v ket 24,1927 \c h k Pr-ice 15 Cents >* i Oi u <? <? <?> <& ^ ^. G<* ve. * <pr ^ 4 "*$ <%> '«P % * % 4-, %= ^ ^ 3* y, o A The Chicagoan 407 So. Dearborn St. Chicago, 111. Send "The Chicagoan1'' one year $3.00 — two years $5.00. Name... Address City State «# | For the brighter and snappier & J residents of this community, \ ^ @T| the dotted line forms at the ([$ The Chicagoan — Martin J. Quigley, Publisher and Editor; published fortnightly by The Chicagoan Publishing Co., 407 South 1 Chicago 111 New York Office: 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 5617 Hollywood Blvd. Subscription $3.00 annually, single copies 1 No 1— 'September 24, 1927. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. Dearborn St., 5c. Vol. IV, mt CWICAGOAN Oi/6 other name on a Piano is so readily, unques- ^ ' tioningly, universally accepted as the mark of the best, as Steinway. In the representative concerts played throughout the country in the course of a year, the Stein- ways used greatly outnumber all other makes combined. Lyon & Healy Everything Known in Music Wabash Ave* at Jackson Blvd. CHICAGO 2 TI-JECI-ilCAGOAN CURRENT ENTERTAINMENT OCCASIONS CELESTIAL AUDIT— Yom Kippur, the day of atonement. From sundown to sundown October 5 and 6. MOURNING— All week paying of fight wagers. JUBILEE— All week collecting of fight wagers. BULL EIGHT— Oct. 1— Chicago vs. Okla homa; Northwestern vs. South Dakota. CIVIL WAR— City series, called off for the moment, but fans' yelps may reinstate it. STAGE Comedies, Musical YOURS TRULY— Four Cohans, 119 N. Clark. Central 4937. Mr. Gene Buck presents Leon Errol, who looks like he has had several. THE DESERT SONG— Great Northern, 21 W. Quincy. Central 8240. Sigmund Romberg produces some good tunes to a libretto which proves that the most lily like of gents is sometimes a hero in false face — Frown not upon yon thimpering lad He may be bold and very bad. GEORGE WHITE'S SCANDALS— Er- langer, 127 N. Clark. State 2162. Good show, with a cast extending half a type galley. A chorus of undeniable beauties, whose faces have been seen by a paltry handful of cynics. Drama CHICAGO— Harris, 170 N. Dearborn. Cen tral 1880. Francine Larrimore in a well- fitting farce that hereby draws more sweet words from the press. See it. CRIME— Adelphi, 11 N. Clark. Randolph 4466. A smooth thriller displaying a roomful of smooth bandits and an eve ning of satisfactory diversion. HOOSIERS ABROAD— Blackstone, 60 E. Seventh St. Harrison 6609. Elliot Nu gent projecting his clean personality to lines constructed by those clean humor ists, Mr. Tarkington and Mr. Harry Leon Wilson. THEATRE GUILD ACTING COMPACT — Studebaker, 418 S. Michigan. Har rison 2792. An interesting repertory presentation starting with Pygmalion, fol lowed October 3 by The Second Man. THE SPIDER— Olympic, 74 W. Randolph. Randolph 8240. Very busy thriller. A good place to carry on a beer war with out being noticed. Mat. Wed. AN AMERICAN. TRAGEDY— Garrick, 64 W. Randolph. Randolph 8240. A good youth goes to hell in two volumes. A worthwhile and faithful transcription of Mr. Dreiser. TOMMY— Cort, 132 N. Dearborn. Cen tral 1009. An aseptic skit, which, nev- theless, is very entertaining. BROADWAY— Selwyn, 180 N. Dearborn St. Central 3404. Very much appre ciated by the boulevard therein photo graphed. Purporting to give the low- down on the dubious men and maidens who "hoof" for a livelihood. RAIN— Minturn's Central, 64 E. Van Buren, Harrison 5800. Oh, hello Sadie, you back! With a New York cast, but not the New York cast. MINT URN PLAYERS— Chateau, 3810 Broadway. Lake View 7170. Harry Minturn and his company in one-week runs of last year's successes. Competent stock and popular prices. Burley-Q RIALTO— State at Van Buren — Parisian Vagabonds. A slice of dear old Paris. Much shrill singing and deep bass chordes from the 50c seats. Good movies. Con- STAR AND GARTER— 815 W. Madison - — Late exponents of the Columbia wheel, now possessors of their own company. Thus what is lost in refinement is com* pensated for in jubilance and abdominal athletics. Continuous. HAYMARKET THEATRE — 722 W. Madison — Burlesque on burlesque with diverting features such as Amateur Form Contests, neophyte nights, and ancient salty witticisms hilariously approved of by visiting tourists from the great west. Sit in the balcony. Continuous. STATE-CONGRESS— State near Congress — Traditional burlesque house exhibiting a profusion of red noses, baggy pants and bloated thighs. Continuous. SOUTH STATE STREET— between Van Buren and Polk — A number of little movie houses with companies of 10 or 20 beauties and here and there an Egyptian princess. MR. BIGGS, DISTURBED BY THE LEAVETAKING OF THE DAVIS CUP. TME CHICAGOAN 3 IN AND ABOUT THE CITY For Tickets* P. 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. UNITED, 89 W. Randolph. Randolph 0262. TTSON, 72 W. Randolph. Randolph 0021. F CINEMAf Downtown McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison— The Way of All Flesh, in which the imported Emil Jannings demonstrates the immense ad vantages of American production facili' ties, until such a time as people cease to be interested in excellent characterization. The picture contains the best acting on view at this time. No stage distractions. ROOSEVELT— 110 North State— Fireman Save My Child, one of those Wallace Beery-Raymond Hatton romps, if inter- *A (legal) service charge of $0.50 per tic\et may be made by agencies. fLest sudden success or failure of current attractions (not to mention stri\es and such) occasion post-deadline revisions of schedule, it is suggested that a glance be given the daily advertisements before sum' moning the motor. Some of these movies do move. est in Norma Talmadge's Camille, show ing at press time, is not sustained beyond present anticipation. Either picture is worth the admission and there are no stage interruptions at this playhouse. CHICAGO— State at Lake— After Mid night, with the infrequent Norma Shearer and the oncoming Larry Gray, Sept. 26' Oct. 2. The Drop Kic\, first of the an nual football pictures with Richard Bar- thelmess and Alberta Vaughn, Oct. 3-9. Pretty good music and not too much vaudeville with each. Continuous. ORIENTAL— 74 W. Randolph— Swim, Girl, Swim, revealing Trudy Ederle in her first picture attempt supported (?) by Bebe Daniels, Sept. 26-Oct. 2. The Woman on Trial, Pola Negri and the Valentinoesque Ricardo Cortez, Oct. 3-9. Paul Ash's troupers and singing by the audience at each performance. Con tinuous. PLAYHOUSE— Michigan at Van Buren— Secrets of the Soul, German production based upon a supposedly actual case from the archives of Dr. Freud, with (you may be sure) surroundings worth the admis sion price. If you have not experienced the Playhouse, as well to make the jour ney now as later. NORTH UPTOWN — Broadway at Lawrence — Topsy and Eva, with the Duncan Sisters in film and flesh, Sept. 26-Oct. 2. Ca' mille, the Talmadge modernization, Oct. 3-9. Accompanied in all performances by jazz band and stage affairs. SOUTH AVALON— Stony Island at 79th— The Aualon, a new theatre in itself more in teresting than any pictures it is likely to show. Well worth the tour. TIVOLI— 6325 Cottage Grove— CamiJIe, that Talmadge picture again, Sept. 26- Oct. 2. Topsy and' Eva, direct from the Uptown with the cast intact, Oct. 3-9. Also the accustomed jazz performances. WEST HARDING— 2734 Milwaukee— The Stolen Bride, Billie Dove and Lloyd Hughes in Austrian setting, Sept. 26-Oct. 2. Twelve Miles Out, Ernest Torrence and John Gilbert in bloody pursuit of Joan Craw ford on the liquor frontier, Oct. 3-9. Stage performances, too. SENATE — Madison at Kedzie— Twelve Miles Out, mentioned above, Sept. 26- Oct. 2. Camille, of which you must have heard a plenty, Oct. 3-9. Stage per formances here, also. SPORTS FOOTBALL— Oct. 1— Oklahoma at Chi cago, South Dakota at Northwestern, Bradley at Illinois, Monmouth at Iowa, Ohio Wesleyan at Michigan, North Da kota at Minnesota, Wittenberg at Ohio State, Indiana at Kentucky, DePauw at Purdue, Cornell College at Wisconsin, Coe at Notre Dame, Bowdoin at Yale, Amherst at Princeton, Iowa State at Nebraska, Lawrence at Marquette, De Paul vs. St. Viator at White Sox Park and Hillsdale vs. Lake Forest at Hillsdale, Mich. Oct. 8 — Indiana at Chicago, Utah at Northwestern, Purdue at Harvard, Butler at Illinois, Ohio State at Iowa, Michigan State at Michigan, Oklahoma A. and M. at Minnesota, Wisconsin at Kansas, Notre Dame at Detroit, Alleghany at Dart- TAKES UP TENNIS WITH CHARACTERISTIC ENTHUSIASM AND RESULTS 4 TWQCUICAGOAN mouth, Nebraska at Missouri, Brown at Pennsylvania, Lehigh at Princeton, Crane vs. Aurora at Chicago, Lake Forest vs. Chicago "Y" College at Lake Forest, Loy ola vs. St. Thomas at St. Paul, Wheaton vs. Elmhurst at Wheaton, St. Viator vs. Columbia College at Chicago and Law rence vs. Carleton at Appleton, Wis. PROFESSIONAL FOOTBALL— Sept. 25 — Chicago Bears vs. Chicago Cardinals at Cardinal Park, 61st and Racine. Oct. 2 — Pottsville at Cardinal. YACHTING— Sept. 24— Chicago Yacht Club Annual Regatta for Sheldon Clark trophy for all classes. Starting off Municipal Pier. Oct. 1 — C. Y. C. series C, fourth race, all classes. Oct. 3— C. Y. C. series B, sixth race, all classes. BASEBALL — National League— Sept. 22 to 24— Philadelphia at Cubs. Sept. 25 to 27— Pittsburgh at Cubs. American League — Sept. 28 to 30— Detroit at White Sox. Oct. 1 and 2 — St. Louis at White Sox. Providing the Cubs do not win the National League pennant, the annual city series between the White Sox and the Cubs will start about Oct. 5. Best four out of seven games. TABLES Downtown BLACKSTONE HOTEL— 656 S. Michigan — For a generation one of the very best. Excellent food, service, music. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe— Vic toria room orchestra for dining and danc ing. The Palmer Little Symphony in the Empire room. Dignified, smart, gra- cious. Another of the very best. STEVENS— 730 S. Michigan— Immense, yet nicely geared to the individual wants of its guests, The Stevens is high among the good downtown places. Roy Bargy's orchestra. Dinner $3. Luncheon $1.25. CONGRESS— Michigan at Congress— Pom- peian room and Balloon room, the latter operating under a cover charge of $1.50 on week days and $2.50 on Saturday night. Glittering. COLLEGE INN— Sherman Hotel, Clark at Randolph — Maurie Sherman's band until 1 a. m., with dancing and eating to its well ordered strains. RANDOLPH ROOM— Bismarck Hotel, 171 W. Randolph — Despite the belated blazing and corn weather (as we go to type) the Randolph room does its share of successful entertaining to the whoof- ing of Al Ponta's band, only a trifle less hot than a Chicago September. HEHRICTS— 71 W. Randolph— Adequate food with no disturbing harmonies. No couvert. ATLANTIC HOTEL— 316 S. Clark— Ger man victuals which make the late inva sion of Belgium look like a gastronomic favor bestowed on the lucky inhabitants of that country. pleasantly correct surroundings. lent music. Nice people. Excel- THE CHICAGOAN PRESENTS Nightscape, by William Cotant Cover Entertainments Page 2 Events and Places 3 Table of Contents 4 Executive Efficiency 5 Fortnightly Lion News 6 The New Slang 7 Alco-Analysis 8 The Chiropath, a play 9 Louie Alterie at Home 10 The New Northwesterner 11 News at the Source 12 The Plane Truth 13 Gene Markey Says So 14 What the Doughboys Are Doing 15 Buckingham Fountain Forecast 16 Henry Kitchell Webster 17 Overtones 18 Home Suite Home 19 The Woman Plays — Everything 20 Chicago Theatre History 21 "Chicago" by Carreno 22 The Stage and Its Myths 23 The Cinema, a Spectacle 24 Sports Review 25 Superstitions Denoting Nativity 26 Civic Service, for Guests 27 Musical Notes, Mex 28 Newsprint, Evening 29 Terminations 30 Books of the Season 31 Just a Little Art 32 ST. HUBERT'S OLD ENGLISH GRILL — 615 Federal — Tucked away in an ob scure loop street, this British chop and steak house purveys the most gallant lamb chops it has ever been our good fortune to vanquish in a fair fight. Out a Ways SHORELAND— Lake Michigan at 55th— Dining in Louis XVI room and dancing every Saturday night to selected orches tras. Featuring dollar dinners with no cover charge to diners: $0.50 after 9:00 to non-diners. MARINE DINING ROOM— Edgewater Beach Hotel — Dancing and dining in SALLY'S— 4650 Sheridan Road— A noted breakfast house in gay district when break fasts are consumed by those who go to bed at dawn or after. COLOSIMO'S— 2126 S. Wabash— Prosaic where once the bark of pistols mingled with the tinkle of knives and forks. Ab' solutely no contemporary gunfire. SUNSET— 35th at Calumet — Vigorous ecru chorines with enthusiastic voices and members. Guests of all shades mingle cheerfully. Don't get there before ten. No curfew. MIDNIGHT FROLICS— 22nd and Wabash — This place has been larruped from the pulpit, where fortunately nearly every- thing said about it is true. Dancing. floor show, and jolly remarks from the customers. Worth a hangover. VICTOR HOUSE— 7 E. Grand Ave. Ital ian food of splendid quality in heroic pro portions. Cool. No couvert, entertain ment, or music. All at $1.50. LE PETIT GOURMET— 615 N. Michigan — Smart, adequate food, and the showy business of dining outside in the court Table d'hote $1.50 and $2. JIM IRELAND'S FISH HOUSE— An eat ing parlor dedicated to fish food exclu sively. Eight of one morning till the ad jacent 5 a. m. A suggestion for after theatre appetites. PEARSON HOTEL— 190 E. Pearson St— Quiet, well bred. A residential hotel with few transients. Music in the dining room. No dancing. Good food. ART ART INSTITUTE— H. Leon Roecker, J Jeffery Grant and E. T. Grigware in one-man shows. Contemporary Swedish decorative art. Sculpture by Edwin Pearson. NEWBERRY LIBRARY — Rare manu scripts and books tracing the history of printing. Plates and volumes concerned with costumes. Edward E. Ayer collec tion of prints and drawings of Western Indians. MARSHALL FIELD AND COMPANY- Exhibition of the recent paintings of Irving Manoir. Etchings by Americans and Europeans. NEW ARLIMUSC— 1501 N. La Salle, around the alley. Paintings, sculpture and drawings of Chicago moderns, open evenings. PLAYHOUSE THEATRE— Drawings and paintings of Thomas Kemph. Sculpture and wood carvings by F. P. Tud Kempf- NEWCOMB, MACKLIN # COMPANY- Exhibition of the work of European and American painters. HUGHES' — Paintings of English and Dutch schools. Old English tea trays. CHICAGO GALLERIES ASSOCIATION — Paintings by artist members. Special showing of paintings by Hoosier mem bers. I4ICAG0AN Efficiency i\ FRESH and refreshing view of Mayor William Hale Thompson was to be had on one of those torrid afternoons a fortnight back when the chief executive foregathered with rep resentatives of the striking theatre employes and their part-time em ployers in a commodious if not par ticularly congenial suite at the Sherman. It is the common belief that upon such an occasion the mediator busies himself with the digesting of interminable claims and counter claims, scales and statistics, in prepara tion for the big moment when every thing will be ironed out to the mutual satisfaction of everyone. It is even true that your common or professional variety of mediator does proceed in this manner. Not so His Honor. No sooner had the representatives of this side and that side swung into reiteration of the recitations well learned during five days of more or less constant conference than the executive shush boomed out over the gathering. In its wake, an executive laugh which rang merrily but somehow om inously through the suite. With the laugh, a persistently recur rent manifestation sus tained and replenished from time to time by cheerful assurances that everything would be all right, off came the executive collar. Did the vast losses sus tained get an airing? Did the mooted con tracts get a reading? They did not, or, if they did, the expansive smile continued to dominate the situation Me — and — my — sha-a-a-dozv — : and the expensive cigar did not burn out. This much con stituted the matter: The theatres, cool places needed by the townsfolk, were closed. They should be open — immediately. There was a Western jour ney to be embarked upon. The city would have more conven tions than ever before. The theatres should be open. They should be opened tonight. It was nearly dinner time. A slap on this back, another on that, the deadlock — again that laugh — was sud denly a ridiculous thing and a good time had been had by all. A jolly way out of a jolly warfare, albeit a warfare with combustibles up the sleeve, and a most efficient way. A pre cedent to be remem' bered. A coup not without echoes but emphatically with re sults. What this coun try needs more than a good five-cent cigar is a sound sense of humor. (Adv.) | F the reportorial lady or gentleman who made the lately head lined Fannie Brice say, "Divorce is just as sacred to me as mar riage" will call at this address on a suitable occasion she or he will be duly signed as interviewer-in-chief of SAYS Thompson Won We Need Fanny The Lady Pays He's a Good Boy We Need Roads "Bridge" Is Right this great paper. If, by any chance, Miss Brice evolved the epi gram (and can it be new?) without the aid of counsel, the reporter who let it go through instead of stealing it for his next contribu tion toTHE Chicagoan is given honorable mention herewith. And if Miss Brice wants the job — but we've got to have the Fannie Brices to quote. Ladi es Discretion Is, Etc. We Were Right /lS these lines are written, win or lose, the Cubs have broken league attendance rec ords with more than a million fans jammed through the north side turn-stiles. Last year they also led the league with some 900,000 cus tomers, unfortunately not all cash cus tomers for Friday has been ladies1 day at Cub Park for some years — and on each Friday ladies are admitted gratis. Ordinarily this gesture has been no great strain on the Cub management. Seats there were, plenty of them. No cash customer of a less fortunate sex was turned away. However, with the increased attendance, thrifty Cub mag nates have watched their Friday enter tainment draw paying spectators in long baffled queues behind the Cub grandstands while non-paying ladies bustled into free seats. Whereupon some official with a taste for logical quibblings which would have delighted a medieval debater proposed the ques tion : "What is a lady?" He answered it ex cathedra by defining a lady as a female person over 15. Beings of more tender years were stigmati2^d as girls and hence charged admission. Still, attendance grew, turnstiles clacked de- 6 TI4E CHICAGOAN lightfully impatient files jostled to ward the ticket windows. The diffi culty remained. Next a separate section was set apart for free guests, and not a particularly good section. Ladies, by definition, were ushered to this pale and allowed to watch ball playing from it. If any female perversely chose to sit other where than in the restricted area she must pay for the privilege, which meant that a woman attending the ball festival with her duly wedded, or hope fully intended, spouse was summarily divorced from him for the period of one game unless he chose to hire a seat for her next to his own. We propose a new nifty: "Who was that lady I seen you with to the ball park?" "That wasn't no lady; that was my wife!" Career 1 OR the most part William E. Baker is and was a model young man, as models go. Born of a good family he attended a reputable college from whose halls he volunteered to war for democracy in 1917. He served in France with the armed forces of the United States, was wounded twice, once at Chateau Thierry and once in the Argonne, and received his due and honorable discharge. At home he re sumed his studies and married the daughter of a well-to-do physician. Forging ahead, he became a res taurant manager and later a salesman for a furniture company. He was steady, industrious when employed, well-thought-of and able. He was free from the bondage of alcohol and nico tine — both lamentably prevalent among young salesmen. He was devoted to his wife, and she to him. She worked Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday eve nings so that the young couple got on. As Baker explained, he wanted very much to get ahead. He did. On Tuesday, Thursday and Satur day nights Mr. Baker was the "Cat Bandit." Error P I ERHAPS no error since the United Press slip-up on the date of the Armis tice has thrown downtown Chicago into greater traffic confusion than that survived by the fortunate on the eve ning of September 4. Unanticipated by the police, as indeed by the lay press and the mere public, the sudden descent of the mobile citizenry upon the Art Institute wrought a havoc without precedent. Indeed, it was not yet cleared away at the mystic hour when the noble guardians of that cultural focal point habitually dismount and get together in discussion of the anonym ity responsible for it all. The scene was terrible to behold. As early as seven o'clock the thin garrison of traffic officers was forced to close off Michigan Avenue at Monroe and route the endless stream of vehicles east into Grant Park. Reluctant to leave the scene and hopeful of catching a rever berant overtone at even that distance, motorists parked in serried ranks along both sides of the central rectangle. It was a tired, impatient and sorely dis appointed cavalcade that wended its low-gear way homeward when fleet messengers hastily employed by this publication succeeded in circulating the fact that the lions were not to be christened on that evening and that reports to the contrary were false as the ether that transmitted them. For tunately, a DeLuxe performance at the Buckingham Fountain scheduled for the same evening was staged at a hap pily psychological moment and the ominously threatening panic, with in evitable fatalities, was averted. We believe, however, that the in cident brings to light a situation destined sooner or later to command attention of the City Fathers. We feel that this complete collapse of our traffic machinery is not merely a comic spectacle. What we need in this town is wider roads and more of them. What is more, these wider and more numerous roads should be continued into the broad sweeps of Illinois, not to mention Indiana, where any balmy Sunday bears witness to the total in' adequacy of the present equipment. If a wholly groundless canard can pro duce such a situation as the memorable impasse of September 4, what would be the result of a legitimate announce' ment of the christening? But no — that is too terrible. Not even the namelessness of two 34-year' old lions is worth the sacrifice. Unless immediate steps are taken to assure proper maintenance of order, at least as proper as that generated by the Tunney-Dempsey gathering, we shall feel compelled to conduct the christen' ing in private with none but immediate members of the family in attendance. Rubber i\ BRIDGE game, theoretically, con sists of a modest number of rubbers — say two rubbers an hour, with very good luck. Five rubbers an evening make up an adequate dosage for any reasonable card player. Still, there are high points. The Chicago Bridge club, Capitol Building, for instance, abetted the longest long' distance record known to this com' mentator. A game began on a Saturday evening at eight o'clock. It continued. Sunday morning saw it flourishing. Sunday afternoon the recreation was booming along in lusty middle age. Sunday evening enthusi' asm picked up a bit. At midnight the players were weary but joyful. Finally at four A. M. Monday — 32 hours after the start of the game — the last rubber was played. Names of survivors are mercifully suppressed. THE O4ICAG0AN Appreciation 1 T was fairly late. We had just re ceived an invitation to a merry but impromptu gathering on an obscure street in a hazy part of the city. A cab wheeled deftly to the curb at our summons. Its driver bowed at the address and was off through the late- hour boulevard swirl smoothly and rapidly. Consummate driving. Somebody wanted a cigarette. The party was out. The driver smilingly produced an excellent brand and very cheerfully offered a lighter. He rarely smoked, he explained, but his patrons sometimes did; therefore he carried a package. At night one might go with out a smoke for blocks. Unpleasant. The cab wheeled to the curb, again surely and smoothly. The address was right. The cab's spotlight thoughtfully lighted the steps until the last passenger haXi mounted them — some seconds after the fare was paid, and after all legal obligation had been discharged. The Yellow driver was Mr. G. Crego; his number 314. Whether this number is the license number or a company symbol we do not know. We recommend a yellow star fore and aft for Mr. Crego's vehicle. Accuracy I T has remained for the staff of this paper, which attended in a body, to report accurately the recent shooting at, about and in the vicinity of the Post Office. Careful check of six daily newspapers yielding six individually intriguing but ill matched accounts of the affair, the White Wings who cares for Jackson and Dearborn was interro gated with this result: "Thees fella, she have long knife. One cop he grabba da knife. Fella run. Da cop he shoot. Bang— bang— bang. Two, tree fella, dey shoot. Bang- bang— bang— bang! Copla fellas fall down. Me, by damn I no stay dere." Which confirms our firsthand ob servations in their entirety. Correction T, O L. R. B., who clipped from our last issue the excellent likeness of Hack Wilson (reprinted herewith) and mailed it in with the opinion, "You're all wrong, Brother; Hack is a right hander — aintcha ever seen him?" we painstakingly explain that the likeness is accurate. The fact is, Mr. Wilson was not holding a bat at the time our eminently reliable artist sketched him. He had previously struck the pellet and the instrument sketched in the picture is a telescope by means of which he will try to trace its flight. Thank you. D euce B 'Y recent private survey, Chicago leads the world in tennis-playing popu lation. The south side alone houses 15,000 souls with white pants and rub ber shoes. The south side, too, has had some of our best tennis clubs. In the beginning there was the Kenwood Club, which ran until 15 years ago on property leased from Marshall Field at $1 a year. Then the Wanderers' Club was formed from the ashes of a cricket club. Five years sufficed to usher this interesting organisation into a palsied desuetude. Next came the recently dead South Side Tennis club. At the time of this regrettable demise last spring, the club ranked second among American organizations. The latest and most promising foray into the bonestrewed field is the Hyde Park Racquet Club, on the old Dun ham farm. Here are 1 5 acres of excel lent virgin turf over which are being laid 21 courts of stone and marble dust. In the background is being constructed a miniature 9-hole golf course, presum ably for the wives of members. It is modeled after but somewhat larger than that of the Saddle and Cycle Club. Membership is limited to 250, and a fat percentage of that relentless number is already subscribed for. The officers fondly hope that their project will be self-supporting. These optimistic gen tlemen are: W. B. Seifert, president; J. J. Carroll, vice-president; Chandler Parish, secretary; E. W. Green, treas urer; J. P. Byrnes, A. T. Curry and H. A. Biossat. The new organization at least pro vides a much-needed setting for major tournaments. Significance 1 OETS, painters and musicians are reputed to have imagination, but for really magnificent flights of fancy look to the real estate man. Who but a subdivider, for instance, could have visioned a "suburban metropolis"? If you don't believe there is one, take a look at Ivanhoe next time you're that far south on the I. C. and see what the billboards say. Coh erence T HE fortnight's most coherent statement, which is as usual the fort night's best slang, was uttered by a slightly obese occupant of a relatively ringside seat near the start of the first round. In deliberate, measured reply to a companion who shrieked at him, "There— I told you he'd foul him," the gentleman replied, "You're a cock-eyed liar— net!" "F. O. B." goes a little better. — THE EDITORS. KtHft*- ^ 8 TUQCI4ICAG0AN PERHAPS it was inevitable that the business of analyzing liquor — zoomed to prodigious proportions by adoption of the plausible theory hold ing pre-consumption detection of lethal ingredients to be more satis factory, from the consumer's point of view, than the old practice of leaving it to the coroner — should acquire in due course its quota of those evils without which no fairly lucrative in dustry seems destined to function un der democracy. Inevitable or not, the case is as stated; and so to application of that other wholly democratic fixture of civilization as we know it, the probe. The operation will be con ducted as bloodlessly as possible. Origin of the major evil currently threatening the wicket takings of the journeyman pharmacist is traced by careful inquiry in trade circles to a well glazed and fashionably up holstered drug store situated a short stroll from the obvious section of Sheridan Road. To the spotlessly coated staff of this patently better class pharmacy came the cream of the city's domestic menials, bearing speci mens of highly credited antecedents, when the word went around a year or more ago that a reasonable fee and a not unreasonable delay would be pro ductive of practical immunity. To the owner of the establishment, natu rally intrigued by this modern develop ment of a business unruffled by ex terior influences since passage of the Pure Food Act in 1906, came an idea. There was a partial turn-over in the pharmaceutical staff as the idea went into application. Thereafter the percentage of "un fit for internal use" reports rose rapidly. Buyers on the Drive began dis missing distributors of long associa tion. New distributors began calling upon them at curiously opportune mo ments. Test orders were placed and goods were found, by the duly quali fied analysts, dependable. All was serene again and the names of the new dealers were mentioned at the club. The whole of which, since fraudu lent reports were invariably of the negative persuasion, would have been quite within the wide range of mod ern business ethics had not the idea spread, as ideas will, to the less scrupulous druggist who is forever opening a new store on a new corner and closing it or selling out to repeat that operation again and again until •tJiiy r "1 The Assembled Accessories Alco Analysis For the Modern Home (NOTE: The author of these articles pre fers an anonymity which is granted, not without reluctance, because of their intrinsic worth.) he attains dead center. As matters now stand, however, unless the analyst is a personal friend or otherwise au thenticated, analyzed liquor is about as dependable as the unanalyzed product and no more so. Perhaps something will be done about it at some time, but that is beside the present point. The present point is one that I seek to make for personal as well as altruis tic reasons. I am a little tired of cor recting bush league pharmacists who misrepresent my merchandise in their reports. It takes me out of the office. Sometimes I even have to make an analysis for my customer's special benefit, if he is a very old customer, and the whole thing is very annoying. Beyond the personal inconvenience, onerous as it is, there is the trade wide deleterious influence of wildly fluctu ating chemical reports which buyers quite naturally interpret as indicating a dwindling stability on the part of the industry. Since facts directly re verse this indication, I believe I am justified in taking definite steps to ward its refutation. My course of action is simplicity it self. I shall proceed to give you, in this series of articles, complete infor mation and instruction enabling you to conduct your own analyses in utter independence of the corner druggist. I shall not urge you to do so. In deed, being a staunch believer in the inviolability of the buyer-seller rela tionship and therefore fundamentally opposed to analyses by and large, I advise you against it. In providing the information and instruction, however, I will equip you with an armor of knowledge which the sharpshooting pseudo-pharmacist should have diffi culty in penetrating. For the purposes of this installment I will enumerate, in my best class room manner, the equipment which is required for conducting an adequate analysis of those liquors which are sold into the best cellars. Through out the series I will emphasize these products, although the tests given will be adequate for all classes of materials. Equipment required is as follows: 1—10 C.C. (Cubic Centimeter) — graduate. 1—50 C.C. graduate. 2 — Watch glasses. 1 — 25 C.C. evaporating dish. 1 — 50 C.C. evaporating dish. 1 — 4 ounce funnel. 1—100 C.C. Volumetric flask. 1—25 C.C. beaker. 12 sheets filter paper — 6-inch sise. Some clean blotters. 1 — 200 C.C. wide mouth bottle, and a two holed rubber stop per for it. 1 — stoppered pipette funnel. 1 — 8 or 10-inch glass tube, to fit the two holed rubber stop per, and one foot of rubber tubing to fit the glass tube. 1 — 6-inch test tube. [These articles are the ones used in making the hydrogen sul phide gas, for the heavy metal test.] Chemicals required, which should be purchased in made-up form at the drug store, are: 1 gram of Potassium Permangenate crys tals. 1 ounce of sulphuric acid concentrate. Yl ounce of Fuschin sulphurous acid test solution. 1 ounce of Ferrous Sulphide. 1 ounce of dilute sulphuric acid solu ' tion. Yl ounce of sodium hydroxide test solu tion. Yi ounce of Sodium Nitro-prusside (made in proportion of one part to 50 of v»' ter, and rendered slightly acid with Acetic acid.) Yi ounce of Bromine test solution. Yi ounce of Potassium Hydroxide. J4 ounce of Solution of Pyloroglucinol (made in proportion of 1 to 100.) Yl ounce of Glycerine. 1 dram of Solution of Ferric Chloride. With these materials on hand (it is well to establish a definite place in the basement where equipment may be kept permanently and in good order) anyone disposed to do so can perfonn the not unpleasant tests that will be outlined in successive installments. As I have no intention of publishing these ar tides subsequently in book form, each installment should be filed in a loose- leaf binder for purposes of reference. TUQ CHICAGOAN 9 The Chiropath By ASHTON STEVENS and GENE MARKEY S e t t i n 9 s 74 e r v i n A. Gunderson SCENE The oflice of THE DOCTOR. A high table used for treatments. On each wall a diagram of the human spine. AT RISE: THE DOCTOR, sleeves rolled up, is standing by the table, giving a final po\e at the spine of THE FAT 07<[E on the table. Doctor I missed that one! You wiggled. Don't wiggle! (As he po\es her spine violently a gong rings) That's all. The Fat One (Crawling painfully off the table) That's enough! (She limps off in her suit of scanty rompers) Doctor (Calling out) Nurse! Oh, Nurse! (The Nurse Enters) Nurse Yes, Doctor? Doctor How many patients outside in the disrobing rooms? Nurse A dozen, and they're still crowding in. This is a busy day — you'll have to work fast, Doctor. Doctor I always work fast. But you must not let any more women in here for treatments with their clothes on. I haven't time to wait while they dress and undress in this room. They must take 'em off outside. Put up a sign. Nurse Yes, Doctor. (The Nurse Exits) Doctor (Shouting) Next! (THE PERFECT OXE enters. She is young and beautiful, attired in the scanty rompers that go with the treatment) Good morning. How are you? That's too bad. Perfect One (Smiling) Oh, I'm fine, thank you, Doctor. How are you? Doctor Fine? Didn't you come here for a treatment? Perfect One (Smiling sweetly) Why, there's nothing the matter with me. Doctor (Pointing to her rompers) Then what — — ? Perfect One They told me I couldn't come in without taking off my clothes. I'm selling subscriptions to "The Chicagoan." THE DOCTOR Falls. So Does the CURTAIN 10 THE CHICAGOAN Louie Alterie At Home Wherein Speaks a Personage THIS reporter, mindful of the fact that a cowgirl's race is best seen from a lofty rodeo seat, loped toil somely up the tiers of Soldiers' Field to where a man sitting alone in a high corner squinted at horses and riders with intense interest. The man was Louie Alterie. A well-known — if not well-liked — Chicago personage. Any delay in bring ing the casual interview which followed before the public is an obliga tion of professional courtesy. Besides no big man wants his haunts generally known, and Mr. Alterie is alleged overlord of certain picturesque north side gentlemen, President of the Chicago Theatre Jani tors' Union, and famous friend of the equally famed, and suddenly departed, Dion O'Banion. There you have Louie Alterie, alone at a rodeo performance, on his face a look as wistful as that of a kid's denied admittance to a party. Reporter: I hardly expected to find you here Mr. Alterie. Have you lost the rest of your party? Mr. Alterie: No. I'm alone. Reporter: Are you interested in horses, Mr. Alterie? Mr. Alterie: Yes. The next question, was a bold one: Why was Mr. Alterie looking so sad when discovered all alone? The Answer: "You know, I guess I was looking pretty moony at that. I've been to many a rodeo but this is the first time I have ever watched one from a spectator's seat." "Why, where would you be," we asked. "Right plumb on that there steer's back," he replied, pointing at a pair of long horns vainly trying to dis mount a gaily shirted cow puncher. Alterie pushed his hat back on his head and couldn't help but look like Will Rogers, if a little darker. He parted his coat edges, revealing a huge silver belt buckle, studded with letters reading "Diamond Jack Al terie. "I'd give a thousand round dollars," he con tinued, "if I could be out there on that ground near them horses and steers. I know what the people of this town think of me and I am not squawking, but if any one wants to know what I am really in terested in, it has nothing to do with general belief. "I was raised on a California ranch and rode a pony before I could talk, busted broncs before I could read or write, and threw steers before I raised a beard. Yes, sir, I'd like to go wrangle some of them animals around." This interviewer then asked a very clumsy question. "Why didn't you enter as a contestant? Mr. Alterie, so you could do all those things?" A mean look was the first indication that the question had been heard. "Lot of reasons," he said. "Best one, I guess, is the fact that I'm lugging around with me now about one hun dred and thirty pieces of bird shot that my brother planted in me in an off moment. Just an argument at my "dude" ranch 300 miles west of Den ver about the exact date on which a show horse was returned from an ex hibition point. Nothing to quibble about, but my brother has a bum heart and the blood rushes to his head in a way that makes him act like a maniac sometimes. It wasn't his fault, poor fellow, but I shipped him away to Cali fornia. Don't want him too close with his bad heart and worse temper." — l. benart. 'Did you notice if it was a Silver King with a mashie cut on it?" Backgrounds By One Who Knew Them When— James Keeley was a newsboy in Kansas City before coming to Chicago. ? George A. Kingsbury began in the theatrical business as an usher in a Milwaukee Theatre. ? Joe Farrell was a song writer and partner of the late Paul Dresser, author of "On the Banks of the Wabash." ? Harry J. Ridings played an alto horn with Al G. Field's Minstrels. ? Jim Hutton was a scene painter in Cincinnati before he became a Chicago theatre manager. ? Charley Comiskey played first base for the old St. Louis Browns be' fore he became owner of the Chicago White Sox. ? President James E. Gorman of the Chicago, Rock Island and Pacific Rail road was a clerk in the C. B. and 0. freight office at $30 a month. ? Harry M. Lubliner ran a modest florist shop in the loop before he be' came a movie theatre magnate. ? Edward N. Hurley worked as a locomotive fireman for the Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad before he invented pneumatic tools, which made him a multi-millionaire. ? Frank A. P. Gazzolo was a bill' poster before he became a Chicago theatre manager. ? Frank W. Bering was clerk at the cigar stand in the old Fremont House before rising to managing director of the Hotel Sherman. ? Charley Wheeler was a street car conductor in Joliet, 111., before becom' ing a political writer for Chicago news papers. ? Richard J. Collins was a meat cut' ter in Fulton market on the west side and went to work at 4 A. M. ? John J. Connery was a coal sales' man. THE CHICAGOAN n VA/HEN the whistle shrills for the kick- off on Dyche Field next Sat urday afternoon, Mr. Rich ard Hanley, formerly of the Haskell Indians, will make his debut as a coach in the Western Confer ence. Having given Northwestern a fifty per cent championship, Mr. This- tlewaite recently removed his bottles of liniment and rolls of adhesive tape to the University of Wisconsin; and this young Lochinvar was summoned out of the far west to put a new edge on the claws of the Wildcats. One thing is certain: his name will make a better climax to nine -rousing rahs than that of his predecessor. When North western students cheered for Thistlewaite, they al ways sounded slightly hair- lipped. Mr. Hanley — Dick to the sports editors — is probably on the flam ing side of thirty, for he was grad uated from Washington State University only eight years ago. During his undergraduate years, which were 1915, '16, '17 and '19, he was ranked as one of the best quarterbacks in the country by the Pacific Coast experts. The fact that the year 1918 is missing from his record merely means, that like Gene Tunney and many other notable athletes, he felt in spired to go overseas and buck the Hindenburg line. He must have been good at this rougher game than football, for he became a captain in that corps d' elite, the United States Marines. He served his coaching apprentice ship at the high school of Pendleton, Oregon, a town noted for rodeos, achieving two state championships in two years. He was then engaged by Haskell Institute, at Lawrence, Kan sas, where Lo, the poor Indian, strug gles with the higher education and takes to football as his ancestors to the warpath. Mr. Hanley spent five years there, ending his connection only when the classic elms of Evanston whispered that Northwestern needed a new boy. Five years at Haskell are equivalent to eight at a pale-face school, for these aborigines begin their football season when the first leaf falls and end it close to Christmas. They travel from coast to coast, seeking whom they may devour. They are the buccaneers of the gridiron. During Mr. Hanley's Hanley, Medicine Man Charles Collins on the New Rules chieftainship of this tribe, his teams played sixty-five games — an average of thirteen per season. They won fifty- two, tied four, and lost nine, which gave them a percentage of .852. They scored 1,900 points, against 400 for their opponents. In his association with these roving redskins, Mr. Hanley has paralleled the career of Glenn Scobey Warner, Football Recommendations OCTOBER 1 Oklahoma at Chicago South Dakota at Northwestern Bradley Polytech at Illinois Ohio Wesleyan at Michigan Monmouth College at Iowa Wittenberg at Ohio State DePauw at Purdue Cornell College at Wisconsin North Dakota at Minnesota Indiana at Kentucky OCTOBER 8 Indiana at Chicago Utah at Northwestern Butler at Illinois Ohio State at Iowa Michigan State at Michigan Oklahoma Aggies at Minnesota Purdue at Harvard Wisconsin at Kansas otherwise known as "Pop," who won a place in the football Pantheon with his redoubtable Carlisle Indians. Foot ball seems to have been dropped from the Carlisle curriculum, and Haskell has taken the school's place in ath letics, but in the days when players wore manes instead of helmets and Jim Thorpe was in his prime, Car lisle made football history. "Pop" Warner, now at Leland Stan ford, is one of the patriarchs of the game. He is the A. A. Stagg of the Pacific Coast. He is the author of the best technical study of football strat egy that has been printed, and is the sponsor of what football critics rev erently call the "Warner system." Mr. Hanley of Northwestern seems to have sat at the feet of Mr. Warner and studied rapturously, for whenever his name appears on the sports pages the "Warner system" is also men tioned. Football writers apparently class this "system" with the Einstein theory, for it has been announced re peatedly that Mr. Hanley will find difficulty in impart ing it to the Purple squad during his first season. The "Warner system," however, is merely sound, funda mental football. Mr. Warner is a conservative, like his fellow apostle, Mr. Stagg — perhaps more so. He deprecates the invention of the for ward pass, although he uses it adroitly. He resents what eastern strategists used to call "the kicking game," which consists in punting on first or second downs in the hope that the enemy will fumble. He believes that the team which rushes the ball the hardest and often est will win the game. There is nothing mysterious in his code. It is strictly orthodox. There are no huddles in the "Warner system"; the quarterback calls the signals unless the noise of the crowd is absolutely deafen ing. There are no shifts; Mr. Warner has an idea that shifts, when not a violation of the rule against a backfield in motion, are showy foolishness. He favors the "wing-back" formation for the start of most plays. So when Mr. Hanley trots out his Purple Wildcats, the amateurs on the cement terraces will not be perplexed by strange intricacies of strategy. His team will play the good old game in a perfectly rec ognizable way, working eagerly on the general theory that the side which advances the ball the fastest and far thest will make the touchdowns. This year's new rules will not give much trouble to Mr. Hanley. The 1-2-3-4 count after a shift means noth ing to a shiftless Warnerite. To a team that does not huddle, the 15 sec onds' limitation on that social session will not be annoying. The referees and umpires will be grateful to Mr. Hanley and his "Warner system" for lightening their work with the new fangled stop-watches. The encouragement of backward and lateral passes, by eliminating the dangers of a fumble, will probably find Mr. Hanley with a choice assortment of trick Indian criss-crosses ready for use. Every other coach in the Con ference, however, can match him on that point. Their notebooks are full of such last-chance plays, which can now be used with more or less im punity. Zuppke of (Turn to page 28) 12 TI4ECMICAGQAN The City News Bureau Alma Mater to the Fourth Estate Scoofi CALM has fallen on Clark street at Randolph. The county building is dark and theatre crowds have not yet thronged the Rialto, but behind the lighted windows of Room 711, Ashland block, is action. Two young men hunch tensely over typewriters. The stacatto tickety-tick of the keys is telling the tale of a west side murder. Wax sten cil sheets, ripped from the machines, are passed to a third man who sits calmly at a desk before a ground glass slab. He marks them with a stylus, calls curtly to a boy who grabs the sheets and vanishes in a back room. The grind of a duplicating machine, copies stuffed into carriers that whisk along a pneumatic tube and in a mo ment, city editors, blocks away, will be scanning the lead of the latest shooting story, first word of which already has been telephoned to them from the switchboard of the City News Bureau. That passive, rectangular slab is a kind of symbol. Over it and its com panion on the other side of the desk, passes a cascade of wax sheets, bearing words, from 60,000 to 80,000 of them a day, chronicling the deeds and mis deeds of a city's millions, news gath ered by a staff of fifty reporters for relay to the six daily Chicago news papers and the Associated Press. Always on a deadline schedule, with reporters at the news "fronts" in police stations, courts and other strategic cen ters, the bureau speeds the translation of events into type and makes it un necessary for each paper to have its own representative at all places where first news is likely to originate. This labor-saving idea first attained promi nence in Chicago under Archibald S- Leckie and the late Harry L. Sayler, who maintained their own news-gath ering bureau in the Stock Exchange building at Washington and LaSalle streets. Those were Worlds Fair days. Police courts were known as "justice shops." Reporters sat at a long bench and wrote their copy in long hand on "flimsy books." Boys were paid fifty cents to make the rounds of the papers, distributing a copy of the flimsy to each. Newspaper men started at $8 a week and were glad to get it. H. H. Kohlsaat, Victor L a w s o n , William Penn Nixon, Joseph Medill and J. W. Scott had organized the City Press Asso ciation of Chicago and absorbed Leckie and Sayler's bureau. Tubes and type writers were introduced and, later, the organization was given its present name. Since its establishment, more than thirty-five years ago, the bureau has never closed. In that time, some 1,500 men, a conservative estimate, have tasted the joys and sorrows of news paper work as members of its staff. The office, in its lifetime, has handled more strictly local news than any other organization in the city for its efforts are confined wholly to Chicago and Cook county. Although the value of its equipment, including more than fifteen miles of pneumatic tubes thread ing the substrata below loop streets, is placed at many thousands of dollars, the bureau itself has never published a line for its sole function is to serve the newspapers and the Associated Press. In a day when by-lines and self con sciousness afflict the writing fraternity, its bureau steadfastly preaches the doc trine of painstaking, thorough news paper work and anonymity. Yet some of the cleverest journalistic writing in the city is the product of City News men — unsigned gems faceted by brilliant neophytes already outstanding in their apprenticeship. For more than 14 years, the organi zation has been under its present man agement. Men who have worked here like to think of the bureau as a train ing school. Many of these students learned to digest the stern stuff of facts after years of feeding on theories at the colleges; they became more or less skilful at the task of interpreting and sympathizing with a police sergeant's peculiar psychology; they learned how to concentrate in spite of office clamor and the sudden disturbance of the fire alarm signal that has a habit of clang ing at the most crowded moments; they came to recognise by painful ex perience that there is no substitute for guts, that bunk and artificiality are prevalent but that reality is to be found for the careful searching, and that though routine becomes deadening, every twenty-four hours brings its fresh assignments and possibilities of adven ture with the world as it is. And many of them learned for the first time, how to spell, an important ac complishment, especially with proper names running largely to mouthpiece- defying consonants as they have a habit of doing in Chicago. Reporters have a special alphabet equivalent. It's "A for Arthur, B for Benny, C for Char ley, D for Daniel," and so on. So widely has the City News Bureau come to recognized as a reporters' school that one of its "graduates," A. L. "Tod" Sloan, of the Chicago Eve ning American, is planning an associa tion of men who have worked there The task of locating all of them will be difficult. A nucleus has been estab lished about a few of the men whose names were suggested at a superficial roll call without consulting the office files. Among these are: James P- Bicket, associate editor of the Chicago Evening American; Percy Hammond, New York dramatic critic; Junius Wood, foreign correspondent, the Chi cago Daily News; Joseph V. Sullivan, assistant to the president, the Chicago Surface Lines; Hector H. ElwelL Hearst editor; Walter C. Howie, Frank Carson, Hearst editors; John L. Spell- man, director of public relations, Mi' nois Bell Telephone company; W. J Clark, radio editor, the Chicago Eve ning American; Charles F. Carpenter, Chicago Journal of Commerce; How ard P. Jones, real estate; Oscar Hewitt, Chicago Tribune; George C. Wharton, free lance writer and manager of Lowden's campaign in 1920; the Chi cago Tribune's assistant city editor, Pat Maloney; Al Johnson of the Post, Emil Hubka, former city editor of the bureau and now with the Chicago Daily News; George Schreiber of the Post, Harry Heidenburg and Buddy McHugh of the American; Carl Morgan, who es tablished several south side suburban newspapers; Carl D. Pancake, whose sister married Frank Chance; Henry Bunting, president of the Novelty News Publishing Co.; "Ramrod" Om- erod, many years a south side police reporter and credited with originating term "white slave"; and a dozen or more of the younger newspaper men now on the staffs of Chicago papers. — PAUL D. PADDOCK- TME CHICAGOAN 13 AFTER Lindbergh made his flight across the Atlantic Mr. Smith felt that he and Mrs. Smith were honor bound to fly at least from Paris to London. And then after they got separated from each other in the Nor wegian fjords he decided that it would be a good idea to make up for lost time by taking an aeroplane from Copenhagen to Paris. Mrs. Smith didn't feel the same way about it. She said, although she real ized that only three-fifths of a person was killed to every 5,000,000,- 000 miles flown, still there were -worse things than — • "Oh, if you mean be ing seasick," he replied, "why, that's all the bunk. 1*11 take you over to the main air Kne office tomor row and they'll tell you all about it. Then if you don't want to go — why, all right." So in the morning they took a taxi over to the main air line office. *This lady," said Mr. Smith to the chief Danish clerk, who ushered them into a small private room, "is afraid she might be ill on a long airplane flight." "111? Oh, madam" — he smiled upon her as though she were a little wilful child. "But," said Mrs. Smith, "I had a friend who flew ..." "Not in OUR planes, Mrs. Smith." "But," said Mrs. Smith, "the air- pockets, I have heard . . ." "Oh, airpockets," he smiled at her tenderly again, "a gently rocking— that's all. Like a baby in its mother's arms." "See, dear," said Mr. Smith on their way back to the hotel after they had booked their passage for the following day, "I told you this seasick talk the Brown's gave us was all nonsense. You're going to love it." The following day they arose at five in order to get out to the flying field at seven. It was a warm summer- smelling morning. Their plane stood innocently in a field — its wings shining in the sun. Mr. Smith walked around it proudly, as though it belonged to him, and explained all the different parts to Mrs. Smith. Then they got in. Then they went up. A feeling dif ferent from elevators, different from The Plane Truth You Have Dorothy Addis Word for It dentist's chairs, different from swings in apple trees. . . The earth fell away from them more quickly than Mrs. Smith would have believed pos sible — and became strangely unimpor tant. Mr. Smith laid his maps out follow ing the river, but Mrs. Smith, in a kind of new-found ectasy, wanted nothing but to peer down and marvel that there could be happiness or un- happiness in that silly looking house; that there could be milk in that toy like-looking cow; that those shining small fields could actually yield up grain to feed the Danish populace. Each tiny shadow stood out sharp and clear, the cow's shadow realer than the cow. "Lovely, lovely," she thought, and wondered that she could have doubted this little man whom she had found so distasteful the day before. Her body and mind were swimming along through golden spaces when Mr. Smith showed her on the map that they would be coming down soon to take on more passengers. She nodded happily and settled her self to watch the earth come up and meet them. But what was this feeling as though awls were passing slowly through her body? "Mind - over - matter - mind-over-mat ter," she said to herself rapidly. The awls grew livelier. Instead of turning all one way and finishing the job of going through her, someone seemed to be starting an unscrewing process, too. "Interesting," shrieked Mr. Smith above the thrum-thrum of the engine, "interesting to watch them make a landing." Then, with a great swooping and bumping, they were down on the field. It appeared that they were to change planes, so they got out and walked around with their fellow pas sengers, who were mostly sizeable Germans. Their next plane was a splendid affair with Pullman upholstered-look ing chairs and lots of window space. And just before they got in they were handed box lunches by the assistant pilot. "We don't land at Amster dam till two," he said. "A lovely four - hour run." And once more as they v mounted Mrs. Smith's sense of security and peace returned to her. They passed over watering places where lit tle dotted people sat un der their umbrellas in the sand and knew nothing of this delicious ski-ey world belong ing to Mrs. Smith. It wasn't until about half an hour after their second start she began to feel, considering they had all the illim itable heavens to draw from, that it would be nice to have a little more air in the plane. So she braced herself to scream. "Dear, how about a little more AIR? It seems close in here to me." "What?" roared Mr. Smith. "Hot," roared Mrs. Smith. "What?" "Hot," she tried again, making win dow-opening gestures. "Oh, yes," said Mr. Smith, mouth ing his words so she could lip read, "I'll tell them." So he tried. "Hot," he tried. And "Chode," he tried. And "Heiss," he tried. But the pilot and assistant pilot only smiled at him kindly and shook their heads. Mrs. Smith started swallowing. It seemed somehow the natural thing to do. "All right, dear?" shrieked Mr. Smith. And she formed the word "Fine" with her lips. Pretty soon it was lunch time. Mrs. Smith, without even opening her box, could tell exactly (Turn to page 30) 14 TWQ CHICAGOAN I F I MAY /AY IO London Trousers Are Chicago Pants 1 important step in a young man's life is a well-tied tie,'' says Lord Illing- worth to his ille gitimate son in Oscar Wilde's A 'Woman of No Importance. O f course, it is barely possible that the great epigram- marian did not mean everything he said, but it is quite possible that he did mean this. Men's clothes have al ways been impor tant in London. just as important as women's clothes are in Paris. There are, how ever, places where men's clothes are not important. And one of those places, if I may say so, is Chicago. I cannot imagine a citizen of dark est New Guinea being as casual about his attire as is the average Chicago male. Nevertheless I would expect a citizen of darkest New Guinea to wear a felt hat with a colored band upon it. That is just the sort of head dress to g© with a pair of banana- leaf trousers and a necklace of alliga tors' teeth. Yet oddly enough, felt hats with colored bands are more often seen in Chicago than in New Guinea. It is all very queer. For that matter the whole subject of men's clothes is queer, and I do not pretend to know anything about it. I do know, though, that each year two or three dozen visiting foreigners utter this statement to the press: "Your Chicago women are among the best-dressed — and your Chicago men the worst-dressed — in the world." They can't all be wrong. If you were to ask several substan tial burghers of Chicago their opinions concerning this weighty problem the answer would be a blast of pooh-poohs. They haven't time for any nonsense about clothes, they would tell you. They're no pack of silly dudes. And so forth — and even so on. Yet the well-dressed men of London and New York are not all silly dudes, either. Some of them are fairly substantial burgh ers. Some of them, indeed, are almost as big as the big men of Chicago. It is ironic that these same Chicagoans who are reputed to be the "worst- dressed men in the world," pay as much for their suits as do the most fastidious dandies of any other capital. Chicago tailors are notorious for Hizzoner their "ringside- seat" prices. But Chicagoans aren't interested in clothes. That's the big, breezy spirit of the mid dle-west. The tradition here is that any man who cares how his coat fits, or who takes more than two minutes to buy a hat, is effeminate. And accept ing as evidence the hats one observes along Michigan Boulevard, one must conclude that Chicago is quite free from effeminate men. When I was very young I remember hearing my father, who was a New Yorker by adoption, making jests about men's fashions — or the lack of them — in Chicago. And I somehow got the impression that a Chicagoan was a gentleman who never sat down to din ner with his coat on. That, of course, was a monstrous error. It just goes to show what curious ideas children some times get. But one thing I heard when I was very young turned out to be true: that Chicagoans are a race of Sunday stick- carriers. They flaunt malacca canes with impunity on the Sabbath, but they would no more dare to carry them into the dark canon of LaSalle Street on a Monday than they would dare to wear a top-hat. In this there is something for the psycho-analysts to work on. Suppressed desires somewhere. But the mob psychology is too strong for these Sunday stick-toters; they lack the cour age to thumb their noses in the face of the prevailing Chicago prejudice that a man who carries a stick is an affected popinjay. The late Lord Northcliffe once remarked that walking-sticks marked the boundaries of civilization, and inasmuch as he wrote a flattering account of Chicago it is to be assumed that he landed here on a Sunday. But I must refrain from any further men tion of Lord Northcliffe, lest Mayor Thompson have The Chicagoan sup pressed as un-American. (I under stand that Hizzoner has ordered Eng lish mustard removed from all the hot- dog stands!) Nowhere is Chicago's anti-British sentiment so flagrantly displayed as in the apparel of her citizenry. Chicago tailors are the most American tailors in America. It took them six years to adopt the spacious trousers that had been found comfortable, even modish in London. And when they finally did adopt them they added a bell-bottom, sailor effect, so that we could not fail to remember the Maine. Mayor Thomp son is a staunch devotee of American tailoring. No English effects to his trousers. They are really patriotic pants. Mayor Thompson's tailor dresses himself Londonly, and dresses Mayor Thompson Chicagoly; yet if you were to see one in Moscow and the other in Minneapolis you would know that their raiment had been designed by the same architect. Chicago tailors, being a patriotic guild, strive to achieve a distinctly indi vidual touch, so that their clothes could never be mistaken for the handiwork of a London tailor. And they are highly successful at it. Which by no means implies that they defer noticeably to the dictates of Vienna, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, or Buenos Aires. Chicago is famous for many things, but the Well-Dressed Man is not one of them. However, even if we do not know how to dress, we should be im- mensely grateful that our ladies do. And some day — when Grant Park is a vast landscaped garden, and we have a subway, and our skyline is no longer sable with soot — then perhaps our long- awaited sartorial renaissance may come to pass, and the prevailing odor at the opera will not be a scent of moth-balls. In the meantime, now that autumn is here we might take one step in the right direction : we might do something about those felt hats with colored bands. So far as I know there is nothing in the state game-laws to pro tect them. —GENE MARKEY. TWt CHICAGOAN 15 O TE of the direct re sults of the so- called Battle of Paris, 1927 model, promises to be the heavy amorous mortality (but perhaps the word is a bit unkind) among our erstwhile wearers of the khaki. Back in 1918 and '19, it will be recalled, immediately following the confetti showers of a certain joyous 11th, the Etats-Unis witnessed (I will not say suffered) a sudden influx, not to say epidemic, of what our press, with its accustomed picturesqueness of idiom, termed "war brides." It even looked, at one time, as though there might be a war-bride problem in the American home, involving the well- known American mother-in-law, the American cuisine, etc. Fortunately, this proved to be no more than a cloud upon the domestic horizon. Some of the im ported ladies, being unable to stand the American brand of husband, packed up their Croix de Guerre and other be longings and went back to the land where a spouse appreciates a well done ragout. Many, on the other hand, re mained, became exemplary wives and even ended up by cultivating a taste for ice cream sodas and grapefruit for breakfast. These latter have, long since, faded into the picture, become a part of the population. I have even met a few over here, back home for a vacation visit merely, who were nurs ing a positive nostalgia for our sky scraper paysage and who were more American than their husbands or the Wrigley building. Well, so nearly as I can make out, the U. S. is in for another war-bride wave. As a dopester, I am, I confess, the rankest of amateurs; but it seems to me that here I sight a chance to shoot up my rating to at least semi-pro. I do not see how it can be other wise. It is hard for one who has not been here since the war to realize what a man's country this is and has become. What the Doughboys Are Doing Not Forgetting, of Course, the Doughgirls That is because there are so few of 'em. A man here is at a premium. It is Mon sieur this and Monsieur that. A Madame or a Mademoiselle simply doesn't count, save as a penumbra to the lordly Male. Let her go into the Galeries Lafayette, the Prinfcemps or the Louvre to purchase a box of rouge, a new hat, or a pair of gloves. She may or may not get waited on, if she is alone, but if she has a Monsieur with her, she — that is, Monsieur — will re ceive attention at once. As a customer, she has achieved importance through her escort. The' same upon leaving a restaurant. It is Voila, Monsieur' Madame. Always Monsieur-Madame, never Madame-Monsieur. This, despite the fact that Paris is still, as it has been for centuries, the capital of the woman's world. No where else have the manifold arts em ployed by the daughters of Eve in snaring the senses of man been reduced — and elevated — to such an art, and science, as here. Here is everything that could possibly appeal to that sex which, like Oscar Wilde's heroine (or was it hero?), can withstand anything except temptation. And so, when our doughboy that was hit these shores again, even though he is now wearing a suit of State Street clothes in place of the lovely khaki he wore in '17, there was imme diate juiblation among those jeunes filles, and some not so jeunes any more, who have not, as yet got their dowries arranged. An American sack suit — and you can always tell them from the French by the six to eight inches addi tional trouser-length (to say nothing of width) has come to look to them like Salvation to a Holy Roller. Hence, if our Legionnaire friend, as he sits some night sipping his Pernod on a terrasse, turns around sud denly to discover the Most Beauti ful Woman in Paris at the table next him, he is not at once to leap to the conclusion that she is one of those awful Vamps, a female Apache or a poule de luxe, who has mistaken him for a Gold Coast millionaire just come along with the boys to see the fun. A good old-fashioned Vamp, to tell the truth, seems to be rather scarce in Paris just now, even in tourist season. No, she is more likely to be a perfectly respectable bourgeois maiden (what the French call une femme honnete) with an inhibited longing for a Home and Fireside. She may think it's a longing for romance, but it's really the other. And if our friend doesn't watch out, the first thing he knows, she'll have him in one of those funny little mairies, saying "I will" in French. And while he may say it in French — if his French lasts long enough — he will do well to remember that he's going to have to do it in American, a language in which you can't feed a family on six dollars a week, as you can in la belle France. Yes, it's going to be ticklish steering for the conventioning warrior. Already it's women to the right of him, women to the left of him, women behind and in front of him, and all ready to charge straight into the jaws of — matrimony! Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to find a fall-guy Noble six hundred! Only — there are, at a rough estimate, at least six hundred thousand of them in Paris alone. One last word of advice, then, to sweethearts of the Legion — but does any woman need advice in a case like that? And would it matter? SAMUEL PUTNAM. 16 TI4ECI4ICAGOAN 1 ^ 1 ( f // Buckingham Fountain Becomes a Really Popular Summer Attraction "The water which makes the glorious display does not come from the city mains. Nor is it wasted. It is used over and over again and there is no waste except a little by evaporation." — James O'Donnell Bennett in The Chicago Sunday Tribune of September 4. TWECI4ICAG0AN 17 CHICAGOAN/ HE is Chicago's most reliable and consistent novelist. You can de pend upon him. You are not likely to hear, tomorrow or next week or next Ground-hog Day, that he has shaken our cinders off his hat and departed for New York. He is not to be classed among that numer ous band of writers who have used this city as an oasis to break their pilgrimage to the east. The fata morgana of literary Manhattan does not fill his soul with a passion to catch the Twentieth Century. He was born here; he does his work here; he belongs here. His name is Henry Kitchell Webster, and his works promise to attain the amplitude of a five-foot shelf. Mr. ^Vebster produces a novel a year when he is in serious mood, and two or three romances when in lighter vein. He toils steadily at his craft and does not waste time in grandiose attitudes. He writes not to attain social \udos nor to pose as an intellectual nor to reveal how deeply he has snouted into the kitchen-midden of sexual abnormalities. He writes under the only franchise a novelist should be granted — because he is a born story teller. He has no coterie of disciples who sit at his feet in candle-lighted and un- swept studios, telling him what a great genius he is. He was never a news paper man; he was not reared in the ghetto; and in his youth he did not have the romantic habit of making little jour neys in box-cars. None of the conven tional labels that are used by literary log-rollers to disguise a man of letters as a picturesque side-show for the aston ishment of rural book-buyers can be attached to Mr. Webster. He evades women's clubs, lecture tours, art colonies and divorce suits with brilliant success. In other words, Mr. Webster is a regular citizen. He submerges himself in the life he interprets, which is that of the average American-born, home-dwelling, automobile-driving popula tion, and in order that he may observe his material closely under its own terms, he does not cultivate eccentricities of character or temperament. An assiduous naturalist, he sits quietly by the ant-heap, making his social studies with undisturbing patience. There is much to be said in favor of this method. It is more conducive to exact observation of the habits of Mr. and Mrs. Homo Sapiens than thrash ing around in the jungle with a big stick and a fire-alarm siren. Mr. Webster has adapted himself to his environment and walks among us unassumingly, never hoping that he will be pointed out by barkers of tourist coaches with the exclamation: "There goes our best-known novelist!" No Novelist Webster out of his hip pocket to point it at the head of a defenseless friend. Yet dur ing the past quarter of a century his name has been found among the "Books Received" of the newspapers oftener than that of any other resident writer. He is such a faithful Chicagoan that he does all of his writing here. He asserts that he cannot work anywhere else. He has tried the traditional cruises to cities of the horizon and islands of enchantment, from which novelists are supposed to return with new books in their trunks, and has come back empty-handed. But let him go to his office in Evanston every morning with the regularity of a busi- „ ness man, and within three months he &&y^ V\ ^^ ^e shipping a new manuscript to his agent in New York. If you could see the checks he receives for the maga zine serial rights to his stories, you would immediately burn up your realtor flags and plunge recklessly into litera ture. It is best not to speak of Mr. Webster's earnings. The subject is too seductive. He writes by ear. He cannot take his pen in hand or his typewriter on his lap. With the ordinary tools of his trade, he is like a penguin trying to fly. Being an astute psychologist he discovered long ago that his talent was auditory, and promptly engaged a secretary to whom he tells his stories. In monologue he out lines his theme and sketches his char acters; out of the sheaves of stenographic notes a synopsis will be evolved; and then the real work begins. This process is slow and arduous, for although Mr. Webster dictates his stuff he takes extra ordinary pains with its structure and phrasing. Often he will find himself tongue-tied, and then the secretary gets a day off, while the author goes to his club and smokes his pipe and chews the cud of contemplation. By ear, also, he finds his recreation. He is a devotee of the symphony concerts, and music is his favorite art when talk goes round the luncheon table at the Cliff Dwellers. When exercise is mentioned, however, he looks bewildered, even slightly pained. He has been known to claim that he is not addicted to the vice. He belongs to a golf club but has never been discovered in knickers. His country place near Oregon, 111., has a swimming pool, but he puts on a bathing suit only to amuse his three sons. Mr. Webster's alma mater is Hamilton College, where he took a master's degree. He was an instructor in English literature at Union College for two years, before he can tered out into the literary lists as a free-lance. His first book, "The Short Line War," written in collaboration with Samuel Merwin, was published in 1899. He has produced one has ever seen him take a note, or pull a manuscript one or more every year since that debut. Like Balzac he 18 TUECI4ICAG0AN served an apprenticeship at writing thrillers, and even now, when he wants to recuperate from a serious novel, he turns his hand to a mystery story with a deftly woven plot. In the manufac ture of melodramatic plots his master was Shakespeare. During his early period of pot-boiling, at the suggestion of an editor, he transmuted several Shakespearean tragedies, including "Hamlet," into modern magazine fic tion. The ghost in "Hamlet" failed to baffle him, for that supernatural voice became a phonograph record. Thus Mr. Webster anticipated by twenty years the stage directors who have been producing Shakespeare in modern cos tume. These howlers were enjoyed by thousands of readers who failed to recognise the source of the plots. His major phase as a novelist began with "The Butterfly," which was serial ised by the Saturday Evening Post and published as a book in 1914. His yearly output since then has included "The Real Adventure," "The Thorough bred," "An American Family," "Mary Wollaston," and "Joseph Greer and His Daughter" — works which have placed him in the first flight of Amer ican novelists. These stories have dealt with the Chicago scene, and con stitute a Comedie Humaine of the city's higher social and industrial life. To tighten that analogy, one might point out that Mr. Webster has used the Bal- sacian method of re-appearing char acters. Between novels, like every versatile man of letters, he has taken a fling at the drama. Two of his plays — "June Madness" and "Love in a Cottage" — have seen the footlights. After the last experiment, which died somewhere be tween Pittsburgh and Altoona because the star believed that a normal Amer ican heroine ought to have acted with a Hedda Gabler neurosis, Mr. Webster wired back to condoling friends: "Thank God I am not a professional playwright." The young radicals who write with out verbs or manners, and who think that an American novel should contain only characters with Polish, Roumanian and Jewish names, often complain that Mr. Webster is a reactionary. Occa sionally, after a psychopathic spasm over James Joyce's "Ulysses," they rise and denounce Mr. Webster as a reprehensible example of Philistine success. It happens, however, that our senior novelist knows his Freud and Jung as well as the latest half-baked yearner in the first stage of literary rabies, but has taken the pains to digest and clarify the murky theories of those sexy scientists before he employs them in character study. Not altogether sedentary, either, is our Henry Kitchell Webster, who lives happily in placid Evanston and goes to his office every morning at nine o'clock to dictate to a stenographer. For he is the only American fictionist of record who has voyaged to Borneo and taken tiffin with the Rajah of Sarawak. —CHARLES COLLINS. OVEKTONE/ ONE of our more or less prominent bandits has been given a sen tence of twenty years for stealing an automobile. Name of car on request. ? The city of Chicago is refusing to pay the gas tax and for two cents we'd do the same thing. ? California (dry) is getting ready to ship 85,000 carloads of grapes. Per haps if the prohibition director could get those New Yorkers interested in grape growing they'd stay in line, too. ? "Fashions," comes the word from Paris, "for fall are going to be first, last and all the time for ladies who want to look like what they are." Now park "What this town needs is a good all-night florist" to find a lady like that. ? We are anxiously waiting the gov ernment's forecast of the pumpkin supply for Halloween. ? It is estimated that women of the United States spend $75,000,000 an nually for permanent waves. And spend 75,000,000 hours at the bridge table discussing them. ? On the average, married men live four years longer than bachelors, ac cording to the associated life assur ance actuaries of London. Just the needed additional time to serve one term as president. ? Miss America's home may be in Joliet but if precedent means anything she'll soon be signing it "Hollywood, Calif." ? Chicago hotel men have promised not to increase their rates if the Re publican convention comes to this city in 1928. We wouldn't have believed a deadlock could be foreseen this far in advance. ? "Hogs Steady; Steers Soar" — Head line. It's nice to know, When steers soar high, The steady hog Is standing by! ? President Coolidge left Rapid City without accepting the gift of a farm. He missed his opportunity to afford farm relief to one farmer at least. ? We don't know who feels the worst about his speedy disposal — -"The Cat" or the headline writers.. ? You can't see straight when you overeat is the finding of two Chicago physicians after extended experiments. Maybe not, but we've never failed yet to find the divan. ? A New Jersey woman was fined $25 for violating the game laws when a Blue Jay walked into a trap she had baited for rats. Well, the woman pays and pays and pays. ? And now an Evanston young lady has been chased home by a flock of geese. We advocate the curfew as a more effective and less nerve wrack ing institution. — GEORGE CLIFFORD. THE CHICAGOAN 19 M EN have hauled their Lares and H Penates on the backs of their wives and other livestock, in carts, freight cars and trucks. Now they are taking them up in elevators. The higher the fewer, was never said of apartments. Indeed, the higher the buildings the more cubicles in which to install the household goods; the higher the apartment, the higher the price. Likewise the higher the ground value, the higher the apartment building, and the high est of these are the co-operatives. Nothing, probably, is more clearly the result of mounting prices than the soaring co-opera tive apartment building. To be gin with, high prices lifted happy families out of their bungalows and piled them one on top of an other in apartment layers. In Chi cago, during a period of three years, building permits were ap proved for more than forty thou sand family accommodations, of which more than thirty thousand were apartments. During the same period the Chicago Zoning Commission reported that three- quarters of a million persons lived in one-family dwellings as against two million who lived in apartments. As a result a city without apartments is as N unimaginable as one without paved streets. But in the last few years great changes have come in apartment building. Chicago flats of fifteen years ago generally came in three- story, six-family units. The 1927 model contains from three to forty times as many apartments. The rea son is obvious: it is cheaper to build and to operate three hundred apart ments under one roof than an equal number under fifty roofs. So much for the good of the owner. From the point of view of the man who pays rent this does not prevent many apart ments from coming under the head of luxuries. That is where the old-fash ioned landlord steps out ofvthe picture and the tenant-owner comes in for a close-up. Why men leave homes and move into co-operative apartments was explained in a previous article; the next consideration is, how they do it. The problems of building or buying a house resting directly on the lap of Mother Earth and having unlimited air rights above its roof are familiar ome Suite Home^II Co-ojf>eratmg in the Co-ofi enough to be easily understood, though not always so easily solved. The problem of establishing a home in a suite sandwich is unfamiliar to most persons and should be thor- the mortgage, and a sur plus for contingencies. The amounts paid by each tenant-owner are de termined by the holding on the basis of the num- rooms in the apartment, above lake level and relation to the resi- No doorman?' My dear, not elevator!" even oughly understood by the prospective tenant-owner. The simplest method of getting an understanding of the problems inherent in co-operative apartments is to consider the biogra phy of a typical one. First a holding or construction com pany acquires a site and has plans and specifications prepared by an architect. Building contractors are invited to submit bids upon the basis of which the total cost of the project is estab lished and a loan is made. The build ers are then ready to begin selling out in small packages to co-operative ten ant-owners, a lengthy process, this, which usually extends from the incep tion of the idea through the period of building operations, on into the rosy future. Those who sign on the dotted line thereby agree to pay, first, a stipulated sum representing their share in the equity of the building, and, second, regular monthly payments toward a fund for maintenance and operating costs of the building, taxes, interest on the mortgage, amortization of company ber of its height location in dences of the F. F. C. In Chicago the variation in costs is so great that the price one man pays for his entire holding fronting the ele vated is little more than another's monthly assessment on Lake Shore Drive. Aside from his monthly pay ments, the individual owner's only expense should be the upkeep and redecoration of his own apart ment, and that is a free-will offer ing to the cause of cleanliness and beauty, made at the discretion of the owner alone and without ref erence to the taste6 of any co- owners or the parsimony of any landlord. The monthly assess ment may fluctuate slightly as the price of coal goes up or down or the. janitor's union gains in strength. In time, however, it should grow smaller as the loan is reduced by amortization. When the building is sold out, or nearly so, the holding company turns it over to the owner with or without its blessing, depending upon its apparent ability or inability to with stand the slings and arrows of out rageous fortune, to say nothing of the rigors of Chicago's climate and the fickleness of public favor. A corpora tion of tenant-owners is then formed and a board of directors chosen to manage the building. This board has charge of all details of maintenance and also passes upon the eligibility of persons desiring to lease or buy apart ments from their original owners. In a well organized building no man may buy or rent unless he has a satisfactory bank balance, presents a vacination certificate and knows his butter knives and his salad forks, or in all particu lars measures up to the directors' idea of a man and a neighbor. Large buildings usually require, in addition to the efforts of the directors, the ministrations of an experienced paid manager. Some builders — and this is a wise course — contract with the operating committee to manage the building instead of leaving it en tirely to the mercy (Turn to page 30) 20 TI4ECNICAGOAN JOURNALISTIC JOURNEY/ The Woman Plays WOMEN, the lovely queer crea tures, according to popular be lief and report have been recently emancipated. Exponents of this be lief, (and aren't we all?) point for substantiation to the modern novel, the current play, the printed words in magazines and newspapers and, with evident pride, to the very ladies them selves. It may all be true, but has any one yet revealed just what it was the ladies escaped in winning this much heralded freedom? From what, may I sincerely if impudently ask, have the girls emancipated themselves? In other words, is there not a possibility that all this talk of a new freedom for women may be colored with a deep shade of bunk? The present freedom of women in respect to dress, I believe, is purely ac cidental. The fashion decreed short skirts and bobbed hair. Presently, in fact, already, a change is underway. Women, ever slaves to the mode, may be forced against their wills within the next year or so to adopt extremely long skirts and long hair. Some few of them may rebel and continue to en joy the common sense advantages of the bob and knee length skirts, but they will be without chic. That the right to vote has any considerable bearing on the so-called emancipation, is beside the question. And besides, if you read the nineteenth amendment, you'll notice the "right to vote" is not granted, but merely recognized as ap plicable to all citizens regardless of sex. Some of the experts believe woman's new place in the scheme of things was evolved during the war and the argument has much in its favor. It may have been the war, we'll as sume it was, that introduced the fe male of our species in large numbers to the hitherto man-ruled worlds of business and of sport. The girls found out that the sink or swim game of commerce held far greater attraction than they had suspected. Long after the war need for them had passed, girls, married and single, who might have gone back to a previous existence punctuated by pink teas and gossip, stayed in business harness. Thousands of them whose circumstances would have forced them to seek employment anyway, found that overnight a wall, which had formerly barred women from participation in all but a few re stricted fields of gainful endeavor, had been suddenly swept away. The spirit of competition gripped and spread through feminine minds like a flame streaking across prairie grass. So much, and quite enough, for a ready made, success-story-magazine formula. Let's admit its truth and observe the result of its working out. Women, in and out of the marts of trade, have in recent years invaded the realm of sport with a vengeance. We used to speak of the "athletic girl" as a person somewhat apart from her sisters. There was a time, too, when automobiles were called "horseless car riages." An inquiry at the allotment office conducted by Mr. Rickard in connection with his stupendous Tun- ney-Dempsey imbroglio at Soldiers' Field stadium brought forth the con servative estimate that at least 50,000 of the expected two and a half hun dred thousand ticket holders would be women. On a recent Friday afternoon at the Cubs' ball park, the manage ment entertained 17,000 fair guests — an unheard of number, up until that time, of women baseball enthusiasts. A famous sporting goods establish ment reported its percentage of goods sold to women to be nearly half the total and a loop department store pointed out that for several years the operation of a special sporting goods department for women had proven ex ceedingly profitable. Since the war our glorious girls have reached the top in swimming, tennis and golf. The expression, it won't be long now, applies to their imminent perfection in track and field events. We boys seldom hesitate any more to invite our friends of the oppo site sex to accompany us to football games for fear of having our enjoy ment of the game spoiled by such questions as: "What are they doing now?" "Why are they cheering?" or, "Why don't they let the other sid«» have the ball for awhile?" To sum up, the reason for woman's rise to proficiency in business and sport, I sincerely believe, is that, once given the opportunities, the girls went ahead and took full advantage of them because they discovered that in so do ing they in no way endangered, but rather increased their charm. Hus band catching was not jeopardized in the bargain. If it had been, I make bold to assert, we would never have permitted the emancipation of woman to occur. —JOSEPH DUGAN. 'I said funny — not Tunney" Birds-Eye Beauty Proposals for City Roofs LEON E. STANHOPE, president of the Illinois Society of Archi tects, comes out in the press and wants to give an annual award for the swank iest Chicago roof. Without actually saying it, he gives the thought that since aviation has be come as popularized as crime, we must now beautify the tops of our buildings in order that European transoceanic aviators may not take back home a story that Chicago is a city of blowsy upper-stories, populated by a low specie of pigeons. Mr. Stanhope, in his interview, warns the Chicago architects that the treatment of the roofs will herein after figure in the society's prise-award' ing. He intimates that awards will be the result of not only the pedestrian view, but that of the aviator and flag pole sitter. Just how much Joe Powers had to do with this decision we dare not say, but Joe had plenty of time to observe un- beautiful conditions aloft. It is barely possible that such heroes as Joe would refuse to sit aloft over a city whose sky-line looked like McFadden's Flats, and if we lose the annual flag-pole event, it will probably be the architects* fault. —LEIGH METCALFE. TMC CHICAGOAN 21 - --¦»-<»...rr,^-T- ,' .--y '¦ ¦ THE site of the first McVick- ers theatre, estab lished by James H. McVicker in 1857r was where the sec ond and third Mc- Vickers stood also, the familiar site on Madison near State. The owner appeared in the first night's play, "The Rough Dia mond" — he always thought of himself as an actor first, as indeed he was. And on this stage (eighty by fifty feet, they marveled in Kankakee) stepped his daughter, Mary McVicker, to fall in love with a tall, romantic young genius, and to marry him. The man was Edwin Booth. On through the history of the first McVicker's and the second which arose after the fire, the drama reigned. 'There will never be moving pictures in my theatre," said the aging producer. And in his lifetime there never were. ^ We come now to Uranus Crosby and his famous opera house. Mr. Crosby was one of those men so situated that the horror of civil war was his profit. With the money rolling in, he decided, in 1874, to give the developing young city the most ambitious structure of its kind perhaps in the country. At Wash ington near State, then, arose Crosby's Opera House and what with the high cost of labor and material in the war year it took $600,000. When the war ended the owner found he had ven tured too far. He was bankrupt. But Uranus Crosby was something of a Tex Rickard. He announced that he would give the theatre away. This opera house, which the whole world was discussing, was to go to some lucky person for only $1.00! The national lottery that followed almost crowded the war out of the papers. A. L. Lee of the little town of Prairie Du Rocher, 111., held the winning ticket. He came to Chicago to get his opera house and Mr. Crosby bought it back from him for $200,000. Thus every one was agape and prosperous. Crosby had enough publicity to last for years. The operatic program was varied somewhat, featuring Ole Bull and his magic violin, later Theodore Thomas and his famous sixty-piece orchestra and at last Chicago's first burlesque show— Lydia P. Thompson with her company of blondes. The "P" does not stand for Pinkham. Crosby's was de- Theatrics 1834-1927 (NOTE: Mr. Smith's History of Chicago Theatres Was Begun in the September 10 Issue of THE CHICAGOAN. This Is the Second Installment. The Next Appears in the October 8 Issue.) stroyed with the rest in 1871 and was never rebuilt. "Opera," grumbled old Uranus, "cost too plagued much!" His observation is referred to Mr. Insull. But Chicago must have its opera and in '85 the Chicago Opera House went up and struggled bravely on for ten years. Then it succumbed to vaude ville after a series of extravaganza pro ductions in which Eddie Foy delighted grand-father in "Crystal Slipper" and other pieces. Nevertheless, friends of opera gath ered to found the Auditorium Associa tion. At last, after great devotion and much hard work, that great, dignified pile which still houses our singers in the season was ready for the premiere. That was an event. Chicago even im ported the President of the United States for the occasion. Benjamin Har rison was playing the "strong silent man in the White House" then, and he- spoke before the curtain, drawing de corous applause. So did Governor Fifer and Mayor Cregier. Fred Peck, the life of the Association, was well received. But at last Adelina Patti sang "Home, Sweet Home" and the audience broke loose. And "Romeo and Juliet" followed. Since then it has always been — The Auditorium. Jumping way across town, there is the Haymarket. It is one of our old est active theatres, as it went up in 1887 and has been in use steadily. Are there any male Chicagoans who have not seen burlesque there? Yet its first attraction was Richard Keene in "Rich ard III." Thither came our great producer, Bill Brady, playing Uncle Tom! And the Boston Opera Company vied with Hallan and Hart and Evans and Hoey in "The "Parlor Match" Jessie Bartlette Davis sang her un forgettable "Robin Hood" there. The original Hooley's theatre was Bryan Hall, an 1860 structure with 1,100 seats. It had a spiral staircase that alone was worth the price of ad mission. Richard M. Hooley, fresh from seaboard museum triumphs, bought it in 1870 and got under way, despite plenty of competition that win ter with Crosby playing "The Twelve Temptations." The fateful October came and one Sunday night Hooley's was showing "Elizabeth, Queen of England." And the fire roared in from De Koven street and Hooley's lay in ashes. These other playhouses too went down in the holo caust: Crosby's, McVickers, Dearborn Theatre, Wood's Museum, King's Opera House, Olympic, first home of vaudeville, German Haus and Turner Hall. Mr. Hooley started in again while the ashes smoked. On October 21, 1872, a year and a week after the con flagration, he opened his new theatre on Randolph street. And his first bill went Lon Chaney two better — it was "The Three Hunchbacks." Hooley formed a stock company in 1874. The house went on thriving. "Led Astray," super-melodrama, packed the place and so did "The White Slave." This latter, I discover, was an elaborate production, with nothing about the traffic in country girls fresh to the city. Its heroine was a beautiful Creole girl whose one sixteenth of col ored blood kept her from high society. With coon backgrounds and waving magnolias, there was a weep in every other line. Hooley's, as typical of the period, had everything. We find "The Gilded Age" in 1878; the immortal Tony Pastor and his troop in '82; Lillian Russell's Opera Company in '83; "A Brass Monkey" and finally in '96 "The Birth of Venus." John Drew and Olga Nethersole played there. — DICK SMITH. 22 T14E CHICAGOAN Francine Larrimore in MaurineWatkins' "Chicago," acid-etched cartoon of life, jus tice, and the firess. A spectacle vivid, hilarious, or sorry according to your temperament and civic conscience. At the Harris. TI4E CHICAGOAN 23 Popcorn PJush-Ufiholstered THE cardinal lives on one corner. Across the street is the dignified home of one of Chicago's most aristo cratic families. And the two dwelling places are the acme of splendor, spir itual and temporal. If the ecclesiastical residence has more spacious grounds and a greater number of rooms, the Swift home has a Tudor dining hall and a grey facade to make up for it. The street itself winces perceptibly when any vehicle other than a Rolls or a Mercedes disturbs its dignified quiet. And a popcorn stand on the corner. For years this stand has been parked on the curbstone. It was there when the Prince of Wales dined at the bank er's home two doors away, and when the Queen of Roumania lunched in the same block. It is there early in the morning and late at night, and the Walrus is always in it. _ He is called the Walrus because of size, white mustache, and fishy eye— and the funny snort he gives when he's too grouchy to say good morning. Of course, he wouldn't even give you a snort for a greeting unless he were quite sure he'd been selling popcorn to your estimable family for at least two generations. On cold winter mornings he wears a heavy ulster and huddles with his hands cupped over the pop corn brasier. In the heat of summer afternoons he sits in immaculate shirt sleeves on a camp chair by the side of the stand, and does a rushing business with the bathers who pass down North Avenue toward Lake Shore Drive and the beach. "Walrus" is agreeable at certain times of the day. Towards evening, for instance, if you stop to chat while he salts your popcorn, he is quite affa ble. And towards evening his hair seems whiter and his face ruddier, and there's likelier to be more butter on your popcorn, too. All of which was explained one hot summer holiday when the crowds swarmed the stand until it appeared impossible for one man to serve everyone. Two men magically inside the stand. And the secret of the ever-present "Walrus" was out. He was twins. No one had ever seen the daily shift take place- no one knew there were partners in this popcorn business. And no one knows to this day which "Walrus" sprinkles butter on the cardinal's pop- COrn- —RUTH FRANK. HThe JTA G E Cost Accounting oldest the THE two stories h world are: (a) That one about the two travelling men; and (b) The legend that managers cannot afford to send the original actors of a New York cast to Chicago. Perhaps both stories are true. I do not know. Neither does anybody else. Cer tainly we have all listened to the revised version of the Managers' Hard-Luck Story, and it is so genuinely heart rending that it would bring a tear to the eye of a girl peeling an onion. You know how the chorus goes: something to the effect that the theatre has gone to the dogs, that things have come to a pretty pass when there isn't a penny to be made by producing shows, that they (the managers) will all be in the poor-house in another year, etc., etc. It is really a very touching number. Possibly conditions are as bad as the managers would have us believe. Possibly the theatre has gone to the dogs. However, I should sooner say that it has gone to the rabbits, so rapidly have theatres multiplied. One finds today over six dozen spielhauses in Greater Manhattan: Three now bloom where there was but one a few years ago. Possibly things have come to a pretty pass. (Myself, I have never seen a pretty pass, but I can think of one I'd like to have made at Mr. Rickard for his little joke concerning "ringside" seats!) However, as to that point about the managers reserving suites at the poorhouse, I am inclined to lift a skeptical eyebrow. I do not observe any pathetic pageant of Lees and Jakes wending their way over the hill. On the contrary, they all seem to be keeping up appearances, though a few of them may have to cut the corners now and then, and perhaps make the old last year's Hispano-Suisa do for another season. Mr. Albert Hermann Woods, for example, divides his time pleasantly between London and Paris, what with one thing or another. Messrs. Dillingham and Zieg- feld appear to be fair ly solvent. Mr. George Tyler is more sleek and rosy of jowl than ever before, though adversity has dealt with him so harshly that he is forced to so journ several months each year in Italy, playing pinochle with Mussolini. Mr. Wil liam A. Brady is not yet reduced to selling pencils. Neither is Mr. Sam Harris. And as for the younger Harris, producer of Broadway (royalties several thousand a week) he owns a yacht as large as the Mauretania. And so it goes. Times are certainly hard in the catch-as- catch-can industry known as show- business. Moreover, they always have been. The subject of the typical "Chicago cast" is so painful to me that I can scarce see my typewriter through a blur of tears. Apparently the man agers are of an opinion that because a show has thrived in New York the scenery and a $2 cast can be freighted to Chicago, where the poor, panti-ng peasants will flock to see little Nellie Blow in the role played on Broadway by Alice Brady. Managers, as some body must have remarked, are fantastic fellows. Last winter Mr. 'Dill ingham sent out Miss Ina Claire's com pany packed to the guards with sec ond raters, in order to be frugal with salaries: yet this same Mr. Dillingham gave us a Sunny company intact. Even the horse Miss Marilyn Miller rode was the original New York horse. If you think my grievance is ill-founded, let your eye rove over the casts now playing in Chicago theatres, then look up the identities of the mimes who performed the same operas in the pur lieus of Broadway. Mr. Texas Rickard is not the only entrepreneur with a talent for gypping. The great differ ence between the big-time theatrical manager and the gentleman running a three-shell (now you see it, now you don't) game at a county fair, is that the three-shell (Turn to page 26) 24 TWECI4ICAG0AN <Tke CINEMA The Current Comedy C URIOUSLY, the local ci nema is more inter esting at this season for its showmanship than its shows. Let motion pictures be mentioned casually and the gathering degenerates quickly into a discussion of policies, purposes, plots, almost every thing but pictures. Lack of information, or rather super fluity of misinformation, leads quickly to debate and there are, even, records of combat. Which would be discour aging to the citizen who expects merely pictures of the picture houses if the spectacle created were not a strictly Hollywood output with gold cloth, smart captions and superb direction. Even the plot is good. Picking up the thread of the story where we left off in our previous dis cussion, the operators, musicians, stage hands and mere theatre owners seemed to have concluded their sequence in closeup when persuaded by Mayor Thompson to go back to the pursuits they call work. The means of persua sion employed by the chief executive is picturesquely described by an insider as a hearty laugh dismissing wage scales and statistics, a laugh running still merrily into an equally hearty in sistence upon immediate opening of the • playhouses, the exactly correct means of settling a cinema strike and one recommended herewith for perma nent employment. From this pleasant scene the action moves to the opening of the Mindlins1 Little Cinema project on Michigan Avenue. It is at this point that show manship becomes more important than shows in the scenario, for the Mindlins are far more entertaining than their pictures. With short features culled from the commercial market, with a long feature of which more anon, these able writers of advertisements and screen captions have so confused the issue that a great many people are pay ing the psychologically correct $0.75 admission (a dollar on the better days) and pronouncing themselves vastly pleased with it all. Thermometers have been removed from the Playhouse and so good are the captions that nobody seems to notice the reason. Maybe it was this calm acceptance of more money for a Playhouse admission than the ventilated theatres had been getting, or maybe it was the great dis play of red ink occasioned by the re cent closing, that brought about the general increase in theatre admissions of which the dailies have made due first-page mention. It's all very strange, the pieces fit into each other so well however they are arranged, but it's very certainly the thing called show manship and it merits general applause. This increase in admission should do a great deal of good. Firstly, it should reduce the number of standees in front of the principal theatres without loss to the management and with benefit to those residents who have been trying to get in for lo these many years. Sec ondly, and as a result of this change, it should enable the theatres to profitably present better entertainment to this new audience. Thirdly — but the thing is an endless chain of obvious benefits dovetailing one into another and re hearsal is tedious. If there be a false note it must lie in the initial statement that showmanship at this time is more important to the cinemas than shows. There is the possibility that people may tire of showmanship. ? About Potem\in, since something about it was promised in a preceding paragraph, it's just too bad. The pic ture is very efficiently constructed, the intended effect gets across with com plete success, the whole is as ably or ganized as a personally conducted trip through the Union Stock Yards and, unfortunately, leaves about the same gastronomical condition. ? Pictures which you may not have braved the weather to sit through and about which you may care to know a little are: The Patent Leather Kid, at the Woods and good prices, is the best thing Dick Barthelmess has had to work with since Tol'able David, and it's bet' ter than that. Twelve Miles Out, now in the neigh' borhoods, is he-man stuff, with Ernest Torrence and John Gilbert shedding blood and a good deal of interest all over some seven reels of film. It's wet or dry propaganda, as you wish to construe it, and good as either. Framed, in the outlying houses, is more bad luck for Milton Sills. Were All Gamblers is a prizefight' night club story with Thomas Meighan in his best vehicle since 1921, due to the direction of one James Cruze. Hula is an oversight on the part of Clara Bow's employers. — W. R. WEAVER. Rush Week Simple Lines for Frosh 44\y EAH, Lake Mackimackiwawa I is pretty nice in the summer. Yeah, I had a good time there." "Father? Oh, he's in the banking business. He's sort of interested in half a dozen banks around the state." "Sure, I drive. We got three cars, only the Big Boy won't let me have mine here unless I make my grades this term." "Well, I was Full on the All-State for the last two years. Oh, I guess I averaged 9]/i yards." "We have a pretty large summer home up there — a dandy place for house parties." "Yeah, I'd like to go into town some week-end. I can usually get passes for the shows through my uncle." "I got a hell of a good looking cousin who's in school near here. Would it be all right if I asked her to drive over some time?" "I guess I can cash it for you if it's under fifty. I have more ready cash than I need." — DON CLYDE. Statistic Singular Fifty covered wagon men With grubby occupations, Plus forty grubby little pigs With grubby inclinations, Plus Halsted St. from end to end Times Toni's monthly collar, Could never look as grubby as A filling station dollar! — PAUL ERNST. TWECI4ICAG0AN 25 The Scene INASMUCH as Mr. Rickard turned a deaf ear to our frenzied plea to have the fight take place a few days ahead of schedule so that a proper ac count could be published in this issue, we have decided to retaliate by award ing no space whatever to brutal, vul gar prize fighting until next issue. Be sides, it's about time some of the hot air was deflated from the champion ship fight balloon. There is much else on the sport horizon as worthy if not more so of our circumspection. First, it is proper to point with pride to the overwhelming victory of the gallant American polo riders in the recent in ternational matches at Meadowbrook and to view with alarm the defeat of our Davis cup team by the Gauls at Philadelphia. It WOuld seem that our Messrs. Tilden and Johnson played dazzling tennis but that their best was not quite good enough. All credit must go to Rene Lacoste and Henri Cachet for one of the most brilliant victories in the history of the Davis cup engage ments. One living in the gauche mid dle west could not but shudder a little, though, in reading of the finals, at the report of unethical behavior on the part of the onlookers. They cheered Johnson's good shots and applauded Cochet's mistakes! And this in staid, correct Philadelphia. If we hadn't sworn not to mention the subject again, we might point out that only a year ago a championship prize fight was held in the Quaker city, which might have caused the ruin of Philadelphia's sport manners. On the other hand, the truth of the matter probably was that the raucousness was caused by a lot of outsiders from New York. But that hardly seems fair, after all, because no reports of bad behavior from the spectators were forwarded during the National championship matches last week at Forest Hills. If you followed the latter tournament, you undoubtedly noticed that Johnny Hennessey of Indianapolis, often seen on Chicago courts earlier in the season, figured effectively in the early sets. Of our own George Lott, one hears recur rent predictions he will one day soon succeed to the laurels of Bill Tilden. Football C ECRET practice twice a day. All vJ manner of strenuous muscle stretch ing exercises. Much puffing around the cinder track and the cudgelling of ./PORT/ REVIEW Davis Cufi to France brains over signal systems. Thumping of punts and dropkicks up and down the freshly chalked brown fields all afternoon. Smashing of one perspir ing candidate after another against the inert tackling dummy. Drill, drill, drill — the first game is only one short week away. For Alonzo Stagg's Maroons that first game is nothing to be talked of lightly. Oklahoma will offer a stumbling block worthy the best efforts of a team in midseason form. With no intention of undue pessimism, this department predicts a tough battle for the Maroons on opening day and believes that if the Midway team is equal to the test it may be the making of a real football machine for Chicago. In Evanston the preliminary work under the seasoned eye of a coach new to Northwestern, Dick Hanley, was equally as gruelling. The purple starts against South Dakota with a team largely composed of veterans. In view of the latter fact, it is a little disap pointing that Northwestern's schedule does not include a few more games with teams of equal strength rating. Little fear need be held for the prob able showing of the Wildcats against the boys from the wheat country on Oct. 1, or anybody else, for that matter. Aside from the traditional end of the season games, the chief appeal of the football in recent years has grown to be the intersectional struggle. Five such meetings of outstanding interest have been arranged this year by Big 'Oui, Madame, tres Collegiate!" Ten schools. In Chicago Oct. 22 Stagg's Maroons will meet Lou Young's Red and Blue Pennsylvanians for the third time in as many years. Twice defeated by the Quakers, Chicago now has an equal number of chances for revenge on her own grounds. Penn will return for the final game of the series next year. The second intersec tional game of national importance in which a Big Ten team will figure is the meeting Oct. 8 of Purdue and Harvard at Cambridge. Notre Dame's blue lightning will, as usual, flash about the country through out the autumn, appearing here, there and everywhere and probably with as much success as in former seasons. It is interesting to note that Coach Page of Indiana, decided at schedule making time that the best preparation for Har vard would be a game with Notre Dame. If Indiana stands the gaff, the workout should prove all that's needed. The Indiana-Harvard clash occurs Oct. 29. Michigan's Wolverines will again take on the Navy at Ann Arbor on Nov. 12. Fifth of the outstanding in- tersectionals will be the Ohio State- Princeton game at Princeton Nov. 5. Yachting FINAL races are on for the Chicago Yacht club's sloops, schooners and ketches. Before the month is out the skippers of Belmont, Chicago and Jackson park harbors will furl sails for the last time this year and their craft will make the journey up the north branch or to 95 th street, to be hauled out and dry docked for the long, cold winter months. In Memonam DOG racing in and near Chicago, in case you were not aware, has nearly ceased to be a nightly diversion for thousands of our populace impelled by the urge to take a chance to the extent of current finances. The bark ing hounds, for some reason not en tirely clear, have been sent away to other tracks and all but one or two of the half dozen or more big ovals, con structed with such amazing speed last spring, are deserted and forlorn. Busi ness at the movies and the horse races is reported to be much better. — SPORTSMAN. 26 TWEO4ICAG0AN Lincoln Park Painlessly Projected AVAST area of green, tasseled with trees and slashed with white walks and driveways on the edge of Lake Michigan ... A playground for the bourgeois . . . The baseball field with dozens of uniformed teams at play . . . Old men playing croquet and rogue . . . Boys and girls in cool white busy at tennis . . . Majestic statute of the sad-eyed Abraham Lincoln facing south and looking as if he would like to visit the loop . . . The yacht harbor with a strange assortment of craft lin ing the shore. . . . The picturesque Fish Fan's schooner home. . . . The outer drive crowded with autos and swept by cool lake breezes. . . . Gen. Grant in bronze on a hilltop. . . . The Zoo with more ani mals than any circus and they look happier. ... A crowd of children in front of the Monkey's cake. ... A little boy feeding the elephant peanuts. . . . The big African lion blinks in the sun-light and seems bored by the atten tion of the throng . . . bears, buffalo, sea lions, wolves, tigers, leopards, birds and snakes have dens of their own. . . . The golf courses are crowded with future Bobby Jones' and long lines of players patiently wait for a chance to tee-off. . . . Statues of Goethe, Schiller, Columbus, Garibaldi, Shakespeare, Anderson, Ericsson. . . . Lagoons dotted with gay groups in row boats. . . . The lily pond in full bloom. . . . The big conservatory sparkling like a diamond in the sun and filled with every color and variety of posies. An old man spearing bits of paper with a steel-pointed stick. ... A fam ily picnic on the grass under a big tree. . . . Children riding pet ponies. ... A loving couple on a bench. ... A bum sleeping in a shady spot on the grass. ... A park policeman in a shiny new uniform of blue with puttees. ... A bob-headed flapper sitting on a bench with her legs crossed. ... A motor cycle cop looking. . . . The Refractory with its cool, screened verandas crowded with gay divers. . . . Pale- faced children sucking soft drinks through straws. . . . The new Aquarium with a thousand specimen of fish. . . . The Academy of Sciences. ... A moon-faced kid with long pants looking like one of the Singer Midgets, walking with his par ents. ... A baby playing with a balloon. . . . Children eating pop-corn and candy. ... "I can't eat them red hots," remarked a hard featured blonde in very short skirts, "they always talk back to me." . . . An anxious mother looking for a lost child . . . with dark ness the crowds leave by every exit . . . nobody left but a few spooning couples . . . The animals in the Zoo have gone to sleep. ... At 11 p. m. the police men sound the warning: "All out." Superstitions Denoting Nativity That an on-shore wind really makes the waters of Lake Michigan warm. ? That Chicagoans who live in kitchenette apartments have no chil dren. ? That Madame Galli's is the haunt of Italian opera singers. ? That all banana peels on the beaches are thrown there by Halsted street families. ? That all equestrians in Lincoln Park are either society or theatrical folk. ? That all working girls and their sweeties spend the week-ends at Lake Zurich. ? That the Sand Dunes are cool in summer. ? That the neighborhood around the Thompson commissary at Clark and Kinzie smells eternally of stews and tomato soup. ? That the white stone mansion at the lake and Sheridan Road where it turns west to Devon is the home of William Wrigley. ? That Evanston is owned by the Pattens. ? That Niles Center is only 29 minutes from the Loop. ? That the Post Office building is six inches off plumb. ? That a man who parks his Ford in Grant Park will be able to pick it out from the others. ? That Yellow Cabs always get away at the yellow light. ? That Checker Cabs are driven by desperados who take that method of killing Yellow Cab drivers. — L. M. The Stage And Its Fables (Begin on page 23) man lets you know he's fooling you. But of all the comic casts that have headed toward this frontier, none has startled me so much as that one re cently announced for October, when Miss Grace George will bring Th« Road to Rome hither. Now, Miss George is a charming actress, but she is as well-suited to the role of the Roman babbitt young wife (played in New York by Miss Jane Cowl) as Miss Jobyna Howland is suited to the role of Little Eva. And when it is fur' ther rumored that Miss George will present Robert Lorraine as her Hanni' bal (played in New York by the vigo* rous Philip Merivale) one can only wonder why she did not think of Wil' ton Lackaye or Eddie Foy. As a matter of fact, I infinitely prefer Miss Grace George as an actress to Miss Jane Cowl: Miss George is a skilled artist, whereas Miss Cowl has never risen above the obvious technique of a Syra' cuse stock- company star. But I would rather see Miss Cowl as Juliet. That is what I mean about the role of the yearning mamma in The Road to Rome. However, this is Chicago. And we must take what we get — and try to like it. — G. M. TWE CHICAGOAN Chicago, September 23. Dear Tsdarion: I am glad you liked the velvet. It was a good match, wasn't it? It is so easy to shop in Chicago that matching colors is no trouble at all. All the stores are so close to one another that if you don't find something one place it will probably be right across the street, or next door. What did you think of that piece of lame and the sample of transparent velvet that I sent to Mother? Isn't the velvet just more beautiful than you ever dreamed any fabric could be? I saw a dress in Fields in three shades of that same blue that I nearly bought, it was so lovely — and so practical. Just two rippling flounces and a long, softly draping blouse that tied on one side, the loop caught with a pearl set buckle. It is just the sort of thing for the Sat urday dances and for Aunt Marion's Sunday teas. But Susy thought the color not flattering to my brown skin. I did get some shoes, a pair of dull leather ones, with highish heels, to wear with my new tweed outfit when I wear the velvet blouse. They are a new shade and finish. Stevens, the only place in town I've seen them, call it gun metal or steel. It seems to me that steel is more appropriate, for they have exactly the dull metallic lustre of an automatic revolver barrel. Of course, they are perfect for the tweed suit, which is a soft, warm be twixt and between gray, and with which gray shoes would be too much of a muchness and black too usual. This new leather is dark enough for contrast and yet interesting in itself. The other day when we were in Mandel's, I bought a small felt hat, dark brown, a new kind of felt they tall homespun. At Fields they call it rabbit felt or Angora. It is even softer than the antelope felt that was new last year, and has little hairs caught into the surface. I imagine it has some thing in common with those flesh col ored invisible hose that were worn un der silk stockings. It has somewhat the same soft feel in one's hand, and it weighs just nothing. Hats made of it are done by hand and mostly have the brims put on over the crown, often cut into a design that accents the curve of the head. Naturally they are good looking. You know that black tulle evening dress of mine has always seemed to need something, and they had a pair of evening slippers at Pedemode that were Civic Service For Guests of the Citizenry [NOTE: Going and seeing, burden some enough to the resident, is happily ob viated for the resident's out-of-town guest by The Chicagoan 's own Heloise, whose letter may be copied with suitable change of names and dispatched to eager home folks at will.] exactly what it needed. Perfect dar lings! Opalescent kid with gold leather incrustrations in a quite plain but really exquisite design. They cost lots and are perishable as anything — you have to send them to the factory to be re- lacquered if you really get them very dirty, but, oh, my dear, Cinderella never had shoes like these! Just to ease my conscience, I bought Mother a pair of enamel buckles, dark blue and orange, very smart looking. Susy couldn't decide between two new black suede shoes Pedemode is showing, so she bought them both. One has a disk of suede for a buckle and the other a fine little design of narrow patent leather banding somewhat sug gesting a colonial buckle. The pair with the circular disk was piped, if you can say a shoe is ever piped — with a narrow band half of patent leather and half of dull kid. This use of three leathers, the trimming leathers used very sparingly, is very smart. They had some good looking stock ings, too. I am sending you a pair of their very newest, with heels woven in the shape of a fleur de lis. I knew that as soon as you saw them advertised you would be crazy to have a pair. They are supposed to be enormously becoming to a good looking ankle. I must get some gloves before next week, and I am dying to have a silver bracelet Stevens have in their window — it is just a series of flat silver curli- 27 cues in a double row, very old and mysterious looking; just the thing to wear with a rather dumb outfit to give it character. They say there is a great vogue for gold and silver jewelry and they showed us several long chains and some gorgeous barbaric looking brace lets of various kinds of gold and silver links. Nothing at all like the slave stuff people have been wearing. Much more like some of the things we saw at the Modern Arts Exhibit. You remem ber, they had some there, with flat tri angular shaped links that were at once primitive and sophisticated? I want an umbrella, too. This is the time to buy umbrellas. You know — the new stocks are coming in, but the reduced price still holds. I can't make up my mind whether to get one of those cunning, smart little ones that will go into my small traveling case, or to get one of those Stevens have just got in, with handles of carved bird and animal heads. One of the most practi cal ones I saw, and maybe the smartest, was of the gayest Roman striped silk. The stripes were scarcely a sixteenth of an inch, and the colors were soft and very lovely. It would go with nearly everything and at least be cheerful on a rainy day. What do you think? I intended to tell you about the French handkerchiefs I ordered for Ruth, and — oh, I found just the kind of stationery you will want, at Holmes, on Michigan, but there are people for dinner, so I think it would be nice for me to go down early. Besides, this letter is a pretty good return for two short notes and a night letter. Thinely, —HELOISE. Phototypes Mrs. Smith From Des Moines Why, in Des Moines, They wear skirts as short, Only their stockings aren't as thin. There comes an actress! You can always tell By their hips. I'm right glad Horatio isn't here. Mercy! I believe that man who looked at me Is following me now. It's sort of a compliment, But I mustn't look back again. I almost wish Horatio was here; He's a good husband for all his faults. Why do my feet have to hurt Just when I'm appearing my best? There's a handsome man, Suppose I dropped my — Goodness me, My purse is gone! Horatio! Horatio! — JOHN MATTER. 28 TUECWCAGQAN MU/ICAL NOTE/ Chicago Has Its September WE strolled into the Stevens and after quizzing the taxi-starter, five bell boys, and the room clerk located Roy Bargy and his orches tra in the main dining- room. Up some de serted marble stair cases we went to the portals of that sump tuous restaurant and gazed longingly through vistas of empty tables. There was no Roy Bargy to be seen, nor was his brilliant jaw band on deck. Two or three forlorn waiters drooped over like black lilies in the fur thest corners of the room. The trim hat-check girl chewed her Wrigley 's dejectedly. Presently from across the mezzanine came several smart young men, led by the Bargy himself. Ironically they entered the dining-room, resumed their seats upon the dais, fiddled with gold, silver, and ivory instruments, and, at the double foot-tap of Roy launched into an enchanting brand of jazz, the quiet tinkle of his magic fin gers playing above a soft and subtle counter-point. Yards and yards away, from some tabled recess in that huge chamber a handsome couple emerged, and, beautifully lonely, did the honors on the shiny floor. But the black lilies remained sadly at their posts, glancing furtively down the aisles, toward the door, hoping against hope. And the hat-check girl, mount ing guard over a single Stetson, mere ly altered the rhythm of her mastica tion in gallant deference to a fine jazz band. Aye, Chicago has its September. ? A note about the music that went with "Potemkin," the first of the high brow films at the Playhouse. It was for the most part badly chosen, but extremely well played. The little en semble was evidently made up of capable musicians. From this the nightmare movie palaces like the Chi cago and the Tivoli can take a tip. "Did you learn what became of the orchestra?" "No, but I suspect Petrillo." Their large sympho nies may be impressive to look at, what with tony conductors and dim lights, but they play miserably. And as for the marcelled young organist who makes all those ghast ly noises in the false loges — shades of Han del and Bach. Much better five or six real musicians, whether they play Gershwin or Tschaikowsky. ? A musical recess again. From Hoboken to Monterey the dis mal sound of scrapings and caterwaulings. The concert artists are tuning up for the sea son. In New York the managers pre pare to retail the season's crop of won der-children and European "artists of the first magnitude." It's going to be a hard winter. For Chicago things point not so badly. By the timely injection of dol lars into its veins the Symphony has been given a year's lease on life. To The Chicago Daily l^ews goes the credit for courageous and efficient first aid. And we suspect strongly that the chief surgeon was Henry Justin Smith, veteran editor on the staff of that same daily. The corpse of the Allied Arts has been definitely laid for the winter, but Miss Ott and Miss Kinsolving will present a noble line of violinists, pianists, singers. At least two conductors, Verbrugghen and Mengelberg will be here. The opera has been quiet about its plans for repertoire this winter. It will probably do with the old, conserva tive stuff, with possibly one or two novelties and as many more revivals. —ROBERT POLLAK. Big Medicine For Northwestern (Begin on page 11) Illinois in par ticular, will dote upon this new phase of the game. The ball is going to be flipped about, backward, sideways and forward, in lively fashion this season. The long lateral pass, which the coaches say cannot be used to much advantage, will doubtless prove valu able as a feint preliminary to forward passing. Ohio State, long adept at flinging the ball, may build weird formations about the present freedom (or laxity) in the passing rule. Early last spring, as soon as Mr. Hanley arrived at Northwestern, he staged an exhibition game between regulars and scrubs under the new rules, without any revolutionary re sults. It was still American intercol legiate football. The congealed fanat ics in the stadium failed to find any trace of the threatened resemblance to open-air basketball. The new wrinkle that will move the goal posts back ten yards to the boundary of the end zone had not been observed, but compen' sation was established by a ten-yard handicap on trys at goal. This change is supposed to make goal kicking more difficult, but an extra ten yards will mean little to a sturdy booter from placement. The removal of the posts from the goal lines is, however, a stroke of common sense which came to the rule-makers twenty years late. Its obvious value is in getting a dan gerous obstruction out of the field of play. North western's first opponent, South Dakota, is no novelty in Dyche stadium. This team gave the Purple its first game last season, losing by a score of 34 to 0. Its 1926 record was creditable; six out of nine games were won. On its conference schedule only one game was lost. South Dakota may be counted on to offer Mr. Han- ley's squad a safe but vigorous work' out in preparation for the intersec- tional game with the University of Utah October 8. These Utes won the championship of the Rocky Moun tain Conference last year. Out on the Midway next Saturday, Mr. Stagg's Maroons will begin their labors of Hercules with the University of Oklahoma as opponent. This team, familiarly known as the Sooners, fin ished fifth among the ten schools of the Missouri Valley Conference last year. It defeated Arkansas, Drake, Washington, Missouri and St. Louis; tied the Oklahoma Aggies, who won the title; lost to Kansas State, 12 to 15 i and to Kansas, 9 to 10. Oklahoma appears to be almost as strong as the average Western Conference team, and must be regarded as a menace. — CHARLES COLLINS. TI4ECUICAG0AN 29 READING the morning papers in search of the pot of gold at the end of every woodpulp rainbow is a simple thing compared with (1) pur chasing the worthwhile editions of the afternoon newspapers and (2) going through all four of them separating the wheat from the chaff. In fact buying an up-to-the-minute edition of an afternoon paper is an art in itself. Anyone who can stare a headwaiter into taking down the "re served" sign and turning over a well located table without a fat advance tip will lose some of his self assurance by stepping out at 5:30 o'clock some after noon and trying to purchase a paper wet off the presses. It can be done. Quite frequently it is done. But it usually means the pur chaser has been buying at the same stand night after night and approaches the newsvender on a social rather than a business basis. The morning papers appear in a series of editions, but the mailers take care of them, sending the early ones out into Wisconsin, Iowa and Michigan. The result is Chicago people get the genuine final edition, or at least the one immediately preceding the final. In the afternoon, however, it's a dif ferent story. The newsstands receive the "noon" editions early in the morn ing. Then follows a deluge under vari ous misleading titles culminating in "finals," "extra finals," "final extra finals," etc The latest to arrive is put at the bottom of the pile and the ven der deals them off the top. Visualizing the hustle and bustle in the newspaper offices to "catch" edi tions and the breakneck, life-endanger ing speed at which delivery wagons dash through the congested loop, it is ludicrous to realize that when the papers arrive at the stands it's an even bet they will not reach the top of the pile for 30 minutes at least, and pos sibly for an hour or two. From time to time, newspapers at tempt to signalize for their customers the last edition by identifying it with colored ink or some special name, only to endanger the goodwill thus built up by subdividing these "specials" into "first," "finals" and "extras"— and the old bedlam is restored. Presuming that it is possible, pur chase all four of the afternoon papers late some afternoon and wade through. It will take the best part of the eve ning, but if you arm yourself with a note book, you will be equipped to find what you want on special happenings Newsprint The Evening Glance later. The J^ews is the most formidable. For the convenience of its own staff as well as its cash customers, it prints a departmental index on page one, which at first glance looks like the day's weather summary. Without the index, it is a hopeless business trying to find what is at the neighborhood movie or the day's lesson in auction bridge. The quality and quantity of K[ews news has pepped up considerably in the last few months. If you like Peg- ler in the Tribune, you will enjoy Casey, who makes the first page of the J^ews almost every night. In fact Casey is just a little better than Pegler lately because he doesn't try to make every sentence funny. Occasionally he puts one in to carry the sense of the thing. If you like Detective Tales or in your youth read "Old King Brady," you will like the expose the J^ews prints from time to time of the gambling, the beer and other illegal rackets. Exposes are always readable and demonstrate that the oldfashioned reporter-detective is not yet extinct. Page two is filled with letters from foreign correspondents and is worth anyone's time. To chart the rest of the paper would require more time than cataloguing the Field Museum, so it will have to wait until a later date. The Post closely resembles the news papers of small but dignified communi ties. It has a conservative appearance. It prints all of the A. P. it pays for, or appears to. If a City Press reporter cannot find his story in any other paper, he can always turn to the Post. Like the "Congressional Record," it prints every scrap of reading matter coming through the regular channels. If you are interested in art, in music, in books, or the radio, the Post ought to please you. And its editorial page boasts "Riq," a column conductor, clever as the best of the tribe. The Journal is the most colorful of the four papers. It is militantly Demo cratic. So few papers are militant about anything that this twist is inter esting and entertaining. Its news is well served. Ralph Cannon, who writes about al most any topic although planted on the sport page with a heading "Under the Campus Canopy," is refreshing. Arthur Sheekman takes his movies seri' ous and does a first class job of it. And every little while, the Journal editorial column sizzles and explodes. The American is two steps away from a tabloid. Of its first three pages, about half the surface is taken up with halftones and almost every night there is a moral in at least one group of these illustrations. Its editorial page still contains a Powers cartoon and a long dissertation on how closely we humans resemble greyhounds, roosters, cave men, soda crackers, etc., and should therefore watch our step if we are go ing to climb to the top. There is, too, the ever present continued story of the girl who almost got into a terrible mess but escaped by walking back to town. Yet, the Chaperon's comment on so ciety is always readable. Tad and H. N. would grace any sport page. M. C. Work writes daily on bridge. And it has other virtues to be discussed later. — EZRA. Education Q. E. D. Reggie Smith went to Northwestern, Studied blacks and nordic blonds; Ethnological sort of subject, Now he's home and selling bonds. Jimmie Brown came to Wisconsin, Thought of dams and drainage ponds; Engineering sort of subject, Now he's home and selling bonds. Mike McTigue cheered for Chicago, Playeds with stems and leaves and fronds; Horticultural sort of subject, Now he's home and selling bonds. Tell me, does all this at college Give the stuff that corresponds To the necessary knowledge That is needed selling bonds? — w. c. E. 30 THE CHICAGOAN IMPORTATIONS from the style cen ters of Europe — sea' sonal suggestions of note — Coats Gowns Suits Furs And for the bridal path, Riding Habits of distinc tive design. F. ARENDT Importer 171 No. Michigan Ave. Chicago Home Suite Home— II Go-ojteratmg (Begin on page 19) of tenant owners. The man who contemplates buying a co-operative apartment should study each episode in the history of the building, look into its geneology, in vestigate its legal status, and estimate its prospects. He must assure himself that the building is so located and planned that he is getting his money's worth of attractive space in a neigh borhood likely to remain high class as long as that can reasonably be ex pected in a growing and changing city. Obviously, the planning and details of his own apartment please him or he will not buy. He should also, to the best of a lay man's ability, ascertain the quality of the building. A trick shower does not prove good plumbing nor a uniformed doorman sound construction. Of prime importance is the fi nancing. The valuation of the build ing and ground must be accurate and honest. If the building is encumbered by mortgages in excess of forty or fifty per cent of this valuation, the in vestment is not a sound one from the Built to excel — not undersell UNIVERSAL BATTERY COMPANY Chicago apartment owner's point of view. The larger the encumbrance, the larger will be his carrying charges and the less secure his investment. The amortiza tion of the mortgages should be such that when the principle sum becomes due it will be small enough to assure the ability of the owners to refund the investment. It is essential, also, that the tenant' owner assure himself that the amount of his monthly payment which has been arrived at by the builders and therefore the sellers, is sufficient and will not need to be increased as soon as he has signed his contract. That, in brief, is the outline of the co-operative apartment idea. Future economists, sociologists and historians will deal further with the subject, and so will the Chicagoan. — RUTH AND LEWIS BERGMAN. Plane Truth Personally Reported (Begin on page 13) what was in it: Two cheese sandwiches (1 inch bread, Yl inch cheese) . 1 hard-boiled egg. Several slices liversausage. Some other kinds of cheese. She kept seeing the word PRACHT' VOLL forming beneath the mustaches of her traveling companions, Soon Mr. Smith opened his box, too. The heat got hotter. Mrs. Smith sat very quietly, think' ing about oranges and lemons. It seemed the only thing to think about: Oranges and lemons — deep, cold drinks of oranges and lemons, with perhaps some little sips of ginger ale — no, no — oranges and lemons. . . . "Wait," said Mr. Smith. "Wait till I move the sweaters, dear." But she couldn't wait. Hours and hours of cheese and liver sausage smell. Hours and hours of shameful proffering by Mr. Smith of the cardboard lunchbox. Ignomy. Ignomy. Ignomy. And, finally, Am' sterdam. Like a sick fly she crawled out into the sunshine. "Krank?" asked the pilot. She showed him. "Darling," said Mr. Smith, wanly, "darling, I'm so sorry." But Mrs. Smith didn't care about his being sorry. Death was all she wanted. Nice stationary Death. — DOROTHY ALMS. TWECI4ICAG0AN 31 The Fall Book List Biography, Fiction, Cynicism THE first publishing event of the autumn, namely, the appearance of the Harper prise novel for 1927, has in a way its Chicago angle. For Glenway Wescott, author of "The Grandmothers," began his literary career, as a career, by being resident of the University of Chicago poetry society, and later on, between New Mexico and the south of France, Mr. Wescott was again for a time a Chi cago citizen. Of the two earlier Harper prize novels, "The Able McLaughlins" was a sound piece of work, and "The Pe rennial Bachelor" a delightful one, but it is being said that "The Grandmoth ers" is an actual piece of literature, something that we shall boast of hav ing been in on when we get to be fifty, or a hundred. It is a story of pioneer life in Wisconsin. Told, how ever, not as a story, but bit by bit as it comes to Alwyn Tower, the narra tor, through a daguerreotype, a family album, his own memories of child hood. Thus in terms of individuals, the story of pioneer Wisconsin is brought before us, its ideals, its prom ise, its disappointments. The book is interpretation as well as record, and Mr. Wescott has the exquisite, ob servant style of the author who writes prose after poetry. While certain of the spring biogra phies continue to sell and to create ex citement—within the past month we have known two persons to receive Emil Ludwig's Napoleon for their birthdays and sit up nights over it just as the reviewers and booksellers were doing around Christmas time— the new autumn biographies are be ginning to come in. One of the first to appear is "John Paul Jones: Man of Action" (Brentano's), by Phillips Russell, whose 1926 biography, "Ben jamin Franklin: the First Civilized American," had the effect of starting something of a Franklin flurry. With permission, however, we shall not include "The Diary of Russell Beresford," edited by Cecil Roberts (Doran), among the fall biographies, though less wary critic, reviewing it from the preface alone, might be tempted to do so. Russell Beresford, Mr. Roberts tells us, is under a pseu donym, a young Englishman, who was invalided from Gallipoli, and who be came after a slow recovery one of the EAST OR WEST, "THEY KNOW THEIR CIGARETTES!" N a certain "dude ranch" in Montana, all the cowboys are smoking Fatimas. For all their quizzical scorn of the effete East, these young Westerners are evidently quick to recognize the real thing, wherever it hails from! ATI M A Of course they cost more — quality always does! LIGGETT tr MYERS TOBACCO CO. excavators at Carthage, dying in Tu nisia in 1924, at the age of thirty-one. In his journals, however, Beresford writes as though he were Mr. Roberts' twin brother. His Italy is the Italy of "Sails of Sunset" and his descriptions of North Africa are a companion piece. Chicago, by the way, gets credit for financing Beresford's work at Carthage to the extent of two hun dred thousand francs, and, further more, the beautiful, albeit somewhat too definite, heroine, hails from here. The words "translated from the Sanskrit" upon a title page are likely to be an equivocal endorsement to the general reader. "Sanskrit" somehow sets one expecting something recondite such as an exegesis of Buddhism or of the art of love. Two years ago, how ever, Arthur W. Ryder reminded us, by translating the "Panchatantra," that the ancient courts of India had tale-tellers more remarkable than Scherazade herself. And in his new translation, "The Ten Princes" (Uni versity of Chicago Press), he keeps us reminded. For although he calls Dandin's " Dasha - Kumara - Charita " (i. e., "The Ten Princes") a novel, it is a collection of stories. And, should romance require an antidote, one finds also among the week's new books a, so to speak, pocket Mencken. "Selected Preju dices," by H. L. Mencken (Knopf), represents the first five volumes of the Prejudice series and cynicizes a broad swath through life, letters, and music. — SUSAN WILBUR. 32 TWE CHICAGOAN Polo ... a magazine designed to supply the Game and those inter ested with a publication of appropriate authority, readability and interest. Obtainable by subscription only. One year, $5.00; Two years, $8.00; Three years, $10.00. Quigley Publishing Company 407 South Dearborn St. Chicago, 111. The October issue will contain the com' pJete account of the International Matches by Peter Vischer and other leading aw thorities. Doldrums The Art Burden THERE is a pleasant surprise waiting for you at Marshall Fields. The Prodigal Son has re turned, and is being feted with the fatted calf in the way of a one-man show in the galleries. Irving Manoir is back, after two vagabond years, with a collection of vigorous paintings depicting the varied moods of Cuba, New Mexico and California. Mr. Manoir 's style has changed so com pletely that his work is scarcely rec ognizable. Incidentally, he has broad ened and developed his style to a sur prising degree. I was particularly impressed by a misty, early morning landscape which he called the "Old Barn." Its delicate pastel harmony shows a remarkable adeptness with color. The style is more impressionistic than his former handling, and shows a vast improve ment. In direct contrast to this, there is a painting of mountain slopes called "Sierra's Forms." His treatment is almost cubistic, here, for he has re duced each plane to a flat design. His coloring in this composition is bold and ruddy, and he handles low and high-key color with equal finesse. The only poor thing in the show is a rather weak seascape, entitled "Ocean Spray." Its bad composition and chalky color smacks of much earlier work than the others and might better have been left safely at home. The fall exhibition of the Chicago Galleries Association opens during the latter part of September. In the mean time, they are continuing their sum mer show. As you know, the Asso ciation is made up of about one hun dred and fifty native sons whose paint ings vary from good and bad to indif ferent. But when such men as Martin Hennings, Paul Trebilcock, Abram Poole and Oskar Gross form part of the membership there is bound to be some splendid work on exhibition. One of the best things in the sum mer show is R. H. Collins' painting of his little niece. Mr. Collins' picture expresses a delicate understanding of childish emotion that is rare among painters. Paul Trebilcock's portrait of Mr. Swett, the attorney, is arresting, as usual, in its bold treatment. — V. O. BROWNE. Where Fine Cigars Are Smoked Tom Palmer Predominates Wengler & M andell, Inc. Chicago • Tampa SPONSORED B T^ROM 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 Y HARGRAFT 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 ide7iti/ies all I fpftl Hargraft dealers 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