. EUNICE HOWARD, pianiste, Thursday evening at 8 :30, May 12. At Kimball Hall. LA CHORALE FRANCAISE of Chicago, concert. Charles Lagourgue, leader ; Hans Hess, cellist, soloist. Sunday afternoon, May 15 at 3:30. At the Play house. FANNIE LASKIN, pianiste, Sunday afternoon at 3 :30, May 22. At the Playhouse. THE GALLERIES ART INSTITUTE OF CHICAGO— The International Water-color show, the annual exhibition of the Chi cago Camera club, and paintings by George H. Macrum. Etchings by Tiepolo, Bresdin and Meryon ; color prints by Hiroshige, Koryusai and Hokusai. ARTS CLUB OF CHICAGO- and Ganso. -Paintings by Kuniyoshi ARTS CLUB GALLERY, ART INSTITUTE- hibition of paintings by Martha Walter. -Ex- TENNESSEE ANDERSON announces a showing of New York artists at the Celotex Cottage, North Michigan Avenue, May 8 to June 4. The exhibition will include Emil Ganso, J. B. Flannagan, Wanda Gag, Alex Brook, Kuniyoshi, Henry Mattson, Peggy Bacon and Charles Sheeler. JOHNSON (CHESTER) GALLERIES— Exhibition of modern French paintings. First show in America of oil paintings by Donald Shaw MacLaughlan. ROULLIER (ALBERT) GALLERIES— Etchings by Bracquemond. Etchings, lithographs and drawings by C. O. Woodbury. Etchings by George Constant. CHICAGO GALLERIES ASSOCIATION — Ex hibitions of paintings by Josephine L. Reichmann, Agnes Potter Van Ryn and Laura Van Pappelendam. THE SCREEN OLD IRONSIDES— twice daily at the Auditorium, where it will show all Summer if the fittest really do survive longest. BABE COMES HOME— opening May 8 at the Roose velt. Babe Ruth in a baseball yarn and remember Red Grange's picture. McFADDEN'S FLATS— opening May 9 at McVickers. Go early to get in. (Reviewed in April 23 issue.) THE BETTER 'OLE— at the Orpheum. Syd Chaplin in an expansion of Bruce Bairnsfather's comic with Vitaphone score and prologue. 4 TWECUICAGOAN Cozy — am t it? 14ICAG0AN TH-E TALK OF TI4E TOWN PVECORATION DAY flags will *-^ be bright against the green sod °f Chicago cemeteries. Only at Oakwoods the Union colors glitter ironically, for at Oakwoods is the burial plot of Confederate prisoners who died at Camp Douglas, Chicago, from 1862-'65. More than 4,000 dead lie in deep concentric trenches under a 40- foot shaft of native Georgia granite. There are no officers in this, still reg iment. Only here and there a non- com's rank is indicated on the long roll call of Southern names. A single grave is marked with an indi vidual marker — the grave of a young Virginian who died at 20, in '65. Union cannon mount guard over Confederate mound, and Union cannon balls are heaped at the base °f the monument. But here is still an unconquered acre of the Confed eracy. What matters that the dead were heaped into the nameless trenches °f what was an outlying cemetery during the war years? Morgan's men are here, their regimental num bers set down in heavy bronze. Here are men of the Fourth Florida bat talion, the Seventh Texas cavalry, the Sixty-fourth Virginia Mounted infantry, the Fifth Georgia, the First Alabama, the Sixty-second North Carolina, the Fourth Tennessee, a sailor from the C. S. S. "Beaure gard," and a squad from the Fourth Kentucky. . . . This is not northern soil, this mound at Oakwoods. It is an unconquered acre still. Roughly, five miles to the north along the lake is the site of Camp Douglas— the northern concentration point during the Civil War— now cluttered with the sprawling city. Here these dead were once impris oned. From Camp Douglas went regiment after regiment of Union soldiers. But Camp Douglas is ob literated. Its stockades are gone ; its company streets are long since wiped away. Ironically, too, its very location- running from Thirty-first to Thirty- third Street and from Cottage Grove to Forest— now marks the center of Chicago's black belt. "Ladees and gentuJmun . . . IT was a gleeful sight to see twelve or fifteen bus loads of freckles, toothless smiles and uncombed hair go whooping through the rain to the circus. A big day for youngsters. A bigger day for the underprivileged youth. Dancing elephants, clown barbers (always a favorite), and dogs weaving in and out of the spokes of a flower-covered cart. The living "stachoos." Lemonade, pop corn and peanuts. And it didn't cost a cent. All free. The gift of Ro tary and Kiwanis. Certainly the circus is a grand old hoax and a universal delight. From the first day that its red and white signs are pasted on the broad sides of old barns, it is the ambition of youth to carry water to the ele phants. It involves a free passage to the main show— the great big tent with the horses, ponies, Indians, Buffalo Bill, and the American Flag in the flash. No wonder he is eager. And if he has to drag gallons of water across the scorching prairies in July, or if the elephants drink more than he feels they really need, well — ¦ Those bus loads of youth were a challenge to all the gout-approaching citizens huddled under the awnings of the boulevard. There were bal loons, shouts, hand-wavings and cheers. Cheers for the circus, cheers for the people on the boulevard and cheers for themselves. All the time the rain pouring down. And we stood beneath an awning watching and listening. And we were sure that in the hearts of those hundreds of freckled youths there was but one regret. Only one. What a shame their busses had tops on them. Such enthusiasm could not be scattered by rain. Their only fault-finding was that the rain wasn't pounding down on them, sousing their cowlicked hair, and running down their necks. 6 TUECWCAGOAN Railroad fusees — the American influence — lighted the path of the pageant. And America again added its touch by the sulphurous bursts of flash light pictures. But the chanting and the bands and the flair went by. There was gaiety and excitement. And one startling Russian face led the march, his features sharp-angled by the flaming torch he carried in his hand, suggesting other figures of strength from forgotten Byzan tine pageantry of past centuries. Mick SPEAKING of the Greek Good Friday calls to mind an inci dent which occurred as we were entering the church. The crowd was enormous and, at times, un wieldy. Several policemen kept orderly the lines of those entering and those leaving the building. One ruddy-faced officer who was getting pretty tired of the whole performance and who was anxious to get home to his supper was lean ing wearily against the wall. It was not difficult to assume that the officer was set in his own religious principles and was taking lightly the entire service. When he saw us he stared sharply. He gave us a fast, well- I'll-be look, pushed back his cap, and stared again. Over his face came an expression of sur prise, then incredulity, and finally FRONT! vryamm^m^ Pageantry WE took ourselves to Halsted Street to see the Greek Good Friday procession. At seven- thirty the stage was set. Pagean try, uninhibited, rampant and jolly. Candles everywhere. Grocery stores, coffee houses, barber shops — everything splashed with Greek and American flags. Wedding and First Communion dresses for rent in one store; guns for sale in the next. Roman candles, skyrockets and firecrackers. The Fourth of July, Christmas and Easter all in one. People scurrying in and out of doorways. And everywhere, in each window, in each doorway up and down Halsted from Twelfth Street to Harrison, up and down Blue Island from Harrison to Tay lor Streets were candles burning- brick colored candles, short white sanctuary lighters, and the feeble tapers of adoration which are car ried in the hand, their flame pro tected from the wind by cupping fingers about it. At nine-thirty the procession left the church, 1101 South Peoria Street, an ancient priest carrying the Holy Book. A band playing something which sounded sus piciously like O Tannebaum. Later it was a Russian dirge. Sometimes the choir sang. The secure, un- nervous chant from men's throats — the restive, eager answer of the boy soprano choir. In the center of the procession a flowered taber nacle, in which was contained the object of adoration. It was car ried through the streets on the backs of six men. Colored spot lights — red, green, purple — shining from windows. The laymen formed casual circles about the churchly group. Halsted Street takes for granted its religion; no great out bursts of spiritual enthusiasm. All that is forgotten, and left with the ages. It is now a celebration. TWEGWICAGOAN 7 / • v I downright disappointment. He came over to us with the gesture of an over-maternal parent who, for the first time, finds her son with lather on his face. Out of the mumbled Greek vowels and consonants about us came his clear, contrasting tones — paternally, rebukingly, and with a slab of County Mayo righteous ness : "And phat is a face like yours, like this wan, doin' here?" Heroes CITY golfers arise at prepos terous hours to be first on the, links. But they do it with an ill or good grace according to their natures. Early rising for them is an adventure, a necessity, an ex traordinary business. Are you sure this is a misses size\ Kluite. ? ? There are, however, city sports men who do arise early and who like it. We refer to the horse shoe pitchers who are thick and busy in the parks these spring morn ings. Your hardy shoe caster flour ishes before seven A. M. He is blithely about his tossing before genuine city folk have grumbled over the noise of the first milkman. The earliest boulevardier, as he winds homeward after a night of it, may see two or three dozen lanky fellows, very cheerful in the pale morning light, playing at the most bucolic of all outdoor pas times. Somehow we feel there is a fine prairie flavor about the game of horse shoes. There is something inspiring and virile about the lads who get up at dawn to play it. Their's is the heroic mould of the early rising pioneer who pitched shoes, applejack and Indians with epic gusto. Headpiece EVERY now and then it's a new vexation for an honest rabbi. Whether the Chicago rabbinate has been puzzled this spring we do not 8 TI4ECI4ICAGOAN know. We do know, however, that last year a very sketchy kind of headgear came into vogue — the cel luloid eyeshade held on by a couple of straps — and since an orthodox son of the prophets must, accord ing to Torah, wear a headcovering in synagogue, a puzzling question arose as to the true status of the new garment. There were those who main tained the device was an eyeshade — and hence not a headcovering. On the other hand, various of the learned contended that since the eyeshade was not mentioned in Torah, and since there were at least two straps across the skull the whole contraption was worn in lieu of a cap, it was therefore a cap, and a proper headpiece. In a neighboring district the judges decided for the spirit of the law and ruled with kindly good humor that, eyeshade or cap, the celluloid was orthodox. And ortho dox it remains at least thus far. We await dissenting opinions. Consistency AN interesting item has come to us from Mr. Chester Johnson who, he tells us, while discussing with Mr. Robert Harshe of the Art Institute a painting of Madame Cezanne done fifteen or twenty years ago by Guillaumin, made an apology for the birthday cake frame in which the picture was en closed. To make clearer the point of the story, it should be added that Guil laumin depicted that lady in an amazing flower-fruit-and-feather- laden hat which, like a graduation cap, stuck up high in the back and tapered pompously to the nose. A millinery achievement of that im practical and gleeful decade. "But the frame," sighed Mr. Johnson, "it's bad. It's overdone. It's rococo. And certainly it is in credible." "Never mind the frame," came from Mr. Harshe. "Never mind that. It belongs there. It fits. It's the same period as that hat." New Suit WITH the spring the city puts on a new light suit and assumes a gleg aspect. The buildings along the Boule vard shed their bork of last sea son's grime and cinders and reveal a maiden blush, as in the case of the Blackstone Hotel, or their vir gin pallor, as is true of the white composition buildings. This revived beauty is achieved usually by means of a wash of mu riatic (commercial name for hydro chloric) acid applied in generous proportions by a squadron of casual but competent workers. Every spring and every fall we see these dangling workmen wash ing the walls of the city. And of ten we have wondered at the big ness of the job, questioned the length of time required for the op eration, and, certainly speculated on the cost. Take, for instance, the Wrigley Building. We have it on good au thority that that institution spends approximately $10,000 a year to keep clean its terra cotta walls. This process occurs twice a year — in the spring and again in the fall, averaging $5,000 for each wash. That particular building requires a cleaning force of about twenty men. But little definite informa tion can be given as to the length of time required to complete an en tire wash of its eight walls. In rainy weather or on windy days the workmen do not ride the sling scaffold. And when we recall our spring weather, alternating as it does between days of extreme wind (particularly on that corner) and unpleasant rains, we wonder why the two washings do not overlap. While the building is being washed the clock goes on its offi cial semi-annual spree. The hands of that time piece are about twenty feet long and project three feet from the tower, thereby inter fering with the scaffold ropes. It is interesting to recall the number of buildings cleaned in Chicago in a year's time — over seventy. Not all of them acid washes. Some are sandblasted, a process involving more money and more time and used only when the structure is of old stone. —THE EDITORS. "As I was telhn you, Jim, every man to his trade, ' TWECUICAGOAN PER/ONAL PORTRAIT/ TpO thousands of radio listeners- * in, Quinn Ryan is a booming resonance on the air, an animated football game or prize-fight or even, upon occasion, a Burton Holmes travelogue. But to those °f us who know him and who have followed his career from North- western's star funny man, through the vicissitudes of reporting, col umn-conducting and equally crimi nal pursuits, to his present status as the Voice of W. G. N., Quinn is the perduring and unflaggingly brilliant young literary Soldier of Fortune. Ever on the qui vive for a new outlet for his undoubted and highly marketable talents, Mr. Ryan has flitted, consistently, from sweet to sweet on the borders of the lit'ry garden. Never taking himself seri ously, but invariably taking his job with the ponderous gravity of your born humorist, he has never left a profitable posey until he had ex tracted from it the last succulent Possibility. Which is to say, he is the true Richard Harding Davis type, accustomed to success but becomingly disdainful of the ex amples of it in his wake. When the name Quinn Ryan first hove upon the current chronicler's view, it was that of the editor of "The Candle," in which the North western U. boys exhausted their humorous complexes. In odd mo ments, Quinn used to chase pic tures of north shore debutantes who had eloped, co-eds who had been expelled for smoking cigarettes in Willard Hall and similar items for the World's Greatest. Being the correspondent for a morning rival, the then Chicago Herald, I fre quently collaborated with Mr. Ryan in touching up the news. Later, in the loop, we passed our selves off in turn as the Trib une's city editor and interviewed the talkative persons in the hall, each of whom had the biggest scoop the paper had ever had. Both, needless to say, were cubs. Richard Harding Takes the Air Quinn Ryan OUR ways soon parted, how ever. I became a hopeless newspaper man, while Quinn went in for the higher reaches of — not of "art"; I never heard him use the word, but — well, anyway, the next thing I heard of him he was a full- fledged column conductor, and not only that, he was actually running two columns, at one and the same time, on two morning papers, the Chicago Herald and Examiner and the Chicago Journal of Com merce. In this, I believe, he holds the world's record for something or other. "You see/' Quinn explains it, "I figured that the editors of one pa per never read the other, and they didn't." He afterwards explained to me the cause of his downfall. "I was a regular contributor of B. L. T.'s. I determined to make the 'Line-o'-Type' every day, and I did." (That "and I did," by the way, is characteristic.) "B. L. T. told me I ought to sell my verse and wise-cracklings. That started me on the downward path. Hav ing been a reporter, advertising copy-writer, editor of a house or gan and newspaper promotion man, it was but a step to column- conducting." As a column-conductor — rather, a columns-conductor — doubling, so to speak, in journalistic brass — Mr. Ryan won yet another distinction. He conceived the ambition to make the well known Literary Digest every week — and he did. He was the only col-con in the country to see his own wit on the silver screen week after week. Life, it would seem, could hold no more. But it did. (Funny how these "dids" keep bobbing up; there seems to be something peculiarly Ryanesque about them.) Mr. Ryan's next employment was writing a weekly radio skit for Balaban and Katz. William Hol lander, dean of press agents, who presides over the publicity for tunes of the Messrs. B. and K., was responsible here. From then on, it was a case of "Facilis descensus Averni" (we hope our Virgil hasn't gone back on us), but Q. R. has found his hell paved, not with good intentions, but with bright and shining salary checks. He remains a standing and awful example of what happens to a reporter with a sense of humor. He is the only case in point that I can recall. AND now, any night these last three years, you will find him a-top the Drake Hotel, engaged in devising and exploiting radio "con tinuities" (the last word, I assure you, in the profession). It may be a revivification of the now historic 10 TWEGWICAGOAN Johnson-Ketchell fight, with a Boy Scout mob, done with cheer-leader gestures in front of the microphone — for Quinn is one of those chaps who got something out of his col lege course. Or it may be "A Night in Venice," beginning with a quotation from Shelley and pro ceeding to soft music until you can hear the splash of water about the gondola's bow and the tinkle of Adriatic guitars. Once again, the benefits of a university education. But you really ought to hear him in "Mother Machree's Magic Car pet," about the time he gets as far as the Giants' Causeway. Yes, his name is Ryan. So is his face. Not even a pair of collegiate horned- rims can alter that fact. —SAMUEL PUTNAM. Heart Galleries Some Startling "Exhibitions" Chicago Surface Lines, State and Madison Galleries: Fine assortment of ankles, modern, ultra-modern and primitive. A few veritable antiques. The crush in these galleries some times prevents a discriminating view, but connoisseurs abound. In case of rain, the traffic cop will pro vide an umbrella. He also rents lorgnettes. The Elevated Lines, Any Loop Station: Fine showing of calves, some of them very much in the man ner of the German post-expression ists. Color is occasionally very high. Some difficulty in obtaining a proper vantage-point. A bit hard on the neck. Attendance good, though in terfered with somewhat by the no- parking ordinances. Waiting Room of Any Depart ment Store: Big roll-your-own ex position. Excellent view of 20th century garter-work. Nothing in the Florentine to rival it. Splendid per spective from the elevator. Admis sion gratuitous. Matron may prove annoying. Gloom and Glumsky: Futuristic corsets, chemises and slip-ons. "The human form divined," as the poet so aptly remarks. Who said there was no Celtic art? — MR. RABELAIS. The Tempestuous Twenties (As They Will Afaear in 1957) IT was during the early twenties that the President's cabinet was tried and found wanting, the Secre tary wanting a hundred thousand dollars and the Attorney General a somewhat smaller amount. The Sec retary, a rather garrulous old man, never tired of telling how a repre sentative of Mr. O'Brien, a well- known millionaire of that day, shook hands with him casually upon meet ing him on a street corner. That night, when washing his hands, he noticed a foreign sub stance floating in the basin. Closer inspection showed it to be a hundred one thousand dollar bills. Although he could not be positive, he felt rather sure that Mr. O'Brien's repre sentative had left it in his hand by mistake when he shook hands with him that morning. Had he not happened to glance into the basin before pulling the plug it is probable that the money would have gone down the drainpipe, thus leaving the ranch-house roof in a leaky condition. I REMEMBER as though it were yesterday when, in '26, my father took me with him to visit the President. The President, a big, bluff, hearty-looking man with a weather-beaten face, a clear gray eye, and the bearing and demeanor of a sea captain, received my father most cordially. He gave me a chocolate drop to eat, and laughed uproariously when I choked on the liquor with which it was filled. My father talked to him about getting the job as Collector of the Port in Indiana Harbor, and the President, after telling my father a few jokes, which I thought were off- color because they made me sit in a far corner, playfully dug him in the ribs and roared, "I'll see that you get the job all right, old skeesicks." He then put his hat on at a rakish angle and swaggered out over the White House grounds. The President never forgot a promise, and five years later, when my father reminded him of it, he not only remembered making the prom- Dorothy, it makes my blood run cold to think what youve w§ for that child — five shades. given TME04ICAG0AN n ise, but recited all the circumstances surrounding it. He was a very un usual man. ^^ANY celebrities of the day * were guests at our house. One I remember particularly was a Mr. Simpleson, the prosecuting attorney in the Chicago River affair, a fa mous burglary mystery of that period. This case had gone on for four years and Mr. Simpleson was so sat urated with it that when sitting at the table he would say, in a snarling voice, "Will you pass the salt? An swer 'yes' or 'no' ", and once when the butler said, "Shall I serve you some more chicken, sir?" he pointed his finger at him and yelled, "I'm asking you questions ; you're not ask ing me." The poor butler was so frightened that he threatened to leave, nor could he be pacified until Mr. Sim pleson assured him that he would not call him as a witness. A NOTHER well-known visitor ^* at our house was Fuller Payne, the editor of the Daily Smear. Mr. Payne would entertain a table full of company for hours at a time tell ing them of the days when newspa pers carried long, tedious written re ports of world happenings, instead of pictures. Sometimes, indeed, I thought he rather stretched the truth, as, for in stance, when he said he could re member the time when reporters were sent out on assignments with out cameras. However when one of the guests ventured to express a doubt con cerning his veracity, he invited everyone present down to the cellar of the Smear Building, where he proved his assertion by showing us a curious, dust-covered newspaper machine which actually formed words by automatically placing one letter next to another. After that no one ever ventured to doubt him again, no matter how improbable his stories might sound. JOSEPH FULLING FISHMAN. Overtones CIVIC pride is at low ebb in the loop. Only two hundred per sons attended the formal installation of a plate glass window on the Jackson Boulevard side of the Hub. ? Mounted police are to stay, an nounces our new chief of police, which insures for the next four years those chalk marks on the roof of your car. ? Julius Rosenwald, according to statistics gathered by an evening newspaper, heads Chicago's wealthy "Big Ten" with $110,000,000. The two "ones" beat us. We have the seven ciphers, two commas and a period. ??? "Some day the human race will manage this planet better than it is now," writes Arthur Brisbane, which isn't asking a great deal of what "B. L. T." so aptly termed the "so- called human race." ? An anti-climax was reached re cently in Chicago's burlesque of ban ditry when Careless Jimmy was ar rested after he had stolen a truck containing 600 pies. ? If you find the walking a little crowded these days, remember Chief Hughes has put 600 policemen back on the shoe beat. ? A local citizen on driving into his garage was beset by highwaymen and in the excitement drove his car, ban dits and all through the rear wall into his backyard, where he was re lieved of his valuables. A little more gas and he would have been safe in his own kitchen. ? Where did the Mississippi River get the idea that Mayor Thompson and his party wanted to float all over the landscape? ? Full authority to suppress any vice he may find in Chicago, including immorality on the stage, will be asked by the Rev. Johnston Myers before he accepts the position of commissioner of morals. The theatre people will be with him; it worked great in New York. ? With the departure of "The Shanghai Gesture" Chicago's interest in the Chinese situation is confined to the headlines. ? One of our newest cooperative apartments, "The Kingston," is to be equipped with electric sinks, de signed, we assume, to disappear when loaded with dirty dishes. ? What are you doing with your extra hour of daylight? — G. C. 12 TWECWCAGOAN A New Yorker Does Chicago CHICAGO? I was in Chicago nearly a day, and, my dear, I saw everything. You know how I go. Well, I arrived at 2 o'clock at the Union Station, quite a decent imitation of the Grand Central, and took a cab to the Palmer House. I went there because that's where my father used to stop years ago ; and it really surprised me. Considering its age — it must be twenty years since father started going there — it's quite modern. Well, I just stopped long enough to get a few directions and then went right out to see the sights. First Marshall Field & Co., the big de partment store. You know how one's friends who go to Chicago al ways send picture postals from there. I got a few myself — they give them away in the waiting room. And, my dear, the store must really be as big as Altman's or even Wana- maker's, though not nearly so con veniently arranged. Why, it must have taken me half an hour to find the cosmetics department ! Next I went to see Chicago's Fifth Avenue, and what do you think! — it's a street with shops on only one side. That's a quaint idea, isn't it, but we couldn't afford any thing like that in N'York, where ground is expensive. Well, anyhow, they have shops on one side and on the other is the ocean — only they call it the lake out there. It was about tea time then and — guess what! — I ran right into Maillard's; so, of course, I went in. The choco late tasted just like it does at home, but I didn't dawdle and enjoy my self. There was still too much to see. I ASKED the cashier to direct me to the biggest movie and she did. Of course, it's not huge like the Paramount, but it's really rather elaborate. By that time it was late and I took a taxi back to the hotel. I dressed in a sec, my dear — and was off again. There's another hotel — the Congress — and I went there. I got the name from the Pullman porter whom I asked to tell me the sights I should see. The food was quite civilized. I asked a waiter if there was anything Chicago was fa mous for, like Boston beans or Vi enna bread, and he said hard boiled eggs, but that didn't appeal to me; so I compromised on caviar. Well, I just gulped my dinner, my dear, because I was determined to see everything. And after dinner — what do you think! I went to hear Paul Whiteman. Imagine! that he should be playing there just that day. It made me feel quite at home. Then, of course, I couldn't leave without having seen some of the night clubs, if there were any, but I was all alone. So, my dear, I just got a policeman to find me a cab with a nice safe-looking driver and I told him to drive me past the night clubs so I could say I'd seen them. In front of one or two I made the driver stop while I waited in hopes that the police would raid them or somebody would get shot. Nothing happened, though ; so I went back to the hotel, because I was dead after all my sightseeing. The next morning I was up and dressed — imagine ! — by half past nine. The taxi driver had told me two more restaurants I should see; A lovely maiden quite unclad Is counted very, very bad; Yet Art thrives pure by virgin shores And nudes are nothing out of doors. so I had my orange juice in one and toast and coffee in the other. My train left at 11, and I simply had to tear to make it, though dis tances aren't so great in Chicago. It's really not nearly as far from the Palmer House to the Illinois Central as it is, say, from the Plaza- to the Pennsylvania. There was only one famous sight I missed, the stock yards, and I can't imagine where they keep them, because I surely should have run' across them, going just everywhere, the way I did. RUTH G. BERGMAN. The soul unceasing yearns to be Aloof, untrammeled, easeful free, To which extent the soul doth live Unburdened in the primitive. The incidence of turpitude Is sadly hinged on solitude, And nature's face (alas a sob!) Is just a great big open job. And Once Again— TMEGWIGAG6AN 13 IT was a balmy spring night — at least, it was spring in my soul. Her fiery bob against the snug cushions of my chaise longue was the most diverting of nuances. Her slim white fingers were a rhapsody in an unknown key. Her mauve ankle, escaping from under the cerise couvre-pieds, was a subtle overture to indiscretion. "Perfect!" I inwardly exclaimed. "Perfect !" And, sensing the need of a master's direction, I permitted my hand to race along my shelves to Trilogy: Three Sad Tales These leave the city noise and smoke To spy upon the feathered folk, Lest strayful spying come to pass She keeps the long-range opera glass. The golden girls of Babylon They were not troubled by the sun: And Pearlie's smile is gay admission She lives within that same tradition. The Sand Dunes the Third Volume of Casanova. Languor rode the gray waves of her eyes. Her lips were an un earthly flame in a sea of ghostly white, a sea coagulating on the tip of her nose — which was, in just the proper degree, retrousse — in a little isle of talcum. Baudelaire would have been mad about her ! And then — the charm was shat tered. "Do you like Mencken ?" What a question from lips of flame ! I must have looked the answer. "I know him very well. I — " My stomach sank. "I used to write for the old Smart Set!" II A FINE thread of rain was fall ing, and taxicabs were skid ding merrily. "Should you mind," I hazarded, in a timid voice, leaning forward to ward the driver's seat, "should you mind driving — a bit conservatively?" "Excuse me," said the Yellow, "but aren't you Samuel Putnam?" My blush betrayed me. "I read your stuff in The Chi- cagoan." My bosom expanded. I might say that I was moved. To be remem bered by a head-waiter was some- By Scotia's shores and Albion's hills The flute, or horn, or bagpipe trills, Yet hardly with the free refrain Of banjos on a Gary train. thing, but to be recognized by a taxi- cab chauffeur! "Do you like ?" "Whe-ew!" And I mopped my brow. "That was a close one !" 'Aw, you'd soon get used to that if you had to shove a bus around town every night. But, as I was saying — " Again that gastric feeling, of dropping from the forty-second floor of the Hotel Morrison. "Don't tell me, I beg—" "I used to write for the old Smart Set." Ill IT was a cold and stormy night — at least, inside the house; birds may have been twittering in the alley outside ; I cannot say. "Blast that janitor!" I exploded; "doesn't it ever occur to him to throw a shovel of coal on the fire ?" "Samuel," protested Mrs. P., "you know you can't expect a janitor — " "No, of course, I can't expect a janitor to do anything except play bridge. Yet there are times when I almost have a faith in miracles." "Don't be sarcastic, dear. Ed is a good boy. And so intelligent ! Why, what do you think he asked me to day?" My stomach told me. "If you liked Mencken." "How did you ever guess ?" "I didn't. Mathematics." "But you haven't any idea what he told me!" "Haven't I, though — just. If there's anybody in Chicago who HASN'T written for the old Smart Set—" "Darling ! You're marvelous !" —SAMUEL PUTNAM. "^10 more work than a parrot 1 N does," ran a recent classified ad in the Tribune. "All you have to do is repeat a few words." In this age of specialization simple phono graphs will be coming to our doors to sell magazine subscriptions and photograph coupons. 14 TI4EGI4ICAGQAN The Flattened One: "Why didn't I think of that before." TUECUICAGOAN 15 The Hungry Five "... . alles ist hin." T^^ITGEGANGEN, mitgehangen, * * the innocent must suffer with the guilty. Certainly, whatever crimes the small German bands committed against the finer sensibilities of the community, no one could accuse them of luring our youth into the pathways of sin. And yet, prohi bition has effectively dried up these innocents. The war didn't kill them. For a short time it may have been poor judgment to intone Die Wacht am Rhein in competition with a gob sex tette saxophoning enthusiasm into the sale of democracy-saving bonds. But that soon would have blown over. It was the legal finger that checked the flychaser in its revolu tions over the free lunch by yanking the bar out from under it that also rang the death knell of Hungry Five. Perhaps it was just as well. No doubt jazz would have done it as surely and more painfully. While listening to, or running from, a jerky rendition of The Merry Widow Waltz, the great se cessionist achievement in their rep ertoire, you may not have thought it necessary, or even desirable, that these earsplitters live somewhere. Nevertheless they did live. All whom I knew had their habitat on North Avenue, just west of Cly- bourn, in a building bearing the beautiful inscription in sky blue, "Der Bayrische Himmel," the Ba varian Heaven. THE cruising radius of the Northsiders was extensive. From their base at North Avenue they drifted along every carline route, even invading gassy Goose Island, but leaving out the local op tion deserts. Summer and winter, from morning until dark, echo was chased from her lair by a yellow E-flat clarinet, a cornet, a valve trombone and a hybrid of the tuba- euphonium family. There was hardly ever more than a quartette, often Stef> lively, Baby, I cant wait all day. only a trio. Hungry Five, of course, was a misnomer. Unlike that of their wiser col leagues from Italy, the virtuoso of the grind organ with simian obbligato, the Dutch offered their caviar less to the general than to the discrim inating patrons of the sample rooms. The honorarium was collected from the proprietor of the place or his white-vested deputy, either in legal tender or liquid refreshment. Rarely a few of the more generous (and mellow) fellows on the rail side of the bar contributed. KJATURALLY this was not an * ^ inflexible rule. The exceptions were periods of harvest for the bands. On Christmas morning the strains of O Tannebaum and Stille Nacht floated heavenward from many alleys to mingle with the burnt offering of neglected toast and bacon. Then there were election bets. Preceded by the band, the loser, with half his mustache shaved off, would push the winner down street in a wheelbarrow to his fa vorite corner. And, going back an other decade, a few young bloods would acquire a band for an entire evening to furnish fitting serenades on a round of their favorite places of pleasure. Picnics given by the lesser Gegen- seitigerunterstiitzungsvereine, large birthday, wedding, or neighborhood celebrations further eased the eco nomic strain and circulated nickels, with a very short stopover in the pocket, into the cash register back of the bar. One good Hungry Five could put away more drinks than a regiment of regular cavalry, includ ing the horses. Hungry Five was doubly a misnomer. What has become of them, I do not know. Somewhere there still may be sporadic outbursts of melody from a little Dutch band. But "lang, lang ist 's her" since I have heard any. If a few specimens re main, they are fated soon to join the pterodactyl and ichthyosaurus. In the words of their favorite hymn, Ach du lieber Augustin, alles ist hin. — K. M. S. 16 TWEGI4IGAG0AN MU/ICAL NOTE/ Swan Song THE Chicago symphony closed its season with a terrific cres cendo. For the Easter week-end Herr Stock pulled out the Good Friday Spell from "Parsifal" and gave it a warmly sombre reading that was so good you almost for got how dull the rest of the opera was. He followed with The Brahms variations on a Theme by Haydn (although nobody is sure that the thing is Haydn's). These are particular favorites of ours. They take a good old high-church tune upon the strangest and loveli est of travels. The warp and woof of the orchestration yields nothing in splendor to the four symphonies. And the old Theme itself pulsates underneath like a cardinal in full regalia. "The Victory Ball" of Ernest Schelling had, this same week-end, its annual airing. It gets cheaper with each audition. Based on a poem in the Saturday Evening Post by Alfred Noyes, it amounts to a lengthy repetition of General Sherman's familiar statement, gar nished with bugle-calls, Scotch pip ers, and heartless London fox-trot ters prancing gaily over the skele tons. Neither war nor national oc casions of celebration or grief ever seem really to inspire a first-class composer. Mr. Schelling's magis tral opus calls for the addition of a battery of Lewis guns, a thou sand feet of barbed wire and a sce nario by Jeannie MacPherson of Hollywood. «~pHE PINES OF ROME," 1 the finest work we have yet heard from the pen of Rhespighi, was something else again. A high ly pictorial business, it neverthe less sacrifices nothing in musical worth to the drudgery of an in sipid program. One catches a flash of the twittering children at play on the Janiculum, hears the noc turnal harmony of an old Roman garden and throbs to a thrilling or chestral climax as the legions of the Eternal City march inexorably up the Appian Way. "The Pines of Rome" was as exciting as the Army-Navy game. The final program of the year split itself upon the mighty tone mountains of the Chorale Sym phony of Beethoven and substan tially the entire last act of The Meistersingers of Nuremburg. As sistants to Mr. Stock were a grand chorus trained by Mr. Boeppler and four or five auxiliary soloists ranging from the delectable tenor performance of Tudor Davies to Marie Sundelius. All defects were, however, lost in the grand shuffle. It was a great occasion and, as they say in the features, when Stock finished the Ninth, pandemonium broke loose. He refused to speak to the customers even after a fif teen minute ovation. What could he say? When he had finished the last page of Die Meistersinger and laid down his stick our orchestra, at the behest of a musical trade union, gently gave up its ghost. All God's Chill uns AS interpreters of the negro spiritual Rosamund Johnson and Taylor Gordon are among the duskily elect. Neither sings so well as Paul Robeson or the very marvelous Roland Hayes, but J ohnson in particular has a stud ent's attitude toward the folk music of his race that is peculiarly ingra tiating. And, besides, he plays de lightfully informal accompani ments. Johnson, lecturer, accompanist and basso, is the vital spirit of the team. His most fatuous remarks revealed nothing worse than an awkward feeling of admiration toward those inferior European composers like Dvorak who have "immortalized" the spiritual in empty symphonic rattlers. But Johnson has plenty of company; nine-tenths of the critical remarks made about the spiritual are so much guff. Its influence on high brow music is almost negligible and upon contemporary jazz, even less. The embryo of jazz lies un mistakably in the "blues" songs which were and are as religious as Bert Kelly's Stables. The highly touted rythm of the spiritual and the "blues" is better described as meter. There is more subtle varia tion of beat in almost any page of Brahms or Beethoven than in all the negro folk and dance tunes packed together. What the spiritual has is poig nant warmth, dignity and often a melodic line of surprising charm. It should be let alone by the trick harmonists of the symphony and jazz orchestras and sung plainly by the handsome singers of the race. Gordon, a likely young bucko, had a pleasing, if somewhat throaty tenor, and a capable mastery of a falsetto passage. He still parades a little too much culture to get excited about all God's chillun's songs. —ROBERT POLLAK. TMECUIGAGOAN 17 The Royal Road to Royalties THE editor glanced at the young man who had tiptoed into his presence. "Well, state your business briefly." He gave the young man a sharp look and took it back again. "I suppose you think you can write." "Yes, sir. I brought some manu scripts — " "Quite unnecessary. All a man needs to know how to write is his name." "I can do that, sir." "The question is, is his name worth writing." "I could take a pseudonym, sir." "Pseudonym ! Ridiculous ! Does Calvin Coolidge need a pseudonym? Does Lita Chaplin? Does Irving Berlin?" "They're not writers, sir. Now I did some rather nice sketches in col lege — " The young man laid several manuscripts on the editor's desk. "Well, if you insist. . . . I'll turn these over to one of my manu script readers and they'll be returned to you with the usual rejection slip. That is — did you enclose return postage ?" "Yes, sir." "Always do that. A stamped, self- addressed envelope is best, of course. And your name and address on the manuscript." "But why can't I sell my stuff, sir r "My boy, let me ask you a few questions. Is your mother a queen ? Have you any famous criminals in your family? Is your father one of the three richest men in the coun try?" "No, sir." "Very well, that bars you from Class A, the ex post facto class. Your name has no congenital im portance. Now, then, have you ever been in the newspapers?" "I once had an essay on the chil dren's page of the Louisville Cou rier-Journal." "No !" The young man mistook the exclamation for one of incre dulity and thereupon nodded his head brightly. "I mean," pursued the editor, "have you ever committed a murder? A burglary of first mag nitude? Been named corespondent? Have you made or lost a fortune ?" "No, sir." "That shuts you out of Class B, the over-night success group. You see, you will have to serve an ap prenticeship before you can appear in the magazines." "Oh, I have been writing for years, sir." "Writing! Bah! Throw away your typewriter and get a medal. Beat Bobby Jones. Swim the At lantic Ocean. Get yourself elected President. Then come back to me and I'll have a dotted line ready and waiting for you." "But—" "But nothing. I am showing you the royal road to royalties. Don't scorn it." "But if I go after some other sort of fame, by the time I have got it 1 will have forgotten how to write." "Pooh, boy! When your name is worthy to appear on the front cover of a magazine in company with Gene Tunney, Prince Carol and others, you won't need to know how to do more than make your mark. Any twenty dollar a week scribbler can write all the guff for you." — e. v. PARK. The Discriminating Corpse — LARGE burial plot, Kensico Cemetery; splen did view countryside; cheap for cash or will trade for California property — The New York Times. Outline Of Culture Would you like to quote the Wisdom of the ages? All the little thoughts of All the little sages? All the wit and sparkle And philosophizing, All the fruits of greybeards Intellectualizing ? Buy a flock of Outlines, Terse abbreviations, They will silver plate your Pewter conversations. — PAUL ERNST. 18 THEATRE * bima, playing in Hebrew at the Princess, is to be credited with a thrilling and beautiful perform ance. The members of the cast are not merely actors — but are the young intelligentsia of the Jews of Russia, teachers, scientists, writers, etcetera, who joined together in Moscow to give what might be termed mystic performances of legends. Their technique is very modern and — to use a much overstressed word — futuristic. The facial make ups are particularly attractive — brilliant stark masks that give life to moods before a word has been spoken. Unfortunately, the crowds are not what they should be, due, doubtless, to the fact that the per formance is not given in English. This is regrettable, for, as a matter of truth, the offering is admirable and enjoyable, even though the audience is limited to an interpre tation of nothing more modern than Papuan, Hittite or Minoan. The Little Spitfire AT the Cort — it is about a vir tuous chorus girl who mar ries a young millionaire and, con sequently, is Blackstoned by his family. All except the father. He turns out to be a lecherous old boy with an eye for a neat thirty-six and a flair for indulging in caresses under the guise of paternal inter est. As to the mother, she drops r's all over the place and requests Gypsy — her name would be Gypsy —not to use so much slang, to which the little spitfire uttered her devastating reply, "Yes, I suppose society doesn't like these short cuts to expression; they prefer the roundabout way of never telling the truth about anything." Doesn't that stir you? Of course, there is a society lady villain who covets the hero and whose "ehs" are bestowed gener ously and ineffectually. And there is much lifting of the eyebrows. So you see it is all very "elegunt," giving the plain voter his moments, and proving that the chorus is the training school for truthfulness, virtue and gold-back disinterest. Not Herbert DON'T let the fact that One Man's Woman played at the Minturn-Central stop you from going there again. For, by all that is astounding — remembering the show that preceded it — Not Herb ert is a good performance. Not merely a cut-rate ticket proposi- TI4EGWIGAGOAN tion. Whimsical and amusing, it is well played in many roles and excellently done in the principal part by Clarke Silvernail. It is a crook play, written with the tongue slyly tucked away in the cheek. Anyway, if they do use trick lights, Not Herbert manifests sufficient originality of treatment and writing to make it interesting. The Noose IN type it is melodrama. But with remarkable acting, type is submerged; one finds himself get ting almost as great a kick out of it as though it were one of Ibsen's shockers. In short — it has its arty moments. Rex Cherryman is the Big Ex citement in this show. Young Mr. Cherryman, who has a slightly cherubic style of beauty, acts all over the place and does a good job of it. Indeed, the whole show is neatly balanced, finely directed. The effect is at times disturbing. And one quite loses sight of the fact that this is all sheerest melo drama about a noble youth who rises above his environment and courts death rather than save his life by betraying a secret. —MARIE ARMSTRONG HECHT. And tell her ?/ it am t stoojtendus we want our money back. TI4ECI4ICAGOAN 19 Hablar, 01 af, dont this make you feel Spanish? ? ? The Chicagoan's Own Horoscope May 7-21, 1927 thetic gin. The signs are favorable for big enterprises, such as purchas- IX INDLY influences will govern ing a new crayat Qr changing one>s IX during the first two weeks of brand of toilet waten this month, the seers predict. The The stars forecast much travel on evenings will be a little darker than the street cars> elevated lines and the days. Large numbers of persons busses between the hours of 5 and will continue to arise in the morning 7 p m< Automobiles will be seen in as usual. So will the sun, unless all Michigan Avenue in great numbers signs fail. Chorus girls in loop during the same hours. shows will, however, "set" at dawn. Thrift should be cultivated. Show- Window-washers are warned to girls should economize on rouge and remember that there is no station in office-girls on their summer furs. If life so exalted but a fall is possible, you hear a noise as of something Street - cleaners should remember falling, it's the French franc. that cleanliness is next to looking The cause of civic righteousness clean. • will prosper as never before. Chi- During this fortnight, days should cago will be much talked about in be given over to constructive work New York and other places. of some sort. Nights may be de- Near Northside gigglers will con- voted to H. L. Mencken and syn- tinue to lisp of Mr. Freud and the interpretation of dreams. The intel ligentsia will stick to Das Kapitel, Herr Kropotkin and the New Masses. Few constructive phrases will be uttered between the river and Division Street. Tendencies to speculation should be curbed. There is no sense in pay ing six-bits when you can get it for four, and it's all watered anyway. Persons born during these two weeks should lead temperate, indus trious, quiet lives. Read The Chi- cagoan and go to bed early. Children born under this sign will be lucky, unless they meet with misfortune. Domestic peace will be very unset tled. Husbands and wives should avoid discussing anything but the weather and the contents of The Chicagoan, and even the weather is a dangerous topic. Virtue and prohibition will thrive. — SOPHRONICA. 20 TMEGMIGAGOAN My dear, how perfectly disgusting Boo Kf- Grounds for Question EVERYONE is reading Revolt in the Desert by T. E. Law rence, and it goes on selling throughout our town like a work of fiction. But in the meantime the circumstances surrounding it are so much stranger than fiction that an astute person here and there has asked me whether it is really truth which is stranger, or the crea tion of the over-eager brain of a press agent. The introduction, unsigned, be gins by calling T. E. Lawrence a mysterious figure. It goes on to say that he was rejected at the be ginning of the war as physically unfit. If so, queries the astute reader, how was he able to under go the continued exertion and hardship of desert life as recorded in his pages, hardships of which one tiny taste was enough to knock out a sturdy Stokes gunner. Further, "while he was still an undergraduate at Oxford, he is said to have undertaken, alone and in native dress, a two-year expedi tion among the tribes behind Syria, in order to gather material for his thesis on the military history of the Crusades." In our town, of course, the word undergraduate and the word thesis would amount to a contradiction in terms. Then there's the story of the book itself. Lawrence is said to have written it first in 1919, and to have left the 400,000 word manuscript in a handbag in the Reading railway station. Well, of course, manuscripts have been known to get lost in railway sta tions. That is what happened the season that we had no new novel from Edgar Lee Masters. Manu scripts weigh heavy, and are very likely to be mistaken for booze — or gold. HE rewrote it, had an edition of eight copies printed on a newspaper press at Oxford, and de stroyed three out of the eight copies. Well, says the astute one, why don't some of the five remain ing copies come into the market ? The present trade edition is a» abridgement, made by "a friendly man of letters" in quotes. Then, of course, there's the $20,- 000 edition, unabridged, and en titled "The Seven Pillars of Wis dom." Inquiry of those Chicagoans for whom the George H. Doran Company's safe has been opened, and who have actually held that precious large paper volume in their hands reveals comparatively little. None of them seems to have stopped to read it. One of them feels sure that the reason for its not circulating beyond three copies is a political one. "Revolt in the Desert" begins in the harbor at Jedda, and presum ably the unabridged account tells of the conspiracies preceding this first visit to the sons of Hussein. An other suspects that besides politics, it may have in it the type of thing- that prevents Burton's Arabian Nights from circulating. Suggestions Innocents Aloft, by Henry Justin Smith; introduction by William McFee. (Pascal Covici.) An account of a trip from Geneva to Nice via the Alps and a series of Paris sketches, by a Chicago newspaperman who was one of the innocents — and who is also very sophisticated. TMECUIGAGOAN 21 The Bridge to France, by Edward N. Hurley. Here is the inside story of the work of the United States Ship ping Board in keeping America and France connected during the war — written by its chairman. It tells not only the business end of the great undertaking but the salt water and adventure end as well. Black April, by Julia Peterkin. In vivid contrast to the intellect ual negro who dominates the pres ent renaissance of negro literature and art, we have in this beautifully and honestly written novel a depic tion of a group of negroes on an isolated Southern plantation. Brother Saul, by Donn Byrne. Ben Hur with the apostle Paul for hero. The Immortal Marriage, by Ger trude Atherton. Mrs. Atherton here chooses a heroine whom the black oxen of twenty-four centuries have failed to plough under. The marriage is that of Pericles and Aspasia. —SUSAN WILBUR. ? The Millennium // Things K.eef> On |T was Monday, but it might just as well have been Sunday or the Fourth of July. On the golf links there was no swearing; and yet many players were at work. The People waiting to get on were hap pily engaged in a tic-tac-toe tourna- ment. Trout were biting in all the !agoons ; and nowhere in the city did anybody fail to take his partner out of a weak minor suit declaration. "Abie's Irish Rose" was closed by order of the police; and crowds were begging for a chance to pay $4.40 a seat for "Hamlet." Eleva tors were running to the gallery of Orchestra Hall; and at all movie theatres there were plenty of seats on the main floor without waiting. Collapsible automobiles (to solve the parking problem) were rolling along the five hundred miles of ten- lane boulevards— the speed limit was ninety miles an hour— and converg ing at the civic center where the new opera house opened its doors free, automobiles checked at the side en trance. An American opera was being sung in English intelligible without sub-titles, and balloons were given to all children accompanied by parents. Those who did not care to drive were being conveyed through the city in the world's fastest, cleanest and most scenic subway, where everybody was reading the daily eight pages of comics. And times were dull. Mr. Wacker and Mr. Insull met and joined the crowd watching a girl demonstrate shaving cream in a drugstore win dow. There was nothing else for them to do, with the opera and the Niles Center branch functioning per fectly and no more rivers to straighten or streets to widen. Miss Butcher, Miss Wilbur, Mr. Preston, Mr. Jones and Mr. Roden were out of work. All books were good and everybody read them. Uldine Utley, Billy Sunday and Aimee McPherson came to town and left in disappointment. Everybody had already been saved. It was dull. Life was insupportable, but there was no way in which to improve it. It had already been improved. There was nothing to do but die. — R. G. B. SPECIAL Spring Exhibition of Important French! Paintings and Water Colors by Vlaminck Chester H. Johnson Galleries SECOND FLOOR FINE ARTS BUILDING 410 South Michigan Ave. CHICAGO s DISTINCTIVE in style, whatever the occasion, you will find in Sun- dell-Thornton clothes that satisfaction en joyed by the correctly attired man. Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. 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 22 TMECUICAGOAN Where Fine Cigars Are Smoked Tom Palmer Predominates Wengler & Mandell, Inc. Chicago - Tampa I he bcreen I i p\LD IRONSIDES is still the ^-^ best picture in the city and daily press allusion to it in connec tion with the campaign for financing reconditioning the Constitution prompts the statement that the pic ture is primarily a picture and only coincidentally an instrument of propaganda. Considered strictly what it is, the production affords Chicagoans the best screen evening now available. Printed matter dealing with enter tainment frequently accomplishes re sults directly the reverse of those in tended. An illustration has to do with the Oriental and the syncopated orchestra which made it the city's most inaccessible theatre for several months. Affiliated playhouses re cently inaugurated screen announce ments stating that admittance to the Oriental could be obtained readily at convenient hours. The sidewalk line which had been an all-day traffic problem until then began dwindling immediately and the screen an nouncements now are accurate. Pola is to follow Gloria and Mae into royalty by way of matrimony. The picture girls are making Europe more comfortable for parents of American heiresses. And Fatty Ar- buckle has gone to Europe. The debt may yet be written off. THE widely publicized Para mount theatre recently opened in New York is a composite of the Tivoli, Chicago and Uptown, rank ing somewhere between the latter two. It is the work of the same Chi cago architects, and it is manned from stem to stern by the personnel that manned these three theatres in the order of their opening. New York's more recently opened Roxy, although constructed along slightly different lines, represents a sincere attempt to Gothamize Chicago thea tre technique without sacrificing any of its advantages. At a Vitaphone concert : "Isn't it simply uncanny?" "Quite the contrary, I should say." The Samovar 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 AFUNCTION RATHER THAN A MERE MATTER OF ROUTINE. Dancing-Review Presenta tions from 7 to closing No cover charge during dinner For reservations phone Harrison 6639 The Samovar Cafe ADJOINING THE BLACKSTONE 624 South Michigan Boulevard TUECWICAGOAN 23 AT times it seems the screen can give us no more. Then a young fellow like William Haines comes along and establishes an utterly new character. He began building it in Brown of Harvard, applied addi tional touches in Lover's Lane, A Little Journey and Tell It to the Ma rines, and he exhibits the completed product in Slide, Kelly, Slide. The Haines creation combines equal parts of youth, abandon, inso lence, humor and braggadocio, all superimposed upon a saving tithe of frustrated sincerity. The combina tion, encountered nowhere else save in public conveyance, office, home and street, is a masterpiece. * Chicago censors want to cut 42 scenes from The Night of Love be fore permitting its exhibition locally. It seems the story mentions a once popular ducal rite of nuptial inter cession. As the censors were born too late to do anything about the rite — and probably don't believe it ever existed — Chicagoans seem doomed to do without a picture which other Americans are viewing with consid erable pleasure and pronouncing one of the year's best. Maybe King George has a hireling on the censor board. * The King of Kings and Chang are important pictures vaguely promised for local exhibition. Both are show ing in New York and news of them is excellent. If the jazz orchestras go on strike or break out with Measles we may get a chance to see them before Fall. * Earle Williams died inconspicu ously on page 5 of the newspapers recently. A nation wailed when Rudolph Valentino died all over page 1. Williams had made "The Christian" and more than a hun dred other worthy pictures. Val entino had made "The Sheik." Hollywood had no appetite for breakfast the morning Williams left. H. Leopold Spitalny, a musical director of intelligence and discri mination, is accomplishing excel lent results with an invention called Orchestral Productions at the Chicago Theatre. It is some thing between the strictly classical overture and the jazz tunes of cur rent manufacture, retaining the better elements of each. If suc cessful, he will be permitted to de velop the idea and make picture- going the comfortable thing it was before the saxophone was crowned king of instruments. Otherwise, he will be replaced by an Adonis with a rythm and a Walgreen ad vertising contract. — W. R. WEAVER. ? Prospective subscribers are warned to pay no money to solicitors; pay only by check to the order of "The Chicagoan." <P<00 The Resort of Fashion and the Epicure 18 W.Walton Place Opera Club Building For Reservations Phone Delaware 2592 Luncheon Dinner What if she has a book? Give her another! SPEAKING OF GIFTS Pap6 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 STO R E 109 EAST CHICAGO AVE. 24 TUQCUICAGOAN 999 Lake Shore Drive A permanent home in one of the finest steel frame, fireproof buildings on the Gold Coast at a cost of about one-half of the present rental value is assured the far-sighted individual who co-operates in purchasing this won derful ten-story building on the 100% co-operative 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% co-operative 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 cVCOMPANY 714 Wrigley Building Superior 5178 <o Music through the years • • ? with this incomparable instrument! TODAY, tomorrow, a year ahead, or ten — with this great instrument before you, ready to play whatever you wish. The very latest dance music or a vast symphonic composition. An immortal aria or a popular song, registering the mood of the moment. Snatches of vaudeville headliners or a crack military band. And every kind of music re produced exactly! Come in — let us demonstrate the Orthophonic Victrola — soon! Hear the new Automatic Orthophonic Victrola The Instrument That Is Almost Human ~X =r STEGER & SONS Piano Manufacturing Company STEGER Building Northwest Corner Wabash and Jackson A FINE CAR FOB EVERY FINE CAR NEED AT RUSH AND PEARSON STREETS FORMAL OPENING— SATURDA F, MAY 7TH — -&—> In a city famed for its fine stores, it is Marmon's privilege to introduce a distinctly new and advanced type of auto mobile establishment ~^— Here, on the near north side, is what we believe to be the world's greatest permanent exhibition of fine motor cars — -^— Here, at your leisure and in pleasant surround ings, you have the opportunity of considering the selection of a motor car just as you would any other luxurious purchase. ^-^-^ On view at all times — a complete line of both the little Marmon eight and the large Marmon 75 at prices ranging from $1795 to $7000. A fine car for every fine car need. SMITH-SAUER & BROWN MOTORS COMPANY, MARMON DISTRIBUTORS