October 22, 1927 U Price 15 Cents ° *uim o kj D o J Reg. U. S. Pat. Off o © o "It Plays By Itself" THE great Rachmaninoff — Brailowsky, Goldsand, Levitzki, Lhevinne, Munz, Orloff, Rosenthal — these are but a few of the master pianists who have recorded exclusively for this marvelous instrument, which brings to your home the intense emotion and vivid imagination of great genius. In this accomplish ment the Ampico stands alone— whether interpreting the impressive magnificence of the great classics or the irresistibly infectious dance music of Zez Confrey, Vincent Lopez and Adam Carroll. ' II ^if^ffVft c ^ moderate deposit will secure immediate delivery of JL CjriLJLJlQ any piano or Ampico in our Warerooms. The balance may be divided into small monthly payments extending over a period of two years. Your present piano will be accepted in exchange. Enabe &mptco grtubio* STEGER & SONS Sieger Building Northwest Corner Wabash Avenue and Jackson Boulevard Chicago The Chicagoan— Martin J. Ouigley, Publisher and Editor; published fortnightly by The Chicagoan Publishing Co.. 407 South Dearborn St., Chicago, 111. New York Office:" 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 5617 Hollywood Blvd. Subscription S3. do annually, s.mrle copies lac. vol. No. 3 — October 22, 1927. Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. TI4E CHICAGOAN Cezanne to Cicero 'T^HE smudged Institute on the A lake front. The brawling suburb on the western prairie. Between these two symbols, the glamor of — Chicago. That's the field reported twice a month by nk CHICAGOAN Civilized interests — music, books, art, the stage, and sport — of course. All authoritatively handled by sprightly and knowing critics. And the tremendous civic spectacle, caught up and interpreted by artists and writers who know their own city and its living aspects, this is the bulk and body of a magazine you will enjoy issue by issue. Why scramble at the newsstands? The dotted line forms on the right. The Chicagoan 407 So. Dearborn St. Chicago, 111. Send "The Chicagoan" one year $3.00 — two years $5.00. Name Address City State 2 TI4ECI4ICAGOAN CHECK ROOM " ':>..' The check room sirens burnish ufi their decoy half-dollars TWECMICAGOAN 3 OCCASIONS FOOTBALL— Oct. 22, Chicago vs. Penn sylvania, Stagg Field, 2:00 p. m. Oct. 22, Northwestern vs. Illinois, Dychc Field, 2:00 p. m. Oct. 29, Northwestern vs. Missouri, Dyche Field, 2:00 p. m. Oct. 29, Chicago vs. Ohio State, Co lumbus; Pennsylvania R. R. special leaves Union Station 11:15 p. m. Oct. 28. Oct. 29, Illinois vs. Michigan, Urbana; Illinois Central specials to game (and Homecoming), leave Twelfth Street Station morning of 29th. HALLOWE'EN— Annual peak of soap consumption by younger generation; not, however, behind the ears, Oct. 31. INDIAN SUMMER— Any minute now. BARN DANCE— Oak Park celebration of twentyfifth anniversary as a village, Oct. 26 to Nov. 5. STAGE* Comedies, Musical GEORGE WHITES SCANDALS— Er- langer, 127 N. Clark St. State 2162. Last few days. Matinees, Wednesday and Saturday. THE RAMBLERS— Garrick, 64 W. Ran dolph St. Randolph 8240. Clark and McCullough. Matinees, Wednesday and Saturday. THE DESERT SONG— Great Northern, 21 W. Quincy St. Central 8240. Good operetta. Matinees, Wednesday and Sat urday. %UEEH HIGH— Four Cohans, 119 N. Clark St. Central 4937. Funny words and music. New to this town. RIVER BROOK ISLES— Eighth Street Theatre, Wabash at 8th. A revue ad vertising a New York cast. Drama THE ROAD TO ROME— Adelphi, 11 No. Clark St. Randolph 4466. A new show in town. Matinees, Wednesday and Sat urday. CHICAGO— Harris, 170 N. Dearborn St. Central 1880. Too good to miss. Mati nees, Wednesday and Saturday. BROADWAY— Selwyn, 180 N. Dearborn St. Central 3404. Best show in town. RAIN— Minturn Central, 64 E. Van Buren St. Harrison 5800. A great play, ex cellently performed. Matinees, Wednes day and Saturday. HOOSIERS ABROAD— Blackstone, 60 E. Seventh St. Harrison 6609. Well liked. THE SECOND MAN— Studebaker, 418 So. Michigan Ave. Harrison 2792. Theatre Guild Acting Co. Followed Oct. 31st by "THE DOCTOR'S DILEMMA." TOMMY— Cort, 132 N. Dearborn St. Central 1009. Clean and clever. Mati nees, Wednesday and Saturday. LULU BELLE— Illinois, Blvd. Harrison 6540. a Harlem courtesan. 65 E. Jackson Lenore Ulric as THE SPIDER— Olympic, 74 W. Randolph St. Randolph 8240. Thriller. Closing in two weeks. MINTURN PLATERS— Chateau, 3180 Broadway, Lake View 7170. Good stock. One week runs of last year's successes. For Tickets F. COUTHOUl, INC., 54 W. Randolph. Branches at Congress, Drake, Blackstone, La Salle, Sherman, Morrison, Stevens and Seneca Hotels, Hamilton, Chicago, Ath letic, Illinois Athletic, LInion 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. Pvandolph. Randolph 0262. TYSON 72 W. Randolph. Randolph 0021. CINEMA Downtown McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison— The Cat and the Canary, than which no descrip tion could be more explicit, Oct. 24 until finished. See it from the first or not at all. No acts. ROOSEVELT— 110 N. State— The Rough Riders, remarkably effective tribute to '98 by James Cruze, Oct. 24 until finished. No acts. CHICAGO— State at Lake— Hard-Boiled Haggerty, Milton Sills in robust emotions, Oct. 24-30; The Fair Co-Ed, otherwise Marion Davies, Oct. 31 -Nov. 6. Bands and other things between shows. ORIENTAL— 74 W. Randolph— The Life of Riley, Charles Murray and George Sidney, Oct. 24-30; The Woman on Trial, Pola Negri, Oct. 31-Nov. 6. Paul Ash. ?See Mr. Mark's conversation de scriptive of the foregoing pieces on page 25 of this issue. 4 TI4ECUICAGQAN North UPTOWN — Broadway at Lawrence — The Drop'Kic\, Richard Barthelmess in a pretty bad college drama, Oct. 24-30; The Way of All Flesh, Emil Jannings great in a great picture, Oct. 31-Nov. 6. Bands and things. South TIVOLI— 6325 Cottage Grove— Same pic tures as Uptown, same weeks, with dif ferent bands and things. AVALON— "79th at Stony Island— Pictures undecided at press time, but a better pic ture in itself than any it might exhibit. The last word in theatre construction and decoration. See it. West HARDING— 2734 Milwaukee— Hula, Clara Bow under grass, Oct. 24-30; Fireman Save My Child, Beery-Hatton burlesque, Oct. 31-Nov. 6. And the bands, etc. SENATE — Madison at Kedzie — Fireman Save My Child, Beery-Hatton, Oct. 24-30; The Big Parade, superb war picture, Oct. 31-Nov. 6. The usual jazz adjuncts. TABLES Downtown BLACKSTOHE HOTEL— 656 S. Michi gan. A high point in Chicago civiliza tion. Music, service, food all excellent. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe. Gracious in the long Palmer tradition of inn-keeping. The Little Symphony in the Empire room. One of the very best. STEVENS— 730 S. Michigan. Thoroughly modern, immense, and smoothly adjusted to the niceties of individual service. Jo seph Gallechio's orchestra. Dinner in the main dining room $3. CONGRESS — Michigan at Congress. Pom- peian and Balloon rooms. Dining and dancing, both smartly carried out. A Chicago show-place with the widely known peacock alley. Balloon room couvert $1.50 week nights, $2.50 Satur days. COLLEGE INN— Hotel Sherman— Clark at Randolph. Maurie Sherman's band goes through its numbers both for radio and for consumption with adequate victu als. Good place. RANDOLPH ROOM— Bismarck Hotel. 171 N. Randolph. Al Ponta's musicians tootle the hours by pleasantly indeed. LA SALLE — Blue Fountain Room enliv ened by Jack Chapman's expensive or chestra. Dinner, $1.50. Dancing every eve, except Sunday from 6:00 till 8:00. ATLAHTIC HOTEL— 316 S. Clark. Ger- THE CHICAGOAN PRESENTS The Game, by Mervin A. Gunderson . Cover A Conservative Admission Page 1 Diagram of Vital Operation 2 Current Entertainment 3 Cultural Outline , 4 Topics of the Town, by Martin J. Quigley 5 The Of, By and For Park 6 A Good Motion Picture 7 Business Is Business, by Gene Markey. . 8 Football Prophecies, by Charles Collins 9 Manhattan Pekoe, by Samuel Putnam.. 10 The Annual Jamboree 11 Contraband Confidences 12 A'Hunting We Will Go 13 Blazing Burnham 14 North Side, South Side, etc 15 Chicago's Air Dominion 16 Joe Leiter, by Genevieve Forbes Herrick 17 Overtones 18 Beggar on Horseback 19 Sports Review 20 A Journalistic Journey 21 The Spider, a Caricature 22 Current Stage Things 23 Current Screen Things 24 The Music Season 25 Newsprint, the Publicity Complex 26 Brangwyn, Redfield 27 The Chicagoenne Writes 28 The Parisienne Replies 29 Fall Cleaning Lesson 30 "The Fireman's Dream" 31 An Opinion of Films 32 "Why Helga, you've mutilated it." "No, Ma'm, I mangled it." man food that sings. More seductive than the Lorelei. HENRICrS— 71" W. Randolph. Pleasing food and excellent coffee. Conversation without shouting. No music. VILLAGE RESTAURANT— 61 W. Mon roe St. Upstairs. New Italian food in a native garden. A dollar dinner that is one of the best buys in town. $1.50 Table d'hote also. Open till 1 :00 A. M. ST. HUBERTS OLD ENGLISH GRILL— 615 Federal St. The cream of Nordic victuals hiding on an obscure loop street. Featuring lamb chops big enough to play football. Out a Ways MARINE DINING ROOM— Edgewater Beach Hotel. Where the most proper of parents likes to have her daughter taken. Good music with the best view of the lake offered by any dining room. SHORELAND— Lake Michigan at 55th St. Tinseled Louis XVI room offers a nightly dinner. Saturday night dancing. $1.00 Dinner with no couvert charge to diners. $0.50 to non-diners after 9:00. COLOSIMO'S— 2126 S. Wabash Ave. Italian food and South Wabash enter tainment without the somewhat fictitious dangers of Big Jim's regime. SUNSET— 35th at Calumet. Where folly is exercised by experts. A flash of color with brown predominating. MIDNIGHT FROLICS— Wabash at 22nd St. Mr. Ike Bloom scrupulously adheres to the neighborhood traditions. A merry yip-yip tavern. Much goes down but few go out. ART ART INSTITUTE— One man showings of H. Leon Roecker, J. Jeffrey Grant and Edward T. Grigware. Sculpture by Edwin Pearson. Contemporary Swedish decorative art. Fortieth annual show of American paintings and sculpture. Oct. 27th, to Dec. 18. ANDERSON'S— Exhibition of portraits by Frank O. Salisbury. O'BRIEKl'S — Opening new galleries with an important exhibit of Americans since 1870. NEW ARLIMUSC— 1501 N. LaSalle St., around the alley. New showings of locol moderns on the theme "Chicago." CARSON PIRIE SCOTT S1 CO.— Exhibit in new galleries of fifteen canvasses, by Edward Redfield, N. A. Important showing of etchings by Frank Brangwyn. CHESTER H. JOHNSON— An important showing of French impressionists, includ ing fine examples of Manet, Monet, Degas, Renoir, Laurencin and others. English 18th century school, including Raeburn, Gainsborough, Benj. West, Beachey, Hopper and others. nbp/cr of the Houon T Chicago's Trade Mark HIS Chicagoan gunman business is beginning to look serious to Chi- cagoans abroad. Chicagoans at home are obviously quite safe from the whole business; unless, of course, they choose to enlist as participants. But for Chicagoans who venture distances beyond the confines of the County of Cook there seems no escape from a continuous bombardment upon the auditory centers by these legends of gun'play, daylight homicide and the rest of it. If a Chicagoan in Cairo, seeking momentary respite from the molesta tions of an Egyptian street, rushes into Shepheard's Hotel his asylum becomes a delusion. At the first introduction, whether the stranger be from San Francisco, New York, London or Bag dad, the introduction formalities are barely passed when sly and seemingly knowing inquiry will be ventured about recent Colt, Remington and Hotchkiss machine gun activities in the Chicagoan's home town. Now Chicago has its share, but only its share, of the gun-play industry. But never since the chronicles of the holidays of the early Romans has human slaughter received such persistent and elabo rate publicity as has this gunman legend in Chicago. And the credit for this — of course — goes to the Chicago news paper press. God bless it! This saving insti tution of our demo cratic times has taken what is nothing more than a normal evil of "The Desert What Price Glory any great city and has broadcasted news of it so jealously that they have made this gun man business the inter national trade mark of Chicago. A pressing need of Chicago is for the left- hand editorial pages of its newspapers to find out what their right hand news pages are doing. Contrast I T may properly be wondered whether the New York Central Lines in the thoughtful and painstaking reception which is accorded the patron of "The Twentieth Century" at Grand Central Terminal, New York City, is not seek ing artfully to steel the patron against the nerve-racking thud which is ad ministered to him upon train-leaving at LaSalle Street Station, Chicago. Through the magnificent Grand Central Terminal the prospective "Twentieth Century" patron moves comfortably to the train concourse, minis tered to by highly tractable Senegambian attendants. Emerging into the concourse he trods a deep-cushioned carpet of scarlet, bor dered with pleasing boxwoods and ever greens. In august com fort — and a glow of thoughtful service — he boards the carrier. And then comes the dawn and LaSalle Street Station. . . . In the place of the willing and courteous Senegambians he en counters a group of Nordic porters — at least Nordic in color. These porters seem to be among the heredi tary heirs of Privilege. The voice of "The Public Be Damned," has swept down the generations to be their guiding rule. By a system which can have no benefit, other than to the perpetrators, they pile patrons1 lug gage into miscellaneous heaps upon trucks, with a defiant word to anyone who might seem to exhibit a prefer ence to retain some trace of articles which happen to be regarded as essen tial to a traveler's personal comfort. A Chicagoan returning from points on the Continent of Europe, where Americans abroad are held in eloquent contempt, is made to feel that his holi day is not yet ended. Then if the traveller is sufficiently agile to pierce the mase and confusion of trunk-juggling and wildcat trucks along the platform he is expected to use, he is next accorded a nerve-test ing experience in that sulphurous cav ern where the motors assemble. If there is any order or system in that place it is cubistic in character. . . . The porters — for a suitable fee — in dulgently permit one to reclaim his baggage from their trucks and per sonally lug it to his car. The cab concourse is, indeed, a relic of the horse and buggy age but bad as it is something in the way of orderly pro cedure might at least be tried. But 6 THE CHICAGOAN then, Chicagoans are a tolerant lot and the visitors — well, they probably have their minds made up before coming here. Firemen! r IRE COMMISSIONER ALBERT GOODRICH would have his fire lad dies smash in the windows of motor cars left standing in street positions too close to fire hydrants. This indeed indicates a rather determined attitude on the part of the commissioner. A more constructive one, however, would be an order to his blue-shirted battal ions to use their axes on the craniums of our so-called traffic experts who complacently countenance — for what reason we shall not inquire — the ex istence of the entire street parking evil. Ivory and — Gold HEN the world's champion ship baseball tournament was con cluded recently in New York after a series of games between clubs repre senting New York City and Pittsburgh — there again being no entries from France, Chile or Japan — a knightly gesture was recorded by Mr. John Gooch who fulfills the behind-bat, catcher's position for the Pittsburgh Club. Those who take their baseball well into the football season will recall that the final contest in the series was lost by the Pittsburgh Club because of what the official scorer pronounced as a wild pitch by one Miljus, mounds- man for the defeated team. From all past annals of the ivory industry one would consider the matter ended there. But in this case there remains the beautiful gesture of Mr. Gooch. Mr. Gooch, if you please, a brawny worker in this thoroughly profession alised craft of Big League baseball, steps out of his safe and comfortable THE JULY RESERVATION— position in the background and pro claims as follows: "The ball that Miljus threw which allowed the winning run to score was a passed ball by the catcher. Nine times out ten I would have caught it, but I was down on the ground and the ball went a little wide and high. "That ball should have been caught. The official scorer made a mistake. It was no wild pitch. The error should have been charged against me." Here, then, is a professional base ball player in an attitude of nobility which one would be more prepared to encounter in the so-called higher realms of amateur sport — but seldom does. The Of, By and For Park 1 ERSONS who keep their ears attuned to political consequences here abouts are of the opinion that a change in the personnel of the board of Lin coln Park Commissioners is imminent. Such a development could only be re garded as a step in the right direction. A little while back those who re gard this park reserve as something very significant in the physical future of the neighboring parts of Chicago were not a little distressed by a mysti fying decision of the then Commis sioners to destroy the character of the —REWARDS ITS HOLDER WITH— residential district north of the Park and east of Sheridan Road. It is a long story with nothing much in it to distinguish it from that fami liar tale about Persons Who Know How to Get Things Done in Chicago. So a change which will enable the citizenry more definitely to know which building is meant by "The Small Animal House," will be a relief. The Sirens Shriek V^FFICIAL Chicago's gesture of cordiality expressed in the accompani' ment of distinguished visitors' con veyances through the streets by police motorcycles with shrieking sirens now stands guilty of an indictment more serious than the obvious one of bad taste. One evening recently while the citizenry was being terrorized along Michigan Avenue by this silly and sensational means of conducting visi' tors about town a serious accident occurred. Some means, more comfortable and less blood-thirsty, of offering due recognition to the sojourning of itiner ant notables might be devised. And the motorized police, who alone seem to enjoy the mad dashes about town, might be given an opportunity to vent their exuberance in remote sections THE CHICAGOAN 7 —AN EXCELLENT SEAT IN— where fewer innocent bystanders would be in jeopardy of being enlisted as participants in the inevitable smash- ups. Thoroughbreds INCOME tax authorities have de cided very wisely that Mr. Joseph E. Widener may deduct as a loss in his income tax return the sum of five hundred thousand dollars which repre sents the deficit created through the maintenance of his racing and breed ing establishment during the past four years. One official of the United States Board of Tax Appeals, how ever, in casting a dissenting vote against the allowance of the deduc tion, declared that it would be "a dan gerous perversion of the sound and equitable principles upon which taxa tion rests." It is, perhaps, well enough to speak of sound taxation principles but it is somewhat unreasonable to talk about the equitable principles involved in the existing code of income tax regu lation. Any form of taxation based on the idea of graduated scales cannot and never will be entitled to be con sidered even loosely under the heading of equitable principles. However, Mr. Widener's legal vic tory comes as appropriate compensa tion, offsetting racing defeats which made the legal procedure necessary. —THE OPPOSING STANDS The maintenance of a first class rac ing and breeding establishment, such as that which carries Mr. Widener's colors, is a national asset and while due note of this cannot be expected to be observed in the stern halls of the Treasury Department it is nevertheless a fact. The very existence of the thor oughbred horse in this day may be at tributed to the racing enthusiasm of men who are prepared to pay the bill. And without the thoroughbred horse a bleak page in humanity's histoiy would be turned. The thoroughbred holds an uncon testable position in the realm of sport; but it is not alone in the lighter mo ments of sport and diversion that he serves. Without the thoroughbred, and his influence upon breeding, the paramount question of national de fense would suffer severely. T, Static HE Radio World's Fair, no less, which was current in Chicago last week was an amazing demonstration of a young industry at violent play- in its kindergarten. The rather elemental policy of refraining from undue criticism of a competitor's prod uct has not yet been able to creep into the radio industry. With only an occasional exception a visitor could learn in a journey among the displays that all the machines are bad, except the one offered at the particular booth. He would have pronounced to him in terms of great finality so many contradictory assertions about one product or another that it would not be surprising if he left the exhibits feeling that, perhaps, after all none of them works. T. Senous Indeed HE supply of liquor, if not the quality of the available supply, has so long ceased to be a question in many quarters that the recent resolu tion of the American Federation of Labor calling for its pail of beer appears almost in the light of a brand new issue. Its accomplishment in a legislative way may not be great but it will hover during these Autumn days as a menacing cloud over the serenity of those who had hoped to escape further conversational assaults induced by the liquor question. a nema Note i ERSONS who are inclined to be lieve that the motion picture as a dramatic subject is still struggling through its years of adolesence are commended to invest the small tribute of time and money involved in seeing a production now current in the lead ing cinemas entitled, "The Way of All Flesh." For some it probably will be necessary to shed a bit of irritation induced by the producer's action in taking this grand old title of a grand old story — but do not let that keep you from the picture. A good title that once belonged to someone else is still a good title. This motion picture becomes dis tinguished largely because of the per formance of the imported personage, Herr Emil Jannings — and no little dis tinction does he contribute to it. An added item of interest is the fact that a considerable portion of the ac tion in the play transpires in the Chi cago of a slightly earlier day. MARTIN J. QUIGLEY. THE CHICAGOAN I F I MAY /AY /O Business Is Business I am not interested in Business. (Echo: "Well, what of it?") Business seems, at best, a dull way to occupy one's days. To me, the manners and methods of the modern go- getter and the high- powered salesman are so preposterous that I would roller-skate seventeen blocks rather than meet one face to face. And I would rather spend an eve ning with a piano- tuner than with a Colonel of Com merce. There are, of course, many things to be said in favor of Business — but at the moment I cannot think of one. Frequently I encounter some bright-eyed young man whom I knew at college, and whom I believed would turn out to be a professional dancer or a bus-conductor. He informs me that he is doing this or that in Business, and invariably I utter a polite phrase of consolation. "But I love it!" he exclaims. "Busi ness is the greatest game in the world. Why, it's actually sport!" "So is bull-fighting— in Spain," I reply sadly. "Ha-ha!" And my friend gives me a hearty slap on the back. "You writers don't get around enough and mingle with regular fellows. Have lunch with me soon, and I'll tell you what a great game Business really is!" Here he makes a pass to give me another high-powered slap on the back, but I am too quick for him. (NOTE : boxing has improved my footwork, and I am becoming fairly agile in dodging slaps on the back.) For several years I have been evading luncheons with young Business Men, all of whom are bent upon telling me what a great game Business really is, and the num ber of luncheons I have thus evaded would, if laid end to end, provide a Christmas dinner for the newsboys of Greater Manhattan. Taking Business as a whole (though I find it difficult to take, even as a whole) the large and glaring fault with it is that Business Men talk about it so Edwin Balmer I persistently. In truth, I suffer very little from this evil, for when I see a Business Man approaching, whom I know is going to tell me about his Business, I can always put on a false beard or hide in a doorway; but the real victim is the Business Man's wife. There is a lady who has my sympathy. Statistics show that the effect of Business on family life has been nothing short of devastating. If Business conversa tions could be eliminated in the home the number of divorces in the United States would be decreased 72J/2 per cent annually. Shall I offer you fur ther statistics? (Cries of "No! No!") Very well, then. But I shall prove my point (if any) by the irrefutable statement that no jury has ever con victed a woman for shooting her hus band because he talked Business at the table. The foregoing facts, resulting from my long scientific study of Business conditions, make things look pretty black for Business. Undoubtedly something should be done about it. Perhaps it would be a good thing if Business were abolished entirely, though I have not yet thought of any thing to take its place. There is, however, one phase of Business, as practised in this age of progress, that captures my attention. It is the social side of Industry, where in entertainment turns the trick. For example, if Mr. O'Rourke, the dapper Chicago garter salesman, wants to "land a large order" from Mr. Ziff- baum, the big Bustle and Brassiere man from Nebraska, he escorts Mr. Ziff- baum to a glittering restaurant and there plies him with choice viands, fol lowed by "corona Coronas and a pair of first-row seats for Clark 6? McCul- lough." This procedure is worth a week of "sales" argument, and Mr. Ziffbaum duly affixes his signature on the more or less dotted line. Business, I am informed, is now conducted in this fashion. To be sure, the idea is not a new one: it had its origin some hundreds of years ago, when shrewd navigators began offering glass beads in trade with aborigines. A glowing in stance in history is the slick transac tion by which the island of Manhattan was acquired from the Indians for $24 and a barrel of rum. (And, if I may say so, there isn't that much good liquor on the island of Manhattan to day!) The social side of Industry often takes highly complex forms. I recall a Roman party two years ago, whereat a Chicago broker entertained a hun dred customers with an all-night orgy at a night club, such as Cecil DeMille might have staged for the shifties. There was a Lucullian feast, graced by tubs upon tubs of champagne, cases of Scotch, etc., and so forth, after which a hundred comely damsels were herded in as dancing-partners and what-not; then followed an elaborate vaudeville, and later two bands for dancing. Came the dawn. That was a party. Such goings-on, while not familiar to this frontier, are common in New York. (Indeed, some are more com mon than others.) Gay, pagan offer* ings before the shrine of the great god Commerce. On this arresting subject Edwin Balmer has written a novel, just pub lished. It is called Dangerous Business, and if it is not a swift and romantic tale, crowded with excitement, then I will cheerfully consume a double-por- tion of straw hats without salad-dress* ing. Edwin Balmer, of Chicago, is the first novelist to catch all the coruscat ing prismatic angles of American busi' ness and entertainment. Well, the things that happen when the Business Men go out for business! And the girls that happen! A new 1927 model Gold Digger is brought to light. As a story Dangerous Business is enor- mous; as a novel it hits the highest and clearest note of Mr. Balmer 's career. Even if I do not care for Business, I am broad-minded enough to admit that there must be something to it There must be — so many of the boys are in it. — GENE MARKEY. Oh!! Football time is here again With all its shattered shins, And lots of little pigs have lost Their toe seducing skins. — PAUL ERNST. THE CHICAGOAN 9 Charl aries l\ ball season has passed through the first phase of its fury, prophecies about the championship of the West ern Conference are not yet trustworthy. No matter what happened in last Saturday's battles, it is unsafe for the soothsayers to proclaim the name of the university that will lead the Big Ten when the percentages are figured out next Thanksgiving Day. Before posing as an oracle of the gridiron, one should always remember the first maxims of the game: the bigger they are the harder they fall, and the forward pass has made all half-backs free and equal. For the sake of argument let us assume that the Big Ten teams of this year may be divided into two groups — primary and secondary, or over-rated and under-rated. The first division includes Minnesota, Ohio, Northwestern and Michigan. The second is composed of Chicago, Pur due, Indiana and Iowa. This classification leaves Illinois and Wiscon sin out in the cold, but on the results of their early games they seem to fit neatly into a middle zone, below the favorites and above the dark horses. The opening games proved nothing except that the favorites were strong and fast-scoring against unimportant op ponents and that the others were prom ising. Chicago took an almost unneces sary last quarter defeat from the fast, veteran Oklahoma eleven, but the rest of the pack indulged in an orgy of touchdowns against the usual sacrificial schools. The games of the second week, however, were revealing. The leaders no longer seemed like world-conquerors, while the in-betweeners and the also- present displayed marked strength. Minnesota, it is true, maintained its redoubtable reputation by rolling over the Oklahoma Aggies, last year's cham pions of the Missouri Valley, 40 to 0, without the aid of the terrifying Mr. Joesting. But Northwestern had trouble with Utah; Ohio State was lucky to escape a tie with Iowa; and Michigan could make only three touchdowns against the Wolverine Aggies. In these three cases the returns were not so good for potential champions. All was well in the middle zone. Wisconsin showed a strong, versatile attack against Kansas, and Illinois mas sacred little Butler. The under-dogs, on the other hand, developed into genu ine menaces. Purdue, flashing a sophomore marvel named Welch in place of the injured Wilcox, supported the Chicagoan 's recent contention that the Big Ten is the major league of football by outclassing Harvard. Mr. Stagg's Maroons, unleashing a star ball carrier in Vincent Libby, defeated Indiana by two (almost three) touch downs in a desperate conflict where there was honor enough for both teams. Iowa manifested surprising re sistance against Ohio. It seems, therefore, that the Big Ten championship will Guess in Time Collins' Football Prophecies not be settled until the ref eree fires the last gun No vember 19. The teams are more evenly matched than they have been for years, and their average quality is higher. Upsets can be ex pected. Any one of the elevens in the second division may go berserk some Saturday afternoon, and wreck the hopes of a leader. Among the others it appears to be a case of dog eat dog. All of which, of course, is eminently desirable for the crowds that swarm on the stone terraces of university stadia. The autumn of 1927 will add a brilliant chapter to football history in the Middle West, and the team awarded the gold watch-charms — -unofficial emblems of vic tory not recognized by the faculties — will know that it has been through the wards. The Chicagoan looks for a tie between Minnesota, which has the lightest Con ference schedule, and any J0* % Football Dates OCTOBER 22 Pennsylvania at Chicago Illinois at Northwestern Notre Dame at Indiana Iowa at Minnesota Ohio State at Michigan Purdue at Wisconsin Army at Yale Dartmouth at Harvard Princeton at Cornell OCTOBER 29 Missouri at Northwestern Chicago at Ohio State Michigan at Illinois Indiana at Harvard Denver at Iowa Wisconsin at Minnesota Dartmouth at Yale William and Mary at Princeton Georgia Tech at Notre Dame Navy at Pennsylvania Loyola (Chicago) at DePaul other team, except Indiana and Iowa, whose name can be drawn out of a hat. Even our favoring oi the vikings of Minneapolis is tinged with scepticism, on the theory that one forward pass can neutralize ten of Joesting's bucks. Mr. Hanley made an admirable debut in his coaching regime at Northwestern, not by winning his early games, which was expected, but by disciplining his prima donnas after the Utah match. Four veteran stars who had played with an air of nonchalance were assigned to scrimmage with the scrubs the following Monday. With the keen eye of an ex- captain of Marines Mr. Hanley imme diately detected the weakness in the Purple's past and potential champions, which was the chestiness of a gang that has a habit of making touchdowns at the kick-off. Mr. Stagg seems likely to convert all of his critics except the Tribune sports department this season. The Maroons are faster and clever than they were a year ago, and their formations are intricate, smooth and deceptive. They are using a baffling hidden ball strategy, varied by complex patterns of passing. The Maroons are on the up-grade, and with a little more sheer physical power they would be formidable. Whatever games they may win or lose in the arduous schedule through which they are grueling, the fact remains that in style of play these Staggmen are as interesting a team as can be found inside or outside the Conference. The Maroons are modernists this season, and Mr. Stagg is demonstrating that the new rules encouraging backward and lateral passes are of great and picturesque value to the game. The tradition of ceremonial courtesy that marks every Big Ten season was attractively illustrated at the Chicago- Indiana game. The visitors' band, in jaunty uniforms and scarlet capes, was given the freedom of Stagg Field during the intermission. After playing the tunes sacred to the two institutions, the musicians marched (Turn to page 23) 10 THE CHICAGOAN Manhattan Pekoe A Practically Unavoidable Experience HAVING occasion to indulge in an estival jaunt to France, for the purpose — among others — of re plenishing a forgotten vocabulary of cocktails, I was told that I might dis cover, near the pier where I caught the boat, a quaint little village that once was Dutch and now is very ex pensive. It is — expensive. Yet, seriously, New York has its points. Taxi fares are rustically neg ligible. You can travel almost any where for almost anything — for sixty cents, a bottle of gin, or a near chorus girl. And the sixty cents is, probably, the one thing that will not prove a disappointment. One curious fact, however, relative to the New York chauffeur is that he appears to have been born mute. At least, none was ever heard to utter the words, "Thank you." I think I should drop dead if I should ever hear them within the con fines of Manhattan or the Bronx. From a chauffeur or any one. Give a Chi cago driver twenty cents and he will become almost Freudian in his reac tions. Try dispensing the same gra tuity along Broadway or Fifth Avenue, and you will experience the sensation of attending your own post-mortem. But, as we have hinted, this attitude is not limited to the chauffeur species. Which brings us, trustfully, to the subject of the native New Yorker. The chief and outstanding character istic — and how it does stand out! — of the latter is his Dumbness. Dumbness coupled with Arrogance. There is no cockney to compare with him any where else in the world. And over against this dumb native is the mid- western (usually Chicago) immigre. Having surveyed the aboriginee, the triumphal march of the cornbelt con queror becomes more intelligible. There is nothing to conquer. It is simply a case of be yourself, old dear, and take the town. Being so taken is its favorite amusement, the only thing there is, indeed, to break the mo notony. The most entertaining thing in New York is not the Broadway shows, the roof-gardens or the night-clubs; it is the ex-Chicagoan who has come, seen and — taken tea! For tea, if you don't happen to know, is the one great In stitution of the not-yet- wholly-accli mated. To the observant spectator, it would seem that every Chicagoan in New York does nothing but rush from one tea to another. ("Tea," needless to say, means cocktails to these sophis ticates; reference to the rite as "tea" is the last mark of something or other.) Not only that, Tea is a right handy little custom. You must perceive at once that it obviates the annoying necessity of inviting an out-of-town former-fellow-townsman to dinner, and the one thing which every New Yorker, native or would-be, is always doing his best to avoid is a dinner invitation — extended by himself. "But I DID say Ridgeway's' t, 4lfc> Moreover, there is some thing so distinctly uppety-uplike about "tea." Something so rather un-Chicagoan. Of course, tea has been heard of on our own northside, but it is commonly looked upon as slightly metaphysical, not to say unmasculine. Very much like New Thought. While behind a tea invitation on the part of a Chi cago expatriate lurks the feeling that the recipient is expected to go back and tell the boys in the Boul Mich just how au courant our little Jack or Annie has become. The only Chicagoan in New York from whom I did not receive a tea invitation was Ben Hecht. Ben actually gave me lunch and would have had me out to dinner, if I had not had a previous engagement myself. Ben, as a matter of fact, is the only Chicagoan in the metropolis whom I have found to be unchanged. He is the only one who has not endeavored to ritz me with one degree or another of pseudo-subtlety. As to those lions in front of the Public Library, they puzzled me at first. There was about them a certain likeness that haunted me. Where, I kept repeating to myself, have I seen that mug before? And then, in a flash, it occurred to me. Why, of course! It was the native New Yorker. And once more, I understood why it is the course of literary and other empire eastward takes its way. Why does air rush into a vacuum. And having rushed in, what is there to do but — take tea! — SAMUEL PUTNAM. Note Book Imperial Caeser, dead and turned to clay, might be one solution of the saxophone menace. The whole trouble is that Balaban and Katz do not realize that architec ture should be seen but not heard. It begins to seem as though Tunney and Dempsey were jealous of Abie's Irish Rose. If horses were wishes, princes would ride. The platitudes are coming into their own. First Mr. Wrigley capitalizes the practice of taking care of his pennies and letting his gum-machines take care of themselves; and now Mr. Tunney has found out that he who fights and runs away will live to fight another day. — JACK DUNN. TWE CHICAGOAN n IT has become the custom, nay the tra dition, of the divers golf and country clubs of this Chicago area (may their tribe increase, pray the seedmen) to stage at least one grand super-day a season, when an invitation event and a homecoming and a prize-giving hi-jinks are pulled off to the mad music of Scotch bagpipers and Merry Hoodlum orchestras. The day is always a Tremendous Success, by whatever name it may be called, and it leaves a string of exhausted pros, starters, club managers and cooks in its wake. The Chicago district has more than a hundred private clubs, and nine out of ten of them indulge in the annual Rodeo, Jabberwalk, Plae Dae or Bally hoo. As there are certain features (notably rain) which seem to have be come firmly established at most of these affairs, they can for the most part be described in generalizations. The Chairman of the Day starts out as One Highly Honored and winds up a wreck. It is his duty to arrange more details than a major army cam paign requires, and it is his privilege to listen to enough criticism from mem bers to fill Mencken's acid columns for twelve Mercuries. In the first place, the "boys" always invite so many friends and guests from other clubs that the home players have a heck of a time getting on the course at all. And somehow, these guests always turn out to be par shooters, so that many of the clubs have had to resort to the method of giving one set of prizes to members and one to guests. Even with this expedient, the guests make the low scores. which rankles in the dues-paying player's bosom. Chick Evans has been having a big year at these tour naments. Chick is almost always invited and is pretty sure to win, so they have to have a special prize for him. Rial Rolfe of Ridgemoor has won several club tournaments during 1927 and his team mate, Art Sweet, who combines writing golf for the Daily K[ews and playing on all occa sions, has been copping cups, too. On the day" the clubhouse resembles a combination hardware store, gents' haberdashery and Spalding's. While on ordinary Saturdays one golf ball or $2.50 in merchandise is sufficient lure for some of these $50,000 a year men, on the day of days it becomes the thing to give "lemonade" shakers, golf stockings in ultra hues and little toy racing cars. There is the inevitable step-in for some two-hundred- pound banker and the jewsharp for the boy winning 106th prize. For after all, if one can't win something besides an odd quarter or two from one's foursome mates, what's the use of playing? Even seasoned starters, competent to handle a National Open without a quiver, have been known to break down and cry after the Annual Ball in the Heather tournament. But play marches merrily on, though some of the obese fail to appear for the afternoon round after their morning's exertions. Despite these absences, it's a rare tournament when everyone finishes before dark. Usually the shadows fall on many a four some just at the turn, and by the time they get in it is so late that hosts are wailing for dinner to be served and chefs are threatening immediate return to Austria or Montenegro. But let us turn to the happier side. It has become the custom to install, at a convenient distant green, large hogs heads, filled with amber fluid of distinctly post- Scott McBride quality. On a hot day this oasis draws the ruddy- golfers, and one chairman assured me that many a four some would never start at all if it weren't for a moist ninth hole. The press will usually be found near this great vat, and it is here that Peter Fish, golf photographer to the universe and the Chicago dis trict in particular, is likely to line up the foursomes, while he puts the full four-foot-ten of his personality back of his camera. By actual count Pete has taken 19,273 pix of golfers. I recall one happy incident at a famous south side club, when a little old fellow, hired extra for the day to clip dandelions and curry the greens ward, took up his station close to the Big Barrel, and every foursome invited Tony to have a stein. Eventually Tony became inspired, and suddenly dashing on the fairway, seized balls in play and made mighty throws to home plate with all of them! The Annual Fetch and Carry is usually stag, so staid husbands, without the Restraining Influence, are more boisterous than usual. The little German bands, the colored accordion players and the Hobo orchestras come in for many a prank, along the line of stuffing tubas with tomatoes and hiding the drummer's baton. But when the boys return to the locker room to shed their knickers and sweaty hose, the noise and fun begin. Quiet fellows, mysteriously grown eloquent, argue hugely and goodnaturedly, and the singing starts. "Sweet Adeline" blends discordantly with "Everybody Two Step Now," and "In the Good Old Summer Time." Golfers, at this stage, are open to suggestion. I re member one stout fellow, a member of a north shore club, who had rushed into the shower and came back, naked, glistening and full of high spirits. Immediately a com panion spoke up: "Joe, you're still filthy dirty!" Sighing, Joe went back into the shower. He returned and put on his union suit, garters and shirt. Whereupon another friend popped in and said: "Joe, aren't you ashamed to dress before you take your shower?" "I'll be damned," mumbled Joe, "I thought I took that bath!" and he pulled off his clothing and again got under the spray. It is said, but I do not vouch for it, that Joe had six baths that evening. Eventually, all are in, bathed, refreshed and dressed. Then comes the belated dinner, to be followed by enter tainment — and Presentation of the Prizes. This is the Rare Opportunity for the Club President and Dis tinguished Guests to make rambling (Turn to page 20) The Annual Jamboree A Birdie by Any Other Name Now—! X * if (—) XX!!! 12 THE CHICAGOAN "One on the House" And a Bit of Shofi Talk AS I look back over a reasonably eventful boot legging career my mind dwells on the early days of the racket when there was a newness about the business of liquor dispensing, and a glamor, and a pioneering fever of achievement in the young industry — and when profits thumped down solidly on the barrel head. Those were the golden days. Peo ple weren't so wise. They weren't given to rolling their own, and gin was sold readily for $60 and up, Scotch well over $100 with rye and bourbon — dear Old Taylor! — in pro portion. Nobody thought about labels then — they think less today, unless they're goofy entirely. Well, I drifted into the game — came in by degrees, handling liquor on the side. I even sold my boss a case of rye. He was a most peculiar man. The kind who takes his coat off when he reaches his office, and with it his en tire personality. Well, a few days after the sale he broke into my corner and blazed: "That stuff is rotten; nothing but colouring matter and water." I told him where to go. But he was obstinate. That day I had my associate over and took him to the boss. We told him that rye was the best bonded rye on the market — this was years ago — "What brand?" says boss. "Old Crow," says our pal. "Never heard of it," roared boss. Then he started to sputter, but was absolutely stung into silence when we pulled out a wad, returned his money and left him flat. Drinkers don't know so much. Remember how wise they were con cerning the tampering with bottles? I've seen 'em, with a very knowing look, pick up a bottle, look on the bottom and find a circle. "Ah, ha! This bottle has been opened and the goods removed!" From the bottom! They don't do that any more; the circle is still there and always was. Well, as I re marked, I just slid into the new game. Somehow I have never so licited business — just couldn't do it, because I'm not gaited that way. Passed along from one to another — you know? — and carried a black bag. I suppose, considering the terrible nature of the business, that the bag gradually became susceptible to its vibrations so that it soon came to possess a disreputable, stay-out-all- night look. I got in trouble more than once because of that bag, but the bag and I (We) always managed to come through. In the early days bootleg boys were much desired. Sources of supply were not numerous, and the bootblack and the delicatessen man went strictly about their own knitting. My little black bag was kept very busy then. Later I acquired a car. It was the happy period when prohibition was newly put over, while the boys were busy putting out the fire "over there." Much stuff came across the water and over the border, and, for some time, bonded rye and bourbon were obtain able. Get it now! — if you're not a plutocrat. Or if you are. In those days one could make a good living and be decent about it — if he happened to be decent to start with. Then the parasites attached themselves. The popular game of home-brewing came along fast; thugs and hi-jacks listened to the game's siren song; Uncle Sam got busy trying to stop the bung-holes in the cask — a man's job which, I think, he'll never finish. Understand, I hold no brief either way; but think it over. Since Noah got blotto and slept it off under the bul-bul tree, mankind has been ad dicted to the grape and, so that he keep within the bounds of decency, insists on playing around a bit. Build a fence around a man and straightway he puts on climbing irons. I was inclined at first to feel a bit ashamed of my profession. But the "racket" has attracted so many reli able, upright, square-shooting citizens that it has come to pass that the ma jority of us are partners in a common cause. Now and then a confere is "yellow." Every walk of like knows him. For instance: I gave a man credit for six bottles of gin. Unfortunately, he broke them. When he told me so he didn't pay — I expressed regret. Many weeks later, on going on vacation, he suggested taking some goods along to sell and thus pay me. I let him have two and a half cases more. Well he got ar rested and lost that; he didn't pay. Then he got a pint of rye — and he didn't pay that either. This covered a period of over six months. One day I told him that, as we didn't want to profit on his misfortune, he could pay us the flat cost ($75). Kisses and laurel wreath from our client. When that was over I said: "Pay this, $5 per month" — giving him fifteen months. We received first payment; and, after expressing the belief that it wouldn't matter to us if he didn't make regular payments, he wrote: "I'm sure you must be better off than I am or you wouldn't be riding around in an auto. The flivver is all I have." There are worse than rival boot leggers. It would seem that many people look on liquor as contraband, and therefore common property. Men will steal your booze where they wouldn't touch your money. Not long ago an editor asked us for stuff to dope a bottle to fix a "helping hand." That's a form of Hi- jacking. Here's another: Once I had the car in a certain section where we were well known. There was a friend along. A rookie cop approaching waving his hand. I thought it was a ticket for parking too long. "Oh no!" said he, "What yer got in that car?" I told him. "All right, come down to the station house," and he winked. I knew that meant get rid of the witness, which I did. Then he said: "I've got this street bottled up at each end and you can't move. It will cost you $100." It didn't. I gave him $30. Once, in delivering some merchan dise, our car rolled down an incline so that we lost it. Finally we discov ered it and, to our dismay, saw two cops peering in the windows. We passed them with our bag, which we planted, and then (Turn to page 25) And a Bit of Shofi Talk THE CHICAGOAN 13 A' Hunting We Will Go Its a Chicago Industry "Don't you care for him, my dear?" "Yes, of course, but — Oh I DO wish I could feel sure I turned off the radio." Conversation With Significance A New Yorker met a Chicagoan. "How'd you enjoy the big fight?" he asked. "I missed it." "That was a fine rodeo you had in your stadium, I hear." "I didn't go." "Well, it was too bad about the Cubs." "What about them?" "Good lord, man, don't you know anything about your town? I suppose you didn't even see that boat sink in the lake." "No, I didn't." "Next thing, you'll be telling me you've never seen a hold-up." "I never have." "Nor a murder?" "Not one." "Are you sure you live in Chi cago?" "Absolutely." "Well, for the love of Pete, man, what do you do with all your time?" — R. G. B. Tortures Of the Darned Can this be conscience' goad that pricks However in unease I turn? Or whip of grief that sears and flicks The reason why I squirm and burn? Is pale remorse contentment's foe, Remorse whose talons rend and tear My irritated chest? Ah, no! 'Tis but my winter underwear. — PAUL ENST. IN 1893 Chicago, then a provincial capital on the edge of Lake Michi gan, held for itself one World's Fair — a vast exposition which gratifyingly placed on view strange peoples and rare objects from far places of the earth. The late Marshall Field came into the idea of perpetuating some such ex hibit, founded the Field Museum stocked with much of the World's Fair material, and donated some $10,000,- 000 for the present institution in Grant Park. That was the start. Since the senior Field led the way with his tre mendous gesture, Chicagoans have fallen into the custom of rummaging over the planet for museum specimens. James Simpson, present head of the Field commercial interests, organized and financed a spectacular hunting trip into central Asia, an undertaking lead by young Theodore and Kermit Roose velt. It was this expedition which brought back the famous Ovis Poli. Young Suydam Cutting, son of R. Fulton Cutting, went into the incredi bly cold and barren Asian plateau as a "volunteer photographer." There had been other Field Museum collec tion trips. Most of them, however, under the management of brisk pro fessional scientists. The Simpson ex pedition — one almost calls it an esca pade — had a fine amateur flair about it. And a dazzling social aura. It made and held the limelight. Following closely on the search of the Ovis Poli, Frederick H. Rawson, banker, backed an expedition to Green land under the practiced hand of Don ald MacMillan. Kenneth Rawson, son of the sponsor, and Joseph Field, son of Stanley Field, went along. In the summer of 1925, John G. Shedd, also in the Field tradition, gave moneys for an aquarium to be erected in Grant Park. Before his death, last year, Mr. Shedd increased his benefi cence by an additional million dollars so that Chicago is assured the largest, most complete aquarium in the world. With the genus Pisces well looked after, Mrs. Edith Rockefeller McCorm- ick turned over a tract of land, said to be worth at least a million, for a natural zoo, a bar-less area in which land animals will be displayed in their natural habitat. The plain voter of Chicago promptly voted bonds to the extent of another half -million to col lect and feed the animals. (This scarcity of animals is respectfully brought to the attention of George Getz, late fight promoter and owner of a wild animal farm at Holland, Michigan. And to John Wentworth, proprietor of the famous Wentworth cheetahs.) Again the Field Museum crashed through when Mrs. Marshall Field III went into South America as a mem ber of a museum party, shot jaguars and made the prose columns of the Saturday Evening Post with a descrip tion of her experiences. Last summer Mr. and Mrs. John Borden toiled into Alaska — still an other museum hunt. With the Bor- dens went Mr. and Mrs. Charles Bar ney Goodspeed, Mrs. Rochester B. Slaughter, and Miss Edith Cummings. The Herbert Bradleys have become world known naturalists through their collecting expeditions. Robert Tansill, a Chicago lawyer who follows sports to far places, led still another Alaskan journey, backed by Alexander H. Revell. The Tansill- Revell party brought back specimens of the Kodiak bear. And another naturalist rifleman, H. Boardman Conover, on safari with Robert Everard of Detroit, led and financed an African trip which last year enriched the museum with a fine collection of animals and birds. Perhaps the most zealous backer of museum expeditions is Capt. Marshall Field, who donates over $100,000 a year to scientific forays, some of which are always in (Continued on page 18) 14 THE CHICAGOAN Blazing Burnham By 'The Kid at the Old Piano " OH Temporal O Morals! On a recent morning the news papers scareheaded the news that Dave Hickok, owner of Burnham Inn and one time handy-man to Big Jim Colo- simo, had been demised. Mr. Hickok had been taken for a ride. The papers printed a few tasty bits of his past and honored his sudden departure by giving space to a picture of the Unco Guid Dave, perforated with bullets, gazing at the sky. The latter was a lovely and touching bit of art. The sky, not the bullet holes. The only explanation was that Dave had taken the schooper to the barrel once too often. The publicity attached to his de parture from this vale of beers stirred up fond memories. The year was 1920 and D. H. was the first of the Beer Barons. Burnham Inn was his castle and many a night errant was thrown for a loss in the moat. Five of the World's Worst Musicians were pur veying the latest in "Japanese Sand men," "Whisperings" and "Wang- Wanging" to the guests of the Inn. They played from eight P. M. until six A. M., receiving a guarantee of twenty-five dollars a week in tips, board and room. The room was not so good. After a few hectic mornings repulsing various oiled gunmen and their lady friends, the World's Worst sought rest in Chicago. The Inn was a two- story wooden structure, directly across the street from Mr. Bloom's defunct Arrowhead. The Inn had once been more than that, but the ladies, God bless 'em, had moved down to the Speedway, just out of Hammond and a mile from Burn ham. The Speedway deserves a word. It was the direct successor to the palace located at 2222 S. Wabash. (Forty- count 'em — forty.) Hijackers clipped the place for three grand on a certain Monday morn. Three grand was the wages of sin for Sunday night. Nights and dawnings that paled Slippery Gulch's worst hellhole to a drugstore- fountain hue. More dern fun! One night Birdie, one of the enter tainers, ran amok and knocked Dave's partner, J. P., under a table. He was a cripple and, once down, could not get up. She piled on to him with hands and feet and it took the com bined efforts of the orchestra, three waiters and a bartender with a bung- starter to pull her away from the re cumbent invalid. By that time she was nearly nude, so they wrapped her in a tablecloth and locked her in a room until she sobered up. One morning three men jumped Lil lian's man, the gun that protected the place, and before he got going they knifed him three times. One of the bouncers from the Speedway came to the rescue. For this piece of work he was presented with the management of the Inn. Old Dave was always one to see that a deserving man got ahead. There was Nick the Wop, from New Orleans, a waiter. He carried an eight-inch knife and a blackjack with his name scrolled in silver on it. Red Blaine was another waiter. They were both clever at rolling the drunks. Blaine had been a brakeman in Ala- bam' and every time a freight would whistle for Hammond he would run to the door to see it pass. And the grand mornings when the last of the patrons had departed a party for the "talent" was in order. The waiters, the entertainers, the mu sicians, the chef, the bartender and the manager would gather around the piano. Two quarts of Gordon would grace the piano top and the event was in full swing. The pianist would start a blues and each of the participants would furnish a verse. Needless to say, each verse was better than the previous. Ah, them was grand times, me lad! The bartender, a pug that Dempsey had put away in '17. The chef, who recited "The Girl in the Blue Velvet Band." Birdie, Lillian, Dirty Irene and Beena, the gorgeous gals that beguiled the trade with Broadway's newest. Bohunks from the steel mills; bookies spending their killings; ladies from the Speedway on their night off; Beer Barons; and the wash tub in front of the orchestra in which tips were thrown. They were giants in them days! — IVORIES. Superstitions Denoting Nativity That the dentists in the Marshall Field building do a great deal of charity work, and that if you need X-rays taken they won't send you to a friend of theirs downstairs. ? That Stagg is getting too old to de velop a good football squad. ? That the Twentieth Century always unloads a gross of film actresses at the La Salle station, and that every news paper in town pays photographers to stand around waiting for their arrival. ? That no one ever heard of a real artist living anywhere but on the near North Side. ? That Wilson avenue is the locale of large families. ? That Wilson avenue is the locale of families, ? That Balaban &? Katz are going to open a gigantic movie house in Evan- ston as soon as the Evanston citizens vote for Sunday opening. ? That the man who says Loop police men cannot arrest out-of-the-city mo torists for over-parking ever tests the fallacy himself. — LEIGH METCALFE. THECI4ICAG0AN 15 North Side, South Side All Around the Town "Don't you just dread to think of little Eileen growing up?" Determination In the Park MICHAEL PATRICK O'FLAHERTY was a timid soul. Psycho-analysists claimed he had an inferiority complex and an in ward libido. His boss, in intimate conversations with business associates proclaimed him his "fall guy." His friends christened him with a charac teristic monicker commonly associated with the trees in the Spring. He shivered at the thought of forcible re sistance to anything. But— there is and end to everything. It happened out in Lincoln Park. He suddenly felt his courage rise and shine. Tilting his hat forward over his eye, hitching up his trousers, and spitting out of the corner of his mouth he swaggered up to a decidedly foreign looking individ ual standing nearby and said, "Gimme a bag o' peanuts, I'm gonna feed them monkeys." — EL CHIQUIT0. Phototypes The Man With the Sfiats If it's in you It has to come out! With some people it's one way; Other people, another way. There's hooch, for instance, And there's gambling: Not to mention stage entrances, Automobiles or first editions. Myself? I take it out in clothes. They get you looked at today— Not tomorrow — And there's no chance If you pay your tailor For anyone to frame you. Not a chance! , ..-• NORTH of the river the city brawls along vigorously for a time until it sub sides into Rogers Park and thence gradually to pas toral Evanston. West of the Loop and the south branch of Chicago's dubious river, this man's town fasts for its sins through the dreary reaches of Halsted street, re vives a bit at Gar field park and goes, north, into the plethoric shade of Oak Park, and south, into the un shaven exuberance of Cicero. South of the Loop, Chicago goes into the doldrums, grows gay and African near 18th st., retains its dig nity at Hyde Park, drowses along past Jackson and edges far into the southern and west prairie around Kensington, to a last irregular straggle of outlying homesteads. Various neighborhoods leave their marks on citizenry dwelling in them. And this last gives rise to a perplexing question, perhaps as baffling as this season's prize twister: What to call the lions? Briefly the puzzle is this: Can the knowing Chicagoan tell a north-sider from a south-sider? Failing that, can he tell a west-sider. This home and fireside magazine is inclined to believe he can. At least, an astute investiga tor tried his five senses on a represen tative Loop crowd, kept an accurate score card, and came away with an average somewhat higher than the natural run of chance guesses in the matter would have scored. There re mains an even stronger conviction that you can tell 'em. A number of Loop habitues, when questioned, admitted they could. That they do. That they tell 'em every day. The experiment was made on a cor ner of State and Madison streets, on a cool misty day and under protection of Sgt. Frank Mizar, traffic watchman. bridge. Guardian Dineen — John matter. Out of 20 guesses this investigator was correct 1 2 times. He could reason ably have been ex pected to hit it ^¦t right only six. t;^jjj|k With practice, an even better aver age should be easy. Then we (for it was us) turned inquiring reporter. Straightway we went to ruddy and observing John J. Dineen, whistling custodian of hu man lives and autos at the south end of the link Between toots of his signal, registered his firm conviction that you do reveal the side on which you live. "I can tell by the cars," he ex plained. "The Rolls Royces, of course, are from the north side in greatest number. I don't know of one on the west side. Naturally, I know 'em when they have a local license tag, such as Wilmette or Evanston, but the classy cars not so marked are most likely to be north. The south side has lots of nifty ones too, but the plainer styles, to my thinking, can be found in greatest number west." So, the cars reveal them. That's the word of Mr. Dineen, who has been stationed at his link bridge post since January 1, 1912. He should know. Autos skim by him at the rate of 2,700 an hour and there are three left-hand turns at that point, giving Mr. Dineen ample opportunity to study makes of machines as well as the temperaments of drivers. To 309 N. Michigan avenue we re paired for a word with Miss Mildred Fassbinder, one of our favorite priest esses to the jaded appetite. She deals portions off the arm. "Yes, I can tell a north sider," she declared. "They dress snappier. Seem more prosperous." Miss Fassbinder then made a more profound observation to the effect that men are more polite than women to waitresses. Thought there for a sep' arate investigation (Turn to page 21) 16 THE CHICAGOAN "The Gate of Empire" Chicago s Air Dominion "L_ J ERE will I 1 be the gate of empire, here the seat of com merce," declared the valiant La Salle in 1682, im petuously marking out the domain of New France along the swampy Chi cago plain. The mid-conti nent, imperfectly known to the wise and daring French man, was heart-breakingly large coun try in 1682. North, was a two thou sand mile waterway to Quebec; south, another thousand mile river road to New Orleans; east, still another thou sand miles of river and portage and wilderness to the English settlements fringing a northeast coastline. All of the routes months of toilsome journey from the proposed seat of empire. Two hundred and fifty years later, a much larger mid-continent than La Salle ever dreamed was reduced by the flying machine to a commercial area the size of Texas. Chicago is at the very center of the continental airways. Ninety percent of the country's pur chasing power — says Maj. P. G. Kemp, president of the Chicago Areo Commission — has been placed within a few hours of Chicago by air trans port route. A few hours, and for $200, you can fly to San Francisco. On November 17, 1898, a Chi cagoan, Mr. A. M. Herring — accord ing to The Chicago Daily Hews re ports of that day — made the world's first power flight. His engine used compressed air; he flew just 75 feet. In 1927 the city boasts a mile square landing field with seven hangars at west Sixty-third street and south Cicero Avenue, besides a score of other landing fields scattered about the Chicago area. Last year 17,000 pas sengers were carried to and from the city by plane, 3,000 students received instruction in the art of flying here, and some 6,000 miles of air routes centered in Chicago. Col. Lindbergh pointed out that Chicago has an opportunity to seize firmly upon the air traffic dominance of the nation. Maj. McCracken showed recently that more com panies are now building planes throughout the nation than are building automo biles. This central city has nine air craft factories, though three of them are engaged in rebuilding planes. The lake front landing field, already authorized by the state legislature and Supt. George T. Donoghue and his engineers of the south park board, is an outstanding bid for local air su premacy. The new field will be some where between Randolph and Thirty- first streets, though the exact site has not yet been selected. Five million dollars for a landing port. No ship ping or servicing operations will be allowed on the lake front — a passenger stop. All commercial enterprise is re stricted to the municipal air terminal at Sixty-third and Cicero. Pending further action on the lake front port, improvements are steadily under way at Municipal Field. A fund of $75,000 has been set aside to light the area. Every day sees an increas ing number of land folk anxious to ride in the trim little planes that jaunt a passenger through Chicago skies. "Madame, I can guarantee you it will look just like mine." Other citizens look forward to the new post-office building with its wide, flat roof designed for mail plane land ings, and its beacon suggested as a tribute to the gallant Lindbergh. — A. C. BROWNLEIGH. Social Note Aid to Hostesses FOR all around ability to pep up a gathering and lend it informality there is nothing like a brightly col ored toy balloon. For still more of the get-together spirit, add more bal loons. Dancers at the Davis Hotel were orderly and staid and parties were decidedly aloof from each other until the management spilled a few balloons from the balcony. After that dancing became merely the means of covering the distance between a red balloon and a blue one. Partners got out of step and didn't know it. Strangers batted balloons out of each other's hands. The conventions were forgotten in the scramble of every man, woman and flapper to toss a bal loon, kick one, capture it, or puncture the other fellow's. At the height of the excitement one young woman lost her balloon through the agency of a lighted cigarette. Turning upon the man who had robbed her of her prize she uttered bitter lamentation. "That was a dirty trick!" she said. "The man who did such a thing was no gentleman! I was saving that bal loon for a little child!" A man standing nearby burst into tears. "Here you are, lady," he said, taking her hand. "Buy another. No, don't thank me — ¦" as she tried to re turn the nickle he had placed in her palm; "I love children too." — R. G. B. October A Suburban Lament It's Autumn. Seven shocks upon a hill; Seven frosts that make me chill; Seven fat pigs in a sty, Ham and bacon by and by; Seven days my back has ached With the leaves that I have raked. Seven tons of coal are in The cellar and my wallet's thin; Seven months to go until May will come with warming thrill; It's Autumn. — W. C. E. Frisco, James THE CHICAGOAN 17 CHICAGOAN/ Chicago's Own Nomad WHY, yes, of course, Joe Leiter's a Chicagoan, even though it did take a New York court to establish that fact. For in 1922, when he was being sued in New York for money due on notes contracted in Illinois, Joe (and he is Joe even to his opponents in litigation) claimed he was a resident of Illinois, and that the debts were out lawed by that state's statute of limitations. So a jury of New Yorkers sat in judgment on the itinerant millionaire and returned this interesting ver dict: — "Joe Leiter is a commuter between New York and Chicago on the Twen tieth Century, and is actually a resi dent, of Illinois." He votes in Chicago, fishes down south, hunts out west, summers in the east, and spends every Christmas eve in the Leiter mansion in Washington, on DuPont circle, right next door to President Coolidge's temporary White House. In between times he sits in his office, such a plain office, in suite 909 of the Isaballe building in Chicago, and guides the destinies of the famous Leiter estate; or he rushes to Wyoming to see about the farm lands; or he goes to Zeigler, Illinois, to see what's doing in the coal mines; or he sits in Judge Denis E. Sullivan's court room and hears his sister, Lady Marguerite (Daisy) Hyde, countess of Suffolk and Berks, tell why he should no longer be a trustee of their father's estate. Only that court-room year is over, for Judge Sullivan recently decided in Joe's favor, and denied the countess' motion. Another court room awaits, however, when he has to give an accounting before a master in chancery. It was during this last famous trial that Joe heard him self painted, now very black, and now so white. His sister's attorneys had a lot of things to say about his high-handed ways. But his own attorneys reported that he was in reality, the little Rollo of the business world; the Horatio Alger hero of the coal mines; the valiant son of the west, in spite of that white gardenia in his button hole and the spotless white waistcoat. And in the end Judge Sullivan voted him the indus trious trustee. Joe Leiter, only son of Levi Zeigler Leiter, pioneer Dutch merchant who early came to Chicago, and as sociated himself in the firm of Palmer and Field, was born 58 years ago in the alley just north of the Audi- Joseph Leiter torium hotel. Only of course it wasn't an alley, then. It was the site of a swank old house in Terrace row. Later the family moved to a mansion on Calumet avenue near 21st street; once more over to what was then No. 4 Tower court, and is now the location of the Marinello beauty shop. This gives Mr. Leiter a mighty chuckle. From Bond's school, Chicago, he went on to St. Paul's, and then to Harvard, where he was a member of the Spee club, won fame as a crack pigeon shooter, and graduated in 1891, to return to "the dad's of fice." A few years more and he was the pivotal figure in the spectacular wheat corner, which gave the older competitor, P. D. Armour a run for his money, but then went to pieces and left "the dad" putting his hand into his pocket and pulling out some thing like nine million dollars to pay the losses of his son, Joe. "They keep talking about that nine million," says Mr. Leiter, "but they forgot the twenty million I lost of my own money and earned back again. I've been busted twice since I was 21, and I've come back. Why, I've done everything from supervising a hog pen to running a jewelry store. I could go broke tomorrow and make money again." He's been twice around the world, once on his yacht, "Niagara," said to be the first yacht to have gone through the Panama canal. He's been sued by a local haberdasher for 111 pairs of sox, at an average price of $12 a pair. He wears a capacious faun colored fedora, like the story-book senator. He laughs a deep, reverberating laugh. He works in his office at twelve hour stretches and doesn't go out for lunch, and then he goes away, forgets all about business and shoots and fishes. Clubs? He belongs to so many all over the world that he can't keep them card-indexed. The two in Chicago which he most uses are the Chicago, and the Saddle and Cycle. He has two children, Tommy, 14, is at St. Paul's, and is a crack rider. His daughter is 10. I asked him what her name was. "Why, her name's Nancy" (after the sister who stuck with him in his recent litigation). Then, with one of those chuckles. "You don't think I'd call her 'Daisy,' do you?" — GENEVIEVE FORBES HERRICK. 18 Overtone/ AN Evanston grocer has leased a building for a term of one hundred years. His plans beyond that are not known. ? Two hundred and eighty-five out of 300 etchings attributed to Rembrandt are not genuine, according to a promi nent art critic. Which still leaves to each of the 300 owners the right to claim that his is one of the fifteen. ? A tobacco company is working on plans for marketing what is said to be an entirely new style of cigaret. "Body by Fisher" we presume. ? One hundred and fifty of the lead ing educational institutions of the country have on their faculties in structors imbued with policies and doctrines of socialism, bolshevism and other "isms," it is charged. Which may account for the fraternity boys wearing each other's neckties, stealing gates and such. ? It has just been called to our atten tion that express trains on the Oak Park "L" would make better time if they didn't run on the same track with the "locals." ? Three girls who withdrew from the Service Club show troupe deny it was because of the scanty costumes. They insist the training was too strenuous. In view of the present styles we think their explanation the more plausible. ? Chicago, according to the Chicago Laundry Owners association, is the greatest laundry center in the world. We always believed it was Pittsburgh. ? If we had half the elevated and sur face line extensions shown by the pro motional matter of the sub-dividers, Chicago would lead the world in transportation facilities. ? "Motor vehicles never have the right of way" insists Leslie J. Soren- son, traffic engineer. Maybe not, but we're going to keep right on dodging them. ? More than half a million miles of cigarettes are smoked annually by women, says the statistician. Not to mention the million and a half miles of matches in their wake. ? One of the occupants of murderers' row awaiting execution became so im patient with the law's delay that he hung himself. This was bound to come. ? One of our local citizens shot his wife when he awakened to find her going through his pockets. ? What has become of the old fash ioned man who slept with his money under his pillow — GEORGE CLIFFORD. The Hunt And the Hunters (Begin on page 13) progress. Another party carried on in cooperation with Oxford University is at present digging among the "lost cities" which stud the ancient Mesopotamian plain. Henry Field, recently made Assistant Curator of Physical Anthropology for the mu seum, is a member of the Mesopotamian expedition, a search of intense interest to historians. A more informal jaunt is the pro posed sea voyage announced in pros pect by Jack Armbrust, Chicago artist and sportsman, who plans a 30,000- mile cruise in a fifty- foot sail boat. Mr. Armbrust plans to visit every country in North and South America and to make a complete pictorial rec ord of little-known and fast vanishing scenes along the route. Year by year the museum profits by the accretion of gifts, a less spectacular business than world-end collection, but of great educational and scientific value. Mrs. Anna Louise Raymond has donated more than a half-million dollars to the support of natural his tory lectures for children. Mr. Rich ard T. Crane has just lately presented THE CHICAGOAN the museum with a group of life size bronzes, a lion hunting scene by Carl E. Akeley. Cost, $30,000. A $75,000 collection of Chinese jades, rare and irreplaceable antiques, was turned over to the museum last year by a group of noted Chicago phil anthropists: Miss Kate Buckingham. Mrs. George L. Smith, Mrs. John Bor land, Martin A. Ryerson, Martin C. Schwab, Julius Rosenwald, and Otto C. Doering. — A. C. E. Eyefare Books About Chicago IT is some years now since Henry L. Mencken called Chicago the literary capital of America, and he would per haps no longer agree with himself. But now and again there comes a week which reminds one of past greatness and makes one feel as though perhaps a little greatness still remained. This has been one of those weeks. As a reminder of past greatness, of the days when we had the whole trio, Edgar Lee Masters, Sherwood Ander son, Carl Sandburg, instead of just one of it, and he half the time in Holly wood, comes "The Phenomenon of Sherwood Anderson: A Study in American Life and Letters," by N. Bryllion Fagin (The Rossi-Bryn Com pany, Baltimore.) Mr. Fagan calls Sherwood Anderson a case of spiritual adolescence in middle age, and in this respect finds him comparable to Amer ica itself. But our present greatness, as the city that re-elected Big Bill the Builder, comes to the front in Elmer Davis's "Show Window." (John Day), "Por trait of an Elected Person" — and Mr. Davis points out that the gift of being able to get elected is a fundamental one in politics — being one of the most exciting articles that ever appeared in Harpers, or perhaps anywhere. It is a companion piece to Mr. Davis s article on Bishop Manning, also in cluded in "Show Window," an article over which the east as far as Portland, Maine, was fairly agog a year ago. Nor is Mr. Davis less daring or less circumstantial when it comes to Mayor Thompson. Though he ends on a somewhat pessimistic note: Mayor Thompson, he says, is in danger! "I have heard shrewd observers suggest that there is a possibility — and this is a notion to which the beginnings of his administration have given some color— that he may spend his third THE CHICAGOAN 19 term being the Best Mayor Chicago Ever Had." In a week like this there is how ever a difficulty. Whom may one claim for Chicago and whom mayn't one? May we, for instance, claim a person like Ernest Hemingway who, though born and brought up here, has so definitely left. For a good many years his address has been Paris. And the one stunning story in his new "Men Without Women" (Scribner's) , implies knowledge of the Spanish bull ring from the assistant sports editor to the picador, and from the pig-tailed one to the audience that throws cush ions only to worship later. It ought almost to have been written in Span ish. Then there is George Dillon, asso ciate editor of Harriet Monroe's Poetry magazine, whose first collection, "Boy in the Wind," has just been published by the Viking Press. Like Glenway Westcott, and Elizabeth Mason Rob erts, his famous fellow members of the University of Chicago poetry society, he came from somewhere else, — though it must be said that he gives a little more color to the epithet Chicagoan by having stopped here. His poems have attained an appallingly wide recognition, prizes and what not; they are none the less a delight. Another book of the week has re ceived advance notice in the society columns. This fact is perhaps not sur prising in view of its author, Eleanor Follansbee, but it seems extremely sur prising when you come to read the book itself. It is entitled "Heavenly History" (Covici) and is a scholarly excursion into demonology, conducted for bellettristic purposes. — SUSAN WILBUR. Beggar on Horseback With an All-Chicago Cast "But that's you, Jane, always mak ing a pack horse of yourself — and you KNOW what it'll do to your figure." IN those early days — those happy days when on the countenance of many Chicago ans one could detect expres sions other than a grim fighting mask — these middle -west people were happier, and thus were more sympathetic. It was then that an honest unfortunate could make a fair living by merely appearing in pub lic in a pitiable condition with cup outstretched. Those were the days when begging was simple and Chi cagoans were kind-hearted. But this is the age of specialty. The Chicagoan of today is a determined being, for he is specializing with such vigor as to not easily be moved to sympathy by the quiet beggar who stands silently and pitifully at the curb. The beggar of today must at tract attention; he, too must have a specialty. It is a matter of getting the customers. Old Ike Sturgess, the one-eyed club-foot fellow who has played these parts for well-nigh fifty years, was bemoaning the fate of his brethren the other day as we stood at the cor ner of Madison and Jefferson streets. It had seemed queer to find Ike over in that poverty-stricken district, es pecially since he used to play LaSalle and State along with the best of them, and get his share of the receipts too. So I had asked him why he was in that far-off spot where the customers were none too affluent. "Well, I'll tell ya," said Ike, look ing up at me with his single optic, "tings aint wut dey used to be. A guy's got to have an act dese days. When I was makin' my good twenty a day, all a fella had to do wuz set on a corner and look kinda down an out like, when up steps a guy or a dame wid a nickel or dime. De con- tribs wuzn't nothin' grand, but every body fell in wid somethin. Nowdays everybody's business-bugs an show- bugs an golf-bugs an every kinda bugs, so's they can't see a beggar what don't make a noise and even if dey do see 'im dey won't stop unless he's playin' jazz or somethin' else bugs like that. "Y o u musta seen some o' these modern beggars, aint- c h a ? Dere's Randy an Jake — you know them two guys — one wit de saxophone and de oder with de banjo? Well, dey play LaSalle Street along wit Ma and Pa Jiggs — ya seen them? Say, dey got de act! Ol' Pa Jiggs kin make one o' them there 'cordions talk and Ma's got a swell voice fer singin', an she aint a bad lookin Moll fer the beggin' game. 'Course she ain't got the carryin' qualities to compete with this guy and his saxophone. There's a smart apple — gets the new tunes soon's they're phonygraphed. "An dis guy Larry, I fergit his last name, he's got one o' the niftiest acts State Street's seen yet — playin the cello an' the mouth harp at one time — kin ya beat it? Why I kin name ya ten more teams what's working this here joint — an' even then they aint gettin' the contribs we used ta rate. Now an' then a sucker slips in a half buck or a quarter, but dey come ony onct in a while. "I guess its just de people what's different. Dey's all thinkin bout somethin' so hard that they aint got no feelin' for beggars. One smart guy over here to de Hobo College says its de psychology of de age, or some oder damn bugs-idea. All I know is dat when a guy is down an out good an right and he wants to get a little sym pathy he's got to come over here where the bums is, 'cause them's the only guys what's got time to see a poor misfit like me." And so I slipped old Ike a little token of what started out to be grati tude for information and speedily be came tribute as I sensed the possibil ity that all this might be Ike's "spe cialty," on the heels of which, natu rally, came the idea that we're all "specialty beggars" — but I'll leave the rest to Dr. Frank Crane. — CHESTERFIELD DOWNS. 20 THE CHICAGOAN JPORT/ RtVI EW ALTHOUGH swan songs for most sports are in order, the enthu siasts have by no means called it a summer. Except for the rain, this monthj provided some of the best days for golf and tennis of the year. It is the season for field days of one sort or another at the golf clubs. Most of the club championships have been settled. In the offing one cannot help sensing the imminent great white cold, which will sweep across these prairies in a few short weeks. Already, the bowl ing alleys are being dusted off and pol ished. Skates are being cleaned and ground for hockey and other plain and fancy ice maneuvers. Duck hunters during the last few weeks have hied themselves away to those favorite hid ing places in the marshlands and coun trysides resound with the sharp cracks of their double barrels. Soon the last race will be run at the local pony tracks. Baseball's hot stove league, what with the world series aftermath and next year's prospect gossip, is get ting hotter and hotter. Suicide Club HUGE receipts from the football season permit most of our larger colleges these days to support repre sentative teams in nearly every known branch of sport. Some of the games thus introduced are imported from across the seas and give our campus athletic fields a picturesque variety of activity never before attained. An old game which has received considerable exploitation at many schools in recent years in Lacrosse. At schools where the game is played, the students refer to the players jocularly as "members of the suicide club." This sobriquet is, of course, frowned upon by those in terested in the game, but the name sticks. The reason is that Lacrosse players run the risk of getting hit in the head or body by a hard rubber ball impelled through the air with a speed comparable to that of a bullet. The players throw and catch the ball with a strange looking basket racquet and the object of the players is to put the ball through the goal posts of their opponents. Lacrosse is not unknown to Chicago. Almost any fair after noon you may see enthusiasts of this game tossing the small rubber pellet back and forth in Grant Park or in other parks. The player in most cases learned the game while at college and found it so much to their liking that they continue to play it, despite the rather considerable risk of injury. Another game which is making big strides towards popularity, especially in the east, is the famous English game of cricket. One eastern university has maintained a varsity team in the sport for several years and annually sends the team on a tour of Canada, where most of the colleges have cricket teams. As yet this school has not developed cricket players it considers good enough to warrant an invasion of England, but that is the ultimate objective. — SPORTSMAN. Golf Gaieties The Annual Jamboree (Begin on page 11) remarks usually drowned out in the confusion, and after the Low Gross winner receives the shaving mug which is Lowest Number of Putts prize, and the Low Net boy (one of these heavy handi cap club directors) is given the little toy automobile, the vaudeville comes on. Lest I be summoned by some attache of the state's attorney's office, may I say that the main entertainment fea ture I am about to describe is Merely a Rumor and that I have always care fully absented myself from any such exhibitions, and that I think it hap pened in Detroit anyhow? And of course the conservative clubs don't stand for this stuff. After several professional singers have had their way to the clatter of cutlery, the current version of Gilda Gray prances on, little looking her forty years, and proceeds to do one of those dances that goes a step or two, and a stitch or two less, beyond the Works of Art presented by the in carcerated Carroll. "Football's different, Tony. Da telegram-f 'er-the-umps racket don't git ya a tumble." To those in mellow mood, this twisting sister is enchanting, but to old timers who have attended such events for years she is, as one of them told me confidentially, "usually too broad in the beam." Listing a few of the better known "annual jamborees" — and I am not attempting to list them all, nor even to call these the most noted — will give an idea of what they are like. Well, at Hinsdale C. C. they have the "Buggy Ride" with all the old fashioned concomitants; majestic Olym- pia Fields can be content with nothing less than an Olympiad; Illinois G. C. has an annual Stampede and Glen Oak has a Roundup. At this latter event this year boxing bouts between caddies at various greens enlivened the day! Calumet Country Club has its Play Day, and Pro George Knox is busier and rosier than ever on that occasion but at Park Ridge it is called Plae Dae. At Flossmoor it's The Frolic. Pow Wows are indulged in at both Wilmette G. C. and Ridge C. C. and Heap Big Indians go whooping around the course with mashies for tomahawks. Evanston has a big time with its annual Rodeo and the bulls thrown there by daring cowboys in sombreros are without number. This year's affair was made famous by one Charlie Heggie singing: "That's the Reason Now I Have to Wear a Kilt." At Exmoor it's the Jam-Bor-EE and Midlothian has a Derby, to say noth ing of a famous Southpaw tournament and a Pater Filius event which are known all over the country. At Ridgemoor, a club of many good shoot ers, the Jabberwalk takes place — this means a good time and is supposed to be Gaelic. Tarn O'Shanter gives us "Down the Burn" although my spell ing on that may be open to question. Brookwood's Ballyhoo Circus Day was spectacular this year with a sure enough steam calliope, clowns, bare back riders, and it is said that a few of the visitors made monkeys of them selves. North Shore, a conservative club, has its Silver Tassels and May- wood The Windup. But every event is a day of fun, frolic and fearful havoc on food and greens — and only Ernie Heitkamp, with a Spartan physique and a stomach made strong by years with the Hearst papers, has been able to attend nearly every one of the events all summer long. — DICK SMITH. THE CHICAGOAN 21 JOURNALISTIC JOURNEY/ The Days Work North Side, South Side All Around the T own (Begin on page 15) but we hastened to continue the matter at hand. "No question about it, there is a difference and I believe you can tell it," said G. M. Veitch, of the Garden City Service bureau, 307 N. Michigan avenue. "The north-siders have more class. And they like to let it be known that they are from the 'north shore.' I live at 5200 Harper avenue." Mr. Veitch was visibly impressed by the importance of the matter and declared that he would ask his asso ciates for their opinion. At the city hall we learned that the northwest and the south sides are approximately neck and neck so far as individual homes are concerned, that the north side is predominantly de voted to apartment buildings and hotels and the west side proper is becoming largely an apartment district. Hitherto we had believed the matter superficial. But Chief Frank C. McAuliffe of the fire insurance patrols assured us it was vital. "It is even apparent in the fire department," he said. "South-side units refer to the north side companies as a 'bunch of Dutch' and score their ability. Loop outfits are known as 'high building firemen' and held in disdain by the rough and ready boys who meet the frame and brick structures and all their dangers. These Loop companies frigidly maintain their dignity in what is known as the 'iron circle'." In such a cross current of sharp opinions we incur an impulse to seek solid ground. Surely a city divided against itself must be a least common multiple, greatest common divisor or some equally substantial factor to which the whole tantalizing business can be appended. At the moment, still flurried and a bit upset by our discoveries, we seem unable to place our thumb squarely upon it. Maybe you can help (no, this isn't a prize offer) and certainly you will. How do you distinguish one citizen from another? IT is late afternoon. Important edi tions have gone to press. Half of the copyreaders and half of the re write and reportorial staff have gone for the day. An assistant city editor is in charge of the local news desk. He has little to do and the few others in the room have less. Evidence of a day's work done — wastebaskets over flowing with newspapers and discarded copy paper, floors cluttered with the same — is all about. The news ticking machines and the pneumatic tubes from the city news bureau still clatter and hiss, but their noise has lost its insist ent roar of earlier hours. The assist ant city editor busies himself with edit ing copy written for tomorrow's early editions. The two or three reporters and rewrite men still on watch are either chatting familiarly or reading. All are plainly bored. A dapper young man walks up to the city desk. He is a press agent. His cheery greet ing to the assistant city editor is re turned, with more or less heartiness, depending on the personality of the visitor. The two exchange pleasantries for a moment. Then the press agent lays a picture and a piece of copy on the desk. "Hope this is worth some thing, George," he says. A moment later he is gone. If the picture has value as news the assistant city editor will mark it for use in the morrow's issues and will turn the copy over to a rewrite man to be composed accord ing to the paper's style for one or two paragraphs. Otherwise the picture and the copy will be tossed nonchalantly into one of the already well filled wastebaskets. A few minutes after the departure of the press agent, a woman approaches the city desk. She addresses the as sistant city editor in a hesitant, shy tone, revealing embarrassment. ' She is a non-professional press agent, the chairman of the publicity committee of a social service organization. "I wanted to ask you about getting some publicity for our next tag day," she begins, beamingly. "I've written up an article about it. I suppose you may want to make some changes in it; I'm not a very good writer," she con cludes, apologetically. George smiles, takes the copy and is about to reassure the lady on the chances of getting something in the paper about the tag day when he is interrupted by three short rings on the city press bulletin telephone. He picks it up and listens attentively, all thought of the lady pub licity seeker and her mission has left his mind. "Merrivale" he calls to one of the reporters at a nearby desk. The re porter ambles over to him. "There's an explosion over at Jackson and Clark; get over there in a hurry." Merrivale needs no further command. In a few seconds he is gone. George then dis patches a photographer to follow him and then decides to send another re porter. "Dickson!" he calls. "You'd better get over there with Merrivale." Dickson evaporates. A third reporter is put to work on the telephone, call ing offices near the scene of the ex plosion for whatever information he can get. A rewrite man is assigned to take the story as it comes in from the two reporters and the city press. In a few minutes the last-named cog in the machine gets his first call from Dickson. Within half an hour he has talked to Dickson three times and has started pounding out the story, a para graph at a time, to catch the final edi tion. No word has come in from Mer rivale. It is half past five. The deadline for the "final" is passed and the explosion story, cleaned up to the last detail, will appear in it. George, the assistant city editor is clearing loose papers from the city desk, preparatory to closing up shop for the day. "What th' hell do you suppose happened to Merrivale?" he asks the rewrite man. "God knows" is the laconic reply. "Wait a minute," George interrupts, "the city desk 'phone is buzzing, may be that's him." The assistant city edi tor hurries back to the desk and lifts the receiver. "Hello — SO — it's you, eh?" "Yes, it's me," comes Merrivale's voice over the wire, "and I'd like to know what's the big idea — I've looked all over this damn park and I can't find any explosion!" "What park? — say," begins George, "where th' hell are you anyway?" "Where am I?" asks Merrivale in wonderment. "I'm out here where you sent me — in Jackson Park!" — JOSEPH DUGAN. 22 THE CHICAGOAN Robert Emmett Keane who -plays the magician during the fusillade attendant on The Spider, at the Olympic. Before the evening is over Keane solves the mysterious shooting, turns the gunner over to justice, and wins the gal. THE CHICAGOAN 23 rfke JTTA G B Well, Let s Go to a Show First Theatre-Goer— T h e little woman's cousin Sigmund and his frail, from Duluth, are in town. They want to go to the theatre. Second Victim— Don't tell me. My hand to a brave man. That will set you back $22.80 for four in the thirteenth row, seven in from the aisle. Well, we only live once. First T.-G.— It's too often. SECOND V. — Lucky break for you, the Scandals have left town. All my wife's relatives wanted to see the Scandals, and you couldn't fool 'em. I told her Aunt Bertha you couldn't buy a seat for three weeks in ad vance, and she settled down and stayed three weeks. What's the use? I hate to think of the times I paid $7.70 per camp-stool for that cantata! FIRST T.-G. — How can they keep on rooking the public that way: SECOND V.— Listen, the whole trouble is with salaries. The managers don't make any money. Everything they take in goes to the hired help. If it ain't the stage-hands, it's the actors. Those babies don't get paid in cigar-coupons. Why, I heard Al Woods speak at the Drama League in Evanston, and he told us the managers don't make a nickel — FmST T.-G. — Let's not go into that! You aren't helping me make up their minds what I'm going to take 'em to. I've been outa town three weeks, and I haven't seen all the new shows. Wonder if the Visiting Appetites are high-brow enough for the Thea tre Guild at the Studebaker? Second V.— Don't get that troupe wrong. The Second Man that they're playing next week is a com edy for anybody. You know— slick stuff. I wouldn't say so much for The Doctor's Dilemma that they're offering week after next. It's one of Shaw's, done in modern clothes. FIRST T.-G.— I saw Lulu Belle in N'York. Not much use trying to fight your way into the Illinois to see it here. But I guess there's no hurry— it'll be here till Easter. WTiat about Chicago, at the Har ris? Second V. — Francine Larrimore's im mense as the murderine. The piece itself is a funny revue-sketch that makes a fairly funny three-acter. First T.-G. — They say Grace George has a good one over at the Adelphi. Second V. — The Road to Rome. Nice and naughty. All about a bored Roman mamma who saves the home town from Hannibal the Great by keeping him otherwise occupied. Well, war is war. First T.-G. — I notice Rain is playing here again. Second V. — At the Minturn-Central. With a good cast. And what a great show! First T.-G. — I haven't been around to see The Spider at the Olympic. Second V. — The hotsy-totsiest of all the mystery plays, with a murder right in the audience and the aisles full of cops. You spend the inter missions suspecting your own wife. First T.-G. — How's Tommy at the Cort? Second V. — One of those "domestic" comedies about a sweet small-town girl and a couple of fellas, with a politician uncle and a poppa and momma right out of the joke-books. But the customers approve. The laughing at the Cort would make an international tickling-contest sound like a pantomime. First T.-G. — What about the piece at the Blackstone? Second V. — Hoosiers Abroad? It's the old Tarkington- Wilson comedy, The Man From Home, all dusted off and repainted. Everything new this sea son — except Elliott Nugent. First T.-G. — I suppose the out-of-town element would like to have me take 'em to a musical show. It's more expensive. Second V.— Well, there's The Desert Song, at the Great Northern. An optical operetta set in North Africa, with the French Foreign Legion chas ing the Riffs — and vice versa. (Very little vice, but plenty of versa.) Good for young and old. First T.-G. — Queen High is playing at the 4 Cohans. I saw it in N'York. There's a snappy show. Mirth and melody, I calls it. And make no mistake, Frank Mclntyre and Charles Ruggles are a comic pair of boys. But I haven't seen Clark 6? McCullough in their new one, at the Garrick. Second V. — The Ramblers'! Not too hot— as an opera. But Clark &? jililsS^i vfy n Mr Portrait of man about to enter theatre without purchasing ticket of scalper. McCullough are two nobby, noisy clowns. I'll sign an affidavit to that. They're about as subtle as a couple of steam-rollers, but Chicago doesn't want subtle comedians. You .can hear the pew-holders laughing six blocks away. First T.-G. — Well, these are all good shows. Almost all. Anyhow, a few. But I guess I might as well get seats for Broadway. Second V. — Right. I'll see you there. I'm going again myself. — G. M. The First Round Football Prophecies (Begin on page 9) up to the gay Chi cago stands and, drilling to pistol shots like a cadet corps, spelled out the name "Stagg." Then they went over to the Indiana benches and duplicated their maneuvers with a "Page," once Mr. Stagg's pupil and assistant, now his adversary. Which is a way we have in the so- called uncouth West that compares most happily with the goal-post up- rootings of the cultured and worldly East. There is chivalrous courtesy at the Big Ten games — in spite of the fact that an Indiana guard went loco when his team was losing and reached for a Maroon with a fierce swing which, if it had landed, would have caused his team to take a penalty of one-half the distance to the goal. Indiana is lucky this season, although defeated in its first Conference game. It does not meet Wisconsin, hence its student band will not have to worry over how to spell out "Thistlewaite. " — CHARLES COLLINS. 24 THE CHICAGOAN fT/ie CI The Loop TO the end that the sincere patron of the cinema may dispense with endless reading of fact and fiction printed in its varied and occasionally veracious publicity spaces and, at lei sure and in confidence, proceed imme diately to the screens offering the best available entertainment, sundry dry statistics and circumstances are set down here as succinctly as is compatible with coherence. These concern downtown Chicago, of which the various neigh borhood communities are but slightly belated counterparts. The firm of Balaban & Katz, for good and sufficient reason, exercise first call upon all pictures produced. It is a competent firm, wise in the ways of commercial entertainment, and it maintains four downtown theatres in consistent prosperity. To accomplish this, the studios turning out something less than four really good pictures weekly, it has consigned the Oriental to Paul Ash, the Chicago to a some what different type of stage-screen per formance, and it puts the best pictures obtainable in McVickers and the Roose velt. As the former is the larger thea tre, the better pictures are placed therein and that settles the question of where to look for the best cinema en tertainment in town. Should the at traction available at this theatre at a given moment be for one reason or another undesired, the correct pro cedure is to look next to the Roose velt, next to the Chicago and finally to the Oriental. It is not necessary to go into the de tailed reasons for this arrangement of affairs, all the reasons being not only good but plainly evident. But it is necessary to make two exceptions. One of these is for the occasional good pic ture displayed in a stage theatre at stage play prices; the other is for the Mon roe, where Fox pictures, not on the Balaban 5? Katz first call list for like wise good and sufficient reason, are shown with Movietone accompani ment. A little later on the Apollo will be another factor in the situation. Possessed of this information, which may be checked at will and tested by any and all means, the sincere cinema patron finds his theatregoing greatly simplified. He need not pore over the printed matter prepared for news- NEMA Situation papers by theatre publicity depart ments and published as "news," nor need he attempt to read between the lines of the unprepared reviews ground out by the town's reviewers. In addi tion to this saving of time and annoy ance, if he is an indeed sincere admirer of screen entertainment, he can safely experience the kick that lies in walking into the theatre after the introductory title is past and viewing practically an entire picture without learning the name of it. This last is the exclusive thrill of the dyed-in-the-wool picture patron and until it has been achieved there is always at least one more sur prise to be had of the cinema. The Very Little Cinema POLITE publicity issued by the management of the Playhouse desig nated the seven days beginning October 15 "Jannings Week" and announced The Loves of Pharaoh, Peter the Great and The Last Laugh as Emil Jannings vehicles scheduled in celebration of the event. The announcement, like others issued by these odd caterers to a largely suppositious appetite, ranks a little below the average Playhouse "nifty." A mere theatre, frankly organized and operated for profit would have announced that "beginning October 15 this theatre will change program thrice weekly," which announcement the pub lic would have interpreted as a con fession that business hadn't been so good and something had had to be done. It is, of course, the plan of the Playhouse (the whole of its plan for "Pardon, please — but do you hap pen to know the name of this pic ture?" that matter) to obtain by use of the printed nifty that following which plainly is not obtainable through attrac tion power of the pictures displayed. A clever plan, an amusing and intrigu ing one the first few times over, it is ineffectual in a plain prairie city where people are commonplace enough to ex pect motion picture entertainment of a motion picture theatre. The three pictures, by the way, have been exhibited repeatedly in the city and (in case you escaped them) are pretty bad. Mr. Jannings' American importance began with The "Way of All Flesh, at which time the value of his European productions attained zero. Current Pastimes ENTERTAINMENTS timed for display in the neighborhoods dur ing the period of this edition's dis tribution range in this order: The Magic Flame, another version of the "Prisoner of Zenda" idea with rather more bloodshed than usual, rather more speed and rather better grace. Also with Ronald Colman and Vilma Banky. College, Buster Keaton's best comedy and the best of current college pictures, but it must be seen from the first. Phone the box office for starting time. Mockery, Lon Chaney. Shanghai Bound, Richard Dix in an unsuccessful effort to extract drama from a Chinese river boat (closely re sembling a Mississippi sternwheeler) and native pirates designed by Gilbert and Sullivan. Annie Laurie, Lillian Gish in low proof Scotch. The Drop-Kic\, Richard Barthelmess under the worst possible circumstances. — W. R. WEAVER. Chicagoans To Mention a Few The man who has not suggested a name for the Art Institute Lions. The co-ed who can think of some place other than De Mets or Julia King's for the after-the-jazz-and-silver- sheet gnaw fest. The man to whom Federal Coupons are of no value. The bootlegger who sold us that punk gin. — EL CHIQUITO. TUE CHICAGOAN 25 MU/ICAL note; The Season Gets Going "But James — you may warn me in case of fire." One on the House With Shofi Talk (Begin on page 12) returned to the car. As we were getting in, "Ah," said one to the other, "this is the feller that walked down the street with a black bag. I told you he owned the car." We finally fixed that and said to him — the other having walked away — "Have you got big pockets?" "Yes, why?" said he, "Well," I replied, "come down to the corner and we'll fill them." Which I proceeded to do. He stuffed his pockets and started to walk away. Then he came back, stuck his head in the door and said, "Do yer sell this stuff?" "Sure," I replied. Whereupon: "My Gawd! Maybe I can get some orders for yer." These are a few high lights in a game of eight years playing in which I have made— and held— many friends. Got a home; got a car which breaks down ever so often, as all nor mal cars do. And the original black bag? That was stolen out of the car. Right before my eyes, too. I hope it had poisoned scotch in but I know it didn't. I don't handle it. A dead customer is no good in this or any other game. Now and then a bootlegger has to stand up for his rights. I was grabbed once in the Loop. Nailed cold— I admit it. I had 3 cases of genuine merchandise and only about $15 in cash. The copper got strong on his duty. He confis cated the goods. He appropriated the cash. Then he asked me to deliver the confiscated liquor to his home clear out in Kensington. That was too much. I made my speech right on the curb. "You've got my booze," I de claimed. "You've got my money. You'll probably get my car, too. And now you ask me to deliver the stuff clear out in Kensington. I'm damned if I will!" ON Sunday, October 2, the higher browed movie fans were tem porarily chased out of the Playhouse and the curtain was officially lifted on the 1927-28 musical season with a more or less innocuous song recital by Gretchen Haller. Resisting the obvi ous and horrible pun offered gratis by the lady's last name, we proceed to consider the more important business of her contralto. It was a good one, particularly in the lower register, and what singing she did of first-rate songs of Strauss, Pizzetti et al was warm and colorful. She boasts, too, a mezzo voice, charmingly controlled and win some. The exigencies of a debut with flowers and familiar customers out front, may have accounted for a cer tain lack of poise and balance of in terpretation. We felt more than once that after Fraulein Haller decided how to sing the various parts of a song, she neglected to assemble them prop erly. Dashing accompaniments were furnished by the well-known Mr. Van Grove. Seven afternoons later a hale and blonde young lady from Kansas City named Marion Talley, made her Chi cago debut recital at the Auditorium theatre. In spite of the fact that she is one of the most highly press-agented "finds" of the last two seasons, she re vealed a coloratura voice of no mean order and a gift for girlish naivete that plainly touched the hearts of the Sun day clientele.- She has an expertness about the usual coloratura tricks that is truly amazing and a fullness of tone that usually fails to go with such a high order of technical proficiency. I must, however, get in my usual barbaric yawp at the program, prob ably one of the worst on record even for a coloratura. One lovely, finely sung aria from "The Magic Flute," the only oasis in a desert of songs by such as Horn, Rashbach, Thrane and S-S-S-S-S-S-S-S-SH Bishop. It was practically like spend ing an afternoon hearing Levitzki play a combination of Czerny's School of Velocity and the Fifteen Liszt Rhap sodies. Also making his first appearance within the city limits was Andre Skal- ski, Polish pianist, offering that same afternoon at the Playhouse a rather conventional assortment of Beethoven, Schubert, Wagner-Brassin and Liszt. According to the notices, a conductor and pianist of considerable experience who has toured Europe and the Orient many times, he displayed dig nity and soundness of interpretation and a definite feeling for nuance and dynamics that makes us anxious to hear him soon again. We were pain fully reminded by the long and dull B flat Major Impromptu that this is Schubert's year and that we will be no doubt thoroughly sick of a very great composer by Lent because the boys and girls are about to corner every scrap of music he ever wrote and dish it out in weekly puddings. At the moment we recall tenderly a house and garden in Vienna, the strains of "Der Lindenbaun," a certain Trio, yea, even the Unfinished Symphony. LET us pause, brothers, in the seri ous business of considering music and musicians between Jackson and Congress Streets and contemplate the extensive virtues of the Indiana Uni versity band. This is a band. Yes, although Mr. Stagg's prayers were more effective than against Oklahoma and the brave boys of Bloomington went down to decisive defeat, the band contest between the halves was pitifully unequal. The Maroon band being bashfully on the side-lines. But not so their guests. Garbed in stun ning crimson and khaki, led by a prancing drum major the Hoosier in strumentalists marched jauntily about the field playing stirring college ditties. And how they could spell. They spelled "Chicago," strung yards across the field, the while they furnished ade quate musical commentary. They spelled "Indiana" and "Page" and so on. We were just about to try them on "therapeutics" when the whistle blew for the second half. — ROBERT POLLAK. 26 THE CHICAGOAN Newsprint The Publicity Complex A FEW weeks ago, in a discussion with a former city editor of one of Chicago's biggest newspapers, now an executive with a business house, he told as true an almost unbelievable in cident. He had just returned from the west coast and while there was entertained by a prominent newspaperman. The westerner and his wife announced their intention of coming east, and were urged to plan to stay over in Chicago a day or two. "We're not going through Chicago." "Not going through?" he asked. "Why not?" "To be frank, we are afraid to. We might run into some gunplay." Continuing, he expressed the belief that this impression of Chicago is cost ing the city an almost unbelievable sum every day and he placed the lion's share of the blame upon the news papers. "The trouble in Chicago is that prac tically every editor handling copy got his training on the city press bureau as a police reporter. He knows a mur der or a holdup is news, and the rest he's not sure about," he concluded. "Now I have lived in Chicago the greater part of my life. I have never seen a shooting or heard a shot fired. I have not studied the proposition ex tensively but my impression is seventy- five per cent of the murders in Chicago are confined to a comparatively small area, the boundries of which I have never been in and probably will never have occasion to enter. Most of them are commonplace, sordid occurrences not worth more than a paragraph, un less artificially colored with vague ref erences in 'beer wars,' 'love triangles' and other tripe." His viewpoint is at least interesting and with his remarks still fresh, it does lend a new zest to perusing the daily press for entertainment. Eight column streamers on crime stories certainly dominate, except on days when a new Mexican revolution breaks out or another airman lands in Europe. And the rules seem to be this. If the name is not good and the address is bad the streamer reads something like this: Man Killed from Ambush. If the name is good but the address is bad, it reads: Jones Killed from Ambush. If the address is good "No, my dear man — I want the pink kind." but the name is bad, it reads: Man Killed on Gold Coast. If both name and address are good, it reads: Jones, Multi-Millionaire, Murdered. The murder apparently is the thing, and name and address just govern how the headline and the opening two para graphs are to be written. Another reason that crime predomi nates in the local newspapers at least is probably the fear that someone or something will be given "publicity." This fear drives the city editor, de termined to be sophisticated, into throwing into the waste baskets hun dreds of readable, informative and in teresting stories. While possibly not intentional, the rule seems to be that if a firm is re sponsible and successful enough to be able to advertise regularly, any news involving the name of this business must be kept out, unless the advertising manager compells it to be printed. Then it should be so presented that any news value is lost. Field's Anniversary might be cited. The store is an institution known the world over and far more important and interesting to Chicago than even the recent Dempsey-Tunney affray. Here was a chance for Bennett, Leach and other name writers. But the stories which appeared looked like the result of a fiery conference, with the busi ness manager insisting they go in and the city editor trying to defend his columns. Another rule seems to be that if an institution becomes big enough to or ganize a publicity bureau, to make it easy for the newspapers to get the in formation they formerly had to battle for, that institution over night becomes a "publicity seeker" and any news about it must be kept out at all costs. It is all difficult to understand. The big league baseball teams and the legiti mate theatre are undeniably commer cial institutions operated for profit. But space is lavished on them. The movie appears to be in about the same category, but interesting to ten times the number. It is given little or noth ing. On the other hand, a cigar manu facturer can present a semi-pro baseball team with uniforms in consideration of their adopting the name of the "El Ropos"— his brand — and he is sure to see the name "El Ropos' on a box score on the sport page every Monday morn ing and occasionally in the head lines. The limit in something was reached the other day when an enterprising typewriter company had a shipment brought to Chicago by aeroplane and had a typewriter intended for Mayor Thompson dropped by parachute. The 'Hews mentioned that it was a Wright Brothers plane, but described the type writer as "a typewriter, manufactured by a typewriter company." Catering to your curiosity, we hereby supply the suppressed information: It was a Royal. — EZRA. Backgrounds By One Who Knew Them When— Walter Noble Burns came to town from Louisville, Ky., and went to work as a reporter for the City Press Association. ? Wallace A. Smith began his lit erary career as a picture chaser for the old Chicago Chronicle. ? State's Attorney Robert E. Crowe, after graduating from Yale, was a clerk in the law office of Moran, Mayer 6? Meyer before entering poli tics. ? Geogre F. Getz was a salesman for a Chicago coal company and a mighty good one, too. ? Henry J. Smith began his career as a journalist by writing paragraphs for a Chicago religious weekly, of which his father was editor. ? Judge Oscar Hebel worked as a clerk in his father's grocery in North Wells street. TMC CHICAGOAN 27 Alco-Analysis III For the Modern Home FOR this period, scholars, we will discuss the second test for heavy metals, one of the most important and time-consuming operations. It is well to have your text (my means of re directing your attention to the two articles preceding) before you. In this test it is necessary to run a stream of Hydrogen Sulphide gas through whatever you are testing. This is easily accomplished by having Ferrous Sulphide Fe, (SO<)3 acted upon by a dilute solution of Sulphuric Acid. The accompanying diagram will give you a good idea as to how this is accom plished. Take your 200 C.C. wide mouth bottle with the two-holed rubber stopper. Into the bottom of this bottle place 15 Gram of Ferrous Sulphide. Place the rubber stopper in the bottle and run your stoppered pipette through one of the stopper holes, extending it to bottom of the bottle. Through this pipette pour 25 C.C. of dilute solution of Sulphuric acid. Into your test tube you will have poured enough of the product you are testing to half fill it and con nected it up by placing the glass tube through the other hole of the rubber stopper, and hooking up your connec tion of rubber tubing to another glass tube, which extends down into the liquid you are testing. When you have poured in the 25 C.C. the fumes will follow the tubing into the test tube, and should there be a black precipitate, there are metals present. As I have stated before, it is not neces sary to know the nature of the metals; the fact that they are there is sufficient to prove it impure and not fit for use. I conclude the third lesson at this point, again referring you to Lessons 1 and 2 with their repeated warnings against analyses in general and this one in particular, and impart the cheery news that the course will be completed in no time now. In fact, if my mail continues to multiply at the present rate I may be impelled to even sterner measures. If I had known— but then, I didn't. Not, understand, that I object to reasonable inquiries or legitimate requests, but when people begin asking for samples the work be comes a trifle commercial. l!NE RUE en MONTMARTRE (M. Utrillo) Brangwyn, Redfield Moderns in Galleries WHEN a distinguished Ameri can Painter and a famous etcher join hands in a two-man show, you cannot afford to miss the exhibi tion. Carson Pirie Scott's were for tunate in securing a temporary show ing of landscapes by Edward Redfield, and etchings by Frank Brangwyn. Redfield's fresh, vibrant canvases are particularly interesting. Many of his things are winter scenes, which he handles with all the delicate under standing of a master craftsman. The mystic pastel quality which he gives to his peaceful winter skies and snow- laden streets is charming. I particu larly liked his painting of the sea which he calls "Winter." The vibrant effect of sunlight, gleaming on a grayed winter sea, is handled with un usual deftness. Brangwyn, the English artist, has a comprehensive collection of litho graphs, soft-ground and dry-point (NOTE: This series, by a writer who pointedly prefers annoymity, began in the September 24 issue. The author is presently engaged in a heroic endeavor to condense the remaining articles into one grand splash— his own term— which is expected momentarily ) A I co- An alysis Ace essories etchings. The outstanding quality of his work is its bold, vital contrasts. He opposes masses of jet black against luminous white, and gives an inter esting tonal quality to his grays that prevents monotony. His subject mat ter is widely varied, including quaint old Spanish bridges, ships in dry-dock, groups of laborers, architecture, etc. One of his best things is a soft-ground etching of the Alcantara Bridge at Toledo, Spain. The bold contrasts of black and white are particularly good. He cleverly emphasises the massive architecture of the bridge by placing a delicate group of character figures in the foreground. The Chester Johnson gallery in the Fine Arts Building, has just opened one of the most interesting temporary exhibits in town. Unlike most gal leries, Johnson's does not show con servative realism to exclusion. The present exhibition is a vivid show by modern French and English painters. Most of the well known impressionists are included: Matisse, Gaugin, Lau- rencin and others. One of the best things is a street scene by M. Utrillo, the French modernist, called "Une Rue En Montmarte." Utrillo's ex quisite sense of composition and bal ance is clearly demonstrated here. This particular canvas shows all of the looseness and studied freedom of handling that is so characteristic of the younger French painters. — v. 0. BROWNE. Remedy And Suggestion Whenever there's a masque, my Aunts, With total lack of reason, On dinner coats and flannel pants Declare an open season. My sister thinks my shirts are cute; They fit her grand — she's tried 'em. Today she bought a tailored suit. . . . I guess I'd better hide 'em! Ahchew! Excuse me if I sneeze, This cold I've got is awful. My wife adores my BVDs, A longing most unlawful! It's useless quite to frame a rule, I never could enforce it. But I'll outsmart 'em, I'm no fool — I'll wear a bally corset! — P. E. 28 TI4E CHICAGOAN Civic Service For Guests of the Citizenry [Alter Salutation and Signa ture, Address and Mail to Home Folks in Complete Confidence.] Chicago, October 22. Dear Marion : Someone ought to put in for another issue of weather, for this particular section of the Great Middle West. Not that it is so terribly bad, merely that it is so various. If you dress for rain — I have a darling new rubberised crepe de chine raincoat, dark blue with woven leather buttons and a suede belt — if you dress for rain, then the sun comes out. If you don't, it pours and you spend hours in odd doorways while people chase theoretical taxicabs, and wish you were in Tophet. Do you remember how we used to poke fun at that poor old Mrs. Dry- sacher who was always talking about how she wanted to get back to New York so that she could keep on with her beauty treatments? Well, I take back at least nine-tenths of the things I said. Reason? Last week I went to the Dorothy Gray Shop. They have just opened a new Chi cago shop in the — Building opposite the Drake. That Boston dec orator, somebody Sleeper, who has the wonderful early American house, did the decorations, and they are worth seeing. The reception room is purest 16thu Century Spanish and the dress ing rooms — a row of them— open off -^Mt-> _jrf#*"**!N*St. a corridor on the other side of a price less iron grille — the dressing rooms are completely modernist. Some day 1 am going to have a dress ing room exactly like them. The dress ing table is a long low shelf of black glass, and the mirror a flat wide plaque unframed and held flat against the wall with silver rosettes. The walls are pink, but such a pink, it probably was blended by a psychologist instead of a wall painter, for it is a certain deli cate eggshell shade that makes you in stantly feel luxurious and purring. They lead you into one of these dressing rooms and when you've shed hat, coat and dress, they seat you in the most comfortable arm chair, the kind that is correctly called a fauteuil, put a footstool under your feet and a little soft blanket over your knees and start in to make a new woman of you. I felt just like a character out of the Bible, probably from the Song of Solo mon, the part where they talk so al luringly of ointments, perfumes, balms, and things. I lost all track of the de- 'Does he belong to the club? "No, but he's a member." licious things they do to you — muscle oil that smell like pot-pourri, orange flower water, skin foods, cleansing cream — it takes an hour, and they fin ish up with tea and you feel as if you ought to write them a poem instead of a check. One thing was very funny, the op erator kept being sorry that I hadn't three chins, so she could rub them off. She kept saying, "Now, you see, if you had two or three chins we'd just rub them right off. By doing this," and she would chuck me under the chin with the palm of her hand, "We just take all that ugly fat right off. Now, of course, you can't see any difference with your chin line, but if you just had two or three chins, or even a lump of fat right here at the base of your shoulder, why, you could just literally see it being rubbed away." Paris Fall openings are thrilling I know, but the things I've seen right here are quite interesting enough to keep me broke for a long time. I doubt that there has ever been a season when everybody, long and short, stout or slim, could so completely make the most of her own good points and still maintain every detail of the crest of the mode. It doesn't seem to me that there is "fashion." I think it's "fash ions." Clothes this year seem designed for the express purpose of glorifying the female form divine, and whatever your good points are, you choose the clothes that accent them and what ever the defects there is a mode to minimize them. As one watched model after model at the opening, either in the exclusive Michigan Avenue Shops or in the vari ous French rooms of the department stores, it was again and again impressed upon one that the Grands Couturiers have taken the symmetrical lines of the body as a basis for their composition and upon that have built, usually in a symmetrical design, a picture. Looking at the dresses, ensembles, even the negligees and lounging paja mas, you can't fail to notice how clev erly the movement of the dress is syn chronized with the movement of the wearer. Actually they have accom plished this season the thing which we have been hearing about for so long, namely — your clothes now really can be an expressive part of yourself. At Stevens they have a velvet even ing dress from Lelong, slim, very supple, with the draperies placed ex actly in the line to make the hips seem TI4EO4ICAG0AN 29 most slender and graceful. In front two great diagonal curves of rhinestone embroidery emphasized the swirl and movement that would be natural as the wearer walked or danced. They had too some awfully interest ing, rather formal afternoon dresses. These they call their "Sunday evening dresses," meaning that they are espe cially designed to wear at those anoma lous Sunday gatherings that begin some time about 3 o'clock and last until al most any time. They are very simple in line, one piece or two-pieced, almost tailored, but the fabrics are the most gorgeous things imaginable. Chiffon lame*, transparent velvet, the most mar velous combinations of color and metal imaginable. Avnd here's news! You know that corduroy coat made by Patou that I have been trying so hard to get, well, Stevens is having it copied and it will be here perhaps next week. I mean to have one of those coats if I have to go all the way to Paris to get it. There is an awfully nice street cos tume at The Tailored Woman, one of those new coat dresses with the short cape of the same material. I saw it in a very smart shade of red and they show a charming little red hat with it. You'd be amazed at how little it costs. Which reminds me, for no reason at all, of the stationery I have just ordered from Holmes Michigan Ave nue Shop. It's a sort of beige, and has a facsimile of my initials in my inimitable fist in dark blue. Very, very chic, I calls it. And the next letter I write you can judge for your self. Thinely, Heloise. If In Paris Send This Letter Paris, October 22. Dear Heloise: Hats are always the confessed weak ness of the fashionable woman, and this season there is a legitimate excuse for indulgence along this line, for there are old styles coming back and new ones coming in that permit a wide scope for different tastes and require ments. The large dress hats are nearly all of velvet, following the trend of what is being worn in dresses, and many of them are trimmed solely by a bird of paradise plume drooping over the side of the brim, oh so coyly. If you have had one carefully wrapped McAvoy announces the opening of a new acces sory department with a special showing of hosiery, gloves, perfumes, jewelry, and boudoir wear. Moderate Prices McAVOY 615 North Michigan Superior 8720 OE5* ">S30 Wherever — fancy dictates the win ter is to be spent — on the Continent, in Cali fornia, Florida or in town — you will find here a correctness arid beauty of style that will pass the eye of the most crit ical. Coats Gowns Suits Furs F* Arendt Importer 171 No. Michigan Ave. Chicago _*aso Built to excel — not undersell UNIVERSAL BATTERY COMPANY Chicago 30 TME CHICAGOAN SPONSORED BY HARGRAFT zA Pipe, Sir, for a Connoisseur Something in you responds to the slim, sleek lines of a blooded-horse, to the romance of first editions, to Pompano Almondine by a premier chef, to the bouquet of Chateau Lafitte, vintage 1904. You will be fascinated by the flowing lines and glowing finish of England's patrician of all pipes — Ben Wades. You will savor the flavor that steals through the stem to caress your palate. No other pipe is just like this. Since i860 Ben Wade and his descendants have been pipe makers to the English gentry. Their pipes are famed in a land famed for pipes. They fashion the shapes for the men who shape the fashions. Exhibited at the better tobacconists and men's shops. BE1M WvDE BRIARS in tissue paper this many a year while they were not being worn, now is the time to get them out and dye them for your new winter chapeau. Felts are as popular as ever, but now a new note is added by the use of vel vet in trimming. The small helmet shapes, relieved by the circular up right frill around the tope, or forming a semi-circle from either side to the crown, are being shown in the latest collections, although the extreme high crown has gone. Uneven brims, both in the large and close fitting hats are being worn and fast becoming a favor ite style. Martial and Armand are showing an attractive small shape in black felt and hatters1 plush, with two points folded back like ears in front. The only trimming is a tiny pink feather pompom on one of the ear-like points. Among the thousand and one tan talising novelties that one sees in the shops on the Rue de la Paix and Rue St. Honore, the diminutive umbrellas in all colors are as decorative as handy with their ember carved wood, or ivory handles. The newest handbags are of felt made in the shape of sad dle bags, with tortoise shell or ember tops and large jewel clasps. These are worn with the street costume, match ing the small felt hat and whatever color note used as trimming on the dress. Flowers are still an essential accessory, but the small pearl pansies and colored crystal boutonnieres are taking the place of the large shaggy variety for tailored and sport wear. For evening nothing could be more effective than the new velvet flowers with pearl centers, and also the pliable rhinestone ones which can be pinned to the curve of the shoulder and lie as gracefully as if they were made of some soft material. Busily, Marion. MADE IN ENGLAND 'Slide a little to the right, willy a buddy f" TI4CCI4ICAG0AN 31 The_Mail Letters of general interest to Chi- cagoans will be published when signed with full name and address. Impolite Editor, The Chicagoan: Perhaps I did wrong but, when stroll ing away from the news stand with the current issue of The Chicagoan under my arm, a fellow alongside (just such a looking fellow as would say such a thing) mumbled, "Look — she's got a picture of the Fireman's Dream." I slapped him with it. I think you're doing an excellent work by giving us real artists' conceptions of these distinctly Chicago institutions. — F. M. W., 5104 Harper Ave. While in Paris Editor, The Chicagoan: While we may not be a first class critic of "la vie de la nuit," something in our make up prompts us to rise and protest the state ment made by, we believe, but are not sure, Samuel Putnam in a recent number of The CHICAGOAN that Les Acacias— com monly referred to as "Josephine Baker's Place" amongst the Americans — is typical of Parisian night life. Didi expressed it very much better in a few words than wc can in paragraphs or pages, when with a slight shrug and a doleful glance around the floor, she leaned over for a light for her cigarette and said, "Cest tres triste." We might suggest one or two places that have a little more life than that, but we would not claim them as typical — nothing is typical of anything to our mind in that land of fluctuating emotions. Nevertheless, we claim that Le Bal Moulin Rouge, right next door to the Moulin Rouge, or the not so conspicuous Chat Noir just a few doors farther down Boulevard de Clichy, offer much more for the total expenditure than would Les Acacias with Josephine appear ing in person.— E. C, 7229 Palatine Avenue. P. S.: Don't tell any one to go see Mistinguette at the Moulin Rouge. She's terrible. — E. C. Hopeful Editor, The Chicagoan : Week after week we visit the palatial places, the Loop, the South Side, and the North Side, with a faint hope that perhaps we will see a picture that is not an insuit to the intelligence of a grammar school child. However, with all the promises made by the producers, we still find the same A "HOLE IN ONE" WITH THE YOUNGER SET! JLerh .ERHAPS it's a happy accident, this perennial vogue of Fatima. And perhaps, again, it's the example or these pacemakers in the sport of enjoying life, this charming younger crowd — in which event it's no accident, but clear evidence of tobacco quality and blending skill. The most skillful blend in cigarette history qfflBHaaBBEBBEHBK tripe. We find buildings loaded with elec tric lights, and the foyer decorated with everything from springing fountains to stuffed wild animals, not to mention paint ings and marble sculptures. The new art has progressed in every way except making better pictures. The creator of this new art, called pro ducer, sometimes will condescend to an in terview, provided the reporter is a well known journalist. The movie producer in offering his apology to the public will in variably state that the work of noted au thors cannot be used, that it is necessary to create the new art in their own factory and by their own artists. That is to say, a play or story written by Shaw, Ibsen, Wilde, or even the Bard, before it can be filmed must be re-hashed and worked up by the factory foreman, weak places built up, adding comedy and pathos and, in all, the creation must receive the artistic finish at the movie factory. Today we find a noted producer turning out pictures by the mile, while only a few years ago he was assistant sea cook on a scow that specialized in a cargo of green - hides, lumber or fertilizer. There is no reason why sea-cooks, white-caps, and team sters should permit acknowledged authors to meddle in their art when at present ap preciative America, South Africa, and the Malay Islands are satisfied. Every picture is made, it seems, with the idea that if same is approved by a Broad way audience, then the rest of the world should be satisfied. The ratio as to intelli gence, nowhere in the United States, do we find it so low as found in a Broadway audience. The producers seem to think if a picture is a success on Hester Street this gives it prestige and the stamp of real re fined art. Let New York have its art, let Harlem and Hester Street fall in the dust before the mammy song artists, let them perpetu ate Abie's Irish Rose and hand it down from generation to generation, yea even unto the 32 Ihe exponent of fash ionable conservatism finds here full satisfaction. Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. TEL. HARRISON 2680 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. Besides Polo, the magazine is devoted to Amateur Cross-Country Racing, Steeple chases and PoinUtO'Point Races, and dev otees of these sports twill find it invaluable. children of the third and fourth genera tion, but there is no reason to assume the same creation will please the rest of the United States. After a picture has been a success to a Hester Street audience the producers then bring it to Chicago's North Side theatres, and if the audience fail to go into ecstacy over it they are dumb-founded and yell, "Casting pearls." We look forward to the day when the producers will make a picture not for 42 nd and Broadway, but for Mud-Center or any yokel town. Of course we do not expect the producers to ever introduce a new face in pictures, and we are satisfied for them to star their wives and proteges, and we know that there will be a new version of Carmen every year until it has been pro duced by every star in Hollywood. All this we expect. However, we are foolish enough to expect once in a while a good picture, because already they have given us four or five pictures that deserve to be called works of art. — Floyd G. Hall, 4602 N. Winchester Ave. STATEMENT OF THE OWNERSHIP, MANAGE MENT, CIRCULATION, ETC., REQUIRED BY THE ACT OF CONGRESS OF AUGUST 24, 1912 Of The Chicagoan published bi-weekly at Chicago, Illinois, for October 1, 1927. State of Illinois ) County of Cookf ss- Before me, a Notary Public in and for the State and county aforesaid, personally appeared George Clifford, who, having been duly sworn according to law, deposes and says that he is the Business Manager of The Chicagoan and that the following is, to the best of his knowledge and belief, a true statement of the ownership, management (and if a daily paper, the circulation), etc., of the aforesaid publication for the date shown in the above caption, required by the Act of August 24, 1912, embodied in section 411, Postal Laws and Regulations, printed on the reverse of this form, to wit: 1. That the names and addresses of the publisher, editor, managing editor, and business managers are: Publisher, Martin J. Quigley, 407 S. Dearborn St. Editor, Martin J. Quigley, 407 S. Dearborn St. Managing Editor, William R. Weaver, 407 S. Dearborn St. Business Manager, George Clifford, 407 S. Dear born St. 2. That the owner is: (If owned by a corporation, its name and address must be stated and also immedi ately thereunder the names and addresses of stock holders owning or holding one per cent or more of total amount of stock. If not owned by a corporation, the names and addresses of the individual owners must be given. If owned by a firm, company, or other unincorporated concern, its name and address, as well as those of each individual member, must be given.) The Chicagoan Publishing Co., 407 S. Dearborn St. Martin J. Quigley, 407 S. Dearborn St. 3. That the known bondholders, mortgagees, and other security holders owning or holding 1 per cent or more of total amount of bonds, mortgages, or other securities are: (If there are none, so state.) None. 4. That the two paragraphs next above, giving the names of the owners, stockholders, and security holders, if any, contain not only the list of stock holders and security holders as they appear upon the books of the company but also, in cases where the stockholder or security holder appears upon the books of the company as trustee or in any other fiduciary relation, the name of the person or corporation for whom such trustee is acting, is given; also that the said two paragraphs contain statements embracing affiant's full knowledge and belief as to the circum stances and conditions under which stockholders and security holders who do not appear upon the books of the company as trustees, hold stock and securities in a capacity other than that of a bona fide owner; and this affiant has no reason to believe that any other person, association, or corporation has any interest direct or indirect in the said stock, bonds, or other securities than as so stated by him. 5. That the average number of copies of each issue of this publication sold or distributed, through the mails or otherwise, to paid subscribers during the six months preceding the date shown above is (This information is required from daily publications only.) George Clifford, Business Manager. Sworn to and subscribed before me this first day of October, 1927. (Seal) James P. Prendergast. (My commission expires February, 1929.) Where Fine Cigars Are Smoked Tom Palmer Predominates Wengler & Mandell, Inc. Chicago • Tampa Formal Opening of Chicago Qalleries Sponsored by a committee of distinguished Chicagoans, Almco Galleries dedicate their formal opening, October Eighteenth, to the support of leading charities — The Service Club, The Junior League and The Vocational Society for Shut-Ins. *_Almco Jumps, made by the foremost creators of art in industry, introduce to Chicago a new trend in artistic illumination. For complete decorative schemes or indi vidual settings, they present rare possibilities for beautiful lighting effects in the home. Nothing is offered for sale during the opening, but visitors will be able to obtain a courtesy purchasing card after the opening from any good dealer or decorator. 'Almco Galleries^ NEW YORK. CHICAGO OneParkAvenue PARIS 1433 S.Wabash Ave. 1^ Rue Saulnier XPEED JTAMIMA J^MAPTME// -4 >- REMAULi: , A TWENTIETH CENTURY EXPREjFION J l OFTME FRENCH (IVI LIZ ATIOM A FROM $1950 TO $12000 TAX INCLUDED 719 FIFTH AVENUE MEW YORK K SERVICE AND PARTT A 778 786 ELEVENTH AVM