--»*•-•¦ '.-¦¦-E^.*maa /^ ^> 1927 If A ! ^ v| ^ u ^ ? # V : . . uJj 1 f T r r I I ' -a^^tf SPONSORED BY HARGRAFT Since 1860 Leeds, Eng. FROM England come Ben Wade pipes . . . different from all others. From the first day on they are sweet, mellow, "broken- in." Breaking-in an ordinary pipe means smoking out the varnish, the stain, the metallic coating inside the bowl. The Ben Wade inside bowl is unstained . . . the briar itself is pumiced and polished by the Ben Wade patented process. The pores of the wood are opened and kept open for per fect absorption! Precious moments of per fect pipe smoking are slipping by . . . don't wait longer. Ask your best tobacconist for Ben Wade pipes. If he can't respond to your demand write for the catalog of all shapes in actual sizes. This sign identifies all Har graft dealers 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 Hollywood Blvd. Subscription $3.00 annually, single copies 15c. Vol. Ill, No. 8 — July 2, 1927. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office at Chicago, 111., under the Act of March 3, 1879. i ME CHICAGOAN 1 2 TJ4ECI4ICAGOAN « ii»Hni»tftnlwiiJi!liblil»ii»MBIM^^ CURRENT entertainment occasions IHDEPEHDEHCE DAT— July 4 — Dial an address, watch the parade, go to 'the Cubs'Cincinnati doubleheader or cele brate. RIHGLIHP BROS.-BAKHUM 6? BAILEY CIRCUS — Beginning July 16. The W. G. shows with all the old and a little new reason for eating peanuts in the native manner. Coliseum. COURTS Martial HENJRT J. FERHEKES, retrial, Judge Lynch, immediately after Independence Day, see papers for Opening. Charge: Murder, robbery, jail plot, etc. Criminal Court. Marital WALTER BRI^KMAN vs. ROSE BRLNKMAN, divorce asking alimony. Superior Court, County Bldg., Judge Lewis. Tentative date July 5. WILLIAM MILLS DAWES vs. NANCT KEEHAH DAWES, divorce charging de sertion. Cross bill adds to interest. Judge Lewis. Tentative date, week end' ing July 10. Superior Court. SPORTS HORSE SHOWS— Lake Forest Horse Show, July 8 and 9, on Onwentsia Club grounds at Lake Forest. W. Dirck Van Ingen, Secretary, 702-22 W. Monroe St., Chicago. Fort Sheridan Horse Show, July 15 and 16, Fort Sheridan. Lieut. Wm. A. Bugher, Secretary, Fort Sheridan. TURF RACING— Lincoln Fields Track, Crete, 111. GOLF — Women's Illinois Public Parks Tourney, Lincoln Park, July 12. Canadian Championship, Hamilton, Ont., July 4-9. Western Amateur Championship, Seattle, July 18-23. BASEBALL— Chicago Nationals at Cubs Park (Addison and Clark) playing St. Louis (July 2, 3), Cincinnati (July 4 — two games). Chicago Americans at Sox Park (W. 3 5th at Shields) playing Boston (July 8, 9, 10, 11), Philadelphia (July 12, 13, 14, 15) and Washington (July 16, 17, 18, 19). GRETHOUHD RACING — Nightly at Hawthorne, Thornton, Elgin and Lyons, unless something is done about it between press time and reader reception. THE STAGE* Words and Music GAY PAREE— Four Cohans, 119 N. Clark, Central 4937. The constant Sophie Tucker — as charmingly informal as a bathing beach — and Chic Sale — rustic as Peoria — holding up pillars of another Shubert Revue. Curtain 8:15. Mat. Wed., Sat. THE MADCAP— Olympic, 74 W. Madi son, Central 8240. The merry Mitsi in tuneful affairs worth eyeing and earing again, if not again. 8:15. Mat. Sat. GEORGE WHITE'S SCANDALS— Erlanger, 127 N. Clark, State 2162. Opening July 10. Ann Pennington doing a Black Bottom, innumerable girls '" and gags, sundry and varied subsidiary items to be noted in the July 16 issue. Just Words THE WILD WESTCOTTS— Cort, 132 N. Dearborn, Central 0019. A jolly enough comedy advancing the concrete theory that one's own home is at times approx imately as insecure as the corner of Twenty-second Street and Archer Ave nue during a race riot. THE BARKER — Blackstone, 60 E. 7th, Harrison 6609. Richard Bennett — kindly if a bit moralistic — issuing, among carnival surroundings, the sentiment of a zealous father to a son who has ideas of his own. Worth seeing. Curtain 8:25. Mat. Wed., Sat. TENTH AVENUE— Adelphi, 11 N. Clark, Randolph 4466. That insistent trio — Edna Hibbard, Frank Morgan and William Boyd — depicting the horrors of a New York tough district that somehow pales with mention of our own merry near-west side. Good lines. Curtain, 8:30. Mat. Wed., Sat. DIFFERENT WOMEN — Woods, 54 W. Randolph, State 8567. Something about women in which the extremely popular and capable Frank Keenan continues to draw crowds despite the weather and out door inducements. Curtain 8:30. Mat. Wed., Sat. *AI1 listed attractions subject to discontinw ance if July temperatures fulfill press time promise. For Tickets* F. COUTHOUI, INC., 54 W. Randolph. Branches at Congress, Drake, Blackstone, La Salle, Sherman, Morrison, Stevens and Seneca Hotels; Hamilton, Chicago Ath letic, Illinois Athletic, Union League, University and Standard Clubs; Mandel Bros. State 7171. H. H. WATERFALL, Palmer House, Auditorium, Bismarck. Randolph 3486. ]. HORWITZ, 141 N. Clark. Dearborn 3800. UHITED, 89 W. Randolph. Randolph 0262. TYSON, 72 W. Randolph. Randolph 0021.. *A (legal) service charge of $.50 per tic\et may he made hy agencies. THE CINEMA Downtown CHICAGO— State at Lake— Roo\ies, a war comedy-drama suitably beginning July 4 and running that week, after which it gives way to The Callahans and Murphys, the title of which ought to be sufficiently informative. Music, heavy and light, accompanies pictures at this house. There are presentations. ROOSEVELT— 110 N. State— Chang, an extremely sound entertainment in view of its continued popularity, until July 11 and longer if its present well merited vogue continues. McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison — Beau Geste, a quite substantial drama of the Foreign Legion, brought in now at con ventional prices after an Auditorium run at top figures. Beginning July 4, without acts. North UPTOWN. — Broadway at Lawrence — Naughty But N»ce, an ordinary story made extraordinary by the one and only Colleen Moore, July 4 to July 11; then Manpower, one of those pleasant scenes they build around Richard Dix, for the seven days following. Acts and other film things with both pictures. SHERIDAN— Irving Park at Sheridan Road — Captain Salvation, which con tains Ernest Torrence, George Fawcett, Lars Hanson, Pauline Starke and other good players, and may have been a good picture before the censors ruined it, be ginning July 4. Verne Buck's bandshow goes with this. South TTVOLI— 6325 Cottage Grove— Clara Bow in the characteristic Rough House Rosie, beginning July 4 for seven days; then Richard Dix in the likewise characteristic "Manpower. Both pictures accompanied by the things the showmen call diver- tisements. TUE CHICAGOAN 3 o 0 IN AND ABOUT THE CITY PICCADILLY— Hyde Park at Blackstone —McFadden's Flats, Charles Murray and Chester Conklin in Scotch-Irish comedy, July 4 to 7; Fast and Furious, reviewed in this issue, until July 11; Naughty But N»ce, Colleen Moore herself, until July 14; The Yankee Clipper, a well men tioned sea saga, until and including July 18. All with suitable intermission exercises. CAPITOL— 7941 S. Halsted— The Yan\ee Clipper, mentioned as accurate marine drama, July 4-10; The Secret Studio, charming Olive Borden in something about artists, July 11-18. And in each case, Vitaphone and stage novelties with out extra cost. West SENATE — Madison at Kedzie — Rough House Rosie, Clara Bow as you like her, July 4-10; Manpower, Richard Dix in manly pursuits, July 11-18. With musical ministrations by Mark Fisher and Lou Kosloff in turn. HARDING — 2724 Milwaukee Ave. — McFadden's Flats, a series of Scotch- Irish laughs you must see here if you haven't elsewhere, July 4-10; Naughty But Nice, Colleen Moore in comic sequences, July 11-18. And, reversing the Senate schedule, music by Lou Kosloff and Mark Fisher alternately. TABLES Downtown LA SALLE ROOF— La Salle at Madison — with Jack Chapman's orchestra. Cou- vert $.50 until 9, then $1. STEVENS— 730 S. Michigan— main din ing room, Stevens Hotel Orchestra, Armin F. Hand directing, Roy Bargy at the piano. Dinner $3, luncheon couvert $.50. Open until 1:00. Dress well. CONGRESS — Michigan at Congress — Pompeian Room, Vincent Lopez and band, 6:30 to 8:30; then 10:30 to 2:00 in Balloon Room at $2 couvert; until 3:00 at $3 Saturdays. COLLEGE INN— Sherman Hotel, Clark at Randolph — Maurie Sherman and orches tra, until 9:00 except Saturday, then 1:00. RANDOLPH ROOM— Bismarck Hotel, 171 W. Randolph — Benson's Trouba dours. Couvert $.50 after 8:15 ($1 Saturday). Open until 1:00. Excellent eating. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe- Victorian Room, Victorian Room orches tra, dancing with dinner. No couvert. Empire Room, concert by Petite Sym phony orchestra, no couvert. its name. HENRICI'S— 71 W. Randolph— that advertises "no orchestral d Stately as the place Out a Ways MARINE DINING ROOM — Edgewater Beach Hotel — Where one always feel cor rect. Fine entertainment and good dance music. SALLY'S— 4650 Sheridan Road— Where you can get a good breakfast just before you go to bed — no matter how late or how early. RAINBO GARDENS— Clark at Lawrence. The "Million Dollar play place." Open air room now available. "Spanish Rain- bo," floor show, colorful, musical. Plenty of room and plenty of people. Couvert, after 8:00, $.75. VANITY FAIR— Grace and Broadway. One of those "cozy" spots. Clever floor show. Rose lights, jazz music, prize dances. CHEZ PIERRE — "Around the corner from everywhere." 247 E. Ontario. Can't miss the red arrow. Pierre Nuyton an admirable host and artist. Atmospheric — almost bohemian. THE SAMOVAR — 624 S. Michigan- good food, dancing and a show, in good company. CIROS — 18 W. Walton — competent menu and nice people. COLOSIMO'S— 2126 S. Wabash— Italian and traditional, and not at all exciting. PLANTATION— 3 5th at South Parkway — the place to go if the party wants to "see one of those places" and you want to give the party a break. ALAMO — Wilson near Clarendon. Where the floor reflects the dancing feet and the boys choose ringside seats. Plenty of amusement. Always crowded. MIDNIGHT FROLICS— 22nd off Wabash — Where the Butter 'n Egg (no not yegg) men love to watch the dance revue — and there is plenty to see. An all night place. 'Way Out THE DELLS — Dempster near Waukegan — Ye Olde Time Roadhouse. Plenty of outdoor atmosphere. GARDEN OF ALLAH — Farther out on Waukegan — no, no harem, but a floor show equal to a downtown revue. Plenty of broiled chicken. LINCOLN TAVERN— Same route— same entertainment — only more so. HILLSIDE INN— On Roosevelt Road— a place you might drive past, but will find amusing if you stop. ART ART INSTITUTE — Annual exhibition, Architectural League. Lithographs and etchings by Odilon Redon. Wood en gravings, etchings. ARTS CLUB GALLERY, Art Institute- Annual Exhibition, Art Students League. ACKERMAN'S — Etchings and drypoints by Edmund Blamphied. NEW ARLIMUSC, 1501 N. La Salle. Between seasons exhibition of paintings, drawings and sculpture of Chicago mod erns. Open evenings. FIELD MUSEUM — Antique sculpture, painting, historical models. ITALIAN SHOP — Interior decoration and Spanish pottery. Italian handiwork. NEWBERRY LIBRARY — Books and prints indicating period costuming. ROULLIER GALLERIES — Durer to McBey in prints. STROLLS MORNING — Detective Bureau to Judge Fetzer's Court, So. Clark St., incognito. AFTERNOON— Michigan Boulevard level to Observation Tower in Strauss Build ing — and back. EVENING — Thrice around the Haymarket Riots statue. (If not rebuilt, wait.) LATER — Living Room to Kitchen (put out cat) to Bed Room. TOPICS Places Page 2 Yachting 4 Transportation 5 Military 6 Oak Park 7 Awareness 8 Independence 9 Gene Markey 10 Chicagoans 11 Overtones 12 Aimee 13 Beaches 14 Police > 15" Horses 16 Sports 17 Cynicism 18 Visitors 19 Dogs 20 Traffic 21 Lincoln Park 22 Volstead 23» Rackets 24 Poetry 25 Ravinia 26 Stage 27 Cinema 28 Books 29- Letters 30 Road Map 31 TWECWICAGOAN New Owner Discovers a Starboard List Not Provided for in the Specifications T HE recent convention which the Association of Music Merchants held at the charming and well -bathed Stevens Hotel has struck a final cres cendo which should resound through out the entire hemisphere and provoke a sale of musical instruments such as the nation has never before witnessed. Nero burning while Rome fiddled could irritate no outburst so arousing as the slogan which those astute mer chants, unpsychologically enough, have adopted: "Teach your boy to blow a horn and hell never blow a safe." A musical insult to the near west side. Now the last time we visited one of the lower and darker night clubs (an honest epithet) of this modern city, an act of duty prompted by the visit of a trans-Mississippi River friend who wanted to see the mental subways of the town, the hirsute gentleman at a near table told us — and we believed him! — that he had blown more safes than he could count. A truly flatter ing reflection of that person's mathe matical soul. And, poking the ribs of the gigot who shared his table, he added without strings that he was the best damn saxo phone player in this new world. T Plain Voter HE hardy perennial, the street car strike rumor, has blossomed again. A mooth and mournful outlook. Now there is in our fluorescent make-up, questioned as it may be at times, rather an insured hunch that the chances are about ten to one for a compromise. And with no intention in mind to sidestep the convenience of the plain but insistent voter, we do wish that the street car boys, just for one blasting democratic blowup, would become real mad and actually quit. It would do our mid-western hearts no small gutta SURVEYS Music Merchants Strike Mania The War Show Urban Gardening Oak Park Gas The Right Word Loop Parking The Constant Gift The Recondite Few The 4th Mencken of good to see the loop, festive for a day at least, without a single lip-red street car on the tracks. Sales Talk I T was truly an unusual sunset — a soused-to-the-cowlick color spree which was not without a suggestion of Vol- steadian improvisation and the conse quent but unconsoling irregularity which usually follows. And it was with the sweeping abandon of a wide-eyed (if a bit wall eyed) celebrant just before his head is pulled out of the fireplace that the sky showed uninhibitedly and without regrets its wildest and wittiest colors. A brave display changing from the pale tint of two-cent stamps to orange sher- bert, then to ripe squash, and, as a final achievement, to a splashy but cer tainly unstable effect of a grandstand during the first touchdown of a college football game. That it ended finally on a hue not dissimilar to the present complexion of the Art Institute has nothing to do with this incident. It was while the sky was still on its feet, liquidly speaking, and its head out of the fireplace that a young man standing on the corner of North Av enue and Astor Street said to his com panion: "Isn't it slick to walk on a night like this, with a bright canopy over you,''1 he continued pointing toward the awninged Heavens. "It's like going into a night club." "Or," put in his companion, who was just a few jumps ahead of him, "Or going to a wedding," she added, picking up a flower and looking as naive as Milwaukee as she did so. Jesture OOME time the city council is to take definite action on an ordinance introduced by Alderman Prignano re quiring women to wear paper shields when they try on dresses in Chicago shops and stores. The proposition puts the women of the city on the front line of defense against what will probably be an ava lanche of similar "sanitary" legislation in case the city fathers approve of this one, i. e., donning fresh cotton gloves before inspecting silks; wearing gauze masks before addressing sales women; dropping coins in paper containers be fore paying for purchases, etc. Or, on the other hand, women may retaliate by sponsoring a number of ordinances of their own, such as one to compel the submission of proposed or dinances to a committee known to have a sense of humor. . 6 The War Show V-^OLORFUL as a gangster's funeral, the War Show exploded on Soldiers' Field in an inspiring flash of bombs, hand grenades and flags. A truly fes tive upheaval, proving, we add morally, that at heart mankind spends its existence within a candidly mili taristic carcass. The white pillars of the Grant Park Stadium were bright and gleaming against the skyline of Michigan Boule vard. Food vendors whooped their products. One ambitious urchin re vealed the bewildering information that "there ain't no show without peanuts." The pink faces in the opposite grand stand formed a tapestry of sun weary colors. Not so the south benches. That sprightly group included darker pigments — the result of warm years under an African sun. But the grand est picture of the season — the Leh- mann coach and four — arrived with the postilion cracking his whip in the best 1890 fashion — and Vice-President Dawes, without his pipe, smiling and benevolent in the back seat. All ages of warfare were represent ed, the older forms assuming in com parison an aspect of complete innocence and capric good fun. The knights of Sir Walter Scott's England were to tally unconvincing. With genuine chagrin one poor fellow clanked to the earth. A gesture which somehow re minded us of merrie England, as some ancient wit has named it. jr"\S TO the Indian war dance that once bellicose activity suggested too vividly the chorus of Rose Marie to develop more than a casual respect for the battle field tactics of the predeces sors of these flat and dusty prairies. No one who listened to their whoop- ings and wailings could possibly feel that there was imminent anything more deadly than a dog feast; peace has done their fighting no great good. Now with the Americans it was dif ferent; they somehow, due no doubt to recent and illustrious demonstrations in France, have a most formidable con viction about their precise and unsmil ing maneuvers. But not the Indians. There was about the old woman around whom the war dance centered some thing too derivative of Miss Gilda Gray in Aloma of the South Seas not to as sume that the motion picture has found Well learned in Freudian nomenclature Franz still would hold the glass to Nature And show, as through the souls' dar\ prism, The vital things of symbolism. its way to the Reservations. There was in their emotions no suggestion of war and its griefs. In the midst of the Indian yelping and jigging six majestic planes swooped across the field, skimming the grass in the Grant Park Stadium. Twelve mili tary Indians found their wiggling — lethal as it was supposed to be — alto gether too second hand to be taken se riously, even by themselves. The planes roared between the colonnades of Sol diers' Field and formed a narrow line above the white marble Museum. The crowd, including the fighting Indians, watched until, far to the north, the planes formed crooked arrowheads against a flat yellow sky. VjfRANDSTAND vendors boasted wildly and insistently of their wares. One could buy — and indeed it was a feat of compelling fortitude and brav ery not to buy — anything from pictures of Mr. Lindbergh to liver a la mode. All of which could not but provoke a fervent hope that the football games next year would manage somehow with out this ambitious group of traveling merchants who poke hot dog sand wiches under one's nose and who look honestly sad and insulted if no pur chase results. It was the military pomp and pranc ing pageantry of these fast days that really warmed the hearts of the thous ands of Chicagoans who sat on the sidelines. At times the field events dragged. And a tall pale gentleman behind us, whose voice recalled the wine and roses poetry of Dowson and Wilde, re marked that he was developing a se rious respect for the patience of the Greeks. TME CHICAGOAN Yet \eeping as his end and goal : Life seen both steadily and whole, The landscape pictured undefiled From the fresh viewpoint of a child. But the field events were only inci dental. The 1927 airplanes booming and roaring over the heads of Chica goans, the military exactness of trained army men and the consequent enthu siasm of the spectators was the best argument for war and the most pro found proof of the inherent militaristic instincts of our race that has been demonstrated since November, 1918. Bravery E have among our acquaintance a very brave man. And as he is also a comparatively truthful one, we offer herewith an incident which he asserts is a Heaven-smiling reality. He was in a cabaret where he saw a blonde lady. She was only a dog- catcher's daughter, probably, but she'd got on in the world, and apparently captured the fancy of a certain truck- driving lad who had squired her to the table next to his. Presently her escort went away. She yawned and had just the least sip of gingerale. She yawned again. She looked his way and smiled. Scarcely had he asked her to dance when the boy friend, as she called him, bore down upon the couple looking twice as fierce as the late Confederate steam ram Manassas. "Well," he began with no prologue, "what'll it be f'r you?" And the brave man said softly and without an endeavor to excite, "111 take a set-up with gingerale." Foolscap i HAT which is mightier than the sword is causing considerable per turbation in the offices of a certain Chi cago law firm. It was wielded by THE CHICAGOAN 7 Translated so, for all of us The holstein cow is Oedipus, The steeple is — then falls the bane Of ignorant cloud and witless rain. a demure young lady whom nobody suspected of any effort more literary than the usual transcription "yours of the fifteenth noted and would say ..." Her references were good and no one thought to ask her, when she applied for a secretarial position, if she had taken Advanced English at college or had written articles for any magazines. For her part, she did not see fit to reveal herself as a writer until her last day at the office. Then she let it be known that she had sold an article to a national five cent magazine with a circulation of over two and a half million weekly. The subject of the article was a well known Chicago firm of lawyers as observed by an irreverent secretary. It told, the sec retary confessed, exactly what she :hought of her late employers and she made it quite clear that she didn't think too well of them. There are in Chicago several lawyers who are waiting on something very like tenter-hooks for the publication of an article by a former employee. Mean while they are trying to dissuade all their clients and friends from reading national five cent weeklies. Optimism IlAVING in mind a lungful of free and easy breathing at the lake front, we took our merry selves past the ever-amusing architecture of the Michigan Boulevard water works — a relic of a candid age that took kindly to frills — and from that fire-remem bered spot we turned east on Chicago Avenue. A careless action which was prompted by nothing more compelling than an artless figment that the boule- Until the foiled translator crawls To shelter 'neath untutored walls And sul\s the while rude waters drip At all the woes of censorship. — F. c. C vard, although as colorful as a Polish picnic, was too uncomfortably blue with gasoline fumes. We had not gone a half block before there was before us a picture which offered to our minds, momentarily naive as we were, more innocent pleasure than a triple hanging could afford the editorial staff of the J^ew Masses. It was a vegetable garden belonging to the firemen from a hose house in that uninhabited district. And when we recall our impressions of firemen, admirable and indispensable as they are, there is about them something too much of pulmotors, double-bladed axes, clay mores and certainly deluges to insure the immoderate tenderness required by a vegetable garden that is to prosper within a half mile of the loop. Modernity 1 HIS happened in Oak Park at 3:45 o'clock in the morning. We fix the time with meticulous care because it has an important bearing on what is to follow. For there is in the world's largest village an hiatus of two hours beginning when the last bit of vacuumed-cup rubber relinquishes with noisy regret its grip on the boulevard and ending with the clank of the steel shoe indicating to all and sundry the arrival of the cream for the morning coffee. Then as Irvin Cobb was wont to say prevails in the western suburb "the thunders of silence" — from 3 to 5 o'clock a. m. Two of the village's gasoline gendarmes had halted an auto- mobilist not so much resenting appar ently his fracturing of the zone of quiet as harboring the conviction that he and the eighteenth amendment were irreconcilable. The conversation grew heated and gained in volume, the one insisting he was a physician, assuring the representatives of the law that the odor assailing their nostrils was ether, the law persisting that no one but a bootlegger would presume to attain a speed of forty-five miles an hour within the corporate limits of a community wherein not even Sunday movies flourish. In a second floor apartment almost directly over head, quietly a hi-lo hiloed, a dim white form was sil houetted in the window frame and a deep voice boomed out over the other wise peaceful village: "If you will all go home and come back in the morning. I'll take two cases." Gas LlKE many another lyric line bill- boarded into public consciousness, Mr. Insull's pat citation of the above captioned commodity's superiority over any and all comers in the field of utility seems to have carried beyond the probable prescribed boundaries of its broadcast. The cherubic attendants who so obligingly anticipate the morn ing "Five, please" are in wholesome accord as to the identity of the ulti mate source of daily dimes that is to yield to Illinois that which will be Illinois after August 1. Many of them, confident that graceful gratuities are in their last days, have applied for inspection assignments. Others are moving to Illinois. Still others, the sober-second- thoughters, are in conferential contem plation of ways and means whereby the new legislation may be turned to account as was the Volstead inter cession of a previous era. While pro posed methods of procedure in this direction are not made quite clear, there seems to be no doubt in the minds of prospective gas runners that the exemption clauses somewhat hur riedly summarized by the newspapers contain the required loopholes. And then there are the inspectors. Beyond this small and relatively un important circle, the gas tax per se seems to have but mild interest for the populace. The mere car owner seems inclined to dismiss it, with that bland smile characteristic of the complete Chicagoan, as a Small matter. 8 T14ECUICAGOAN Love 1 HOSE fortunate people who come from large families but who, in unloyal moments, have felt that as an institu tion his own clan was a bit too noisy and too consummately self-centered to bode any general good will leave The Wild V^estcotts now playing at the Cort Theatre with a bounding and firm resolution to cover a fifteen dollar bet he has owed his brother for five years, return to his sister her copy of Aretino, send his mother two dozen roses and make good the bum checks he has cashed on his father. A weak reparation. The Westcott tribe is the most formidable race north of the Tropic of Cancer! And their house is entered by an unprotected member of that family with about as much uncertainty as a midnight celebrant who finds him self on the international corner of Twenty-Second Street and Archer Avenue during a race riot. Pale Face LATE strollers in Chicago have doubtless been badly ruffled by stickup workers who are commonly grim and businesslike in the dark of the moon, especially when that dark is highly pig mented at some foggy alley mouth. What, precisely, the sensations are which a gentleman experiences as a snub-nosed automatic chides the waver ing buttons on his concaving vest we can scarcely set down. Somehow we have always faltered for the proper words. Now we almost have it. Lately we heard a description which may be chilled a bit and applied to suit the case. The word painting, gelid as a hatful of liquid air down the collar, comes from a lad who summered in the great open spaces. 1 HE narrator explained that a cer tain tribe of desert Indians communi cate over long distances by simulated animal cries, probably as a part of an ancient tribal ceremony. This par ticular night our hero was sitting with a young lady, both ostensibly engaged in watching a moonrise over the desert. Unfortunately, a tribesman had chosen a clump of sagebrush behind them as a signal post. At the appointed moment of moonrise the unearthly howl of some wild creature rose and quavered on the air. A frantic leap and the young man whirled to face the menace. Another chilling howl from the sage. A blanketed Indian stood up tall and silent where presumably there had been only bare sand. "Scared!" exclaimed the Paleface, "I tell you, Mister, for a full minute my shirt tail curled up and down my back like a windowshade!" Gy$ 1 IE hobbles rapidly toward you on a cane that looks practical. His attire is nothing to mention. He arrives at the corner of State and Randolph each evening about ten o'clock. As motorists come from this or that theatre to jiggle their cars out of the curb caravan he signals minute counsel and assures each that everything has gone off all right while the show's been going on. He is grateful for a dime, polite if no dime is forthcoming, and the testimony of habitual parkers in the block is that no tires go down mysteriously on his beat. An item-monger familiar with the scene reports occupying a point of vantage until well past eleven on a recent evening, confident that the man with the cane would drive away at last in the long green Cadillac inevitably lurking in sheltered solitude at the alley entrance, but that this did not happen. The man with the cane, says our ob server, boarded a street car. A police man drove home in the Cadillac. June E have just weathered the month of brides and revamped wedding presents. Many a piece of silverware generously unmarked on its first round has gone down town to be mono- grammed and sent out "packed as a gift" to its second bride. And many another has had engraving removed and replaced by new initials even to the third and fourth generations of brides. It seems a bit hard on the stores with their shelves lined with potential wedding presents, but they have their innings, for however second hand the gift may be, the box in which it arrives must be new. The bride may find, when she tries to exchange it, that the pickle fork that came in a Field box was bought in San Francisco; but she will know instantly that it was not originally bought for her if it comes in a soiled or cleaned box and is delivered by the donor or by mail. So the present must be proffered in a new gift box by a recognized delivery boy, because there is always the chance that the bride has not received a dozen duplicates — pickle forks may not be the fashionable gift that year — and will keep this offering. For packing the fork in a white box and delivering it in one of its crested trucks, the store charges about a third of the price of the present. Even when the donor gives the store the job of en graving a monogram, the price of a gift box is seventy-five cents. Of course the donor is not required to order the gift box and white ribbons. The store is always willing to deliver the pickle fork in a broken shoe box free of charge. Recondite Few T 1 HERE are special privileges in herent in almost every job. The tele phone operator can cut off the persons who annoy her. The reporter inter views murderers and movie actors. The daring airman is invited to shake hands with royalty. But none of these can do what was permitted to the men re- paving the Michigan Avenue bridge recently. Ever since it was unveiled we have wondered how we could ob tain this privilege, the right to stay on the bridge when it opens. The less daring workmen fastened down what was fastenable, grabbed the rest of their tools and materials and ran; but a few remained for the exhilarating excursion into the blue. While hundreds of spectators gasped and envied they clung to the rail or balanced themselves on the top as it described its dizzy arc. The sport of kings and that more recently christened sport of queens pale before this sport of bridge pavers. THt CHICAGOAN a Glorious Wham! N July 4, 1776, a little group of wilful men stooped each in turn over a document and signed it. The occasion seems to have been one of uneasy merriment. John Hancock wrote his name in bold letters remark ing that one ex-soverign could read one name without glasses. Franklin con tributed a ghastly pun about hanging together or hanging separately. Per haps he drew a round of chortles. Charles Carroll, a Papist in strange company, signed quietly, and when twitted with the fact that there were so many Carrolls in Maryland named Charles that the identity of the signer might not easily be discovered by ven geful crown officers, added "Of Car- rolltown." Perhaps at that even the Puritan delegates unbent a little. Fiery Thomas Jefferson who was later to in sist on the inviolable right or revolution as a public policy, nay, as periodical recreation for any government, started his first revolt zestfully enough, one may imagine. And we should like to think that a gentleman or two of Vir ginia tossed off an epigram, and capped it with a round "B' Gad!", at which the New England delegation froze up again. Q -JO, all in all, the signing of the Declaration was a merry solemnity. Perhaps due to the original impetus, succeeding anniversaries of the occa sion have been uniformly happy; the gloomiest thing about Independence Day functions is the patriotic address, and even that is taken a bit skeptically though in tolerant good humor. Indeed, until very recently, the Fourth was one day of the year marked off for the detonation of explo sives which office usually resulted in a casualty list somewhat more extensive than that of Yorktown. The Fourth was a big, raucous, loud, and powder- smirched day of days. Common citi zens drank beer, and shouted at ball games, and fought hand-to-hand, and blew up strangers, all out of the pure joy of freedom. It would have de lighted Jefferson, the whole whooping unrestraint of it. Only lately we have come upon less boisterous times. The Fourth (glori ous still, perhaps) is not to be as rol licking as formerly. Our national gusto has had its face washed, so to speak, its hair combed, and its manners warmed over, we may add. M, OREOVER, in our staid mo ments we are willing to agree that san ity on the occasion of a national birth day is altogether reasonable, decorous, and just. We only add defensively that it is a little dull. It may be the sprightly Chicago at mosphere, but somehow when we think of Ben Franklin peering over square- rimmed spectacles, his goose-quill yet scratching the new parchment even as he chuckles over that dry pun; and of Carroll adding his home address in a faintly humorous pique; of Jefferson smiling to himself, figuratively rubbing his hands over the fireworks to come — - when we think of these things we are tempted to discharge the largest avail able cannon cracker immediately be hind the most non-boisterous partisan within range. Then we are tempted to raise a gleeful whoop for majestic (but erstwhile glorious) Fourth. If this be treason— then we are prepared to cite the rest of Patrick Henry's re mark to the royal assembly. T Worth Considering HE woman who told her daughter to hang her clothes on a hickory limb but not to go near the water was no relation to the Evanston mother who has been instructing her children to accept lifts and not to mind how reck less the drivers are. The nine-year-old son of the latter lady was recently picked up by a young woman who was driving on Sheridan Road. "You ever had any accidents?" he began immediately. "No." "Not even a little one?" The young woman thought a moment. "Well, I once skidded into a lamp post." "Were you hurt?" the boy asked eagerly. "No." "Would I have been hurt if I'd been sitting next to you like I am now?" "I think not." "Well," said the boy, "I get lots and lots of lifts; I bet you will sure enough get hurt some day." The woman looked at him in sur prise. "Do you want to be in an automobile accident?" "I wouldn't mind if I was." "But your mother would mind." "Not her. She always tells me if I get hurt in somebody's machine she'll get ten thousand dollars." Since hearing this true story we have tried to look up the standard indemnity rates but we have found so much varia tion that we have been unable to determine whether the boy's mother is expecting him to lose a hand, a foot or an eye. w, As We See It HEN it was made known that Mr. Arthur Sapp had been elected President of Rotary International at Ostend, Belgium, there was formed in this kindly kraal a bustling and eager image of twenty-five thousand members of the firm of H. L. Mencken, Inc. grabbing scissors and paste to send in the item to the Americana section of the Mercury. We cannot help feeling that the astute Mr. Mencken's greatest asset — the role of a psychologist — has to date been overlooked by his biographers and followers. — THE EDITORS. 10 THE CHICAGOAN I F I MAY /AY JO New York, June 29. I HAVE never looked upon myself as a Chicagoan, nor yet as a New Yorker; therefore it is possible for me to divide my residence between these cities and retain a proper regard for each without danger of becoming, if I may say so, provincial. (Though, as a matter of fact, I have discovered New Yorkers to be more provincial than Chicagoans.) I hold a vast affection for Chicago, which is easier on the nerves; yet I am at the same time im mensely fond of New York, which is pleasanter to the eye. And on this sub ject I am reminded of an article on Chicago that popped out recently in the New York Tribune, by the English novelist, Ford Madox Ford (whom I have heard jocularly referred to in London as Freud Madox Fraud). Mr. Ford, after a profound survey of our civilization, made between trains, de clares that Chicago harbors a seething hatred of New York. I do not believe it. The only Chicagoan I ever knew to hurl anathema upon New York was Ben Hecht, who could never be happy unless hating something. It was this fantastic fellow's wont to utter loud and violent anti-Gotham de nunciations, and at one time he planned to marshal a gigantic Coxeyan army, and march eastward to batter down the ramparts of Manhattan. But before that uncivil war could be commenced a New York magazine bought one of Mr. Hecht's stories, whereupon he magnanimously called off hostilities. Not long afterward he became a citizen of New York. And therein lies the history of many a great grudge. Several pages have fluttered from the calendar since last I set foot in this metropolis, and all unwittingly my ar rival fell upon a fortunate day. I found flags a-flutter everywhere, bands were playing, and soldiers marching in the streets between dense, shouting crowds, clubbed back by blue lines of constables. From the windows of all the tall buildings that canyon Fifth Avenue protruded human heads, arms and legs, and the air was filled with a snowstorm of paper — silver atoms in the sun. I inquired of a friendly gendarme, who had just knocked flat a couple of old ladies trying to view the parade, the significance of this demon- tration. It seems that a fellow named Charley Lindbergh Charles Lindbergh WELL, for several days Charley was kept busy accepting the keys of the city. That boy must have a key-ring as big as a ferris-wheel. All the boroughs echoed with plaudits and plauditudes: Manhattan and the Bronx, not to mention Brooklyn. (Though why not mention Brooklyn? It's good for a laugh on any stage.) Now, speak ing of Brooklyn, it has always been said that the subway under the East River was built so that people could get over to Brooklyn without being seen; but on the day of Charley Lind bergh's Brooklyn parade everybody walked right across the Bridge — openly and unashamed. One evening a Mr. Ziegf eld, a rising young theatrical producer, flung a party in Charley's honor at his new theatre, which is called, oddly enough, the Ziegfeld theatre. The party was by way of being an invitational per formance of the current cantata on exhibition there, Rio Rita, and every body who is anybody — and many who are not — had free seats. The social register, the registers of Dun and Brad- street, even police register, were repre sented. The flower and chivalry of New York, you might say. (Well, you might say, but then again, you might not.) It was what is lightly called a brilliant gathering. Seldom have I be held so many magnificent women and so few magnificent men collected under one roof. Celebrated beauties of stage and cinema, coruscatingly gowned and furred, all wearing clusters of orchids as large as hydrangea bushes, were being elbowed hither — and even thither — by renowned diplomats, poli ticians, polo players, playwriters, novelists, bankers, brokers, jurists, gynecologists and what-not. Every body was craning his or her neck — and, indeed, some were not particular whose neck they craned (the osteopaths must have done a thriving business next day) — for a sight of the guest of honor. Just to give you a rough idea of who was in the audience, on the front bench sat Mr. William Randolph Hearst and a party, including a Miss Marion Davies, who they say is a very promising young motion-picture actress. At last, the curtain having been held till 9:35, flashlight cameras in the street were heard to boom softly, and Colonel Lindbergh (for such was our hero's name) made a per sonal appearance. Whereupon all Mr. Ziegfeld's invited guests rose to their feet (or their neighbors') cheering lustily, as down the aisle with boyish blushes sauntered the Immortal Kid. In front of him, behind him, all around him, scurried lord mayors, polizei arid other attaches, and Charley was escort ed to the third row, scarce half a dozen seats removed from my own point of vantage. It was a gala night for the gals. They feasted their eyes, as the saying goes, on Charley, and, in truth, I felt sorry for the romantic barytone of Rio Rita. Nobody paid much atten tion to him. He wasn't half so romantic as the Colonel, he wasn't even so handsome. And the Colonel didn't have to sing. ONE poignant episode marked the evening for my more or less ob servant eye. The only lady to be presented to Colonel Lindbergh at the fete galante was the "lady friend" cf a high Gotham dignitary, who had been "planted" just across the aisle. As the triumphal procession barged down to take its places, the high Gotham digni tary, marching beside Charley, hastily — and in full view — introduced Charley to the lady friend. And the h. G. d's wife sat calmly watching the procedure. Such is life in the more populous centers. — GENE MARKEY. THE CHICAGOAN n CHICAGOAN/ TO the average loop-hound, the name "Potter Palmer" means little or nothing. If it means anything, it is "the man who built the Palmer House." A decade or so before, it might have meant, also, the man who built and owned an old brown-stone castle on the Lake Shore Drive. Time was, even, when the rubberneck re garded the "Potter Palmer mansion" as one of his stellar attractions. Those days are gone now. The baronial rep lica in which the elder Potter Palmers occasionally lived, and which the younger Potter Palmers still technically call home, has long since been hope lessly dwarfed by twenty-story duplex apartment buildings and other ultra' modern architectural contraptions, un til it looks almost as cramped as Edith Rockefeller McCormick's modest little cottage. And if few of those who today watch the lights at State and Monroe Streets are familiar with the name of Potter Palmer, fewer still have heard of Mrs. Potter Palmer. Yet she was once the undisputed social queen of Chicago, a force in the drawing rooms of a nation and one of the few Chi- cagoans really accepted abroad. Sic transit! as Clarence Darrow or some one has remarked. The World's Fair alone should have made Mrs. Palmer famous. It did. Hers was the dominant will behind it, the one overawing personality. But what is the World's Fair today? A diminutive and "hick" rodeo. THIS lady, with the figure and the bearing of a dowager-empress, ruled Chicago, from the seventies through the early nineteen-hundreds, with an iron hand, but the. hand was deftly gloved. Her power was there; she did not need to assert it. No rival dared even contend for place. Her word — nay, her nod, a lift of her delicately penciled brow — was enough. Her career was one of the most remarkable in Chi cago annals, for the reason that it rep resented not money alone — there were others who had more — nor even birth, though on this side she was helped by coming from an old French family, the Vanished Royalty Honores, but rather the triumph of an impinging personality. It was this which caused her to be accepted in Europe. There it was felt that Mrs. Palmer was not the too usual American climber, but the real article. In vulgar parlance, she had royalty, as well as all too democratic Chicago, buffaloed. Family marriages, of course, helped judiciously. She had a sister, Ida, who married General Grant's son, Freder ick, and Ida Grant's daughter, Julia, married Prince Cantacuzene. This, in a manner, rendered Mrs. Palmer of the near-blood-royal. Mrs. Palmer's social and other talents undoubtedly contributed much to the building up of the Palmer fortunes. When, as plain Bertha Honore, she had married Potter Palmer, the latter had just been neatly ruined by Mrs. O'Leary's cow, that is to say, by the Chicago fire. What, however, was a mere ruin or two to an up-and-coming young Chicago captain of industry. One could hardly hope to break into Bradstreet and Dun's unless one had been ruined at least once, summa cum laude, so to speak. Mr. Palmer merely set about and made a few millions more. Mrs. Palmer did not even have to worry about this. Her business was to get social Chicago under her thumb and keep it there. She did. In the process of doing so, she came near be coming the social dictator of a conti nental capitol or two. AFTER her husband's death, Mrs. Palmer found the cares of a vast estate dumped upon her capable shoul ders. She proved herself, 'tis said, as good a business woman as she was a social leader. During later years, much of her time was spent away from Chi cago. It was she, it may be, who first started the quaint habit, so popular with our Lake Shore Drive and Lake Forest nobility, of calling Chicago one's home. Mrs. Palmer finally left for good. She was engaged in building up a fine estate in Florida when she died, in 1918. Who knows what might have hap pened had she been a little younger and lived a little longer — or had she, merely, lived a few years more. The whole aspect of the all- American blue- book might have been different. Florida might have rivaled Newport sooner than it did. In any event, Mrs. Palmer had suc ceeded, during her brilliant lifetime, in carving out a career that placed her name, when she died, beside those of Jane Addams and the late Frances E. Willard in the 7"lew Tor\ Evening Post's editorial estimate of Chicago women who had done things. During her life, she was far more widely known than either of the others, yet either Jane Addams or Frances E. Wil lard is, probably, better known today. Royalty is rutilant while it lasts, but its glow is of tinsel. Hull House stands, and the cause of temperance goes marching on! —SAMUEL PUTNAM. To Minor Music Go softly — you have heard all praise Go lightly, and a little sad; 7<low is the noon of all our days Who have all Love has ever had! Barely a slender rift in Time Is Beauty a while and after is, How so high that a heart may climb, Never a moment like to this. Only an instant bow the head — (Tears for the trice such spell may last Never at all to be gainsaid, Never at all to be surpassed.) Go softly — you have heard all praise Go lightly, and a little sad; T^ow is the noon of all our days Who have all Love has ever had! —FRANCIS C. COUGHLIN. 12 THE CHICAGOAN Overtone/ A CHICAGO HEIGHTS man whose wife left him 32 years ago has filed suit for divorce charging de sertion. We hope he is not acting hastily. ? Thieves broke into a motion picture theatre, took the fire axes from their cases, chopped a hole in the wall of an adjoining drug store and looted the place. We've often wondered what those axes were for. ? A sweet girl graduate of Manhattan, Kansas, and her mother are roller skating from that point to their home in Havana, 111., and announce that they will refuse any lifts on the way. Why the roller skates? ? Chicago women have abandoned dieting according to restaurant men and have once more gone in for corn beef and cabbage, pastry, etc., which will probably result in the fat women re maining fat and the lean ones lean. Rabbit skin skirts for flappers next winter is the fashion edict from Paris. We herewith warn the wearers to stay away from the dog races. ? Speaking of dog races, we attended them recently for the first time and they left with us the impression of a horse race in miniature — everything but the losses. ? Our police are one up in the local window smashing tournament having, in a recent encounter, succeeded in shooting out two of Marshall Field's to one of Walgreen's for the opponent. ? We are not taking sides in the nation-wide controversy over the presi dent's first catch of trout for we feel that the concern is chiefly that of the worms of South Dakota. ? They re on the Jumfa Overtones: Chicago now has a two-story building devoted to frog legs. Our local prohibition enforcers were a bit apprehensive until assured the hops would be taken out prior to offering them for sale. — d. R. y. ? "Americans Gulp 121 Billion Cup- fuls of Coffee a Year" — Headline. We dally with our tea and cakes. We munch our English Toffee. We leisurely do things like this — And then we gulp our coffee. Moving picture houses, warns a young Michigan preacher, are the "Devil's banquet halls" to which the public's retort seems to be "When do we eat?" George Eastman of the Eastman Kodak company is fostering a plan to adopt a calendar of thirteen months to the year. This meets with our hearty approval with one provision — that the Pullman company be not permitted to name the new month. ? The "9 o'clock town" is a thing of the past enumerates the census report on the manufacture of lighting fix tures and equipment — another body blow to our popular song writers. ? Now is the time for all good men to pick out a big healthy mosquito and swat it Anacreon to Date CARM. VII. (Legousin hai gynai\es.) When front-row broilers lisp to me, "Ah, Nacky, dear, old scout, You're not the boy you used to be; You're getting rather stout. "Your pompadour is going fast, Your brow is creeping higher; Believe me now your day is past; Your mirror is no liar." "Quite true, my dears," is my reply, "And that is just the reason, I'm going to live before I die And sin my little season." HELLENIKOS. "This one, Madame, was formerly the pet of Chicago's most popular deb. "But I already have a parrot that swears." ^^^t'-vvuim^Sri^w^ THE CHICAGOAN 13 In the Service of the King AIMEE SEMPLE McPHERSON, starring in the two-a-day per formances over at the Coliseum, has set the wiseacres to wondering. And that is something of an achievement in this friendly but skeptical town of ours. "Is she sincere? Or — is she just giving us melodrama hot off the skillet?" That's the question! And in my own mind, after a long talk with her, that question is still un answered. Outwardly, everything she said and did was stamped with sin cerity. "I have not always been of the faith," she admitted frankly. "I was born on a farm in Canada. My mother, who never had time for anything but hard work, prayed that I should be a preacher. I couldn't see it, however, and by the time I was through high school — after studying evolution and everything — I was nothing short of an agnostic. (Demoralizing, this theory of evolution.) But after hearing the Irish evangelist, Robert Semple, I be came an enthusiastic convert." (She also became Robert's wife at the age of eighteen.) I was unconvinced, but I am a skeptic. That she can convince, how ever, there is ample proof. Five hun dred thousand members of Angelus Temple, Los Angeles, stand as a testi monial of her sincerity — magnetism — personality — or whatever secret charm it is that subjugates the mind to the heart. And right there, perhaps, I have struck the fundamental chord of Aimee's power. It is a thing of the senses rather than of the mind. In her presence, your thinking processes are pleasantly anesthetized while your senses become tinglingly alive. HEN I called upon her at her suite in one of our north side hotels, I was fortified by my antipathy toward her and her kind. But after five minutes in her presence I was com pletely disarmed. First of all she is a woman, and — a charming one. Slightly taller than the average woman, she has reddish hair, graying a bit at the temples, soft hazel eyes under delicately arched eyebrows, a large nose, a large, too-full mouth, exquisite small, white teeth, and a finely molded chin. Attractive? She has been twice a wife and mother. In the second place she is bewilder- Aimee Semple McPherson ingly complex ¦ — surprisingly childish one moment, calculating and mature the next. In the course of our con versation I asked her if she was return ing to Los Angeles from Chicago. "No, we're going to Alton, Illinois, from here," she answered, adding en thusiastically, "the mayor of Alton and his officials have promised us a royal reception with floats — flowered floats — and everything!" I was amused. Yet five minutes later, after an interruption by her secretary, I was dismayed to find her watching me seriously, shrewdly, as if she were measuring the possibilities of my conversion. IMAGINATIVE as an artist, busi ness-like as a merchant! The illustrated sermons which she is using at the Coliseum were all conceived and created by her. The setting for the first sermon — The Value of a Soul — was a huge pair of scales. On one side was a large, iridescent globe like a giant pearl — that was the soul. On the other side were all the material things of life such as automobiles, real estate, fine clothes, luxuries — everything that tends to overbalance the soul. Yet, Aimee herself is not without these overbalancing luxuries. But that's where her business head comes in. After making ample provision for her self and children, she built the million and a half dollar Angelus Temple. A monument to religion? Perhaps. But certainly a monument to the resource fulness of a woman whose first temple was the veranda of a Canadian farm house, around which the country folk gathered, hanging their lanterns on the bows of the trees. Actress or evangelist, Aimee pos sesses a zest for the dramatic. She confided to me that before her opening sermon at the Coliseum she intended to work in Chicago. "Work?" "Yes — incognito. One day as a waitress in one of your loop restaur ants, one day as a toiler in a sweat shop, another as a clerk in one of your big department stores. I want to know exactly how the average Chicago work ing girl lives, works and plays. Then, when I preach such a sermon as The Big Parade — specially arranged for Chicago — and girls challenge me with 'How do you know?' I can answer, lI do know because I have lived it'." Dramatic? Yes. And excellent publicity. A factor, you may be sure, that Aimee did not overlook. In fact, Aimee is rather fond of publicity, and is ever willing to give it a helping hand. Publishers are clamoring for her life story. So, to satisfy them she has generously sacrificed days and nights of sleep to finish In the Service of The King which begins dramatically enough with: "Sand! Gray sand! A wilderness of sand!" — EDNA I. ASMUS. Nicknames E have noticed the tendency of newspapers to make nicknames for famous personages out of the di- minutivization of the person's surname. Gertrude Ederle, you may remember, was called "Trudy" and now Charles Lindbergh is being called "Lindy." The whole idea is pretty silly. Probably some enterprising reporter was the first to think of it. It's pretty silly, but it might be carried on easily. We suggest that from now on Ring Lardner be known as "Lardy." Cal Coolidge of course could be called "Cooly" nicely enough and Governor Small, "Sma-y." Think of speaking of Wayne B. Wheeler as "Wheey" and Herbert Hoover as "Hooey." There isn't much one can do about Gene Tunney. "Tunney" sounds like a nickname itself. And then there's "Fo-y" for Henry Ford and "Mencky" for Henry Mencken. And when Chamberlin and Levine return to this country they will be known throughout the entire land as "Chamby" and "Levy." — d. c. P. 14 THE CHICAGOAN Waikiki Opposite Us WHEN the grass comes out and the leaves and the spring lov ers, Jackson Park wakes from its win ter lethargy. Benches spring up overnight, young men from the university come out to exercise their dogs and their pipes along the lake front, and policemen put out couples, married or unmarried, by eleven o'clock. The do or die, cold bath in the morning, cold as possible Walk at night enthusiasts are almost crowded out by the idlers who shamble up and down the lake front for no bet- for reason than that the moon is shin ing. Only the solitary young man in blue, pacing the beach every night during the winter, and both night and day in summer, lets no changes, seasonal, lunar or social, alter his course. Walk ing steadily, eyes front or looking out over the lake, he passes watchful flap pers, unconscious couples, curious boys and girls. Once in a while, at his approach, a girl straightens her hat and murmurs a "Wait, here comes someone," or her companion looks at the receding back wondering how much the fellow has seen. Nobody knows how many pro posals he has heard to the tune of lapping waves or how many adventur ers he has seen plowing through snow drifts when they could have been com fortably ensconced in front of radia' tors. As long as people confine their folly to the beach he remains oblivi ous; but let one of them begin to cut up capers out where the lake begins and he shows an immediate interest. A DROWNING man, a boat in distress, these are just what he is looking for. Perhaps it would be too much to say that he is hoping for them; but certainly he would be grate ful if those who must capsize their boats would do it between Fifty-first and Sixty- third Streets. There he is equipped to stage a perfect rescue with all modern improvements. If the ac cident has the consummate grace to happen at night he can light one of the flares which are part of his equip ment when on patrol duty. The look out answers with a similar signal and the surfman on patrol rushes to the Coast Guard station to assist in a res cue. Failing wrecks, interested parties may witness expert boat drill at the Jack son Park station. Spectators are as sured a good performance as this is the crack station of the district. Every body who is familiar with Jackson Park is familiar with the trim white and green coast guard station, but not so many know Captain Stebbins and the nine men who are stationed there. On duty eight days and off one, keeping constant watch from the lookout, pa trolling the shore, studying, inspecting boats, maintaining station and equip - 'I've just been to the beauty parlor." "Weren't they open?" ment in perfect condition, they have little time for mingling unofficially with the crowds to whom Jackson Park is a playground, not a home and place of business. Business, by the way, is now begin ning to pick up with the advent of the private boats in Jackson Park harbor. In winter not much happens, but dur ing the summer there is no telling when somebody's yacht may run out of fuel or even founder in a storm. AT present the station is short- handed and short- boated with one surfman and one boat in action in the flood district. The normal equip ment is one pulling surf boat, one mo tor surf boat and one motor life boat; and — if the small boys who look long ingly at the door of the boat house only knew it — they are willingly shown to visitors. Real action, in the sense of prevent ing accidents and performing rescues, is all too rare for an eager surfman. But if coast guarding becomes more a matter of keeping records than doing deeds of daring that is not the fault of the Coast Guard. The fact is that whatever their behavior on land, Chi- cagoans conduct themselves with such discretion on the water that they sel dom need help. If ever they are in distress, however, they find the Coast Guard on the job. Meanwhile picnickers look enviously at the blue clad young men who alone are permitted to climb the steep ladder to the lookout south of the bathing beach, and belated strollers have come to look upon the patrol as a symbol of adventure and romance, or, if they are extremely belated, to find themselves heartened by the companionable sound of steady footsteps in the echoing park. —RUTH G. BERGMAN. 15 Cops Prefer Gentlemen THE CHICAGOAN Pansy's Brungin' Up '"T^WAS a wild and wampus night. 1 The storm skittered up and down the slogy streets. Oh! 'Twas sawful. In a tumbledown shack at the river's edge poor little Pansy, aged seven, was playing with her doll Pluto. Pluto was a debutante. She had come out here and there. Pansy was teaching Pluto how to behave in high society. Learning her all the sophisticated crevasses like: "Hells Bells! said the queen, removing a cigar from her face, Who wuz you thinkin' you wuz?" and such stuff. Suddenly she heard a crash, like this : "CRASH!" She looked up. The door had fell in. On top of it was a pitiful wreck of humanity, soggy and soaked. Mostly soaked, inside and out. Pansy watched the mess for a minute or two, then she said: "Oh papah Deah! Dwunk again?" Papah didn't answer so she removed him from the door and daintily deposited him in the waste basket. Then she paid no further attention to him. She propped up the door to keep out the widgets but an occasional squeal was heard faintly in the distance. "Stew scupsa skawfee! 'Twas the voice of the Greek, serving his stews, down at the grog-shop, fer me and fer youse. Presently she heard a tapping and a rapping at the door. Could it be the wolveses snapping? Could it be the birdies flapping? Or was this slapping just the lapping of the waves upon the shore? Only this and nothing more? We shall never know. THE great pale disk of the moon slid softly over the garbage cans in the alleys, holding its nose, and up and into the black velvet of the skies. It was a night for romance. But Pansy didn't see it. Neither did her father. He was slowly chewing the ends of his mustache. He always did. Bing! Bing! Two shots rang out on the stilly air. Two redskins DIDN'T bite the dust. There weren't any in that neighborhood. Just a couple of wives out shooting their husbands. The long sneaky snores of the pitiful papah beat on the ears of Pansy. But Pansy didn't mind. She went right on teaching Pluto to swear. Stwas ster- rible! She didn't know what libido was. — W. C. E. AT one of the busiest loop corners is stationed a brass buttoned mountain whom we shall, after the manner of Judge Lindsay, call Officer Reilly. Traffic Officer Reilly has a well be haved corner. Few drivers disregard the lights at his intersection. Most of this docility is due, of course, to the well known reverence all Chicagoans have for the law; but part of it is caused by Reilly 's reputation. If there is such a thing as a college of profanity, Mr. Reilly must have been its dean for many years. His invective is marvelous. His rugged personal de scriptions are masterpieces. And it is seldom that a motorist who has tried to beat the lights at Reilly 's corner has the courage to attempt it again. OCCASIONALLY, however, even the redoubtable Reilly is stopped. Such a rare scene took place just the other evening during the five o'clock traffic rush. The lights turned from cabbage worm green to Hertz yellow and, with one ex ception, the double line of east and west traffic came to an obedient stop. The exception was a long roadster garnished from start to smell with gleaming yellow metal accessories. One of those sport cars that give some faint inkling as to what has been the ulti mate fate of all our old brass beds. The roadster steamed for the oppo site side, but was stopped helplessly in the center of the intersection by the impatient rush of north and southers. A jam of pleasing intricacy developed at once. Officer Reilly jumped toward the brass gilded car with brimstone in his eye. The driver was a very young lad, ap parently, of about high school age. There was no fuzz on his smooth cheek, and he was round eyed with distress. A fine subject. "Say, you square headed, idiotic, bone topped infant," was Mr. Reilly 's approximate greeting to the young man, "What the " The rebuke that followed took twenty-five seconds, enough seductive adjectives to outfit a second Rabelais, and all the pink from the lad's tender cheek. Truck pilots, taxi demons, and drivers of newspaper wagons listened with awe and took notes. The Wrigley clock came to life. The red lights halt ing east and west traffic faltered and turned green a full twenty seconds ahead of time. ARRIVING finally at the last of the terms he kept for compara* tively mild offenders, Officer Reilly took out an official looking pad and a pencil. "I think I'll give you a ticket, Mis ter," he concluded. "Maybe that'll teach you not to be so ding ding color blind." The boy bit his lip and looked tear ful. "Please don't do that, Officer," she pleaded. "My husband would never forgive me. He said he wouldn't let me drive any more if I got another ticket before the end of the month." Perceiving that Officer Reilly seemed unable to make his tongue work, she smiled prettily and drove away. —PAUL ERNST. 16 THE CHICAGOAN -Ik/c The Vanishing American: Cottonwood, owned by E. J. Lehmann Strymon trots for Benjamin Leslie Behr WE CHICAGOAN n J PORT/ REVIEW H orse Sh ow CHICAGO breeders will compete with horse owners from all parts of the west in the annual Lake Forest Horse Show which will be held on July 8 and 9. Some of the entrants will be Otto W. Lehman, Burton A. Howe, W. C. Patterson, Eddie Meyer, William E. Dee, Mrs. C. H. Hanna, Mrs. John Hertz, G. A. Strom, Ralph R. Bradley, Herbert M. Woolf, J. P. O'Brien, Armin A. Schlessinger, George J. Peak and Benj. Leslie Behr. There will be the usual classes of competition including horses in harness, under saddles and the hunters and jumpers. Turf Racing WITH the sport or the business (if you may desire to call it such) of horse racing as now legitimate in Illinois as the selling of groceries, a lot of Chicagoans have turned their eyes on the big turf season which has just opened at Lincoln Fields, the beau tiful $2,000,000 track down on the Dixie highway which is presided over by Col. Matt J. Winn and Stuyvesant Peabody. A lot of Chicago thoroughbred horse lovers who have wanted to get back into the game for a good many years but who have hesitated because racing was conducted more or less under sufferance are likely now to jump in and buy horses. Big racing men say it will be only a short time until the silks of Chicagoans are truly promi nent on the big tracks of the country. The Lincoln Fields season is running over with stake events, the headliner of which is the Lincoln handicap to be run on July 9. This is a $25,000 race and for the first time this year will bring together the leading handicap horses of the country and the 3 -year-olds that have been winning the various Derby races. Many prominent Chicagoans are daily visitors at Lincoln Fields. Among them are Stuyvesant Peabody, John Hertz, Pat Joyce, Charles Sullivan of the board of trade, State Senator Richard Barr, County Clerk Robert M. Sweitzer, George Bollard, Daniel J. Higgins, and John Schank. It is expected that the silks of Mar shall Field will be shown at Lincoln Fields before the season ends as well as the racing colors of H. P. Whitney, Mrs. Payne Whitney, Mrs. W. K. Vanderbilt III, William R. Coe, Walter J. Salmon, Senator Johnson M. Camden, Edward R. Bradley, H. E. Church, William Stahler, and Willis Sharpe Kilmer. The Lincoln Fields season which is the real gathering place for Chicago horse lovers will continue for 37 days and close Aug. 13. Polo PAUL BUTLER has captained the Oakbrook club team to several vic tories already this season. Butler is a fine goal getter and a great rider. He has a fine string of mounts and in recent matches his play has been a sensation. Earl Crawford, T. L. Crites and Don Turner make a fine team with Butler. Crawford is a good goal getter while Crites also has shown great scor ing ability. Turner plays back and has been showing clever defense riding. The Onwentsia team composed of Eugene Byfield, H. Strotz, William Blair and Earle H. Reynolds has played several matches so far this season and met with fair success. The Onwent- sians haven't had as much practice as the Oakbrook team but are rapidly rounding into condition. In the east a series of trial matches will be held during the next two weeks to aid in determining the members of the American team which will defend the trophy in the International matches with the British which are soon to be held on Long Island. The British team and a squad from India will be in this country within the next two weeks to prepare for the challenge matches. Tennis CHICAGO'S joy at landing the inter-zone finals of the Davis Cup competition for this year died quickly when announcement was made that the matches had been transferred to Boston. The transfer was made at the request of the French Lawn Tennis Federation, which objected that the strain of too much travel in the heat of the summer might injure the Tri-colors chances for carrying the Davis Cup to foreign shores. The matches were originally scheduled for the Chicago Town and Tennis club for Aug. 26, 27 and 28, after local tennis officials had sought the event for months. The dates allotted for the tournament forced the postponement of the Intersectional team championships until September. It is improbable, however, that the team matches will be set ahead to the old date, as there is a possibility the French, Japanese and other Davis cup teams may be persuaded to compete in the event here in September, after the Davis cup and national singles compe tition. THE rapid growth of tennis in the Chicago district was excellently illustrated recently in the second an nual tournament of the River Forest Tennis Club. Although the event had only one year's background, this year's lists included the largest array of out- of-town players to compete in any 18 THE CHICAGOAN event in the city aside from the Illinois state championships and the intersec tional matches. Among the visiting stars competing at River Forest were Junior Goen of Kansas City, national boys' champion; Harris Coggeshall of Des Moines, runner-up for the national junior cham pionship in 1925; Julius Sagalowsky and Fritz Bastian of Indianapolis; William Bascom of St. Louis, and several representatives from other mid dle western cities. George Lott, city champion and ninth ranking player in the country, easily defended his singles title, running over the field without encountering serious opposition. He crushed Lucien E. Williams, former Yale star, in the finals in straight sets. Lott and Wil liams later accounted for the doubles championship, defeating the Lejeck brothers, Charles and Leo. The tennis future book in this dis trict shows few events of interest aside from the weekly inter-club matches during the next few weeks. The next major tournament will be the Illinois State championships at Skokie Country club in late July. Golf Several tournaments of national and international flavor will attract golf fans during the ensuing fortnight. Among them are the Royal Canadian Golf Association's amateur champion ship, the British Open Championship, the Western Golf Association's Ama teur Championship and the Illinois State Public Parks Championship for women. The Canadian championship is the first on the list being scheduled for July 4 to 9 at the Hamilton Golf and Country Club at Ancaster, Ontario. This tourney annually attracts a num ber of entrants from the United States and is one of the best of the season. All of Canada's golfing kings enter and the competition is keen. Interest this year in the British Open, which starts July 11 at the St. Andrews Club at St. Andrews, Scot land, one of the oldest golf clubs in the world, will not hold the usual interest because of the sparsity of American contestants. Bobby Jones, the brilliant Atlanta, Georgia, player who won the event last season, probably will defend his title but probably will play alone. Tommy Armour, the Washington, D. C, professional who last month won the United States Open Championship, will not compete, having canceled his entry immediately following his victory at the Oakmont Club. The big tourney for local interest will be the Western Amateur Cham pionship which this year will be played at the Seattle Country Club from July 18 to 23. A score of Chicago district players probably will make the coast jaunt. Chick Evans, who has held more championships than any one other Chicago golfer, is sure to compete and his name will head a good delega tion that is scheduled to make the trip to Seattle in a special car, leaving Chicago on July 9 and stopping off at points of interest enroute. The women's public parks tourna ment will be played over the Lincoln Park course and the usual large field will be on hand to compete. The tour ney gets under way on July 12 and will continue to the 17th when the final matches are scheduled. Of course there will be the usual array of local club tournaments. These events are growing in popularity and a day seldom passes that some one of the more than one hundred Chicago district clubs doesn't stage an invitation tour ney. Some of the clubs have adopted the plan of holding two such competi tive events each year. Lincoln Park Boat Club ONE of the most interesting sports organizations of Chicago is the Lincoln Park Boat Club, an amateur rowing organization fostering all man ner of aquatic sports. The club has quarters built into the side of a hill on the bank of the main lagoon in Lincoln Park. More than 250 members compose the club roster but the active members are numbered less than 100. Lincoln Park Boat Club's crews are known in all parts of the country. They have met with success on many waters and several western champion ship cups ornament the club's trophy case. Singles, doubles, fours, eights and barge crews are set on the water by the club. The rowing is in both senior and junior divisions, too, for the club de velops many young oarsmen. Besides the shell crews there are a host of canoe members and they too have won trophies in regattas. At the Trafis And here's another little boost for a Lincoln Park sports club, The Lincoln Park traps. Sportsmen who get their enjoyment from a shotgun and clay targets gather at the north end of Lincoln Park each week-end and put in full days in shoot ing Saturday and Sunday. The club has a fine clubhouse and a great layout of traps. Several large tourneys have been promoted by the club with fine success and like the boat club the organization is open to all true sportsmen. Several fine shooters including A. H. Winkler, Dean Bergen, L. C. Larsen, A. H. Winkler, Jr., a youngster who shoots like a veteran, and Dr. Carl Furnass are members. — SPORTSMAN. Cynicism If her legs are neat and trim Rarely is she over prim; She'll expose 'em with a vim To the breezes. If she wears her dresses long Disregard her dance and song, Probably there's something wrong With her kneezes. —P. E. THE CHICAGOAN 19 How Do You "MOW do you like Chicago?" I 1 As an intrepid interviewer for the local press, I would estimate that I have put this question, during the past ten years, to upwards of 503 Lecturing Englishmen, 251 writers of other nationalities, 449 Diplomats and Statesmen, 69 Countesses, 13 Mem bers of the Blood Royal, 2,146 War Heroes, 22 Parisian Man Milliners, 1,328 Russian Refugees and But one's memory grows elusive. The query is a classic, not to say a hoary one with Chicago reporters. It is the standardized opening. Any other is frowned upon. Interviews are like automobiles; you musn't mix the parts. Once, in my own naive youth, I tried beginning with some thing about the League of Nations — or perhaps it was Papa Joffre's whiskers. At any rate, I was promptly ejected from the Congress Hotel and came near having to give up my card to the Interviewers' Union. I say, the Congress; for that is where it most usually happens. The Congress or the Blackstone. If it's the Drake, the Press might never get that far — too many cases en route. Once, I remember, it was the Audi torium. That was William Butler Yeats— or is it "Yates"? But we shall get around to William Butler later. He's the sort of person one does get around to. There are certain other questions that follow. I give them to you in liturgical order: 2. What do you think of the American woman? 3. What do you think of the Chicago girl? 4. What do you think of bobbed hair? 5. What do you think of pro hibition? IT WAS, if I recall, Paul Gilbert of the Evening Post who definitely established this code. Paul is today business agent of the Interviewers' Union. To these five questions, there are two answers, one to the first four, and one to No. 5. ANSWER, NOS. 1-4. "I think they're wonderful." ANSWER No. 5. "What did you say?" If, by a remote possibility, any Like Chicago? other answer should be made, it is at once stricken from the record and the reporter goes back and writes in the proper answer in his story. Every body is happy, especially the Visiting Celebrity. Speaking of Yeats, I remember him as though it were yesterday. His apparel, as he sat on the mezzanine of the Auditorium, was, to say the least, striking. In West Roosevelt Road, it would be characterized as "kniftig." A green knit bow tie, black patent- leather pumps with rosettes and half- hose of an indescribable hue: those are the details that seem to stand out in my memory. Question No. 1 was safely past. Mr. Yeats had looked out into the I. C. coal soot and sighed. That, of course, meant the regulation "wonderful." Came, then, the one about American women. "Delightful, really, you know, only — I think " The omnipresent Little Girl Re porter, who was clinging to every word, leaned forward. So did her vanity case. "If you will permit me to say it, they go in a bit — how shall I say — too heavily for cosmetics." CRASH! It was the L. G. R.'s vanity case. Lipstick, eyebrow-pencil, powder-puff and rouge — all spilled and sprawled at the feet of Irish Poetry. The inter view ended, I believe, rather hur riedly. THEN, there was dear Lord Dunsany. At the Congress. Elongated, with a long pale hand to a long pale face. Fended from the world by wife, secretary and valet. Next door, an opera singer — at least she hoped to be. A little aria from Lucia. Lord D. had a headache — such a headache! "That frightful noise!" he gasped. And secretary, valet and Lady D. ran around in circles. Outside, the Press waited. What did Lord D. think of Chicago? Plenty! But in the eve ning editions, it was: "Wonderful!" The list might be multiplied in definitely; it would be much the same. I think of Mr. Chesterton and his fat paunch, sitting in the lobby of the Blackstone. Asked what he thought of Chicago, he replied: "I think English beer is wonderful!" Or did I just dream that? Once — just once — I asked Mary Garden: "What do you think of Chicago?" Miss Garden was not in a beatific mood that day. 'She replied: "I think Mr. Insull is !" By the way, I am at work on a little opus to be entitled "Odd Profanity I Have Listened to." MARTIN ST. JOHN. Oh, but he is hard boiled in such a refined way* 20 THE CHICAGOAN An Urban Tragedy IF anybody had told me that dogs were not necessarily mere luxuries, but that some of them have an utili tarian side I should have bought one long before I did. I always wanted to own a dog, but I used to misjudge them. So many of the dogs of my ac quaintance were purely ornamental, and costly (and consequently the source of much anxiety on the part of owners who lived in constant dread of dog thieves) that I classed all of them with jewels and objets d'art, delight ful baubles, but far beyond my reach. Later I was reminded that there were some dogs which did not need to re cline all day on silken cushions or re quire a uniformed maid to give them Swedish massage. There were big, upstanding dogs who not only de manded no protection but actually did some protecting themselves, a kind of animate burglary insurance. But that was after the First House- cleaning, the afternoon when I came home to find my house about two thirds cleaned out. The front door had been jimmied and nearly every thing portable was gone, including my one pearl and my one piece of jade which I had thoughtfully deposited in the toe of an old golf shoe. And I had always smiled so sweetly at the policeman on the beat! Cousin Freddie laughed. "So you hid your jewels in your dogs," he said. "Pity they weren't the barking kind. They might have scared the burglar off." AS a joke that was pretty flat, but it i\ gave me an idea. I began to make inquiries about dogs, barking and biting ones. If dogs could really scare away burglars, they easily earned their board and keep, I rea soned. I should have accepted the semi-airedale that Aunt Martha of fered me, but I had already fallen in love with a police dog and I could see that he was beginning to care for me. He cost a lot of money and he had an expensive appetite, but I argued that it was cheaper to own a dog than to be robbed (or pay for burglary insur ance; it all comes to the same thing). I had it all nicely rationalized the way one decides that it is more economical to take a taxi when it looks like rain than to take a chance on spoiling one's hat. Anyhow, I bought Barry, and he must have scared away hundreds of burglars, because he barked all the The True Bohemian An unconventional woman am I, The new modes and manners I calmly defy. I use an umbrella to keep off the rain, High shoes and storm rubbers I do not disdain; My slippers are black, my stockings are cotton, Though I read the late fiction, I haven't forgotten To love my husband, obey my child; I don't smoke or swear; I'm not a bit wild; I go to church and Sunday school classes; I avoid highbrow drama unless I get passes: An unconventional woman am I, The fads and the fashions I bravely defy. -r. e. b. time, a firm, reasonant bark. One day the policeman came to see me. "You have a dog," he said. I admitted the accusation. "The neighbors," he stated, "don't like the way he barks." "Do they want me to have his voice trained?" The policeman eyed me sternly. Apparently he had never noticed all the smiles I had lavished on him. "They say he don't do anything but bark." "That," I answered, "is all he's had opportunity to do so far. When the time comes I expect his bite to be just as bad." "That ain't neither here nor there," said the policeman. "The neighbor's are complaining about the noise he makes. You'll have to keep him quiet or get rid of him." SO I tried to teach Barry when to bark and when to hold his peace. But poor Barry was a dog of little discrimination and no modulations. He barked with equal enthusiasm at friend and foe, in sorrow and in joy. The policeman called again and yet again. "Look here, officer," I protested, "I got that dog to scare off burglars, which is more than either' you or the neighbors ever did for me. Now it seems to me if you can't keep me from being robbed the least you can do is let me have something that will do the job for you." " 'Stoo bad you was robbed," he said politely, "but I got orders." Barry left me. Ten days later I suffered the Second Housecleaning. This time I lost all the rest of my portable goods including twenty-five dollars stowed away in a box of moth balls. "It's a vicious circle," I told Cousin Freddie. "The police don't protect me. I buy a dog to do the job. The police make me give him up. Next time the burglars will take the piano. It's about all that's left.' What'U I do now?" "Well," said Cousin Freddie, 'Td dig a moat." — E. V. PARK. €| That no man was ever hero to his valet is absurd. To believe such a statement involves the faith that the race of valets is universally com posed of consummate liars and skill ful, unfathomable hypocrites. THE CHICAGOAN 21 JOURNALI/TIC JOURNEY/ No Left Turn Here IN those mauve days when one turned out in one's smartest "traps" to go gliding up Clark street in a neat, rub ber tired runabout behind a pair of prancing bays, the policeman on the corner, distinguished by his brown hel met, long, blue coat-tails and heavy mustachios, gave little if any heed to your passage. His only thought, in fact, was probably concerned with a desire for another beer in Casey's saloon, before the ornately decorated entrance of which he lingered as you went rolling by. Ah, and alack, what changes the years have wrought! Could you, on that balmy day, have foreseen the coming age of jangling steel and prohibition, you no doubt would have pulled up at that corner and joined Officer O'Brien for several beers at Casey's bar. Today efficiency prevails, as, worse luck, it must, if the success testi monials are to be given credence. Jolly, lazy O'Brien has been superseded by an army of clean-shaven, neatly uniformed and sharp-tongued traffic cops, whose only resemblance to O'Brien is their size. True, there remain some few compensations for those who drive. The pastoral beauty of Lincoln park. . . . the majestic panorama of huge skyscrapers along Michigan boulevard, even the mad, crashing whirl of rush- hour traffic itself. ... all these have fascination. But true enjoyment of them is almost always marred by minor irritations. shading into purple, then a streak of crimson, then orange, then pink and then, the misty blue sky! Gosh, don't you. wish we were out there? Stay on your own side of the road — did you see that fellow try to sideswipe me? I'll bet he scratched the fender. Here we are at the park. I'd better step on it a bit, it's getting late. I never fail to get a kick out of Lincoln park. Someday I'm going to stop and see the animals. Isn't that pretty, see, that eight oared shell over there in the lagoon channel. . . . what precision! You hear a motorcycle? Well, we're only hitting thirty. Still, I'd better hold her down some until he gets by. There he goes, what a relief. I hope he's after that bozo that scratched my fender. You know, I'll bet the day is not far off when all these gold coast homes will be torn down and big office buildings will be built right up to the entrance of the park. I'll be glad to see them tear down some of these gingerbred mon strosities, but on the whole this solid block architecture has its points, don't you think? There's the Wrigley tower light, see it? We'll be downtown in a few minutes now. Where in the world did all these cars come from? I thought if we started early we'd miss all this. My gosh, we're squeezed into a four-abreast line. I have a feeling someone is going to have his fenders smashed at that next stop light crossing. PRETTY lucky this trip. We're almost to the bridge and not a seri ous scrape yet. Still, I'd better knock on wood, the worst is yet to come. 7v>tu what's the delay? I thought we'd get over the river and down to Ran dolph street without a stop. Look at those cars! We're at the end of a line that stretches all the way to Adams street! Ho hum. Well, we're in for it and we'll be at least ten or fifteen minutes late for the show now. Is it true, or am I dreaming — we're actually moving again. Slowly, to be sure, but .... is that bridge cop talking to me? Bridge Cop: "Come on, get going, what are you trying to do, stall this traffic another half hour? Step on it." Well, if that's the way he feels about it, I will— CRASH!— I knew it. Right into the bumper of the car ahead. Damn these cops! Shhh, hold your breath, I don't think that fellow knows I hit him. Hooray, he has started for ward again. Randolph street at last. Boy, here's where I make some time. There isn't a thing in sight for two blocks. Here we go. Whew! I'm afraid that cop on the corner . . . golly, he's whistling for me to stop. Oh well, there's noth ing to do but face the music. Traffic Cop: "Pull over to the curb, you. Where's the fire? TO illustrate, let's take an evening drive from Evanston to the loop theatre district. We are not ones to arrive at the drama tardy, so we start betimes and thus insure the reward of golden-haze tinted lawns and trees and buildings. . . . gleaming, blood red re flections of the dying sun in a thou sand window panes along the way. Also, we get started ahead of the long line of cars sure to be headed loop- wards near the theatre hour. It's too bad we can't avoid the busses. There's one ahead of us now and its driver in sists on staying in the middle of the road. Zip! Look at that cab whiz around him. Well, if the cab can do it, so can I. Here goes. Just look at that lake! Deep blue, "Albert, I'm ashamed of you. Who ever heard of going to a fire in lavender pajamas." vJm*$KH&»*q-' 22 THE CHICAGOAN I guess because there ain't no cars or trucks in sight you think you can burn up the street, eh?" Well, officer, you see, we're late for the theatre and I didn't realize how fast I was going. I'm sorry and if you'll let me off this time, I'll promise never to do it again, really. . . . Traffic Cop: "Learn a new one brother. I think the best for you is a little trip to court to morrow. (Business of pulling out notebook, etc.) What's your name?" JUST my luck. Well, that's that. Darn his hide, we'll probably miss half the first act. Say, it's so late now I'm going to try to find a place to park right along here. I think I see a spot up ahead and it is only a few blocks from the theatre. Fine, just enough room. Is everything clear in back? Oh hell! Here comes another cop. Mounted Cop: (arrives with much clattering of hoofs) : "Pull out o' there. Haven't you got no more sense than to park in that space? Can't you read? I've half a mind to give you a ticket. Hurry up, move along, you're holding up the parade." Great Caesar's glorious ghost! I'm a nervous wreck. Well, we're more than six blocks away from the theatre, but this seems to be a quiet street, and there's a space, so I'm going to end this misery right now. (Three hours later we return to the car. As we approach, a seedy, tramp like person walks up to us, touching hi cap.) Seedy Person: "All safe and sound, sir. I watched your car all the time you was gone. There was some queer looking birds loafing around, but they moved right along when they seen me. I'm hungry, too, seeing as I ain't had nothing to eat since morning." He is probably lying, but rather thar argue the point, I toss him a quarter Thus, gentle reader, we end the adven ture of driving to the loop of an eve ning. There is, of course, the equally nerve-racking trip back to the Lares and Penates, but it is much the same or more so. In conclusion there is the sequel. * _ ^ , _ :-i >«*ie ME-r-Kte- 'You know, Lil, 1 don't know if I'm going to let Lincoln Park inspire me today or not." I DISTINCTLY remember that upon arriving home, my wife insisted upon my hurrying back downtown again after something or other. I for' get just what it was she wanted, but without hesitation, I turned the car around and started back towards the loop. It seemed peculiar that the sun should be out and the birds singing, but it was and they were. Every car in sight, and there weren't, very many, was speeding merrily along at a racing clip, so I stepped mine up to sixty-five. Nearing Lincoln Park, a motorcrycle cop came alongside. He smiled and shouted, "Nice day, isn't it?", then waved and turned away. A few blocks from the loop I stopped for a traffic light alongside a big truck. WTiile waiting for the green light to flash, a policeman on the corner came over to my car. "I noticed you speeding down the drive," he said, smiling, "I'll bet you were hitting sixty-five or seventy, weren't you?". I admitted I was. "Well, he continued, "that sure is a dandy car. Wish I had one like it." We were interrupted by the driver of the big truck, parked beside me. He was leaning towards me, and said, "Pardon me, sir, but the light has changed and I thought you might want to go on ahead of me. ..." Suddenly everything was dark. Then I heard my wife's voice. She was say ing, "What in the world is the matter with you? You've been laughing in your sleep for the last five minutes." — JOSEPH DUGAN. THE CHICAGOAN 23 The Deluge A Sounding of Chicago Prohibition THROUGHOUT the solemn dec ades from 1865 to 1918 the fed eral constitution drowsed along as no very exciting document, a dreary ruling upon which was based the outward and visible form of our governing bodies. Even the negro amendments written in the white blood of a civil war were forgotten by the North and casually disregarded by the South. To be sure, aliens were required to learn at least the opening paragraphs of our articles of union, together with what passed for a gist of its contents. But the native citizen was not so har- rassed. His innocence of constitutional lore was part of his privilege as a home grown American. It was scrupulously preserved. Then came the 18th amendment. pursuant to it, the price of Kentucky whiskies jumped from $6.75 a case to $95. Native business instincts caused their bearers to snort violently and move fast. Overnight a new and lusty business was born. Without venturing upon the history of bootlegging the writer must content himself with ob serving that the infant industry has grown up into a blue-joweled and for midable youth, a hustler, a go-getter, and A-l business man. Chicago is the present capitol of large-scale bootlegging. Her prestige, with due acknowledgment for the thirst of her citizens, rests on the fact that Chicago is the distributing center for the dry states of the Middle- West. Chicago bootleggers are the merchant princes of the profession. Seaboard "racketeers" are very literally mere peddlers as seen against the powerful liquor traders on the corner of Lake Michigan. Bootlegging proper, which is the im portation and distribution of delicates, as well as beer and alcohol running, which is the supplying of bulk goods to the intemperate common voter, rest on the corner stone of the "fix." The "fix" is simply an arrangement of effec tive law breaking with public servants who are willing to listen to reason, and with profit. Unlike the noisy alcohol wars which thunder even more vio lently in print than up dark Chicago alleys, the "fix" is silent and efficient in its workings. Liquor vendors insist that nearly all officials "take." At least a number of law enforcers do. Certainly the Amer ican scheme of popular government has revealed itself capable of a flexibility in this regard totally undreamed of by the Fathers. THE personnel of a modern liquor dealer's organization is made up of all types. Recruits are drawn in by some members of the profession who vouch for the neophyte as an honest industrious youth, and in due time be come "salesmen" for this or that Loop "Sales Corporation." It is a sober truth that many young fellows grad uate from bootlegging to the positions of trust and confidence usually re served for graduates of mail order col leges. Since high-grade potables are sold to commercial houses almost exclusively, the better organizations avoid high- pressure selling. "Cold Turkey" solicit ing is frowned on. The security of such dealings is con sequently so high that excellent service is maintained. Any good bootleg office should guarantee a loop delivery in 30 minutes. If the customer is skeptical, samples of goods are cheerfully sub mitted together with a laboratory analysis. The analysis does not mean much, it is true, other than that the "package" is non-poisonous. Taste and quality of liquor are such etherial, im palpable attributes as to defy most chemists. The palate is, after all, the final arbiter of quality. Yet it may be here definitely stated that even "bunk packages" are so carefully put up that the ordinary purchaser cannot detect the real from the manufactured. Good firms usually scorn to adulterate their wares. They attempt to win and hold patronage by solid merchandising value. IN the beer and alkey industry, where the quality of liquor is low, profits comparatively small, and competition bitter, business methods are more bru tally stripped of the amenities. Hi jacking is likely to be more frequent, since deliveries are harder to disguise. Monopolies in any one district are sel dom decided by the virtues of the prod ucts sold, but by the gangster rule of quick-firing armaments, not against cus tomers, but against rival alkey runners. The struggle for fertile Chicago areas is thus rightly known as a "beer war." It is conducted by beer and alkey men; bootleggers (technically) stand aloof. At the present writing Chicago beer chiefs have agreed to a truce and on the whole that truce has been scrupu lously kept. Even of the beer runner it must be said that the killer is a spe cial, hired individual, by no means typical of the general calling. It follows, naturally, that the beer runner seldom comes in contact with the ultimate consumer of his goods — a source of divers abuses. In this respect he is unlike the bootlegger. The beer runner's product trickles to the public through the multitudes of blind pigs, speakeasies, drinking clubs, and booze joints which (alas!) harass the peace of the Second City. The identifica tion of patrons of these dens is a matter entirely up to the proprietor. But sat isfaction of customers is alike impera tive, even in the lowest places. Alcohol is indirectly handled. Like beer it is distributed by one industry, and sold by a second dealer, who meets the final consumer across the counter. Adequate, if not highly aesthetic gin is manufactured by the retailer usually; it comes cheaper that way. Home brew, of course, requires no explana tion as to its origin. Many a beer-flat thrives on the income mamma is able to cajole from neighbors who like her particular brew. Such traffic is large in the bulk, very large. But the or ganization behind it is at once so simple as to defy detection, and to obviate the necessity of research. FINALLY, the temptation to boost profits a little through the sale of illegal intoxicants is so great that a vast number of small business people avail themselves of it. Groceries, res taurants, cigar stores, laundries, barber shops, all are tempted to dabble a bit; a distressing number of such places do. Now and then some unscrupulous wretch peddles deadly stuff. His crime is unjustly laid to the whole profes' sion, as a premeditated slaughter. At worst such sad incidents are accidental. Only a manifest idiot would kill off a solvent customer. But let us not end on a lethal note. Bootleggers are not morbid or harassed fellows; these days they are quite the reverse. "Hell," as one explained to this investigator, "we got no kick com ing. Our business is gettin' better and better. We're all makin' money. Everybody's happy!" There is the au' thentic finale. — F. c. C. 24 THE CHICAGOAN The 1,001 Rackets IF, in reading accounts of Chicago's sporadic gangland warfare, you have noticed allusions to "the beer racket," you may have wondered just what the "racket" stood for. In a narrow sense, the word is a synonym for game or business, but it implies something far more interesting. It has no connection with the racquet so necessary to the virile pastime of Misses Lenglen, Wills et al. Persons who consider their means of earning the right to pay an income tax as a "racket" are, in most cases, com parable to those steel-nerved characters, drawn so deftly by writers of magazine fiction, who live by their wits and in affluence, without visible means of sup port. The flesh and blood "Racketeer" may be slightly more sordid and lack some of the polish of his fiction like ness, but his adventures are not less colorful or dangerous. Chicago, especially since the advent of prohibition, is literally teeming with members of this piquant fraternity. The smartest of them stay almost en tirely within the limits of the law, in its most liberal interpretation, while those less endowed cerebrally go to the most freakish extremes in the pursuit of their profession. Strangely, the true "Racketeer" is seldom found engaged directly or indirectly in the liquor traffic. More often he picks the boot legger and the blind pig booze dis penser as his most prized victims. There is, for instance, the "Pitcher Racket," a delightful little game de signed by "Racketeers" of the lower and less intelligent orders, for the en trapment of gullible speakeasy pro prietors. Until it became too commonly practiced in Chicago to return sufficient profit, the "Pitcher Racket" was a much favored and justly popular "noise." IN working this one, the "Racketeer" provides himself with an ordinary picture album and pastes in it photo graphs of, possibly, all his male rela tives and friends, or, lacking these, the likenesses of any ten or twelve men he can gather here and there. Thus equipped, our jolly beau courber pays a visit on the thickest- witted saloonkeeper he can find. He apprises the publican of the immediate danger of arrest by federal prohibition agents. The spirits-merchant is made to feel that one of these government bugaboos might appear to harass him at almost any moment. Then, as a •'•— ' ^ 1/1. ^/;'^4#*1 V 1 -> V , rtfe^KfkX Nw^ nmA Willi few ¦ 'Why the artistic get up on Mack lately?" 'He's fust signed with a pub lisher to write a book on how to mix drinks." climax, our "Racketeer" produces his album. "I have here," he says impressively, "an exact likeness, a photograph of every prohibition agent employed in the Chicago territory. With this album you can tell from the pictures whether it is safe to sell a drink to a stranger at your bar. No man in your business can afford to be without it. I'll sell it to you for $200." More often than not he departs with the money tucked comfortably away?- THE "Pitcher Racket," however, is but one of many schemes fabri cated for the undoing of retail boot leggers. Another, the "Fixin' Racket," is practiced after such unlucky tipple peddlers have been already enmeshed in the coils of the federal law. Legal procedure for violators of the dry statutes always includes a pre liminary arraignment before a United States commissioner. The hearings are, of course, public. In search of prey, the "Fixin' Racketeer" stations himself just outside the doors of the commis sioner's hearing room, looking for likely prospects among the unfortunates accused of liquor selling, who are wait ing for their cases to be called. Having chosen his victim, the "Fixer" strikes up a conversation something like this: "Well, I'm surprised to see you up here. Have you got a lawyer yet?", and then, if the answer is no, he con tinues, "well, you're lucky. Them shysters ain't no good. All they do is bleed you. Now, me, I'm different. I know everybody in the building. The commissioner is one of my pals. I can put in a word for you and the whole thing is fixed better than any lawyer could do it — and it wouldn't cost you half as much." To this the victim will ask, "How much would you charge me?" The answer to that one is, "How much have you got?", whereupon a deal is negotiated. Then, after tucking his fee away, the "Fixer" pats his client on the back. "You're all set," he says, "just watch me." Sure enough, he goes into the hear ing room and right up to the com missioner. A moment later he is leaning toward that dignitary and whispering confidentially. As he straightens up again, he hands the commissioner a cigar and struts out into the hall, his face beaming. "Don't THE CHICAGOAN 25 have a worry," he tells the client, "you're all fixed up." A moment later the "Fixer" finds it convenient to leave the building. Only the commissioner knows that what he whispered was: "How are you, com missioner? Nice day for the game, isn't it? Still, you never can tell, it might rain. Well, have a cigar com missioner." PROBABLY the most popular sport of this nature among the mooching brotherhood is what is known as the "Collectin' Racket." Every speakeasy operator is the legitimate prey of any police captain or influential politician who desires a weekly honorarium in return for allowing the speakeasy in question to operate unmolested by city authorities. With this fact as a prece dent, the "Collectin' Racketeer," who usually does business in a large way, will engage several of a certain type of "Racketeer" known as "Phone Men," half a dozen messengers and will grease the way in official quarters when and if necessary. Then he will canvass every known saloon in the city with this message, delivered over the wire by a "Phone Man" or verbally: "We are putting on a benefit show for the such and such charity. You're on our list for fifty tickets at $2 per. You can sell 'em or throw them away, but Alderman Whoozit, (or Police Captain Whatsit, or Ward Committee man Wham) said you would be sure to subscribe. We'll send a messenger over right away for the money." "A "racket" practiced on the general public, particularly elderly men whose eyes are fascinated by pretty girls, is called the "Screaming Sister Act." One girl, possessing considerable of what Elinor Glynn calls "It," and working on her own or as the employe of a "Racketeer," is stationed at a corner along Lake Shore drive, usually be tween nine and ten o'clock in the morning. Whenever a particularly promising old gent comes along, driving an ex pensive looking car, the little miss returns his ogle with a sweet smile and an eye-invitation. The victim, of course, pulls up to the curb and asks the charming young thing if she will honor him by riding downtown in his car. She shyly acquiesces. Then, within a few minutes after the car is again on its way, she turns to the hot papa and says: "Listen, mister, I'm hard up, see? I need lots of pretties but it takes cold mazuma to get 'em. How about fifty bucks?" If the victim refuses, the next shot is, "Alright, dearie, I'll give you one more chance. Either you pass over them iron men, or I scream for a cop, see? Wouldn't it look nice in the papers, especially when your wife sees it, that you was locked up for making improper advances to an innocent young girl on Lake Shore drive? What do you say, old fuzzyface, do I scream?" PROBABLY the most daring of the "rackets" recently worked in Chi cago is a method of gold mining originated by a former South Side gang leader. This man enjoys a news paper reputation for being a killer and a generally all-around bad man. Possessed of much idle capital and tiring of the risks involved in running big shipments of beer, he hit upon this novel scheme for finding the where withal to keep up his large estate and pay for the Rolls Royce repairs, (free adv.). It had come to his notice that quite a few real estate subdivision operators were in sore need of ready cash and faced sudden bankruptcy unless im mediate financial aid could be found. Taking full advantage of his thorough ly published reputation for nervous trigger fingers, this gangster, turned "Racketeer" de luxe and called upon several of the more desperate realty men. One case will illustrate his pro cedure. Protruding from his belt when he entered the office was the shiny pearl handle of a very large revolver. He addressed the prospect about as fol lows: "My name is Bulldozer. Ever hear of me? Well, I hear you need money. Would five grand, ($5,000), tide you over?" With this he produced a huge roll of bills and counted out the stated sum, tossing it carelessly on the desk. "What about terms?" the prospect asked. "I'll give you the five grand for ninety days. At the end of that time you give me back the five and five more besides — well, do you take it or leave it?" The prospect, at his wits end to raise money to stave off a financial crash, possibly disgrace, thought quickly and decided equally as quickly to take the money. "Shall I have a note or a receipt made out?" he asked his strange but usurious benefactor. This was Mr. Bulldozer's cue for the grand stand gesture. "No," he replied, drawing the big revolver out of his belt, "In ninety days I'll be around for my money. This," pointing to the gun, "is my receipt." Mr. Bulldozer has never failed to collect his $10,000 at the end of the ninety days. — J- D- Poetic Acceptances ' Robert W. Service accepts an invita tion to somebody's coming out party There's lots of sin where the snows be gin; There's sin in the city, too. By the pain in my mid, 111 accept your bid; ¦ It was very kind of you. I long for the bite of fillet done right And the saxophone's weird wail That sounds like the cry of the huskies fly ing in with the Yukon mail. When the Kid on his stool bangs away like a fool I want to slip from my chair As soon as I'm able, right under the table, So you may expect me there. DONALD PLANT. 26 THE CHICAGOAN The Ravinia season has opened with a majestic swoofi. And here with is shown Bori — guileless in a Lord Fauntleroy collar — and the volu ble Martinelli — with a beard — grinning on a nimble high note in the constant La Boheme. THE CWICAGOAN 7/ze ST A G E NEW YORK, June 28. E have made a trek to this bawdy capitol for the purpose of investigating conditions in the thea tre. There are, as everybody knows, "conditions" existing everywhere. For example, who can deny that there are conditions in Europe, China and else where? For that matter, we have conditions of one sort or another right in Chicago. Now, it is an accepted fact that somebody must investigate conditions. That is what conditions are for — to be investigated. So we have journeyed here to do a little in vestigating of our own. But before you can investigate a condition, you must first catch it. And some conditions are more easily pounced upon than others. Ordinari ly, a little salt sprinkled upon the tail — and the condition is yours. But only conditionally. However, most condi tions are to be taken with a grain of salt. But to get on with our story, we discovered that conditions in the New York theatre are not at all dif ficult to investigate. The process is very simple. Your investigator, equipped with paper and pencil, (the wearing of false whiskers is optional) sallies forth from his hotel and wends his way to ward Broadway, a thoroughfare lo cated between Sixth and Eighth Ave nues. This Broadway has achieved a certain local reputation for the number of glittering electric signs it raises against the otherwise cloudless sky, proclaiming the virtues of underwear, tooth-paste, and other luxuries. Its principal industries are amusement dens, sheet-music emporiums, gents' furnishing salons, and bazaars dealing in paste jewelry. Very little English is spoken along Broadway, but guides may be procured who will conduct you to the various points of interest. Almost any traveler with a gift for pantomime can make himself under stood, if he does not care to hire a guide. The denizens of Broadway are quaint, and their native dress very colorful, particularly in the matter of striped shirts and neckwear. The headdress is a flat hat of straw with gaily colored bands. You find these fellows in groups along the curb, en gaged in lively conversation, and if you pause to listen to their argot, you dis cover, with the aid of an interpreter, that they are discussing the very thing you have come to investigate: i.e., con ditions in the theatre. UPON listening to these picturesque nomads you learn that conditions in the theatre are vastly depressing. The past season has been the worst in years. Had you overheard their con versation a year ago (and you would have come upon the same fellows, standing on the same curb) similar statements would have been vouch safed. Likewise, the year before that. And if you encounter them next year, they will be uttering the same opinions. The theatre, as an institu tion, has gone to what are known as the dogs. They admit it in no uncer tain terms. Next your investigator proceeds to any one of the theatres that rear their gaudy facades along Broadway and its tributary byways. There is always an elevator in the lobby, which, after due conniving with the uniformed African in charge, hoists your investigator aloft to any one of a dozen floors. Here is a manager's office, its outer portals guarded by a bright-eyed young He brew who in a few years will be a manager himself. The chances are that he already has a manuscript or two in his desk. After the investiga tor's passport and credentials have been examined by the young Hebrew, there is a possibility that your investi gator will be admitted (though not without an impressive delay) to the in ner chamber, where sits the manager in person, not a moving picture. He may be bulky of waistline, or lean; he may be short or tall; he may be puffing a Gargantuan cigar, or he may never have smoked in his life — but the story he confides to you is the same. The season just past has been the worst in years. Not a dollar has been made in the theatre. He — along with every other manager in New York — is on his way to the poor-house. His Rolls-Royce is waiting downstairs, at this very moment, to trans port him there. He tells you, with tears in his eyes, and not without suit able gestures, that the theatre has gone to the dogs. What with actors de manding to be paid for the services in actual currency, not United Cigar cou pons; what with stage-hands demanding salaries higher than leading ladies re ceived a few years ago; what with the movies; what with this-and-that — things have come to a pretty pass. * * I ¥ OW about Chicago?" queries I 1 your investigator. The mana ger waves his arms frenziedly, and kicks over several waste-baskets. A play, good or bad, has about as much chance in Chicago as it has in Paw Paw, Michigan. Don't mention Chicago to him! Etc., etc. Your investigator makes hasty adieux, and fares forth, down the street to the office of another manager. A quite different sort of manager. This one goes in for "arty" entertainment. Here is an office where lights are soft, and so are office-boys. The rooms have been decorated fanci fully by a disciple of Josef Urban, and, ten-to-one, there hangs upon the wall a poster advertising a German comedy. Or something from the Portuguese. Your investigator is speedily escorted into the manager's sanctum, where the chintz around the windows is no brighter than the manager's smile. He is young and cheerful. He exudes op timism. Discounting his gently spoken prelude on Art (capital A) in the American theatre, you learn that con ditions are rosy. Everything is jake. (Though, of course, this young man does not employ the vernacular in his speech, and could not bring himself to use the word, jake.) The plays that he has sponsored during the past sea son have done well. They may not have prospered at the box-office, they have not been what are vulgarly known as successes, but everything has been done in the name of Art. The secret is, that this manager's productions are subsidized by a little group of rich old ladies. They just love Art, and they don't mind paying for it. Your investigator, once more out in the great open spaces of Broadway, and breathing its cool, refreshing air, ar rives at the profound conclusion that conditions in the theatre are no dif ferent than they ever were. The thea tre as an institution (if it is an insti tution, which many doubt) continues to make the same progress that is made by a squirrel in a cage. • — GENE MARKEY. 28 THE CHICAGOAN (The CINEMA THE picture to see immediately is Resurrection, which should be listed among the available attractions at the time this issue reaches you but probably will not be so listed for any considerable length of time. It is rather too good to prosper consistently and it is not at all suitable for exhibi tion as curtain raiser to a jazz band. The picture is Tolstoy's novel and not much has been done to the story Its essentials are intact, suitable fur- bishings rather intensifying its appeal. The cast is able and the background is constructed with evident fidelity to the text. Rod LaRocque is Dmitri in the pic ture and whatever else he has done in pictures becomes of relatively little significance. But the outstanding per formance is Dolores Del Rio's Katu- sha. This young woman, in her third or fourth picture, gives a performance such as most of the veterans have lived and labored in hope for one day sign ing. She emotes, as they say on the set, and she characterizes, as they also say — usually without justification — but she never is Dolores Del Rio and she always is Katusha. Count Ilya Tolstoy, son of the author, sits through but does not in trude upon the story. Summer Fil m IF Resurrection is not conveniently visible when next the call of the screen — -and a cool theatre — exerts its influence, a number of light comedies on display pay reasonable dividends on time invested in them. Cinema tradi tion orders a plentiful supply of comedy during the warmer periods, for reasons not entirely clear but certainly con sidered by the theatre men as adequate, and the best laugh pictures make their appearances at this time. Colleen Moore is at her flippant best in one of these called l<iaughty But Tvj'ce. The title, be it understood, has nothing to do with the picture, which concerns a Texas oil heiress who goes to boarding school and from there on. It is brightly conducted, captioned wittily and yet sanely, enacted pleasant ly by a lot of nice young players and offered without ostentation. Eddie Cantor, notable as the first stage comic to successfully translate his The Optimist talent into terms of photoplay on the initial try, is very amusing in Special Delivery. The thing is straight comedy and offers no propaganda or other alibi for the quite substantial humor it contains. Reginald Denny is quite amusing, too, in Fast and Furious. If you re member the Byron Morgan automobile stories picturized by Wallace Reid, you know all you need know about Fast and Furious. It is "one of those things," as the picture people express it, and it is a very amusing one of them. Nothing else viewed for the purposes of this report demands extended men tion, although Captain Salvation shows signs of having been interesting before the censors rewrote the subtitles. They left little save gore and suggestion. Finis JUNE has brought news of sub stantial increase in the Hollywood marriage rate and it seems too bad. While it is quite likely that a corres ponding increase in the divorce rate will result in ultimate maintenance of the artistically correct balance, these alliances and severances of alliances always disturb the eastward flow of film entertainment. It is difficult to steam up over a persecuted heroine re ported in the morning papers as honey mooning with a dubious blue blood in some such pleasant spot as they select for these things. It will be particularly unsatisfactory if the presently rumored engagement of Lillian Gish to George Jean Nathan proves to be more than a rumor. Miss Gish's peculiarly tenuous charm owes much to the dense silence that has sur rounded her real life in spite of the picture magazines' attempts to dispel it. Much of the thing people refer to as her art is, in analysis, vagueness. Head line wifehood would not add to her following. And — if a step away from the cinema may be condoned — front page domesticity will play hob with the quite definite reader 's-eye-view of the untenuous Nathan. — w. R. WEAVER. THE CHICAGOAN 29 BOO K/- YOUR tickets are bought and your trunks are packed. It is now only a question of books to be stowed away in soft corners. If you have an interest in social an thropology, your first impulse will be to carry along "The Mothers," by Robert Briffault, published by the Mac- millan company in three eight-hundred page volumes. In the course of a sum mer one might really be able to make an impression on such a work. "The Mothers" is perhaps the most wide- reaching study of human society that has ever been carried through, and working as it does from a bold premise, namely that all forms of the social in stincts are derived from the maternal instinct, it shakes the whole kaleido scope of anthropology into a new pat tern. But perhaps there isn't so much room in the corners as you had antici pated. Foreseeing this contingency, Doubleday Page and Company have published several books as one book and called it "The Week-End Library." This contains among other things Mar garet Kennedy's "Constant Nymph" complete, nine essays from Christopher Morley's "The Romany Stain," giving the high spots of his French adventure en famille, and Don Marquis' "Old Soak's History of the World," with spelling as bad as any that you'll see in a column. The book to be particularly recom mended to anyone bound for Boston, however, is "The Son of the Grand Eunuch," by Charles Pettitt (Boni and Liveright). For, as a. colleague of mine remarked the other day, it is a sure thing that you couldn't buy a copy in that city of the index. Boys in the trenches got where they could see the humor of a man's having his head shot off when he was in the middle of a sentence. Voltaire could see the funny side of a convent of nuns being ravished. And in like manner this book is comedy without heart, detach ing and juggling of occidental values. The scene is the Chinese court. The Grand Eunuch himself, or at least so the author tells us, is an historical character. The incidents are pic turesque, fantastic, such things as never were on (fictional) land or sea. ANEW book by Cleone Knox, whose journal for the year 1764- 1765, was brought out by her kinsman Alexander Blacker Kerr under the title, "The Diary of a Young Lady of Fashion," is something that the most sanguine reader could scarcely have expected. Nonetheless even this was made possible by Magdalen King- Hall's confession to having been on that previous most successful occasion both Cleone and Alexander. "I Think I Remember: Being the Random Recollections of Sir Wickham Woolicomb, An Ordinary English Snob and Gentleman" is her new title, (D. Appleton and Company) . As the memoirs of a Victorian gentleman who visited Ireland once and who has lived over into our own shocking times, and been an author, it is shrewd parody. The fun of it is as much in its ironical (Address) closeness to truth as in its running fire of farcical incident. Reviewers occasionally get a chance to read a pirate story by reason of the fact that boys' books come to our shelves along with the rest. But the average grown person is put to it to find a sufficiently dignified excuse when he wishes to ravage the Spanish main. Here at last is a pirate story just for adults: "Moonraker; or The Female Pirate and Her Friends," by F. Tenny son Jesse. (Alfred A. Knopf) . It has all the approved piratical elements from seamanship to the educational touch, Toussaint L'Ouverture being one of the characters. — SUSAN WILBUR. Decorative ITH the spring come the trials of parenthood, for with the spring come the decorators. The decorators are always messing around, moving furniture into centres of rooms, getting the walls water-soaked and spreading dampness all over. And it's very difficult to do much with children when all the furniture is in the middle of the floor. One mother, wearied by many hours with the decorating fellows all over the house, was worried about the health of her little daughter. "Grade," said the anxious mother, "I do wish, dear, that you would not play in the damp parlor. It's un healthy. Run along into the dining room." "Aw," replied little Gracie with a frown, "it's just as unhealthy in the damn dining room." Certificate of Awareness I AM a Chicagoan. I DO know my Chicago. I HAVE been to the Art Institute. I have NOT seen the Union Stock Yards. I WILL stick with Chicago if Illinois secedes. I MUST have my fortnightly copy of The aware Chicagoan delivered to me regularly by mail, at your absurdly democratic price of $3 for 26 issues, and my name IS: 30 TWECI4ICAGOAN BLUE — The ease with which all men wear blue and the dignity lent by this color make it ever a ieader in popularity. Two and three button sacks or double breasted models are featured in a fine light weight un finished worsted, at Sixty Dollars. Blue flannel jac\ets $21.50 _ $20.00 Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. TEL. HARRISON 2680 "Thank You" Editor, The Chicagoan: Dealing with so profoundly personal matter as the subject of these para graphs, I am forced to begin with a biographical salvo. I have rejection slips from The T^ation, Captain Billy's Whiz Bang, The American Mercury, True Stories, Harpers, Life, Judge, Detective Tales, Asia (I've never been west of Denver) , True Romances, Ziff's, War Stories, The Atlantic Monthly, College Humor, Eye Opener, The Orange Judd Farmer, System, Poetry Magazine, Hot Dog, and The Ladies Home Journal. Nor is the list complete, not by any means. Thank heaven, I've never had anything turned down by the T^ew Masses. I have a dark suspicion that they would send an unsuccessful contributor three pounds of blasting powder with fuse attached and spluttering; I've never submitted to the J^lew Masses. Yet certain slips stand out from the common herd. There is, for instance, the damnably prim thing from The Atlantic; it is embarrassing in its well- bred protestation of indifference, like a Boston matron assuring you that she ROCHDALE INN MONTAGUE, MICH. Spend Your Outing This Summer where you can enjoy as never before the great out-doors. A seven-thousand acre estate where lakes, trout streams and the beautiful White River afford a setting of scenic beauty seldom found anywhere. EVERY FEATURE— Boating, "Bathing, Fishing, Hiking, Tennis, Dancing, Horseback Riding — plus the added attraction of a real wildwood setting, easily accessible via the delightful water route— THE GOODRICH STEAMSHIP LINES. An Entire Week in the Country for $32.00 INCLUDING ALL EXPENSES AS FOLLOWS: Roundtrip boat fare from Chicago, berth, bus fares, all meals and lodging at Inn, free use of tennis court and row boats and free admission every night to the Ball Room. Splendid orchestra. Regular Rates $4.50 per day, $24.50 per week American Plan Exclusively For reservations and further information about above and other FIXED COST OUT INGS, please write to Chicago office. ROCHDALE INN Room 801, No. 130 North Wells Street, CHICAGO, ILLINOIS really doesn't mind your blundering into her bathroom while in an advanced stage of alcoholism. MR. FAWCETT'S publications- Whiz Bang and one of the "I admit" group — are more considerate. They assure you by letter that your offering is not quite up to their literary standards and encourage more careful artistic work. Carramba! College Humor descants upon the difficulty of filling their precise needs at that particular time, assures you that your work may have every merit (uii' fortunately not for them) and leaves you full of involuntary pity for an editor condemned to return priceless art because his pages are already over' flowing with delicates. It's a sad .busi ness, this being an editor. American Mercury contributes an insulting white cardboard. A noun lower than "yokel" not having been invented, its editors are at a loss for the appropriate epithet to fling at your head. In consequence, theirs is a silent contempt. The Saturday Evening Post is polite, firm, final. Judge is slow to reject and stereo typed about the whole matter. One would expect a brisk fillip. The K[ation is well-bred and rather pained to refuse your work, but firm of duty. Life is not pained at all. Life enjoys rejecting things, it seems. rHE CHICAGO AH replies with a blushful little slogan in 36-pt bold italics. On receiving a Chicagoan "Thank You" one involuntarily closes the windows lest the echo disturb his neighbors. Magazines of the McFadden group all reply lugubriously. They deplore everything very, very deeply. Then they go on and mention their moral and uplifting requirements. In the end a contributor of tender conscience is likely to consider a pilgrimage to Mt. Sinai in expiation for the sins hinted in his scabrous manuscript. McFadden wants only The Good, The True, and The Beautiful. And oh how zealously he grubs for them. How patiently he rebukes smutty youngsters who have misunderstood his great purpose and submitted bad stories written from a cynical outlook and with long words To be rejected by McFadden has made over many an author into an honest man. It nearly, very nearly salvaged this one. henry gonfal. 7735 Cornell Ave "TUECWICAGOAN 31 Road Map for Male Hosts E have with us tonight — oh, lots of people. There's the fellow — and his girl — who remembers the extensive advertising we used to employ by way of letting the wide world know us as the nonesuch sum' mer resort. There's the stemless tide of drop-in relatives determined to in' vestigate these places talked about by Aimee and the Herald' Examiner. And there are the conventioneers, hordes of them, frisky as colts and brave as the badges on their lapels. All these, and more, to be shown the town they've read about in the papers and heard about from traveling salesmen. Perhaps the mark of the successful Chicagoan is his ability to cope with the situation thrust upon him by this type of guest, the guest who phones, Tm in over the week-end — brick men's convention at the Sherman — how do I get out to your place?" The answer to all this is, if one is to retain a sem blance of routine over the period of the visit, a short and hearty one. "Don't bother to come out," the phonee should remark, "I'll run down and we'll go somewhere for dinner and a show." This accomplished, for there's never a failure, the family may continue with their plans for whatever was in mind and but one member need be sacrificed. If he knows his visitor, and one is quite like another, he can even cut short his own exile by careful manipu' lation of itinerary. If the call is received immediately before dinner, as it usually is, an ex' cellent plan is to meet the guest at the College Inn and see how he reacts to the good food and Maurice Sherman's orchestra. If the College Inn seems a bit formal for the party of the second part, the Terrace Gardens may be substituted. The latter place has Gus Edwards, whom all visitors insist is the fellow who produced "School Days," and the terrace idea is engaging to the milder adventurer. Florence Jones may sing pleasantly and specialists in the band will interject items that intrigue the unaccustomed. When the dinner is out of the way and the place quiets down for the during'theatre period, the guest may be taxied through attractive thoroughfares to the Rainbo Gardens. He has heard of this place and the prospect is likely to subdue rambling news accounts of 644 Cass Street CHICAGO A new modern sixteen story fireproof hotel — one of the beauty spots of Chicago — in the heart of the fashionable near north side — close to the Lake — Lincoln Park, Oak Street Beach and all outdoor sports for which this city is famous. Just a five minute walk to the Loop Bus and surface trans portation are imme diately available. No expense or effort has been spared in mak ing Hotel Cass the most luxurious, richly furnished hostelry in the entire middle west. Make your next visit to Chicago doubly pleasant by partaking of Hotel Cass hospitality. 32 TUE CHICAGOAN 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 Secret of a Charming Personality PERSPIRATION should not be checked. It is a function necessary to your health and well being. Science however has conquered this disagreeable f eautre of nature — MAGIC safely deodorizes arm pit excretions. The charming and fascinat ing women of Europe and South America have long since embraced MAGIC as an indispensable compliment to lovely womanhood. MAGIC is now available to the women of America in the following fragrances — Un- scented, Violet, Rose, Lilas de France, Carnation and Boquet. The unscented is particularly recommended to men. Restrepo Laboratories, Care The A. J. Alsdorf Corp., 330 South Franklin St., Chicago. Please send "MAGIC" (check fragrance wanted in paragraph above) for which I enclose $1.00. Sample package, 25c. Name _ Address City State affairs in the town he left behind him. The Rainbo gives him a glance at what he's heard called a "floor show," one that may disillusion him as to daring but will compensate with a cer tain grace of presentation and a dis tinct unity. If he likes dance music he will ask nothing better, and if he dances he will pronounce the floor perfect. At the first sign of ease, however, the capable escort on such a pilgrimage will whisk his charge out of the place (he'll stay until closing otherwise) and to the LaSalle Roof where Jack Chap man's excellent orchestra is as soothing to the ear as the skyline is to the eye. If the visitor relaxes perceptibly in this atmosphere it is as well, for this re laxation is basis for the climax which is to complete the host's service to whatever amenities may apply in the case at hand. The hour having arrived for things to brighten up in the darker places, speedy leave is taken and another taxi is chartered. It will add to the effect if the driver is told to drive several miles before depositing the party at the Frolics. If the ride is through darkened streets and under elevated structures a part of the way, the guest will feel that he has arrived finally at the place he had in mind at the beginning. It is better not to so state, as the Frolics is really all right. At the Frolics the guest will see a show to talk about when he gets back home. There will be the Williams Sisters, almost surely, who sing and dance in the manner of the night club but better. And there is a chorus, there is a band, there is scenery and there is a waiting line for tables that gives the guest a feeling of exclusive- ness which will be remembered when imagination has distorted recollection of all other sensations experienced on his wild night in the city. If the host is wholly capable, although consummate is a better adjective in this extreme occasion, he can lead his guest to sug gest leaving him to finish the night alone, which means sleep for the pilot. By adherence to this itinerary and exercise of due tact, it is sometime possible for the visitee to overcome the visitor with hospitality within the period of an evening and without serious interruption of household pro cedure. Once in a while the visitor repeats his phone call on the day fol lowing, but of course there's only one answer to that. — w. F. Where Fine Cigars Are Smoked Tom Palmer Predominates Wengler & Mandell, Inc. Chicago - Tampa Awareness Dorothy slid a cool white hand across her fore head. "Now do not try to make me feel rude for sending you away; I told you, young man, that I wanted to stay home this evening. And do not hang your head like that; you are handsome enough. But tonight I am going to read. You and father can talk shop in the library." And with those terse words, definite and to the point as they were, the astute young lady picked up a copy of the aware Chicagoan — a tribute to her superior discrimination — slid a slim leg under her, and allowed to seep into her prompt brain the kindly perception that marks those brisk and ever timely pages. •n, CI4ICAGOAN On the News Stands Every Second Saturday You are cordially invited to visit the STEGER Store and inspect the New Orthophonic Victrola in Electrola and Radiola Combinations exclusively — and the automatic Orthophonic Victrola, the phonograph that changes its own records. Terms to suit your convenience ====:^^ STEGER & SONS Piano Manufacturing Company Founded by John V. Steger, 1879 STEGER Building Northwest Corner Wabash and Jackson You will enjoy hearing the latest VICTOR RECORDS Telephone— HARRISON 1656