For Fortnight &>dioj December. Price 15 k A ,$&)&$& psm. I ft##f ^y - n -: NOTE; STARTING WITH THE DECEMBER 17th ISSUE, WE CHANGED OUR SYSTEM OF DATING, FROM THE BEGINNING TO THE MIDDLE OF RESPECTIVE FORTNIGHT PERIODS. THIS ACCOUNTS FOR NO DATING AS OF DECEMBER 3, THE CONTINUITY OF THE PUBLISHED ISSUES HAS NOT BEEN INTERRUPTED, HOWEVER. Three Special Lots of ORIENTAL RUGS For Christmas Giving Persian Kurdistan Rugs $48.75 Average size 3 feet ft inches wide by 6 feet 4 inches long. Strong and durable — in soft tones. Persian Kurdistan Rugs $62.50 Average size 3 feet 8 inches wide by ft feet 6 inches long. Quaint, unusual effects in all the various soft tones. Persian Lilahan Rugs $157.50 Average size 5 feet 2 inches by ft feet ft inches long. Deep, rich, soft, silky effects in the different tones. Red, Blue, Rose and Gold, all very closely woven. J^ooking for Oriental cRugs? ^ If Christmas suggests an Oriental Rug or two . . . Oriental Rugs should certainly suggest RevelFs! ^ RevelFs are as famous for Oriental Rugs as the Rue de la Paix for fashions. There's a world of information to be had about rugs ... all types ... all siz;es . . . and at all prices ... at RevelPs. The entire third floor devoted to Oriental and American Rugs. "The Home Should Come First" Revell'S at WABASH and ADAMS TUECUICAGOAN The Town a Christmas Gift — \ 'XTHY not give it? Each day the. Chi- ^ * cago dweller sees his city glamorous and bold along the blue lake. His thoughts march to the rumble, of its traffic. His feet swing to the cadence of its boule vards. Night after night its tall towers gleam for him. Why not give it? — as a Christmas gift. ih CHICAGOAN presents this city through the medium of artists and writ ers wise in the beauty and gusto of a tremendous civic spectacle. It presents, too, sprightly and knowing com ment on the Chicago scene. And it catches up and trans lates for you the things in and of Chicago which merit the attention of an aware, discriminating, and intelligent spectator interested in his city and alive to its significance. TUECUICAGOAN we propose as a Christmas reminder. The town in its pages. All the year 'round. There's nothing to prevent you sending an excellent Christmas gift to yourself. In fact it's the smart thing. The dotted line forms on the right. n The Chicagoan 407 South Dearborn St. Chicago, Illinois Send the Chicagoan together with a card announcing it as the Christmas gift of to the recipient named below, for which I enclose $3 for one year. The recipient is: Name Address. I City State j Xote: Two Christmas subscriptions, $5. One two-year subscription the , same. 2 TUECUICAGOAN Intimate Chicago Views Mr. Hertz Calls a Taxi OCCASIONS DECEMBER 25— A wholesome holiday, much loved by the old and credulous. JANUARY 1— A holiday much fostered by the young. JANUARY 2— A holiday perforce. OPERA — The resplendent winter season. Evenings, Saturday and Sunday matinee. Popular priced on Saturday evening. Call Harrison 1240. SYMPHONY — The thirty-seventh year in the Theodore Thomas tradition. Regular on Fridays (matinee) and Saturday (eve ning). For midweek programs call Har' rison 0362. ASPIRATION — "Oak Park's new compre- hensive street lighting system will be turned on for the first time December 17." — the daily press. STAGE Comedy, Musical THE DESERT SO^G— Great Northern, 21 Quincy. Central 8240. The moving lyrics of Sigmund Romberg excellently sustained by a chorus of 100 voices in a stage piece involving the French in Morocco. Evenings 8:15. Matinee Wed nesday and Saturday 2:15. HIT THE DECK— Woods, 54 West Ran dolph. State 8567. Trixie Frigansa and Queenie Smith surrounded by jocose and salty sailors. A big, rollicking evening. Evenings 8:30. Matinee Wednesday and Saturday 2:30. COUHTESS MARITZA — Olympic, 74 West Randolph. Central 8240. Tuneful Gypsy melodies in the above named operetta currently vended by the Shu- berts. Odette Myrtil, Gladys Baxter and 80 people. Curtain time 8:30. Wednes day and Saturday 2:30. A NJGHT IN SPAIN;— Four Cohans, 119 North Clark. Central 8240. The Shu- berts advertise this "the greatest cast ever seen." It does, nevertheless, present a Winter Garden revue enlivened by the vigorous middle-shaking of the Gertrude Hoffman girls. Bravo, Gertrude! Curtain time 8:20. Matinee Wednesday and Saturday 2:20. See page 26. Drama BROADWAY— Selwyn, 180 North Dear born. Central 3404. A tingling drama of night club life movingly and accurately shown. Excellent. Evenings 8:15. Satur day and Thursday 2:15. THE PLAY'S THE THING— Harris, 170 North Dearborn. Central 1880. Ex tremely civilized comedy surpassingly mimed by Holbrook Blinn after the witty pen of Franz; Molnar. Evenings 8:20. Matinee 2:20 Wednesday and Saturday. THE CONSTANT WIFE, Dec. 26, with Ethel Barrymore. TOMMY— Cort, 132 North Dearborn. Central 0019. Clean comedy that holds its own gratifyingly well in this loud town. Coming Dec. 25, TWO GIRLS WANTED, a comedy, which will be re viewed in a later issue. Curtain time for Tommy 8:30. Wednesday and Saturday matinee 2:30. LULU BELLE— -Illinois, 65 East Jackson. Harrison 6510. Lenore Ulric as a dusky courtesan who has a gland time of it until Dec. 26, when Shakespeare's six teenth century shocker, THE MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, comes on the boards with Mrs. Fiske, Otis Skinner and Henrietta Crosman. Curtain on Lulu at 8:20. Matinees Wednesday and Satur day at 2:20. MR. PIM PASSES BY— Studebaker, 418 South Michigan. Harrison 2792. A. A. Milne's gay comics. Evenings 8 : 30, Wed nesday and Saturday 2:30. To be re viewed. MURRAY HILL — Princess, 319 South Clark. Central 8240. Genevieve Tobin in a bright and informing skit of de ferred love. Reviewed on page 19. Curtain 8:30. Wednesday and Saturday 2:30. See page 20. RAIN — Minturn Central, 64 East Van Buren. Harrison 5800. A New York company and a good one, but not the New York company, goes serenely on with an excellent piece excellently done. Evenings 8:20. Wednesday and Saturday 2:30. Opening Dec. 25, THE GOOD BAD WOMAN, with Ruth Thomas in that role. To be reviewed. OUTBREAK— Goodman Memorial, Lake Front at Monroe. Central 7085. An in quiry into the reasons for decency, and a perplexing series of answers. Not too well done. Evenings 8:15. Fridays 2:15. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER follows on the heels of this one. A review com ing up. SHAKESPERIAN— Frits Leiber in various Avon classics. Call Harrison 6834 for timelier information. THE ROAD TO ROME — Adelphi, 11 North Clark. Randolph 4466. The ex tremely agreeable horrors of invasion act ed out by Grace George. THE SQUALL, opening Dec. 25, will be presently re viewed. Evenings 8:30. Matinee Wed nesday and Saturday 2:30. MINTURN PLAYERS— Chateau, Broad way at Grace. Lakeview 7170. Compe tent stock performances of last year's hits. Worth while, too. BEHOLD THIS DREAMER— Blackstone, 60 East Seventh. Harrison 6609. Open ing Dec. 25, Glenn Hunter leads with the Oursler play. To be assayed soon. CINEMA GARRICK— 64 W. Randolph— The Jazz Singer* daily at 2:30 and 8:30. ERLANGER— 127 N. Clark— Wings* daily at 2:30 and 8:30 until it hops off Dec. 26. McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison— The Love lorn, something signed by Beatrice Fair fax, Dec. 12-18. The Gorilla, formerly a stage thriller, Dec. 19-25. Continuous. ROOSEVELT— 110 N. State— Jesse James, an unconvincing attempt to confuse him with Robin Hood, Dec. 12-18. Love, John Gilbert and Greta Garbo at it again, Dec. 19-25. Continuous. CHICAGO— State at Lake— The Valley of Giants, Milton Sills the leading Goliath, Dec. 12-18. Her Wild Oats, the none such Colleen Moore doing the sowing, Dec. 19-26. Continuous, with acts. ORIENTAL— 74 W. Randolph— In Old Kentuc\y, a new telling of the old turf classic, Dec. 12-18. The Spotlight, re vealing the eminently revealable Esther Ralston, Dec. 19-26. Continuous, with acts. 4 UPTOWN — Broadway at Lawrence — Man, Woman, Sin* Dec. 12-18 and The Gay Defender* Dec. 19-26. With acts. SHERIDAN— Sheridan at Irving Park- Dress Parade* Dec. 12-18. The Forbid den Woman, otherwise Jetta Goudal, Dec. 19-26. With Verne Buck's banditry. TrVOLI— 6327 Cottage Grove— Ditto Up town. CAPITOL— 79th at Halsted— The Irre sistible Lover, another bath for Norman Kerry, Dec. 12-18. Buttons, worn by several comedians, Dec. 19-26. Plus Vitaphone. HARDING — 2734 Milwaukee — Two Ara bian Knights,* Dec. 12-18. She's a Shei\* Dec. 19-26. With acts. SENATE — Madison at Kedzie — Ditto Harding. *Reviewed on page 21. TABLES BLACKSTONE HOTEL — 656 South Michigan. A consistent high peak in service, appointments, victuals, and pa trons. Excellent all. Irving MargrafFs string quintette. PALMER HOUSE — State at Monroe. Gracious in a long tradition of commer cial hospitality. The Palmer House Symphony (20 pieces) and Empire Room attraction. STEVENS— 730 South Michigan. A huge hotel, yet carefully adapted to individual needs. Sig. Gallechio directs the house musicians. Dinner (and a memorable one) for $3. CONGRESS— Congress at Michigan. A Chicago show place with the spectacular Peacock Alley, Johnny Hampe's smooth band, the gleaming Balloon room, and glitter of an avenue parade. PETRUSHKA CLUB— 403 South Wabash. A new and smart place, Russian in food and setting, both excellently carried out. Dining and dancing in good company. CLUB MIRADOR— 22 East Adams. A gay night place despite the present dol drums in Chicago night life. Band and floor show. Food and enthusiasm. BAL TABARIN— Hotel Sherman. A con' ventional night refuge against insomnia, but a merry one. Floor show, dancing, and so on. ST. HUBERTS OLD ENGLISH GRILL — 615 Federal. An eating parlor offer ing the steaks and chops more imposing than the British navy. Mutton chops superb. Out a Ways LAKE SHORE DRIVE HOTEL— 181 Lakeshore Drive. The bonanza of the wealthy and polished Gold Coast. One THE CHICAGOAN PRESENTS Gifts, by Vernon C. Carpenter Cover The Perfect Gift Page 1 Intimate Chicago Views 2 Places to Go and Things to See 3 Cultural Index 4 Topics of the Town, by Martin J. Quigley 5 The Smoke Newsance 6 Chicago — Southern Exposure 7 If I May Say So, by Gene Markey. ... 8 Olfactory Nostalgia, by John V. A. Weaver 9 Christmas Carol, by Samuel Hoffenstein 10 X Marks Spot Where — , by Genevieve Forbes-Herrick 11 The Saving Race, by Joseph Fulling Fishman 12 Young Hemingway, by Samuel Putnam 13 Provisions for the Yuletray, with Prices 14 A Fantasy, by Nancy Naghton 15 A Studio Party, by Aladjalov 16 A Chicagoan in Palermo, by Paul Ernst 17 Dearborn Dream Book, by Hermina Selz 18 The Stage, by Charles Collins 19 Genevieve Tobin, by Carreno 20 The Cinema 21 Music — Particularly the Opera 22 Contract Bridge — Flagwaving 23 Books — About Washington 24 The Chicagoan Does Your Shopping. . . 25 of the very best. A high point in Chi cago civilization. THE DRAKE— Michigan Avenue at Lake- shore drive. Largest of the class hostel- ries. Celebrated, genial, and popular stopover place for celebrities. TUECUICAGOAN L'AIGLON— 22 East Ontario. An ex tremely competent French restaurant now in new and resplendent quarters. Din ing, dancing until 1 a. m. Private din ing rooms. Dinner $1.75 and $3. One of the best. MARINE DINING ROOM— Edge water Beach Hotel. Adequate and highly re spectable. Food and dancing. Nice people. SUNSET— 35th and Calumet. A black and tan sometimes set upon by federal snoopers and sometimes not. Well worth a call to find out. A most waggish club. MIDNIGHT FROLICS— Wabash at 22nd. A white and racuous blossom blooming until very, very late. Floor show. Vict uals. Informal as a plumbers' picnic. THE REX— State at 22nd. The 13-minute egg of Chicago cabarets. ANSONIA CLUB— Chicago Avenue at Michigan. Mike Fritzl's pleasure parlors with dancing, show, and eating to great applause. Any time of night. CHEZ PIERRE— Ontario and Fairbanks court. From 6 p. m. on merrymaking in a smart, somewhat bohemian atmosphere. Nice people. Adequate skits. Good place. KELLEY'S STABLES— 431 Rush. Harm less but ear-splitting. In point of lung power the most hilarious racket since the Armistice. ART ART INSTITUTE— The fortieth annual American exhibit of American painting and sculpture still on display. Japanese prints and English color prints. French prints and painting. ACKERMAN'S — English hunting prints, quaint and humorous. A fine exhibit of wax portraiture by Percy, a master in the medium. ALMCO GALLERIES— Lamps and antique furniture in a large, interesting display well worth seeing. ANDERSON'S— The portraiture of Frank O. Salisbury. FIELD MUSEUM— Pewter of the N. W. Ayer collection. Artifax from many and varied civilizations. CHESTER JOHNSON GALLERIES — Modern French impressionism with an exhibit of Leopold Survage. Chinese paintings incredibly delicate. Water colors done in Tahiti by R. L. Eskridge. M. O'BRIEN AND SONS— English and French furniture, antique. ALBERT ROULLIER GALLERIES— Etch ing from all periods. Lithographs by Marie Laurencin. NEW ARLIMUSC— Modernisms, princi pally home-grown, and concerned with Chicago. Interesting. nbpicr of the rfourn Dollar Monuments f\ SPIRIT of disturbing practicality is pervading City Hall. Mayor Thompson, seconded by Alderman John Toman, proposes the hewing out of street-level spaces around the City Hall structure to provide shopping rooms. A pleasing picture of aug mented municipal revenues is suggest ed. Also the City Hall authorities would have the hotel de ville do its part in maintaining the brilliance of the Randolph and Clark White Way. As part of this proposal even fur ther practical innovations are intro duced : The ground floor of the new library building would be a shopping mecca; likewise the austere facades of Federal Building would be handed over to Commerce. And, further still, the Chicago Avenue Water Tower would be carted away to make place for a revenue-produc ing apartment building. While these suggestions are all tempered with some reason we fear they are setting a precedent which may lead to alarming lengths. If the Commis sioners of Lincoln Park should seek to emulate the example of the municipal authorities we might one day find the Lincoln Statue in process of dismember ment to make room for a drink-more-coffee advertise ment; or, possibly, a rooms- to-let sign emblazoned upon the Small Animal House. However, we believe that objective practicality, how ever little it may heretofore have been accustomed to the ways of politics, should be encouraged. The sponsors of these proposals should not be told that Chicago of all places needs no further dollar sign adornments; that however pleasing may be the sight of Commerce in its robust manifestations there still should be left a few spots within the city limits which are not wholly dedicated to gainful purposes; that Place Vendome and Arc de Triomphe will be remembered when the Rue de la Paix will be forgotten about. ' arewe 11! lMONG the recent distinguished Seasonal Tragedy departures from the city was the re moval of Mr. Alphonse Capone whose business interests enabled him to antici pate the seasonal exodus to Florida. Chicago officialdom, particularly as represented by the constabulary, was never so cordial as in seeing Mr. Ca pone off. In fact, in the case of the Chief of Detectives, leave-taking be came so touching that this dignitary de clared that if Mr. Capone found Flori da so attractive as to cause him to abandon all plans for returning to Chi cago this would be perfectly lovely. But Mr. Capone will come back. Where else could he find a city of such indulgent hospitality? Public Entertainers HE public's discovery of football as a spectacle has created some very disturbing problems for university au thorities. And the end is nowhere in sight. The plan of the University of Michigan for placing two varsity teams in the field next season appears as an effort of the collegiate au thorities to defeat some of the principally objection' able features of the pub' lie's inordinate interest in college football. There is an old-fashioned idea that college athletics is intended primarily to pro mote the bodily welfare of the student body. That the athletes should become great public entertainers seems nowhere to have been contemplated. Under the present order a thoughtful parent has cause for worry over a boy who shows particular apti' tude for the game. 6 TUECUICAGOAN Ti Dramatic License HE latest dramatic picturisation of a segment of Chicago life is a dis turbing thing to contemplate. It is called, "The Racket," and it is being presented in a New York theatre to large, if not intelligently appreciative, audiences. The author is a former Chicago newspaperman, Mr. Barrett Cormack, and the play is sufficiently and accurately expressive of a certain phase of this great and wonderful Chi cago to leave no doubt that the author at times was very close to the works and that meanwhile he was possessed of excellent observatory faculties and also a retentive memory. "The Racket," with a group of rough-hewn characters from the police station, the lower levels of political life and the so-called boose-racket, tells a story that is interesting to the casual theatre patron but somewhat shocking to a person who is tempted to deliber ate on the actual circumstances which afforded the author's inspiration. We may be thankful that the play is intended as a play and nothing more because with no great modification in treatment it might have stood up stark ly as a piece of propaganda which would require an answer. And if any attempt were made to provide an answer to "The Racket" many persons of passingly important stations in Chi cago of today might be left in de cidedly embarrassing positions. The chief villain of "The Racket" is impersonated by one Scarsi whose pro totype one may easily call to mind, even without the suggestion of the name which the author employs. There is a police captain who is tolerant enough concerning any reasonable die- No force may bind, no gold may fetter The power sublime of newsprint letter Which all immune to villain pelf Doth serve, with no mean thought of self, tates but who has a very pronounced distaste for being ordered about by the chief of the racketeers. He is in no sense a reformer but just a good, square policeman. The state's attorney's of fice is head-over-heels in an unholy al liance with the chief racketeer. One of the latter 's most effective weapons of the moment is the knowledge he has that one of the assistant state's attor neys who was mysteriously killed was disposed of on the orders of his chief because "he knew too much." "The Racket" is advertising Chicago but in a way which will receive no en dorsement from the Association of Commerce. One might attempt to dis pose of it as a melodramatic thriller, far removed from the realistic. But as one sits in a theatre chair watching the unfolding of the play this disposition of it does not appear entirely feasible. There are entirely too many allusions and circumstances which strike close to facts which are pretty well known. To call down wrath upon the gloom Of noxious smoke and evil fume Which Callous Wealth hath vilely spun Betwixt God's people and His sun — "The Racket" as a play is headed for Chicago. The producer may be polite ly but sternly persuaded that it would not be a success here and it may never be disclosed. But if it is presented on the local boards it will be a force in stirring up the already growing senti ment to the effect that the smoke nuis ance is not the only thing in Chicago and Cook County that needs cleaning up. w, Cosmetics for Men ORD from Paris concerning the growing popularity of lipsticks for men and other masculine indulgence in cosmetics was recently chronicled by The Tribune so exhaustively that the treatment accorded the news story seemed to suggest a feeling of anxiety and apprehension on the part of the editors. We hope our impression is in correct because it would be distressing to feel that in addition to their other f TUECUICAGOAN 7 For howso black the smoke may spill The headline type is blacker still, And howso dark the soot and thick Yet darker is the rhetoric worries under the present Administra tion they fear a possible effeminising of the male portion of the local citizentry. The real mistake made, we feel, is that the story from Paris was inter preted as a fashion note instead of hav ing been placed in Dr. Evans' column where it belonged. T Judicial HE awful racket which issues from Washington in connection with the so-called oil trials is doubt lessly excellent material for popular agitation but the vast fuss which is be ing made about private detectives hav ing checked up on prospective jurors leaves anyone who is familiar with the processes of important litigations de cidedly unmoved. It is, of course, realised by persons who know that if the necessary funds Which ends at last a foul condition (See streamers first to tenth edition) Till heedless Wealth must needs confess A vicfry for the daily press! — F. C C are available no important jury case is undertaken without some information first being obtained about the individ uals who are to come up for selection for jury service. Otherwise, how are counsel going to be able to exercise in telligently the challenges to which their defendants are entitled under the law? And, although not quite so much is heard about it, the prosecution is regu larly quite as jealous as the defense in arming themselves with advance infor mation about prospective jurymen. These preliminary inquiries, we shall not deny, can and ofttimes do assume a character which is grossly outside the law, but the very fact of these inquiries having been made does not by any means drop the matter from the plane of the legitimate down to that of the illegitimate. The pother from Washington seems all to be about the fact of these in quiries having been made and not yet has any attention been addressed to the rather pertinent point of whether they have been within or without the law. While we do not wish to rob the newspapers or vast numbers of the pub lic of the huge enjoyment which the scandal is now yielding, we do seem to recall that somewhere in our laws there is an ancient provision which entitles a defendant to be considered innocent until he is proven guilty — at least in nocent of any specific wrong-doing un til it is proven that what he has been doing is wrong. N Hospitality IGHT clubs which are engaged in the business of selling their partons what they want do not usually seek to entertain police officers. To do so might be embarrassing to the officers if not to the management. But one night club recently deviated from this rule with satisfaction to itself and with no complaints from their guests. A group of police officers, with their day's work ended, were sitting at three o'clock in the morning enjoying the best the club had to offer when the clamor of the jazz was punctuated with the rat-tat of a machine gun, manned by an alert and determined group of what the newspapers have taught us to call bandits. The police officers had only to drop their hands from glasses to hips and the bandits found their attack answered. The obvious moral of this incident is that night club proprietors need not feel that their hospitality to visiting policemen is entirely wasted. —MARTIN J. QUIGLEY. ¦:;<iPi||^b.'!.^WWftS^9» '*W, , ^^ * ; m* ds%£ *¦* TUECUICAGOAN I F I MAY SAY SO Mr. Tunney Holds His Public Gene Tunney WITHIN our time there have been two fellows who, more than anyone else, have contrived to keep alive the legend that New York is a great little town. One of them is George M. Cohan; the other, O. O. Mclntyre. For nearly a quarter of a century Mr. Cohan has made a public gesture, through his plays and musical comedies, of tipping the old derby to New York; and for half that number of years Mr. Mclntyre has press- agented Manhattan across the broad ex panse of our land, through the medium of the newspapers in which his "New York Day by Day" column appears. The success of this column is one of the bright phenomena of American journalism. Mr. Mclntyre has actually created throughout the provinces a keen in terest in New York. In Chicago his column is a widely-read feature of the Herald-Examiner, and it is just as popular in Casper, Wyo. I have myself, often been interrogated by natives of such far-flung communities'' as Port Chester, N. Y., Battle Creek, Mich., and Bull Mountain, Colo., eagerly seeking to know whether I, as an itinerant writing guy, had ever encountered O. O. Mclntyre. My not unboastful confession of acquaintance with him has frequently proven an Open Sesame — even an Open Speak easy — in out-of-the-way corners of the country. No matter what their dialect, their opinion is ever the same: "I never miss a day reading Mclntyre's column. By golly, that's great stuff!" A mild indication of the success of "New York Day by Day" may be gleaned from the fact that twelve years ago, when O. O. Mclntyre began writing his column, he had but one paper on his list, and it paid him ten dollars a week. Today three hundred papers syndicate the column, and Mr. Mclntyre's income is two thousand dollars a week.* Five imitators have sprung up in the last few years, but none of them has approached within a mile of his popularity; and not only does the list of his syndicate papers increase steadily, but his annual stipend continues to mount. The answer is that his column isn't merely an array of paragraphs present ing the amiable gossip of Gotham. Mclntyre is an historian, chronicling in a literate and lively fashion the doings and un- doings of that vast, ever- changing panorama of colorful quick sand which is New York. He knows the town. He can write about the east side and the west side, Broadway or the Bronx; he can conjure up the ghosts of the old Bowery; he can present a picture of people who dress for dinner or people who have no dinner to dress for. And the secret of it all is that he writes about the gayety and gloom of Manhattan from the viewpoint of an outsider. Once upon a time Odd Mclntyre journeyed to New York from Plattsburg, Mo., and he still writes about New York from a small town angle. Though he is, in reality, the wisest of wise-guys, he never be trays it in the flavor of his column. The burden of his song is always: "Listen, folks, I'm a small-town fella, too, and just between us New York is the biggest hick town on the map." But his news letters are never lacking in a broad sympathy for the "hick town" whose historian he is. Life for this fortunate fellow, Mclntyre, has changed consid erably since the days when he was a long-necked yokel in Platts burg, Mo. Now he maintains a luxurious suite at the Ritz, and oc- pies it but part of the year while he is not wintering on the Riviera or sum mering in California. Lanvin, in Paris, makes his wife's clothes, and also his own, for he will have none of English tailors and their fulsome pantaloons. O. O. Mclntyre The Mclntyre trousers are as roomy as the tights of a circus acrobat. His sartorial interest, however, is concerned chiefly with clamorous patterns in shirts, ties, and velvet dressing-gowns, not to mention pajamas. Though I should mention pajamas. There is a gentleman whose collection of vivid- hued pajamas may someday grace the Metropolitan Museum. Or, possibly, the old Missouri state-house. For O. O. Mclntyre, "former Plattsburg boy," is close to being Missouri's favorite son. Nevertheless, despite popular legend, and this particular legend attains a veritable eminence of popularity in Chicago, not all famous New Yorkers hail from out-of-town. Young Mr. Tunney, the Heavyweight Champion of the World, was born within the peaceful precincts of old Greenwich Village. Nowadays he lives at the Bilt- more. In the past few weeks I have been seeing him here and there, enjoy ing in a quiet way, the fruits of his labors within the resin ring, and, if I may say so, he appears equally at ease in the wadded gloves of fistiana and the white gloves of fashion. Often he dines with friends at the Embassy, New York's newest and smartest club. (And it is really a club, a replica of the famous Embassy in London.) The other day Major Anthony Drexel Bid- die brought him to lunch at the Coffee House, where Tunney held forth with a dozen of the wittiest and most so phisticated writers, editors and publish ers in New York. And, as a more or less innocent bystander, I was pleased to note that whenever he talked, he had something to say. He may not be a popular champion in pool-room sport ing circles, but I believe that he is an heroic figure in the eyes of the more intelligent half of our populace. On the Sunday evening of the Author's League party when he stepped out on the stage, before an audience composed of nearly every renowned novelist, playwriter, poet, and illustrator in America, the cheering lasted for sev eral tumultuous minutes. Then George Creel appeared beside him. Looking out over the crowd, Tunney said: "Who are all these people?" "They are mostly writers," answered Creel, and added: "Why don't you write a book?" Whereupon Tunney replied: "It's bad enough for the public to have a champion who can read — but what would they do if they found he could write!" — GENE MARKEY. TUECUICAGOAN 9 Olfactory Nostalgia A Not Wholly Unfioetic Reminiscence Poetic Acceptances John Mansfield decides to attend the Annual Oyster Sufcfcer of the Sea Scouts. Oh, some are fond of turkey, and some are fond of quails, And some are all for eating of lobster, steak or snails, But oysters are the answer when an angry stomach wails At the Annual Oyster Supper of the Sea Scouts. Oh, some, they like their cider and some like whiskey neat, And many always tell you Holland gin is hard to beat, But I'll have oyster cocktail as the gastronomic treat At the Annual Oyster Supper of the Sea Scouts. Oh, a lad would go out walking with his zaney by his side, But wenching in the moonlight is a thing I've never tried; I prefer my oysters, escalloped, raw or fried At the Annual Oyster Supper of the Sea Scouts. — DONALD PLANT. HOW dear to my heart are the smells of my childhood! The blood of some may tingle at memories of sights and sounds out of those halcyon days, but my nostalgia is chiefly olfactory. Chicago's odors! My eyes mist when I recall the mingled steam and hot oil which ac companied the roar of wheels and the plunging of pistons in the old water- tower at Chicago Avenue! My nostrils quiver at the thought of the power-sta tion for the cable-car, the red brick atrocity which stood at the corner of Clark and "El-lum." Last spring I stood upon Knob Hill in San Francisco, awaiting the "dangety-dang-dang-dang- dangl" which would announce the ap proach of the comic little conveyance, last of its tribe, I fear. I stared down into the cable-slot, and up from it arose a sudden delicious pungency — tar and oakum, a keen, cutting scent which has carved recollections deep into my soul. The years fell away like costumes in a Shubert revue — and there I was, a little boy again, playing hookey from the Latin School for the purpose of lying upon the grating all afternoon and watching the wheels go 'round. But most delicious of those early aromas, was the blue hase of coffee- roasting, down at the old Rush Street Bridge. Going across in the carettes (do you remember those trackless horse-cars?) I would receive full in the nose a wave of heavy incense, that whispered of far-off lands, beyond un known seas, mysterious, provocative. What a finishing touch, too, that cof fee-redolence gave to the combined odor of chickens, vegetables, bananas and oranges from old South Water Desperate plight of wood-burning fireplace enthusiast. Street, tinged with the empyreuma floating from Mr. Kirk's institution for soaping the great American Family! Alas, alas! The rude bridge that arched the mud has been replaced by the grand monument to a super-pa triot's civic seal; coffee, apparently, is roasted no more; the clotted marts have gone the way of the puffed sleeve, the nickel schooner of suds, and the good fifteen-cent cigar. Even Mr. Kirk has turned sweet on us. Yes, something is left us from our youth. E'en now, of a panting August evening, the southwest wind wafts the message of the stockyards — that am- moniated balm from decaying hides and putrefying entrails, making the hair to stand on end and the flesh to crawl in a very ecstacy of nausea. The hand of the master is stilled, but the flavor lingers. And when the wind veers to the northeast, thirty seconds later, once more is worked the miracle of the thirty-degree temperature drop, the refreshing, stinging gift of the Lake breeze, singing of Michigan pines and dunes. But ah, as my reminiscences progress into the more sophisticated nosegays of my young manhood, associated prin cipally with food, my spirit limps for the days that will never return. The old Bismarck Gardens, over which hung a perpetual attar of Wursburger, pigs knuckles and sauerkraut! Haus- mann's inimitable paradise ior gour mets, at State and Division! The huge wassail-bowl of Mai-wein at Gallauer's Red Star Inn, shedding upon the spring air its strawberry-flavored per fume. . . . I cannot stand it! The drugstore cowboy and the wriggling sheba pol lute the Bismarck Gardens now; and Hausmann's has become one of those quick-hash joints in the white-tiled lav atory manner. . . . Say that the lads will go to those furtive haunts along the southern river bank, there to gussle perch fried in cotton-seed oil! Promise me that the old delightful fetors have not totally vanished! Or . . . must I chant my dirge: "All, all are gone, the old familiar stenches!"? — JOHN V. A. WEAVER. 10 TUECUICAGOAN ¦\\< Cfjristma* Carol FOR SEVEN SAXOPHONES AND THREE DRUMS j|9 OW wanes the year and •J'A Christmas comes, The time to buy the kiddies drums; The time with merry fancies rife, And thoughts of what to get the wife ; When maidens walk beneath the stars And wonder if he smokes cigars; When housewives hurry through their chores To scrimmage in department stores, And find, at last, through many quests, The latest thing in leather vests. Sweet season, foe to melancholy. When hallboys hang suspicious holly And creditors relax and seem No worse than fairly sour cream — Come, trift with me through snow and sleet. On ponderously-rubbered feet, From traffic co£ to traffic cofr, And dizzy sho£ to dizzy sho&, To buy a something fine and fair That nobody can use or wear. Delightful festival, that fills My house with strangers, mind with bills, My every precious inch of sfaace With cards from friends I dare not face; Whose loves my frail digestion wreck And hang new mufflers round my neck; Whose overflowing kindness £lies My cynic soul with scarlet ties; My dour, malefic spirit damns With wide and fancy mono grams, Shake out your silver horn of cheer, And then, sweet month, getouta Getouta here, dear season, go And try it on the Eskimo; Go, make the heathen Siamese Sweat tinsel on their Christmas trees, Or tell the surly Kurd he must Look bright and Babbitish or bust, Or tell the placid Hindoo he Is loved by all humanity, And though he seems a bit bereft Must turn whatever cheek is lef*- Go, to the mart's fantastic marge With hats too small and shirts too large, Through island, continent and isthmus With seventy kinds of merry Christmas, With all varieties of cheer — But, by my sock, getouta here! — Samuel Hoffenstein. TUECUICAGOAN n X Marks Spot Where— 1. The North Side One Wise Man His Story Y sister hasn't spoken to me since the funeral and really it wasn't altogether my fault. People shouldn't instill a belief in Santa Claus in the minds of their progeny. That was where my sister was wrong. Leonie would have been far better off if she had known the truth from the start. And there wouldn't have been any need for a funeral during the holidays. How Leonie attained the age of seven years without serious accidents having warped her young life had always been more or less of a mystery to me. Anyway, on her seventh birthday, I determined that Leonie should know the truth. I approached her with that guileless manner par ticular to bachelor uncles. My ap proaches to the green have always been rather poor but when Leonie put aside her glass of gin untasted and threw a first edition of Hemingway across the room, I felt instinctively that I was in for a bad time of it. "Look here, Leonie," I began, "you don't actually believe that old Santa Claus myth?" Leonie smiled and that always was a bad sign. "Don't be silly, Uncle; it's not a myth. Santy's a mister." That tried my patience a little but I continued, "Come now, Leonie, I'm really talking seriously about this matter." Again the smile. "Well, you should know better Unkie; it's not considered correct to be serious with juveniles. Now Freud says . ." I raised my hand at that outburst. *Td rather not hear any more about it" Leonie reached for the glass of gin. "Stealing Moran and Macks' stuff, are you? Shame, shame, Unkie!!" I began toying with a nearby paper weight but I was determined to see my mission through. "Listen here, Leonie. There isn't any Santa Claus. Under stand? He's just papa, you know, like the Easter Bunny and, and . . the devil." Leonie seemed to be quite unmoved by this sweeping contradiction and she went about finishing the last of her gin. Then she spoke, "Bunk, Unkie, just plain unmitigated bunk! If there isn't any Santa Claus, how do you account for that Ruth Elder business?" — ED B. GRAHAM. CHICAGO, to me, is more than a City Beautiful Plan. It is more than a series of tall buildings and wide parks and deep driveways. It is more than an accumulation of figures and statistics. Chicago, to me, is a record of reportorial rendezvous. It is a marvel ous murder map; an intertwining of interviews; a chart of celebrated cere monies. Why, right on this very corner, lit tle Lottie Leader shot it out with her gentleman friend. Down that alley the reporters and photographers chased an elusive prince. Frisky Fred, the bootlegger, directed a carnival of ma chine guns in that vacant lot. So, if you come for a ride on my rubber-neck wagon, you will skip past the Public Library, the Art Institute and the Wrigley Building so fast you'll hardly know they were in the road. But you'll stop at cisterns in which murdered men were found. You'll climb up four flights to the apartment of a divorcee. You'll have an alphabet filled with one letter — the letter "X," always marking the spot where the body fell. If you want to learn goofy geogra phy, get aboard the chariot for a pil grimage. Let's make it the north side today. We start from the loop, over at the La Salle Street depot. The Century is just pulling out. There is a glam orous mosaic of pekes and princes and press agents, for the daily dozen of Hollywood ladies and gentlemen are departing for New York. But they pause long enough to pose — and to admire Chicago's sky-line. Up the drive we go, past an impos ing mansion, with its secret service man on guard at the portal. We look again; yes, the long, narrow red carpet is laid from the gutter to the threshold. That carpet means that once more the mistress of the house has opened her drawing room to a charity card party, a lecture, a meeting. And it means, too, that the women will come in throngs, to hear the lecture — or to say they have been in the home of Mrs. Rockefeller McCormick. We turn west, a few blocks, then back a few. A tall, elongated build ing rises. Statistics say that this is the Illinois Woman's Athletic club, one of the finest club houses in the country. We remember it most vividly for its roof garden swimming pool, where Queen Marie and her royal Roumanian poodle took a swim, the while an alert photographer jockeyed for position on the fire escape outside. Back on the Drive once more, we pass the Drake. There are many points of interest about this tavern. To us, however, it means a Cardinal and a bumble bee. It was like this. At the time of the Eucharistic Con gress, the Drake was the home of the Cardinals from across the water. One delightful prelate was endeavoring to order breakfast one morning, and he couldn't make the waiter understand his English. The ecclesiastic wanted 12 TUECUICAGOAN Russophiles! some honey for his rolls. He tried phonetics; he tried French and Polish and German. He tried his English. Then, with a twinkle in his eye, he pursed up his mouth and began to bnzz for all he was worth. The sound was international. He got his dish of honey. Up a few blocks to a number which always makes me mad. For it was here that a pair of ugly-tempered "cheetahs" tried to bite butlers, police men, pedestrians and, of course, re porters. I hate to pass that house. Through the park, and up to the Belmont hotel. That hostelry connotes Charlie Chaplin to the newspaper memory. For Charlie Chaplin, in the midst of the swirl of his domestic af fairs, slipped into town from the West one evening — I think the train was called "The Missionary" — and fled to the Belmont hotel. Right next door, in the third floor apartment that once housed Carter Harrison, lives one of the most genial men in the world to interview, George E. Brennan. We're near Diversey boulevard now. In that apartment hotel lived Hymie Weiss, at the time he was shot down and killed. Just a few blocks away "Schemer" Drucci had a flat. He was killed, too, you know. Up around Wilson avenue, now. There's an auto salesroom. Remem ber the pretty girl who was held up and robbed? We got her picture pos ing at the wheel of the automobile, re member? This is the jewelry store where the police nabbed a stick-up man and discovered him to be a notori ous ex - convict. If there isn't the flat building where Hirschie Miller lived once. That's the building that was bombed. How uncomfortable w e felt that afternoon, sitting in that living room, with a policeman standing guard, in case an other bomb should be tossed. It's only a few blocks away that Mr. Tesmer was shot down, as he was parking his car in his garage, an event not unrelated to the present prosperity of the public places. Plod along north and you come to the Sovereign hotel. That may mean "splash party" to the society column. But to me it means a dog and a duchess. The duchess and the dog went first to the Blackstone. There they told her that her pet would receive the best of care, but he couldn't mount above the baggage room. The duchess said the dog went where she did. The hotel clerk stood his ground. So the duchess and the dog piled into a taxi and went shopping for an inn where a canine might be accorded guest privi leges. They found the Sovereign. There, all that spring afternoon, the duchess sat and wrote her memoirs, while a bored bell-hop took the dog for a promenade, and a cordon of re porters formed a paper and pencil bar ricade about the poodle. And on north, up to the stretch of lake front in back of Calvary, a favor ite place for suicide, by the way. And on — but we're almost out of bounds. Just around the bend from Calvary lives Gene Markey, and — but that's Evanston and our territory's Chicago. — GENEVIEVE FORBES-HERRICK. The Saving Race A Holiday Disclosure THE busiest time of the year for bank presidents is the hour be tween eleven and twelve o'clock on Christmas night. At the former hour, just when other people (who have in all probability gotten up as early as five o'clock in the morning to see what Santa Claus has brought them) are thinking of going to bed, bank presi dents everywhere, from New York to San Francisco, are leaving the warm comfort of their homes for their un attractive offices. Everything is activity on their arrival at the bank. The officers and clerks are all assembled, and there is in the air a tense nervousness like that of zero hour in the trenches. No one talks above a whisper and every minute or so anxious glances are directed toward the clock. Five after eleven, then ten, then fifteen and half-past. It does seem as though twelve will never come. "You're sure you have it?" the president inquires anxiously, imme diately upon his arrival. The assistant nods affirmatively, saying in a low whisper which trembles in spite of him self, "Yes, sir, in the back room. It's a beauty too, with the strings in it all ready for use." They go in the back room and look. Surely enough, there it is, just as the assistant had said. The president is reassured. Taking a firm grip on the strings, he assumes the crouching attitude of a professional runner. He is nervous in spite of himself. So much is at stake. Suppose his nervousness should make him late! Suppose the Second National should beat them to it! Suppose A sharp report and the president springs forward. In less than a second he reaches the outside of the bank. Five seconds more, five seconds of frantic fingering, of heart-breaking suspense, of nervous, quivering agony. Time and again the strings threaten to slip through his twitching fingers, only to be grasped more firmly until, after what seems an eternity, they are securely tied around the entrance col' umn. A hundred stop watches snap and a roar of applause goes up from the employes who have rushed out after him. For there, firmly tied to the pillar, and less than ten seconds after the 1927 Christmas has gone, is the sign, "Start That 1928 Christmas Fund Now." — JOSEPH FULLING FISHMAN. TUECUICAGOAN 13 CHICAGOAN/ Young Hemingway OUT in Oak Park, some where to the west of Cicero, there dwells a family known as the Hemingways. They are the Hemingways of Oak Park. In other words, the Oa\ Par\ Hem ingways. That appears to say it all. The Hemingways without the Oak Park would be quite sufficiently impres sive, but Oak Park without the Hemingways — without, indeed, a number of Hem ingways, known variously as Smith, Brown, Jones, et al — would be quite unthinkable. But the Hemingways of Oak Park. Or the Oa\ Par\ Hemingways — Mr. Hemingway does something, I believe, in "the city," that is, in Chicago. Mrs. Hemingway belongs to the Nineteenth Century Club — picture, if you can, an Oak Park without a Nineteenth Century Club! Just supposing it had a Twentieth Century Club! Anyway — Mr. Hemingway reads the Chicago Tribune every morning and the Chicago Evening Post every night, and Mrs. Hemingway reads Fanny Butcher every Saturday morning, as do the other ladies of the Nineteenth Cen tury Club — in fact, they discuss Miss Butcher's book-reviews at their fort nightly meetings, and if Miss Butcher condemns a particular book, or even frowns at it — well, that settles it for that book; it simply does not find its way on to the best reading-tables in Oak Park, and when a book does not find its way on to the best reading tables in Oak Park — but after all, we're not Gertrude Stein. So much for the elder Hemingways. Some years ago, not so very many, there used to be a "young Hemingway." Like the "Hemingways of Oak Park" or "the Oak Park Hemingways," that "young Hemingway" is enough. When a lad in Oak Park is referred to as "young So-and-So," it means there's Ernest Hemingway something wrong. For to be young in Oak Park, it seems, is to be — tant soit peu, as the French say — something or other. It just isn't done, that's all. And so, "young Hemingway" meant that young Hemingway was — not "wild," exactly, for how could one be wild in a Respectable Suburb? Still — Young Hemingway liked to hunt and fish. And he liked guns — not some thing nice and Fauntleroyish, like pop guns or air-rifles, but big he-man weap ons, like the old-fashioned six-shooter. His tastes, the truth is, were almost low, if you know what I mean. Now, if he had been born across the line, in Cicero — . But in Oak Park — . Not only that, he dreamed of bull-fights, and talked about 'em — admitted he would like to see one, and darned if he wouldn't see one before he died. And if they didn't stop cutting down all the woods and polluting the trout streams — The scene shifts rapidly, as our romancers used to remark to the terrasse of the Cafe des Deux Magots. Yes, we're in Paris now. If I must de scribe the Deux Magots for you, possibly I can best do it in the words of the Young Lady from Chicago. "The Deux Magots," the Young Lady expounded, by way of differentiating it from the Doem, "is fre quented by persons who like Maeterlinck." Personally, I think she was a trifle unfair. Occasion ally, despite the ominous proximity of the Ecole des Beaux'Arts, you will find persons there who do not like Maeterlinck. It was there I found Ernest Hem' ingway. And the Sun was not rising; it was setting, over the spires of Saint- Germain-des-Pres across the way, unless I've got my di rections all mixed up, which I probably have. To put the matter otherwise, it was what is now known, to the interna tional palate, as I'heure du cocktail (there was a time when it was aper itifs). And I found Ernest Heming way, a good American hobo's growth of beard on his face, consuming a — black coffee! "Yes," he confided to me, over our second cafe naturel, "it was their chop ping down the woods and dirtying up all the good streams that made me do it—" "Ah," I chortled, reaching for an invisible notebook, "so that was what changed the Course of American Liter ature — ?" "Cut it^ admonished Mr. Heming way, "I haven't stirred up any cyclone yet—" "But you produced the Torrents of Spring — " "Oh," was his comment, "that." "And did you expect," I persisted, "to find virgin forests over here?" "At least," said Mr. Hemingway, "I 14 TUECUICAGOAN found one thing — skiing. Listen," as he bit into a brioche. "Know what skiing is? It's the nearest thing to heaven. It's a combination of flying and—" But quotation must cease. "At any rate, when I go broke, I have something to fall back on. I can always give boxing or skiing lessons. — And that kid of mine! Say, you ought to see him. When he went back to Oak Park recently, to visit his grand parents, they thought they would tickle him to death by presenting him with an air-rifle. They didn't know that he had slept on my six-shooter ever since he was two years old — refuses to go to sleep at night without it. Now, when I was in the Italian army — " Something was said of Literature. "Say, do you know, it's a funny thing. My family never reads any thing but Fanny Butcher, and so, when Fanny said The Sun Also Rises might better never have been written — Yes, the Nineteenth Century Club discussed it and agreed with Fanny. Mother stayed away from the meeting." SAMUEL PUTNAM. Provisions For the Yuletray '/OING NOEL" — enjoins a pious O Christmas anthem "Sing Noel." It is a good idea. Nothing startling about it, but wholesome and happy, and a custom to be fostered. Continuing into the economics of carol singing, I list genuine items from the shelves of Chicago's most exclusive — though by no means unapproachable — liquor merchant. If prices herewith given are somewhat at variance with prices asked by other caterers, then the discrepancy may be laid to fluctuations occurring on a booming market, or — more ominously — to changes in chem ical content. Prices here quoted are on the "McCoy," ie. : the unadulter ated, imported article. Moreover, gen tlemen in the business report an unprecedented Christmas rush. De scription and quotations follow: Scotch — $13? a Case Spey Royal. Sandy McDonald. Peter Dawson. (All 40 ounce bottles in the Canadian Commission wrappers.) Scotch (Not Wrapped, 26 Oz.) — $100 Johnny Walker, Black Label. Teacher's Highland Cream. John Haig. Sandy Mac. Dewar's Ne Plus Ultra. Argyle Miniatures. Canadian Bourbon — $115 Brookhill. Old Squire. Walker — pints, quarts and miniatures. Canadian Rye — $100 Carstair's. Corby's Gin— $100 Booth's Old Tom. Gordon's Frosted. Gilbey's. House of Lord's Champagne — $120 Clicquot Yellow Label. Mumm's Extra Dry. Piper Heidsieck '14. Vermouth — $9? Noilly Prat. Martini and Rossi. Cognac — $110 Hennessey, Three Star. Frapin. Martell. Liqueurs— $9? to $12? Apricot Brandy. Blackberry Brandy. Cherry Brandy. Curacoa Orange. Creme de Cacoa. Creme de Menthe. Benedictine. Cointreau Triple Sec. Chartreuse Yellow and Green. Wines— $75 to $125 Sauterne. Chauvenet, Sparkling Red Cap. Chateau Yquem. Gilbey's Port. Gilbey's Sherry. Duff Gordon Port. St. Julian Claret. Specials Burke's Irish Whiskey— full 40 oz, $135 Bacardi Rum 100 Individual portions in less than half case lots are, of course, higher. De liveries are made punctually twice a day*an the Loop. Suburban service is cheerfully arranged. Novelty liquer packages are available for delightful Christmas tokens. Sing Noel, gentle men, sing Noel. — JAMES. ? "Fixed" traffic tickets are costing the city $600,000 annually, says Judge Ol son. And writing is such a painful operation for most policemen. ? What the United States needs is better lawyers, according to Silas H. Strawn. Or more citizens who can keep out of trouble. Prep School TUECUICAGOAN 15 Ships That Pass A Chicagoenne Muses Between Dances "Just browsing, Miss, thank you." Conversation F aithfully Recorded SHE: Speaking of realism, my dear, don't you think it's practicably impossible for a person to write about a thing unless she's actually gone through the experience herself, I mean that don't you absolutely think a person has to be thrilled to the hip with any thing before she can crash down with it in print! HE: What makes you think so? SHE: Well, my dear, speaking of best-sellers, I've just finished a book that simply whupped me to a nub, it was so absolutely realistic, I mean it was one of those simply devastating novels reeling with S. A. that just outstripped a person's imagination, only can you imagine, my dear, it was written by an old maid and I can't conceive of an old maid having such perfectly hot experiences. Can you? HE: What makes you say so? SHE: Well, my dear, speaking of dead give-aways, this book is like nothing in the world, I mean it really is like nothing you have ever read about and I can't imagine even an old maid actually perpetrating such a book without having access to some experi ences. Can you? HE : Just how do you mean? SHE: Only that actually, my dear, speaking of rare affairs, this book doesn't skip a thing because what I mean is that it not only crashes through with everything but you abso lutely have to be on to it to get it. Can you imaginel HE: Just what do you mean! — SARA HAARDT. THE orchestra started in again — and the group at the corner table abandoned demi-tasse and cigarette for the dance floor. The girl in the simple black chiffon glided off with a new partner. "Do you know the name of this piece?" he asked of the girl as they wove rhythmically in and out. "It's 'Ships That Pass in the Night' from the Princeton musical comedy of last year. I first heard it on the boat going over last summer." <<0 HIPS That Pass in the Night"— O would she ever forget its haunt ing minor melody — the soft syncopation of its broken chords ... Its wistful theme seemed symbolic of those days abroad. The chance encounters. The sudden contacts with fascinating peo ple that lasted a moment — an hour — or a day. People with whom one ex changed impressions, opinions, and in one or two cases, confidences, even. Interesting people like the dark-eyed boy on the Paris boat train, returning to Alsace after three years in a Michi gan automobile factory. How he would impress the folks back home with his "American" clothes. And how he had impressed her with his laconic account of his service in the Zouaves before he came to America. She could see him. Dark, handsome, in the pictur esque garb of the desert riders — sweep ing along through the stinging sand — the searching sun of Africa on his head. And back in Detroit, he was probably only "that frog mechanic." At the Gare St. Lazare, with a bow, he had disappeared in the crowd. . . . Phil Billingham — with whom she had tangoed at the Kursaal in Mon- treux to the weird strains of a Hun garian stringed orchestra. Phil who tangoed so expertly — yet who told her as they strolled back to the hotel that he had temporarily given up college lecturing to complete his first book. "What manner of novel, Philip, some thing to reclaim Mayfair for the English?" she had asked. And he, a bit bashfully, almost shamefacedly, "Well, really, it isn't a novel — it's just a book on the Civil War in War wickshire — a sort of textbook — rather." Odd, these Englishmen — to be able to compose historical treatises and yet find time to learn the tango. In the morning he was off for England with his "mater" and she for Interlaken. Would their paths ever cross again, she wondered! The young Princeton senior she met up on the Normandy coast — the same lad who had been thrust into the lime light last winter because of the favor a visiting Princess had shown for him. (Even Princesses may have good taste, so it seems.) She hadn't immediately made reference to the royal episode when she met him. Consequently, he had liked her, been grateful for her tact. And she? She couldn't forget his delightful sense of humor or how blue his eyes that afternoon as they sat by the sea — lazily watching small fishing boats roll home — red sails dark against the azure of the Bay And Tony — delightfully naive, boy ishly blond. Twinkling-eyed Tony, down "on a holiday" at Torquay be fore resuming his studies at Dulwich. Tony who discussed British Law and American "necking" with equal aplomb while a mid- August moon sil vered the dark rocks of the Devon shire coast where they walked A Heidelberg rathskeller resounding to student singing. A stern-browed youth, fresh saber cut across his cheek — a cap with his "corporation" colors jauntily set on his handsome head — and the card he sent her, laboriously penned in English FLEETING glimpses. Personalities never to be encountered again. And here she was, back in the same "smart" Chicago dining place. Back with the same crowd she had known all her life. Most of them married now. Yes, she was the only single one at the table, unless perhaps, her present partner. (It looked like Connie's match-making mood.) Why were they always trying to marry her off? Twenty-three wasn't old. This chap wasn't bad looking — but he probably got that attractive tan on an Illinois golf course — not under a desert sun. Europe to him would be Monte Carlo in the winter — Deauville in the sum mer — where he would meet others of his kind that he had just said "Good- 16 TUECUICAGOAN bye" to in Palm Beach or Bar Harbor. About as romantic and imaginative as a potato. Well, she wouldn't play up to him. He didn't look like the "type of "ship that would pass in the night" — not this lad. No, with a little en couragement, he'd probably anchor at her hearthstone all winter. "Well, how do you like him, dear?" (Connie's inevitable opening.) But before she could answer, Connie con tinued: "He is going back to Peru tonight — construction engineer, bridges or dams or something. Bill seems to think he's a wonder, but personally, these big strong silent men from the the great outdoors are better in the movies. They're too dull for dinner parties There's the music again. Come on, dear. It's the last dance and I have it with him." .... "back to Peru" .... "bridge building in the Andes" .... bronzed by the sun of the Equator . . . . soothed by the silence of starry nights under a southern sky .... Romance .... Glamour .... and he was leaving tonight at mid-night! "All my ships are drifting away, And as they fade from sight, Through tears, I see — Ton drift away from me — Lt^e the ships that pass in the night." — NANCY NAGHTON. Anecdote Intimate Retrospect THERE'S a gruesome, but extreme ly interesting story going the rounds in Chicago of late, which I herewith repeat. I do not vouch for its truth or accuracy. Sometime during the last half of the nineteenth century, a certain rich Chi cago man was making out his will. Not caring to do anything handsome for the city where he had made his for tune, he decided to make his wife and daughters the sole beneficiaries. His attorney suggested that it was customary to name a residuary legatee, in case the beneficiaries died first or left no issue, but the old man refused to consider the possibility of such an event. Finally, however, after much argument, he instructed the lawyer to write his own ticket, saying that as such a thing just couldn't happen, he didn't care what was put in the will, and the canny lawyer inserted a library endowment. The old gentleman sailed for Europe soon after the will had been drawn up, to pay a visit to his family there, and on the ship returning to America, he died. The captain of the boat was about to bury the body at sea, when a young Chicago man went to him and remon strated, telling him that the dead man had been very rich and very prominent in the middle west, and that there might be trouble if his body were thus disposed of. "But," said the distracted captain, "what am I to do? The ship has no provision for carrying corpses — no space, no ice, no nothing." "Never mind," said the young man, "you must find some way to take the body to New York, and after that I'll attend to it." After some moments, the captain's face brightened. "Aha," quoth he. "I have it. In the cargo there is a large shipment of sherry, in casks. We can double up the body and put it in a cask, where it will be preserved until we land." This was done, and upon arriving in New York the young man shipped the cask to Chicago, in care of two long time friends of the dead man, and they, in turn, without opening the cask or changing it for a casket, sent it out to Graceland where it was buried. And today, strangely enough, thanks to the wise lawyer's wise precaution, the Newberry library in Chicago stands as a monument to the rich old gentleman — or at least, so it is the story goes. — CARIK. Stuidi Parr: An imha\ to recite is tended o too ofte TUECUICAGOAN 17 Expose' An Unfinished de Monvel BERNARD BOUTET DE MON- VEL'S recent visit to Chicago has brought out an amusing tale that links this city to the elder Boutet de Monvel, and to the art history of the world in a delightfully personal manner. It seems that some twenty-five years ago, Boutet de Monvel, Pere, came to Chicago commissioned to paint three of the young hopefuls here — Graham Aldis, the late Emmons Blaine, Jr. , and one other. Accustomed to doing his work in the midst of peaceful surroundings, Boutet de Monvel found himself quite at sea when dealing with three lively — and occasionally naughty little boys, and after some fifteen sittings with Master Aldis, whose present placidity and poise seem to have been missing from his earlier makeup, the artist packed up his belongings and returned to his quiet home in France, there to recover his erstwhile calm. Alas, we are told that his trip brought on a nervous break down, the results of which were so serious that his work at Doremy could never be finished — apparently the goings on of three little Chicago boys lost some of the art treasures of the world to posterity. — T. S. G. A Chicagoan in Palermo Lightens the Tedium of Travel /<q UNNY SICILY" is purely a nice O figure of speech as some are find ing who came here for the winter equipped only with optimistic light weight wardrobes. Flowers bloom, oranges and olives grow, and nature is fair; but somehow it is still a matter of red, white or blue flannels to thwart the chill that descends with the sun. Palermo is especially cool. Lying in a great cup which faces directly north with the mountains ringed behind it like a gigantic half curled finger, Pal ermo catches the brisk north breezes and cuddles them lovingly. The result is that not a few people seeing Sicily for the first time feel distinctly cheated. Like the resolute lady next door who migrated from upper Sheridan Road — she carries a little patent thermometer and whenever it registers less than sixty she takes it up with the hotel manager. In spite of its climate, however, Palermo is the pride and joy of Sicily. It is the main sea port; it is the biggest city — about three hundred thousand; and it is the island shopping center. One can buy a pair of South State Street shoes there for as little as four teen dollars. Palermo has one virtue, in common with all Sicilian towns, that Chicago might do well to copy: Their build ings match their dust, following the good old principle of selecting a vest to match the dinner. Old wooden doors, four foot window ledges, odd street corners, are piled with dust cen turies thick; but it all looks clean and neat because it is impossible to discern where the buildings end and the dust begins. How about petitioning Big Bill to pass an ordinance compelling Chicago to paint itself a delicate soft coal tint? The Via Maqueda is Palermo's State Street; and its Madison Ave. is the Corso Vittorio Emanuele. Of the two streets the Via Maqueda is the most important. This is a fine stately ave nue about twenty feet from curb to curb, with vast sidewalks over four feet broad. The Corso Vittorio Emanuele is nearly as magnificent. But the pride of Palermo is the Via Roma, so wide that it permits two narrow gauge street car tracks to meander down the center, with room at the sides for autos to pass! Provided, of course, that nothing is parked at the curbs. Via Roma is almost as wide as Rush Street. The 18 TUECUICAGOAN Dearborn Dream Book Second Edition //• your rest is ripped asunder by (i) a vision of the gentleman on the upper deck who absent-mindedly essayed a seventh- inning stretch, (2) an imperishable recol lection of that personally-conducted visit to the "realm of real music-lovers" at Orchestra Hall, (3) a nightmare in which one of the pitiless ly publicized unfortunates of the Art Institute rebels against inspection and gives ipay to instinct — turn over and sleep on in serene assurance of normality. other streets, however, are not so gen erously proportioned. The average lane in old Palermo is about six feet from building wall to building wall, crooked as a Palermo Bay boatman; and the street is the sidewalk and vice versa. Save for a few Greek ruins which may be seen at Syracuse and Girgenti, Palermo is representative of Sicily and has within its confines nearly every type of Sicilian tourist attraction. Messina does not count at all. De stroyed by the recent earthquake, it is being rebuilt on ultra modern lines, and is about as typically Italian as Evanston or Oak Park. The other cities each have some specialty, how ever. Thus, to quote a brother visitor, Catania has some swell catacombs, and Syracuse is noted for its corpses and candied fruit. And there is the inevitable Etna. There seems to be a standard cus tom in climbing Mt. Etna. There are two recognized craters : Etna, over ten thousand feet up, and Monti Rossi, which is a miniature Etna with nearly all the attractions, but which is only three thousand feet high. The thing to do is to get outfitted with stout shoes, pack, guide and mule, face reso lutely the distressing fact that one must arise at two-thirty for the ascent to Etna's summit, point a grim jaw toward the snow covered top — then weaken and trudge up little Monti Rossi in stead. And now Taormina, the jewel of Sicily. Here Alphonse of Spain comes occasionally, to the delight of the local photographers. Here the Kaiser settled in a villa by the sea. There is not a great deal in the way of sightseeing at tractions — a Greek theatre, an old pic ture or two, a few mosaics. But for a place to lay over for a few days Taormina is unbeatable. My front yard in Taormina is the blue Mediterranean, a thousand feet straight down to the double scallop of the shore line. My back yard is a Civic Opera mountain climbing a thousand feet straight up to a little old town where the clouds knock your hat off if you don't take care. As I write I can see the sun setting over Etna, turning the old tyrant into a cone of blood and amethyst. The low flung clouds above the peak are so smoothly banked and massive that it is like look ing up at the bottom of some golden ocean. As a rule I don't care much for sunsets, fried egg or otherwise. But sunset on Etna! Below my balcony two dark eyed Sicilian beauties, picturesque in their modern mode, stand on the terrace and gaze out at the glory of the sky. Non chalant gentlemen in olive uniforms and black shirts stroll up and down the one main street. Lights begin to pop up. Far below and off to the west, on a long spit of rock that reminds one of the Municipal Pier at night, the lights of a beach colony string out into a necklace. But the scene ends on a lower note. One more illusion prone in the dust. A rug is shaken vigorously over the edge of the balcony next to mine. It happens that my two picturesque, dark eyed Sicilian beauties are directly un derneath. A cloud of dust envelops them. "Don't you just love that!" says one of the dark eyed Sicilian beauties in dignantly — the one who lives on Wil son Avenue. — PAUL ERNST ? William Wrigley, Jr., was a soap salesman in Philadelphia before coming to Chicago, where he demonstrated that people would rather chew gum than buy soap. ? Richard Bennett was night clerk at the old Revere House in North Clark street. ? James P. Bickett, news editor of the Chicago Evening American, came to town from Bloomington, 111., and got a job as a cub reporter on the City Press Association. ? Leigh Reilly, the book publisher, was city editor of the old Chicago Times Herald. ? Guy Cramer was an actor and played with James A. Heme in Shore Acres at the old McVicker's Theatre. ? Carter H. Harrison was one of the editors of the old Chicago Times. TUECUICAGOAN 19 T HE month before Christmas is always a dull phase of Chicago's stage calendar. During this period first-nighters find little opportunity to in dulge their habit (or their vice) and fretfully mark time, waiting for the deluge of premieres that comes with the holidays. Denied the enjoyment of their nocturnal hobby, they often be come frantic and are inclined to dis pute the statistics which prove that this is the third largest city in the world. Often, in desperation, they go to the opera. A sociologist should be . interested in the fact that the languid theatrical De cember through which Chicago is pass ing has been marked by alarms and excursions of startling character among the local gun-men. Some strange fer ment has been seething among the guilds of the underworld; and press and police have been highly excited by its symptoms. Now, since it is notorious that the first-nighters of Chicago are copiously recruited from the alky kings, moon shine princes, beer barons, "muscle tnen," "hoisters" and "fences" who compose the aristocracy of our racket eers, the connection between the lack of new plays and the threatened outbreak of gang warfare seems apparent. De prived of their innocent amusement, unable to air their fine linen and ex hibit their fair women at the theater as usual, "the boys" have been getting bored. Their ennui has aroused the itch to start something. So they have been nagging at one another, brooding over old hostilities. Austere and formal criminologists may reject this theory of the relation between a famine of plays and a harv est of outlawry; they may even pro nounce it utterly fanciful. But before they discard it utterly they should take a course in Chicago first-nighting. Let them study the various types of faces turned so expectantly toward the foot lights; let them note how sinister and forbidding the composite picture is. Here they will find, with surprising frequency, the ophidian eye and the saurian chin; the stare of the hawk and the grin of the fox; the muzzle, the snout and the jowl. A Revue to the Rescue 44 A NIGHT IN SPAIN" came to i\ the Four Cohans in the emerg ency, and peace was restored, for a ^i^^t s>. mm a ^^ Ymm Girls. They are physically £ I A^ y^ f i /V g L. gorgeous, and their acro- i m # f~j \ I m V xJ I batic tricks and rhythmic maneuvers are fascinating. Fretful First'Nighters while, among our Corsican clans. This is the kind of show that always takes Chicago's mind off its troubles — a big, bold, blatant Winter Garden revue, staged with a maximum of energy and a minimum of taste. The city has a robust appetite for this sort of thing, and "A Night in Spain" is a worthy representative of its species. Its principal entertainers are casuals of the revues and vaudeville circuits, of no special importance. Ted Healy used to have individuality, but now he imitates the weaker moments of Al Jolson. Phil Baker is merely a chubby wise-cracker plus an almost useless ac cordion. Marion Harris is a pleasant, presentable jazz crooner, but nothing more. The most effective performer of the troupe is the mysterious fellow who sits in an upper box and talks back to Baker with the expression of a frigid finnan-haddie. He is a notable spe cialist in the dumb-bell wit of the streets. His name is Silvers and his humor is brazen. Perched rigidly in a box seat, he can evoke a laugh with a word, while Mr. Healy, given the freedom of the stage, scores his points chiefly by assault and battery upon his assistants, and rises to his greatest climax by kicking a lady violently in the callipygian area. The true stars of "A Night in Spain" are the Gertrude Hoffman 'Yes, Al, the cuisine here is infinitely superior to the Athletic Club's." They reflect the exotic im agination and athletic grace of their manageress, whose technique of the ballet has always been picturesque and unorthodox. In one of these numbers Miss Hoffman has daringly revived the ancient and sinful nautch dance, with results so amusing that one can forgive the gross sexualism of these oriental contortions. The Hoffman Girls are pagan, in a Carth aginian rather than a Greek manner; and they give "A Night in Spain" the best dancing chorus that ever emanated from the Winter Garden. Sweet Genevieve GENEVIEVE TOBIN, who has come to the Princess in "Murray Hill," should have been born to a destiny of plays by J. M. Barrie. But the sentimental Scot is now too old to be searching for new heroines, and the age of whimsy has passed. So Gene vieve, delicate, lovely and strange, whose face is that of a fairy princess, whose voice suggests soft bird-calls in a spring dawn, has drifted from, one play to another like a lost Pleiad with out finding a role in which she could repeat her success of "Little Old New York." This time, odd enough, she graces a farce. "Murray Hill" hints by its title that it belongs to the current vogue of topical melodrama, such as "Chicago," "Broadway," "Burlesque," etc.; but it is nothing of the kind. It is the first legitimate farce, founded upon the standard principles of this classic hum orous form, to come our way for a long time; and therefore it has novelty. This diverting piece was written by Leslie Howard, the actor who can be easily recalled from his performance as best boy friend to Iris of "The Green Hat." If he invented all of it, he is a playwright of promise as well as a completely arrived comedian. But the form and mood of "Murray Hill" sug gest that it is based upon one of the farces of the Victorian era, which were so numerous that most of them are ut terly forgotten. This hint of a Vic torian origin should not keep any young moderns away from the Princess. "Murray Hill" slings a reckless, naughty line now and then to prove that it is up to date. The acting is exactly right, all the 20 TUECUICAGOAN Genevieve Tobin, who persuades you, in "Murray Hill" at the Garrick, that shy virgins who fall in love at first sight and then faint from the shock really exist nowadays. (More about her — and it — on fcage 19.) TUECUICAGOAN 21 way down the cast. Miss Tobin per suades you that shy virgins who fall in love at first sight and then faint from the shock really exist nowadays. When she strokes her lover's cheek and asks: "Is this the normal roughness of a man's face?" she is thoroughly credible as well as completely charming. Wal ter Plimmer, Jr., must be applauded for his ingratiating deportment as the drunkenest young man since Bacchus. Christmas Premieres THE Repertoire Theatre Company, at the Studebaker, recently re placed the obscure mutterings of Shaw's "Heartbreak House" with the easy merriment of A. A. Milne's "Mr. Pirn Passes By" — the second item in its Theater Guild series. This gay, flutter ing comedy is not unknown to Chicago, for it once served Laura Hope Crews as a touring vehicle. On January 9 this organization of Mrs. Insull's will return to Shaw with a staging of "The Devil's Disciple." Christmas will bring seven changes of bill to the Chicago stage. The new titles are: "The Squall" (melodrama, with Blanche Yurka); "Two Girls Wanted" (comedy, with Nydia West- man); "Behold This Dreamer" (com edy, with Glenn Hunter) ; "The Con stant Wife" (drama, with Ethel Barry- more) ; "Criss-Cross" (musical comedy, with Fred Stone) ; and "The Merry Wives of Windsor" (Shakespearean farce, with Mrs. Fiske, Otis Skinner and Henrietta Crosman.) This list of premieres gives abundant assurance that the first-nighters will be kept oc cupied and out of mischief during the holidays. — CHARLES COLLINS. Edward Hines started as a water boy in a west side lumber yard. ? Harry C. Moir was head waiter at the old Boston Oyster House. ? John Calvey was a bell boy at the Congress before becoming manager of the Auditorium Hotel. ? Jamer A. Patten, millionaire wheat king, began his business career as a clerk in a general store in Freeland Corners, DeKalb County, Illinois, at $15 a month. ? Herman Devries was a grand opera singer both in this country and abroad before becoming musical critic of the Chicago Evening American. The CINEMA Automatically Equrfifted CURIOUSLY, and by no means desirably as concerns this witness, the two best pictures of the fortnight are — or were, as it's always well to make provision at this season — exhib ited to accompaniment provided by au tomatic, if synchronous, means to that end. They serve, incidentally, to clear the mind of any lingering doubts as to the efficacy of (1) Vitaphone and (2) Movietone in the realm of enter tainment. Possibly that's a major con sideration. It develops, as reflection reveals after visits to theatres exhibiting "Seventh Heaven" and "The Jazz Singer," that these mechanical devices adding audi bility to visibility differ in no important detail from the orchestras, organs and jazz bands commonly and a little more expensively employed for accompani ment purposes. That is to say — as you forget the orchestra when the picture takes your interest, noticing it again when the picture slackens pace, so do you forget these mechanical things dur ing the worthwhile sequences and be come cognizant of them in the dull stretches. There is still the needle- scratch on the orchestra's side of the argument, and there is still the cymbal player on the side of the mechanism, and with other aspects of the matter fairly well balanced it becomes a purely personal issue. One likes one or the other, a picture entertaining or failing to do so on its merits. (This para graph, of course, for those unhappy people who worry about these things.) "Seventh Heaven," as has been inti mated above, stands several degrees above anything else being projected in these parts at this time. The story is well known, of course. What Janet Gaynor and Charles Farrell do with the principal roles is, no doubt, what every actress and actor dream of doing just once before they die. The complete entertainment — and it is both complete and entertainment — is a show to see, not a picture to write about. "The Jazz Singer," praise of which also has been implied, proves that D. W. Griffith was wrong in his hotly opposed contention that Al Jolson has no place in pictures. It proves that Mr. Jolson has a very definite place in pictures, at least in this one picture, and that his place is to sing his songs and let the Jolson personality take care of such histrionic details as are in volved. When he looses the character istic and uncharacteristic lyrics necessi tated in "The Jazz Singer" he is none other than he, and the admission is the most modest he has extracted in easy memory. If one goes away with the feeling that the picture would not be a sensation without the voice, one reflects that the voice is present and counts the evening well spent. On Display Seventh Heaven — Reviewed above. The Jazz Singer — Reviewed above. Man, Woman, Sin — In which, to make Jeanne Eagels devilish, they make John Gilbert angelic. The Rose of the Golden West — Like neither of the plays it suggests and like little, if anything, else. (Mary Astor, and too bad, too.) The Gay Defender — Richard Dix as Robin Hood in Old California and side burns. Now We're Up in the Air — Wallace Beery and Raymond Hatton, both of whom used to be good actors. Underworld — Gunmen (not ginmen) in faintly reminiscent ganglore relished by everybody but Ben Hecht, who wrote it. (Hear it.) Dress Parade — The annual picturization of West Point (always a knockout) with William Boyd as a sort of cadet. Two Arabian Knights — Frightful after math of the delightful "Behind the Front." She's a Sheik — Bebe Daniels in a pithy parody on Douglas Fairbanks in any of his last six pictures. American Beauty — Billie Dove and you haven't really seen the girl until now. The Silver Slave — The one the stock companies used to do for Wednesday matinee. Wings— Taking off Dec. 26. (See it in the next flight.) The Garden of Allah — When a director like Rex Ingram has a wife like Alice Terry he makes pictures like this. (Abroad, too.) Breakfast at Sunrise — And if Constance Talmadge doesn't know, who does? Figures Don't Lie — Superfluous assurance in the case of Esther Ralston, but the pic ture isn't loquacious on the subject. Old San Francisco — Pre-fire fiction, nice to look at and easy to believe. The Fair Co-Ed — Marion Davies saves the dear old seminary in a basketball outfit than which, etc. The College Widow — Orphan, to be ac curate. The Woman on Trial— Well, they gotta do sumpun with Pola Negri between rumors. The Cat and the Canary — "'Twas a dark and stormy night." — W. R. WEAVER. 22 TUECUICAGOAN "No, my husband doesn't play golf." MIMICAL NOTE/ The Ofiera Reacts to Its Public THE opera, and we speak from the local angle of observation, no longer terrifies the tired business man. The Civic Opera here, some years ago, began making valiant efforts to stress the implicit charm of this curious form of art for the layman. Huge posters in the Illinois Central cars, prominent lures in the newspapers, asserted in em phatic terms that, at the Auditorium, one could hear simple tunes sung, see pretty girls dance and behold colorful tableaux. There was, these advertise ments inferred, nothing esoteric about opera. No previous knowledge of any kind was required. The campaign of Mr. Insull's press staff has unmistakably borne fruit. In days gone by Mr. Babbitt could not have been dragged to a performance of "Carmen." He considered the opera a place for his ball-and-chain to demon strate her social prestiges and felt in stinctively that a plush seat in the parquet was no place for a red-blooded he-man. Now he has his regular night every week. As a result of Mr. In sull's high pressure stuff he has been completely intimidated. He looks upon the Civic Opera Association as a vital part of his community of interests like the Chicago Board of Trade or the Butter and Egg Exchange. And he even condescends to his contemporaries who don't understand art. This change of attitude from a pub lic which, we gather, had to be trained just as Mr. Stock has trained his pub lic, has had an actual and noticeable effect on the opera company itself. There is more zest in the actual per formance of the various gems of the repertoire. And (lean closer, this is straight from one of the insiders), the artists are getting along better with each other and the management. An opera company can be a worse hell-hole than a musical conservatory, and our own has had its record of backstage hair-pullings and eye-scratchings. These tender little incidents, our private de tective informs us, are not a part of the picture this season. Concert THE Misses Ott and Kinsolving, who are, to a major degree, re sponsible for the annual concert season in Chicago, have been doing themselves more than proud this year. There is first to be recorded the playing of the Brahms D Minor Sonata by Paul Kochanski and his accompanist, Pierre Luboshutz, at the Studebaker a fort night ago. Kochanski might be de scribed as a modern violinist. He is expert and inquisitive in program mak ing and relies neither on frowsy hair nor violent manipulations of bow and body to make his recitals artistically successful. He does not play Ordla's "Souvenir" or the "Meditation" from "Thais." And how he senses Brahms! Luboshutz, too, is almost the kind of ensemble player you dream about. He lacks only sufficient authority as a pian ist to realize what prominence is due his part of this specific Sonata. A block away, the same afternoon, Lea Lobushutz and Josef Hof mann were to be heard in the Franck violin Sonata and the Bruch Concerto. It must be a pleasure and privilege to play a sonata with the Hofmann gentleman, provided you are enough of a per former, as this lady was, to stand the racket. The piano part of the Franck loomed magnificently and the accom paniment to the Bruch, effective movie- music at least, sounded like several leading symphony orchestras in action. Seven days later Ignaz Friedman made his regular visit in a program of assorted Beethoven, Brahms, and Chopin. It might be an unfortunate thing to be the last surviving pupil of Liszt. A pianist might be inclined to rest on his ancient laurels and fool the public with extempore versions of the masters in case his fingers or memory slipped. Moritz Rosenthal is a case in point. But Friedman remains in the pink of pianistic condition, although he must be hovering around the sixty mark. He has an enormous technique, a mature gift of poetry, and an ingrati ating freedom from the mannerisms that make the acknowledged virtuosi of the "old school" so unpleasant to observe if not to listen to. Bee thoven was bookish, but only because the sonata was dull, his Brahms im pressively magistral. As for his Chopin, it is as good as anybody's alive. Next door at the Playhouse the Flonzaleys had what is usually de scribed as "a small but enthusiastic" audience. It's a pity it couldn't always be larger. These four artists are no longer a quartet, but a national insti tution, and almost demand reverence as such. They make music as it should be made and the quartets of the world should and do go to school to them. Current Records D Minor Symphony of Franck, recorded by the Philadelphia Orchestra has been released in a special album (M-22 Vic tor). One record is devoted to a discus sion of its themes, the mellifluous voice of Dirigent Stokowski doing the explaining. The discs themselves are superb and more than justify the formidable price of eleven berries. Sir Henry Wood did this symphony a long time ago for Columbia in England. If, as a collector, you have the old one trade it in for a new Ford and buy the new from your neighbor hood dealer. The Twenty Four Preludes of Chopin 23 CONTRACT BRIDGE Flag Flying and Doubling TUECUICAGOAN have been issued by Victor (Set M-20) with a nobby explanatory folder. The recording was done by Cortot, probably in the English laboratories. There are numerous mistakes, some quite obvious and the piano timbre is not as uniformly successful as in Columbia recordings. But they are made by a great poet of the piano. Blue Heaven, the latest yodel at the Tria non and the Parody Cafe (R. I. P.) comes in pristine freshness from the Brunswick studios. The troubadour in the case is Nick Lucas who sings the latest ditties in a high pleasant voice the while he twangs his guitar. No. 3684 to the girl behind the counter. Handel's Organ Concerto No. IV in F Major has been recorded by Brunswick and issued in connection with their new album series of classics as Set No. VI. Included in the album is also the Rhein- berger Organ Concerto with the same key signature. Both are played by Walter Fisher of the Berlin Cathedral with or chestral accompaniment. The discs, while not yet capable of realizing the fullest possibilities of the grand organ, are nevertheless better than anything done thus far for that instrument. The Better Rolls The North Country Sketches of Fred erick Delius have been converted into player rolls by Duo-Art. Grainger and Ralph Leopold are the artists and the suite, if you happen to have a mechanical Klavier, is from the pen of a distinguished and important modern composer. Nos. 7190-2. Ravel's "Mother Goose Suite" has been done, also for Duo- Art by Walter Dam- rosch and his daughter Polly. If you have heard Maier and Pattison play this two-piano version you will want these player rolls. Blue Heaven is again perpetrated on Q. R. S. A snappy piano rendition by Arden and Kortlander. The lady won't have any of them in stock but she'll put your name on the list. No. 4095. Gay's Beggar's Opera has been resurrected in yet another form by Duo Art. The piano potpourri comprising the most familiar airs from this quaint old opera is played by Robert Armbruster. A good addition for your shelf of rolls. Number 71859. Haydn's "Surprise Symphony" or at least the second Andante movement of it marks the debut of Walter Damrosch as a Duo Art performer. Fortunately the instrument does not reproduce the human voice so we get only the music, and not the usual lecture. Ask the lady for No. 537-4. Dancing Tambourine, played by a gentle man named Alpert, No. 713430 (the roll, not the gentleman), is a ticklish and in tricate fox-trot. The veteran Phil Oman does Good News from the collegiate musical comedy of like name. (Number 713435.) ROBERT POLLAK. JUST stick to this, and if you are otherwise about the same calibre as your customary little playmates, I will almost guarantee that you will end the year's play at Contract a winner. Al most, but not quite, guarantee. When you have bid or raised on a minimum hand, don't bid again until next deal. To contradict myself immediately, there are occasions when we should over-bid our hand and take a penalty to keep the opponents from going game. This, naturally, is dangerous sport, especially as one's partner is lia ble to become immensely exhilarated and take the bit between the teeth and run amuck, if you like mixed meta phors. This over-bidding is called flag-fly ing. To fly the flag with any success it is necessary for us to know the value of the game we are trying to save. Apart from points scored for tricks taken and honors held, that is to say, considering the 500 or 700 rubber points only, the value of winning the first game is 350 points, of winning the second is 350 points and of winning the third is 500 points. Now, a little demonstration of that statement. The winner of the first game will one-half of the time win the second game and get 700 points for the rub ber. One-half of the time he will lose the second game and be even, as far as his chance of winning the rubber is concerned. That is to say, his position after winning the first game is worth one-half of 700 points, that is, 350 points. Now, as to the value of the second game. If the man who won the first game wins the second game also, he has improved his position from being worth 350 points to being worth 700 points, a gain of 350. The value of the third game is 500 points for that is what the winner puts into his pocket. To obtain the true value of the game, there must be added to the above the points scored for tricks in making the game and any honor points. These cannot be less than 100 if the game is won from the score of love. Always unless the opponents of the game going side hold four honors in one hand. Not a very usual occurrence. The moral to be drawn from all this rather dry stuff is, that after consider ing the fact that you will probably be doubled if you over-bid and also that your hand may not take all the tricks that you have a right to expect, you are justified, when vulnerable, in bid ding one trick more than you think you can make, in order to prevent the "Now, boys, let's snap this plan over for a touchdown. "Now, boys, let's snap this plan over for a touchdown. 24 adversaries from going game. When not vulnerable an over-bid of two might possibly be justified. But when you think that two of the best players in the country, as partners, have been known to lose a little slam when they have bid Up to three hearts, you can see that caution in over-bidding is ad visable. These mistakes of the great are very encouraging to the rest of us. The first hand I ever saw Elwell play I had the cheek of asking, as in my thirst for information I leaned over his shoulder, why he had not led the 6 of hearts. My admiration for him as a man was increased and as a player not decreased, when he had the frank ness to reply (in a whisper, be it un' derstood) "I didn't know it was good." But to go back to the values of the game, these are most useful to know when, as sometimes happens, to even the most unlucky of us, we have a choice of two delightful certainties. We can double and set the opponent's bid or re-bid ourselves and take the game. A rough and ready rule for choice is that if the opponents are vulnerable it pays better to double but if they are not vulnerable it pays bet ter to take the game. There is a frequently recurring position at Contract for an advantage ous double which does not so often occur at Auction and therefore is worthy of special mention. Look for it in actual playing and you will be rewarded. This is it. The dealer who is your opponent bids 1 in a minor suit and his partner goes to a no-trump and the first thing you know between them they have run up the bid to 3 no-trump. If it is your lead and you have pretty fair cards, you can often set your friends. The re-double is more frequently sound at Contract than at Auction. The reason is that at Auction, the opponents as a rule, have been bid ding something and forcing you up and if instead of "sitting pretty" and defeating their double, you are so greedy as to re-double, they will go back and bid their own suit. At Con tract, on the contrary, you and your partner have often been forcing your selves up and the adversaries may have no bid of their own to which to fly if you re-double. Lastly, rarely make a business double until your opponents have bid game. — horace wtlie. 3ook/- Father of His Country GEORGE WASHINGTON has been officially appointed as pa tron saint of Chicago, and conse quently, or at least sequently, publish ers east and west are making haste to do him honor. Though for all practical patron saint purposes, one out of the half dozen new books about him would no doubt suffice, and this book is an old one: Parson Weems' "History of the Life and Death, Virtues and Exploits of General George Washington," recently reprinted. Parson Weems will be re membered as the originator of the cherry tree story, of which he himself remarks that it is "too valuable to be lost and too true to be doubted." And the cherry tree is only one of many edifying encounters between "Pa" and his little barefoot George as reported by a distant cousin who did not exist to this parson who was not a parson. Nor does the account lack edification as it progresses. Mark how young George used to "amuse his leisure hours" in the days when he was sur veyor for Lord Fairfax, "like a young Greek training for the Olympic games," and mark the effect of those amusements, for it "shews the very wide difference between participating in innocent and guilty pleasures." But whatever George may have done for himself by training, where he got his great military talents is a question which "none but the happy believers in a particular Providence can solve: certain it is, his earthly parents had no hand in it." For of his father, "tra dition says nothing, save that he was a most amiable old gentleman" (n.b. he was fifty-odd when he died!). And as to his mother, it is well known that "she was none of Bellona's fiery race." Witness the remark that she made just as George was becoming famous: "Ah, dear me! This fighting and killing is a sad thing! I wish George would come home and look after his planta tion!" Nonetheless George went on fight ing, and the Parson follows him, sup plying a moral for every battle, and a few extra in the interests of good meas ure, down to that supreme moment when the General, no longer a general, but President, drove over the bridge at TUECUICAGOAN Trenton to the tune of "female voices, sweet as the first wakings of the Eolian harp" and was seen to wipe away a "sweet tear of gratitude." The Par son then goes on to remark that it was "in a perilous and fearful sea son" that his hero "came to the helm." For were not the pirates of Morocco "laying their uncircumcised hands" on our commerce? Were not the Indian nations "unburying the tomahawk"? And so on to the finest moral of all, Washington on his deathbed, unless perchance his will be the finest, wherein "though an old husband of 68, yet, with the gallantry and warm affection of a young groom, he gives the whole of his estate to his beloved wife Martha, during her life." Parson Weems' "Life and Death, Virtues and Exploits" is the book that created the Washington legend, and it is the book that put it over. First published in 1800, revised in 1806 to let in the cherry tree story, it ran through some seventy editions, before it died a natural and deserved death. As the editor remarks: "It died be cause it had done its work with com plete effectiveness." There are of course some persons who, though at times it has proved their undoing, prefer to inspect their patron saints more closely. Witness the com mittee of ladies in this town and else where who were raising money to erect a memorial. They read a biography of their heroine and decided not to. For such persons there is the "George Washington" of Rupert Hughes. The first volume, published last year, raised a storm, but nonetheless there is now a second volume, just out. "George Washington: The Rebel and the Pa triot" carries the story from 1762 to 1777. Many patriotic Chicagoans have, however, found themselves wishing that Washington might arise and speak for himself. And that is what Lucretia Perry Osborn causes him to do in "Washington Speaks for Himself" a volume made up on the same principle as the Lincoln "Autobiography" of last year. In it, to an even greater extent than Lincoln, Washington tells his own story, ancestry, boyhood and all, his boyhood being represented by nothing so picturesque as the cherry tree, though by something equally moral, namely a set of copybook maxims which he labels: "Rules of Civility and Decent Behaviour in Company and Conversation." Letters, journals, dia- TUECUICAGOAN 25 ries, addresses, and messages have been drawn upon, and with the help of an editorial paragraph here and there, they yield a continuous narrative, or, to be more exact, a continuous commentary. But a still more surprising thing has been done by a Chicago lawyer, Eu gene E. Prussing. To Mr. Prussing as to Parson Weems, the will of George Washington seemed an exceptionally arresting document. But being a lawyer he saw it not as a text for a sermon but quite technically as the dis posal of an estate. The estate was a fascinating thing in itself, consisting as it did in large part of vast tracts of land in Virginia, West Virginia, Ken tucky, Maryland, New York, Pennsyl vania and Ohio. Counting the slaves, hundreds of persons were concerned in its disposal. Its administration occu pied no less than fifty-two years. And no less fascinating was the study of its beneficiaries. It would have taken a lawyer to write "The Estate of George Washington Deceased," with its intri cate investigations into the business of another age, but it doesn't take a lawyer to read it. In all its ramifica tions, this study of Washington as man of affairs constitutes a new biography, and not the point of view alone is new, but to a surprising extent the ma terial itself. Books to Read — or Give Rebellion, by Mateel Howe Farhnham. (Dodd Mead and Co.) $2. Second winner of Dodd Mead's generous prise for a first novel. If all first novels are to be regarded as autobiographical, this one, which deals with a dictatorial father and a successfully rebellious daughter, must be causing Ed Howe, author of "The Story of a Country Town" some uncomfortable moments. So You're Going to France, by Clara E. Laughlin. (Houghton Mifflin Com pany.) $3. All you need is a motor car, a little money, not much, and some good road maps. Miss Laughlin does the rest. French history from Cro-Magnon man to the Marne, and French landscape, includ ing good restaurants, from Strasbourg to the Pyrenees. Adam and Eve, by John Erskine. (The Bobbs-Merrill Company.) Readers of "Helen of Troy" and "Galahad" will feel that their author is now getting back to fundamentals. The Cream of the Jest, by James Branch Cabell. Illustrated by Franck C. Pape. (Robert M. McBride and Co.) $?. A new edition of which the end papers con stitute a complete exegesis of Cabell's philosophy. — SUSAN WILBUR. The Chicagoenne Does Your Christmas Shoeing PLAYING Santa Claus to one's friends and neighbors, remember ing the things they like, surprising them with small luxuries — or large ones, Christmas is no time to be nig gling and fuss about the questionable taste of over-generousness — is the most fascinating game in the world. And Christmas shopping for all one may sigh with aching leg muscles is the gayest diversion of the year. One is not limited by one's own small needs and wishes, but can indulge the dearest desires and whims of as- many persons as he chooses, or can afford, to remember. So much has been said about the Christ mas gift that is "d i f f e r e n t," un usual," "out-of-the- ordinary," that three words more should be added to the column, "Don't do it!" People used to have attics to furnish with the things that were "un usual" and "differ ent" but nowadays they make just one more problem in transportation for the Salvation Army, The Thrift Shoppes, or whatever chari table institution the victim of a musical waffle iron or Christ mas smoking device patronizes. Instead of a misguided quest for the unusual, start on your Christmas list with the idea of giving luxuries. Not extravagant luxuries, necessarily, but the things your friends and family never quite afford for themselves. Or, if they belong in the category of per sons who "have everything," then the pleasant sort of thing that is made luxurious by thoughtful consideration of personal taste. What do I mean? What are they? Where do you get them? For convenience sake and to save space and time, I list them and classify — even give you shops and prices. The gorgeously extravagant gift, Personal Gifti the square cut diamond ring, the $300 beverage case, or carnelian-headed walking stick, the fur motor robe, hand-chiseled silver radiator cap, black pearl shirt studs, sport roadsters, trips to Europe, pearls, gold service plates and the glass, china, and linens of quality so fine as to be precious have been chosen long ago. These we pass by. The middle-sized gifts, impor tant, prosperous and worth much con sideration but neither gorgeously ex travagant nor ingeniously inexpensive, most of these too have been chosen or planned for long ago, but for late shoppers we include brief men tion of last minute possibilities divided thusly: -Jewelry Pearls, imitation or real, medium size in long single strands and costume jewelry of heavy gold or silver in modern design. Stev ens have some par ticularly good ex amples of the newest flat silver and gold link jewelry, and the pieces range in price from $4 to $35. The new Chanel neck lace of paste stones set separately in silver is at the Eldridge Shop in the Stevens Building and at Caro lyn Wilson on Dela ware Place just off the drive. Marshall Field has some fine repro ductions of old jewelry and Metcalfe on Michigan Avenue have some nice hand-made jewelry and some long crystal chains, double cut crystal set in thin rims of silver, very, very smart and inexpensive. Fitted Bags for women and young girls particularly may be as luxurious as you like. Field's have some very nice ones as low as $37, and the Peacock Luggage Shop in the Palmer House has three-piece luggage en sembles for women that are very smart and made up in both inexpensive and expensive leathers. The Dorothy Gray Shop at 900 North Michigan has an especially well divided small case completely equipped with Dorothy Gray creams and powders. For men's luggage, whether it should be a gen eral utility bag or specialized pieces, like brief cases, golf bag or toilet kits the Pea cock Shop seems to offer the best values in the more conservative and high priced lines. 26 THE CHICAGOAN Elegance in the Continental Fashion American women of ele gance appreciate the fine distinction between per fumes made in Paris and others — this difference is characteristic of Gabilla perfumes. They express Paris, they are Paris with all the chic and subtlety of the French capitol. Each lovely Lalique or Baccarat flacon contains Gabilla's in- comparable fragrances, straight from the master art ist in France. Gabilla perfumes may be procured from department stores and specialty shops of high standing. GABILLA, Paris MUSARDISES The Sports Perfume MON CHERI MODA They have, for instance, a large sized men's dressing case of walrus hide for $28, and extremely good looking small bags and brief cases for $8, $10 and $6.50. Gloves, both for men and women, par ticularly special purpose gloves, fur-lined ones for driving, specially cut ones for golf, or, perhaps, several pairs of gloves of excel lent quality to the woman or man of small income and fastidious taste who must ordi narily be content with a very average quality. Marshall Field have driving gloves for wom en at $4 and $6 and street gloves of wash able doeskin as low as $2.95. Dockstader & Sandberg have some marvelous driving gloves of softest mocha kid with removable wool linings— these for father, who never gets himself anything but sensible capeskin gloves or for brother Herbert who has all he can do to pay for gas and oil and thea tre tickets. They are $10. Sweaters and golf hose of finest imported wool are another luxury father and Her bert will appreciate. They range in price from about $28 to $33. For that friend of the family or business acquaintance whom you wish to remember but not too intimately Dockstader 6? Sand berg have twelve Kro-Flite golf balls, nicely packed in a brass cigar or cigarette box. Really quite a smart idea. Costume Accessories for women is dangerous ground for a man, for acces sories are the most important part of one's wardrobe this season, but, of course, be cause they are so important there isn't any gift a woman will enjoy more than an ex travagantly luxurious bag, furs, gloves, stockings. Bags should match shoes, or hat, or point up a color detail of the cos tume. Thus, with brown suede shoes and a dark brown hat, a brown suede purse with an amber clasp or gold leather piping; with black suede or patent shoes, a black velvet bag, one of black reptile leather or suede with silver, amber or crystal clasp would be very nice, either in a flat envelope shape or variation of the pouch bag. Very fine ones for from $25 to over $100 are at Spaulding's, Field's, Dockstader 6? Sand berg (in the North Michigan Ave. Shop Division for Women). Less expensive ones at Field's, Carolyn Wilson, Hartman's Charles Wilt, and Grand Maison de Blanc. Boudoir and Comfort Accessories can be so delightfully luxurious for both men and women that they make the most ideal personal gifts for one's more intimate friends and members of the family. Few men have too many really good comfort able house slippers and no woman ever had too many pairs of mules like those shown by Hanan and Son, made in Paris, of multi colored brocade edged with coque feathers and selling for $9, or cunning tailored ones, black satin or lacquer-red leather with colo nial tongues and a tailored bow, $6. For $6.50 Hanan's have a very new type of mule of black satin with a gold leather heelguard attached with rubber to make it fit the shape of every foot snugly. No woman ever had too many pairs of stockings either, and stockings presents can range anywhere from a single pair of fine gauge chiffon or chiffon lisle for $2, to a dozen pairs of spider-web fine, lace-clocked $13.50 creations much too fairy-like to be called hose. However it is nicest to plan Over 100 Colleges Are Represented In ALLERTON HOUSE Michigan at Huron Chicago Five Floors Exclusively for Women Eighteen Floors Exclusively for Men Extensive Private Comfortable Dining Lounges Rooms Resident Outdoor Women's Skating Director Circulating Special Library Women's Elevators Billiards I^L .__ Fraternity Rooms Cafeteria Ball and Athletic Banquet Exercise Rooms Rooms The opportunity for social contact with a diversified gathering of execu tives, business and professional men and women is created by your resi dence at ALLERTON HOUSE combining the luxurious appointments and social atmosphere of a select club without initiation fees or dues. Allerton Glee Club in Main Dining Room Monday at 6:30 P. M. DON'T GIVE UP GOLF THIS WINTER The World's Largest Indoor Golf Course offers you an opportunity to improve your game during the winter months. 18 Holes — Driving nets — Sand traps Professional in Charge. Instruction. Public invited. ALLERTON HOUSE WEEKLY RATES PER PERSON Single - - $12.00 — $20.00 Double • - $8.00 — $15.00 Transient - $2.50 $3.50 Descriptive Leaflet on Request CHICAGO CLEVELAND NEW YORK TUECUICAGOAN a choice bit of the old world .... The subdued atmosphere and quaint surroundings of UAiglon present a most ap propriate background for the excellent cuisine and service. Menus offer for your selection the finest dishes, prepared ac cording to recipes that have been favored for generations. Now in Its New Location 22 E. Ontario Street your stocking gifts to be many pairs of or dinary hose or one pair of extraordinary ones. Chiffon weight lisle is very smart for street and sports, plain, they come: in every shade priced between $1 and $1.15: clocked, they are $1.85 or $1.95 and those which wear longest are to be found at Hanan's, Stetson's, and Campbell's. The new mesh hose that will be awfully good for southern wear and all spring are shown by nearly all the shops at prices from $3.50 up, Hanan's have some for $6.50 with hand-embroidered clocks and Peck & Peck have them in black and the dark grey shades that are so smart for sports. Of the ties, socks, belts and jewelry for men which furnish most of the Christmas jokes, I refuse to speak more than a word of warning. If you are a woman and feel that you must buy some man a necktie go to the best shop on the Avenue, ask for the man who knows most about those things, tell him the kind of clothes your intended victim usually wears and ta\e his sugges* tion. Gifts for Children, particularly for half-grown children in the difficult teen age. Remember that there is nothing chil dren so adore as that which closely imitates their elders. Fountain pens, writing paper, umbrella, cuff links, wrist watches, sports gear of every description, room robes — one Aunt last year made herself popular for life with room robes for father and son that •were exact duplicates — and the same prin cipal could be applied to bed room slip pers, mufflers, gloves, and so forth. Even very small children love toys that arc "Just like Mother's" or "Just like Dad's." There is too a whole group of semi-util ity gifts for children that are often over looked by the Christmas shopper. These gifts have the double advantage of being as pleasing to the parents as they are to the children. I refer to such things as port able Victrolas and simple inexpensive radio sets and to various kinds of nursery fur niture. Carson, Pirie's, for instance, have for $ 1 5 a table and two wooden settles gaily painted that would delight any child and win the gratitude of any mother. Field's have some darling little chaise lounges and over-stuffed armchairs, cunning wee foot stools and fine study small-sized book cases. And there are all that range of semi-educa tional toys, like blackboards all equipped with chalk and erasers, portable typewriters, printing presses, sewing machines and the all year round gift of a subscription to St. Nicholas, Child Life, or Little Folks. These last you can buy at Brentano's, Krochs, or in the magazine subscription section of the State Street stores. House Gifts cover such a wide range of persons who never had a house that it is probably best to begin the discussion with lamps. Exactly the right kind of lamp may be just the thing for the office desk of a business associate, the bedside table of a col lege chum or a delight to Aunt Ella who can never see properly sewing on black. Any lamp discussion should begin with Almco not for alphabetical reasons but be cause they manufacture great quantities of the finest kind of lamps and have one of the most pretentious exhibition rooms for lamps, fine furniture and decorative details in this town. Right at the entrance they have a mod ernist group, three pairs of wrought iron lamps by Brandt, a square coffee table of iron and black tile and two or three other wrought iron pieces and any of which would make a distinguished gift. They have also some tiny wrought iron ash trays, hand made, of course, and modern for $3 and $4. The Metal Arts Studios, at 451 East Ohio street also have lamps and specialize in wrought metal furniture of an elaborate and expensive type. Field's as usual have some extraordinarily beautiful lamps and some ex traordinarily atrocious ones. The best place to look is on the second floor unless you have in mind quaint originals and repro ductions in porcelain, glass and tole, in that case, go to the Maisonette, ninth floor. Table decorations and decorative glass have such an extraordinary gaiety in them selves that they make particularly apt- Christmas gifts. At Burley's there are some cunning tinsel Christmas trees for $3 and those lovely glass trees both white and col ored are variously priced between $21.75 and $29.50 and on up to fabulous amounts. Burley's have, too, some small antique lamps made of opaque green glass which are only $7.50 and their collections of majolica and Cowan pottery are interesting and low in price. Ingeniously Inexpensive Gifts Ingenously inexpensive gifts that are charming, useful, in good taste, are certainly not numerous as the sands of the sea, but 28 TUECUICAGOAN Vi sit is are Display Th R JUST north of the "Bridge" on Ohio Street at the Lake — you will find the "Treasure Trove." The METALARTS STUDIOS — Manufac turers of Decorative Lamps and Metal Furni ture, also importers of exclusive Furniture and Objets d' Art— open the doors of their Galleries and Factory to the Pub lic. Attractive settings are displayed in unusual sur roundings which will ap peal to the most discrimi nating taste. AETALA2T5 451 E. Ohio St. Chicago $ Indefinable — — in their influence flow ers, as yet, have not been approached in effective ness in creating a real Christmas atmosphere. Intelligent discrimination in selection is the basis of our service. ERNST WIENHOEBER COMPANY Wo. 22 East Elm St. Superior 0609 914 "Ho. Michigan Ave. Superior 0045 5TUDI05 89 Rue d'Hautville Paris iiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiim W ith the changing style the Tuxedo takes on an air of pert individual ity. Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. TEL. HARRISON 2680 miiniilililii ¦ iiilimmiimii we submit the following list with prices and geography: Coolie Coats, of challis brilliantly pat terned with oriental scenes and symbols in wash-proof color, $6.50, $7, Carolyn Wil son. Delaware Place. Cock-tail Napkins, Italian, $2.95 a dozen, $3.50 up to $12. Kandela's, Michi gan Avenue. Damask Luncheon Sets, fine quality colored, $6.75. William Lawrence, Michi gan Avenue. Bohemian Glass Guest Room Sets, quaint shapes, bubbly green glass, bottle, tray, and glass, $3.70, Carolyn Wilson. Two Amusing Porcelain Kittens, $3.50, Metcalfe, Michigan Ave. Garters, flower or rinestone ornamented, $1 to $3.50. Hanan &? Son. Edam Cheese in holiday paper with sprig of holly, $2. Stop and Shop. Large Velvet Poinsettas, 50c, large spray silver holly with red berries, 35c, gold, silver, red and green ruscus, 10c a spray, Field's. Three Belgian Linen Guest Towels with colored borders, boxed, $1. Kandela. Smart, Soft Colored Boutonniere of felt flowers, $2.50. Martha Rahl, Michi gan Avenue. Monogrammed Match Packs, $1.50 a dozen, $2.75 and $3.50. Genuine Batiks, delightful things for wall hangings, piano scarfs, any decorative use, $4.50 to $30. Carolyn Wilson. Brilliantly Painted Tin Trays with pheasants and cocks, $4 and $5, Burley's. Tole Flower Pots, pointed and scal loped, brilliant red, blue, yellow and green, $3. Field's Maisonette. Framed Antique Spanish Tile, $4. Spanish Shop, Michigan Ave. Old Pewter and New, $3, $6, $6.50 and more. Carolyn Wilson. Miscellany This section is to be carefully considered (some of the best bargains are here) and applied where necessary. There are two new shops and some old ones which need special mention all to themselves because they are a treasure trove to the Christmas shopper. In practically any of these shops one could pick out pres ents for from two to twenty people in rec ord time. The Swedish Arts and Crafts, at 163 East Ohio, is just new. They have the most delightful hand made silver — beauti ful, beautiful things! — modern pewter, pot tery, rugs and peasant textiles. Their prices are extremely moderate considering the quality. Particularly I recommend to you their pewter framed mirrors and candle sconces. The Spanish Shop, on Michigan Ave nue, about 237, I believe, is another new shop and one which is a joy. They have mainly Spanish antiques, some reproduc tions and some modern pieces. For holiday giving you will chiefly be interested in their collection of Mallorcan glass. It is charm ing and inexpensive, as low as $4 for a vase of lovely proportions. Weinhoeber's Flower Shop on Michi gan Avenue offers not only potted plants and cut flowers for from $4 to $20 or more, TUECUICAGOAN 29 Choosing a winter cr 94 ideal cruises to select from in this b These cruises go all over the globe — to the Mediterranean, West Indies, South America, Africa, Around the World. Some West Indies cruises are $200 for 16 days. Others are longer and cost in proportion. Mediterra nean cruises are as low as J 545 for 39 days. The American Express can help you to decide and save you trouble and expense. Cruising is keen pleasure— die most popular way to travel in winter. American Express travel experts can save you the bothersome worries of picking out itineraries, comparing the ships, prices, ar ranging passports, visas, etc. Be cause of their wide experience, they can make many useful sug gestions—things to know and do before leaving and while enroute. And there is no charge for this service and advice. You will get more out of the trip by planning ahead. Send for the "Catalogue of winter cruises, " study it at your leisure, find the trips you like and talk over the details in our office. American express Travel ^Department 70A East Randolph Street Harrison 9700 Chicago, 111. Always Carry American Express Travelers Cheques but has some of the gayest artificial decora tions you have ever seen. They have se cured the entire shipment of an Italian firm that make garlands and wreaths of gay colored fruits and flowers exactly the kind one sees on Old Delia Robia pottery. I can"t tell you how absolutely smart and gay these are, you will have to look for your self. Weinhoeber's have them in garlands, made into little trees and in very small pots suitable for place decorations, or to give the last crowning touch to a basket of fruit. Carolyn Wilson, Delaware Place just off the Drive, has a shop that can justly be described as a fascinating emporium. There is everything you ever wanted to give anybody! From brilliant challis covered slap-slap sandals, $1.50; French handker chiefs at 45 and 50c, French writing paper for children, tiny turquoise trees at $6.50, to Chinese jewelry and silks, French toiles, jasimine tea and ginger and chow chow. Stop and Shop, Michigan Avenue near Washington, is another one of those places where you can buy something for everyone — even diabetics. There are baskets of fruit for from $1.50 to $38, baskets of delicacies, jellies, pate de fois gras, half a dozen kinds of caviar, as many sorts of anchovies and other little fish and animals dear to the heart of the gourmet. And of course fruit cakes, stuffed fruit, every kind of nut, and for children, hard candies, funny foreign cakes and chocolate. — EDNA CORY. /PORT/ REV! EW The Currently Glum Outlook NOT since the season of 1919-20 has the University of Chicago produced a basketball team of any great shakes and word from the Mid way concerning the prospects of this year's crop of cage tossers is, frankly, nothing to inspire correspondence with your ancestral mansion. Mr. Nels Norgren, a gentleman never inclined to be overenthusiastic of the latent prowess among the boys assigned to him each year for instruction in the art of dribbling and hoop snaring, is down right doleful these days over the chances of the Maroon squad. Last year the team might have won a cham pionship — in the pygmy division — but unfortunately its competitors were composed of young men who had reached their full stature and weight. As a result the fiend for statistics found Chicago listed way down at the bot tom, eight from the top, to be exact, in the tables of standings and per centages. Of material with which to improve the showing during the present winter, Coach Norgren is still handicapped by small sized players. He is at loss at the moment for a dependable center and his forwards, Kaplan and Zimmer man, are too short to have much ad vantage over opponents in toss ups. Of new material, a tall second year man, Gilbert Cassie, seems the most promising candidate for the center vacancy. John McDonough, a Maroon football celebrity, and Capt. Charles Hoerger, veterans and dependables, re main to give the coach and the Chicago supporters their one bright ray of hope. These two are rugged defense players. The team opened its season last Satur day with a practice game. Monmouth college furnished the opposition. Of basketball prospects at North western, a report will be forthcoming, anon. Monopoly THE somewhat indefinite season of professional football has not yet terminated, Mr. James Mullen and other impresarios of the "cauliflower" industry have by no means ceased their clamor for public attention, another season of professional hockey has just started in Chicago and yet baseball, most venerable of the pastimes ex ploited for gold, and which a few years ago was the victim of a hue and cry raised by premature obituary notices, 30 TJ4E04ICAGOAN $etrti£i)fea Club Exclusive Russian Restaurant Decorated by Nikolay Kaissaroff George Stcherban's Orchestra ENTERTAINMENT "Chauve Souris" Style Russian-French Cuisine LUNCH— DINNER— SUPPER 403 So. Wabash Ave. Wab. 2452-2497 Spend Sunday Evening in ORCHESTRA HALL 216 S. Michigan Avenue at the famous £tttti»ay Etrentnrj (Elitb Great Speakers: Harry E . Fosdick Henry Van Dyke Wilfred T. Grenfell "Ralph Conner" Stephen S. Wise Hugh Black CHOIR OF wo -SOLOISTS ORGAN - SPECIALITIES - PIANO in this month of December commands the lion's share of sport page allotment almost every day. There must be a reason and it is not without some prob ability that it lies in the report of the Chicago National League club's busi ness department, viz. : That 1,190,000 persons passed through the turnstiles leading into Wrigley field grandstands last summer! One thinks of such trite phrases as "To the victor belong the spoils" and, "Them as has gets," as an explanation of the publicity monopoly which the baseball barons most cer tainly enjoy. Incidentally, as previous comment in this home and fireside journal will bear out, not a few of the million odd pa trons of the Cubs were women guests of the management who took advantage of Ladies' Day each Friday. In spite of the problem; when is a lady not a lady, which arose to confound the gate keepers late in the season, the manage ment has decided to continue the Fri day afternoon soirees next summer. And if hot stove league gossip may be relied upon, the ladies and the cash customers will not be disappointed by lack of a pennant at the end of next year's diamond doings on the north side. It is at present the "inside" low down that Mr. McCarthy expects his newest addition, Hazen "Kiki" Cuyler,, the erstwhile Pittsburgh bench warmer, will provide just the punch which the Bruins need. It is also reported that Mr. McCarthy has admitted a tactical error in overworking certain of his pitchers and that the mistakes will be used as valuable experience in the com ing horsehide campaign. Recognition RECENT developments, one in par ticular, in the world of sport for the pure joy of it are deserving a word, in fact a group of words in print. I refer specifically to the recent activity of Mr. Otto W. Lehmann and gener ally to the horse show and the livestock show, with which he was closely iden tified, and to the local turf racing sit uation, in which he is likely to become a figure. Mr. Lehmann's chairmanship of the Riding Club's show left nothing, from the spectator's viewpoint, to be desired. — JOSEPH DUGAN. ? €J The fiction that no poet ever wrote as well as he dreamed is a joke. Most of them wrote — and still write — far better. . . . And so we bring HOT SPRINGS to Chicago! For more than seventy years, physicians have recommended a trip to Hot Springs ... to drink Mountain Valley Water. Many wished to have the benefits of this fa mous water all the year 'round. . . . So, for more than twenty years, we have been delivering it direct from the Springs in handy sized bottles. 'Phone or write for Booklet We Deliver Mountain Valley Water Co. 739 W. Jackson Blvd. Monroe 5460 North Shore Branch, Evanston 2609 Broadway. Ph. Greanleaf 4777 Importers The Only Dressmaking Establish ment in Chicago Which Combines Exclusiveness of Fabric and Style With a Moderate Price. 6 7\[. Michigan Ave. Chicago, 111. FALL MODELS GREATLY REDUCED // he plays Polo — Nothing could please him for Christmas half as much as a subscription to POLO The Magazine of the Game One Year $5.00 Two Years, $8.00 Three Years, $10.00 Quigley Pub. Co. 407 So. Dearborn St. Chicago, Illinois TI4ECI4ICAGOAN T MUCH GIVEN TO JOLLY COMPANY!" HE unmistakable aroma of Fatimas will soon be curling in many a fragrant wreath 'round many a Christmas tree. For the younger crowd is coming home for the holidays — and bringing younger- crowd preferences with them! FATIM Also in Christmas cartons of 200 LIGGETT b MYERS TOBACCO CO. The Chicagoman Dresses for the Boulevard SATURDAY AFTERNOON on Michigan avenue finds Chicago at its best, or perhaps in its best — for we are writing of male clothing. Of the best, there seem to be four types, each distinctively leading its own class. There is the college man, as he calls himself, together with his non'college brother who takes his cue from the campus. He is one type. Next is the younger alumnus retaining a trace of undergraduate getup though tempered somewhat by a season or two of La Salle street. Then, perhaps next in numbers, on swaggers the sporting gentleman in the so-called Broadway style, a mode dear to the taste of en- ergeitc if unrefined young fellows get' ting on in the world by some devious method or other. And finally, at the peak, is the successful business man, a member of the best clubs, a leader of enterprise, a man of assured position and impeccable dress. A member of the last named cate- gory swings by: striped trousers, ox ford grey coat, wing collar with checked bow tie — and a stick. For some reason Chicago dwellers are in clined to gape at a stick. They call it a cane, and regard it with frontier dis trust. Nor is the derby or bowler a too familiar object on the boulevard. For afternoon wear the soft hat is still most popular though the derby is not un common. Grey is the usual color. The velvet collar is back — enthusi astically back. Here is a post-campus type: young, say twenty-eight. He wears a single-breasted fly front over coat of oxford grey, and the velvet col lar. A dark suit, also grey. White shirt with a starched collar and shephard check tie. Black rounded-toe shoes. And a derby. It is an excellent en semble. He might have worn a soft grey hat with a snap brim, or a welt- edge, small shape, tapering crown head piece. Had he been a bit older he could have done nicely in a bound- edge Homburg hat. The latter seems to make an impression of ready solv ency. The suspender, only lately the hum ble gallus, and now "a set of braces," is topping a revival wave. For a long time this virile male garment] was in eclipse. The college stylists rejuven ated it most vigorously. It enjoys high local favor. Another revival is the double- breasted waistcoat. It was for a time in the bad company of gamblers and touts. Before that it was a mauve '90 affectation. It is now eminently re spectable. The double-breasted weskit appears oftenest with a single-breasted coat and of the same material. How ever more gaudy forms are on the way. Seen in the near future is the Tattersal waistcoat in black checks. Even that bids to be conservative as the winter progresses. A collegiate mesalliance flourishes strangely. It is the shot-gun marriage of 'coon coat and derby hat. Somehow the two get on together. And despite exceptions to the contrary, the soft collar holds its own in Chicago. Long live pioneer daring! — EDWARD GROSSFELD. Art 11 Alley Ooft Chicago" IT was early in the morning on a crisp fall day when I set out in the quest of Neoarlimusc. After making many enquiries of those who ought to know I was directed towards that region of Chicago which lies just south of Lincoln Park. To be more specific, I was told that along the upper reaches of North La Salle Street I might come upon the very tributary where the den of Neoarlimusc was to be found. I was further warned that the place might be cleverly camouflaged — that Neoarlimusc had a facility for combin ing the proper elements until its habi- 32 TUECUICAGOAN Mottled effects characterize the season's mode tation could only be discerned by the initiates. One of the devotees had given me a perfunctory translation of the ideo- graphy of the name, and because of his description I was somewhat troubled in spirit. There is no such animal, I remonstrated; not in Chicago. We have no abode from whence the com bined arts walk abroad peaceably in broad daylight like Siamese twins. There is not that much artistic coher ence in Chicago, I argued. Unless — unless — I reflected: the fellow might have misdirected me. But ... my precepter insisted upon the upper reaches of La Salle Street. He said an alley and the odor of musk would be the sign. And in a barn, so he further intimated, I would find the new intellectual giant. It sounded mystic to me. Neoarlimusc, an alley tributary to La Salle Street, and a barn. Decidedly, it was worth investigating. The readers of The Chicagoan were entitled to be let in on this. Perhaps it was so. One could never be quite certain what prehistoric hangovers might be found on the North Side. To negotiate La Salle Street was easy. I continued until my observation showed 1501, North. Here I made en quiries from a native (who was dis persing carbon dust with a broom) and found that a long detour was necessary in order to reach the interesting tribu tary. It was getting on towards noon now and my ardour was at its zenith. I followed the directions carefully and after a while I came upon the alley in question. Still, there was no trace of Neoarlimusc. Lasy Fords loitered about at will, and haughty Pierce Arrows honked their way with ruthless carelessness. I scanned the caverns on both sides but was greeted only by backfires from the family Pachyderms. I dodged the Rolls Royce of a bootlegger. His exit was followed by the blowing up of a still. Hopeful, I reflected. Great signs of fermentation here. Whereupon, be fore I knew it, the place was right be fore me. Hesitatingly, I knocked. Then, as my courage increased, so did my vio lence. But there was no answer. The only sound was a eight ton ash truck dashing through the alley. I listened . . . my eyes searching deeply within the mystery of the cave. When my sight had become accus tomed to the somber light I noticed some inscriptions on the wall hard by the gate. "Gregory Orloff was here at nine P. M." it read. "Salcia Banch took two hours to find this place and then you were out" it continued. Ah! it was difficult then. Other explorers had tried before me and failed. It was then I became aware of a line scribbled in pencil on the corner of the gate. "Neoarlimusc open every evening. ALLEY OOP CHICAGO." I took note of the last phrase and decided it must be a war cry. The philology was most confusing. It was now four P. M. and I fixed myself in a blind and waited for nightfall. When the hushed hour of twilight came a light suddenly appeared over the entrance to Neoarlimusc. I knocked again; then calmly decided to enter. Through the dark cavern of an inner gallery I followed my nose up a wind ing stair, and I was at the end of my quest. I was met by the cordial spirit of Neoarlimusc himself, in the person of Mr. Weisenborn, who really sur prised one by knowing what it was all about. A look about the walls brought re assurance. I saw the masterful designs of my friend Helen West Heller, and some very fine paintings by Gordon St. Clair. I recognised the finely balanced masses which are marshaled so effec tively by Gregory Orloff, and then there were some deucedly clever litho graphs by a Minneapolis-Paris revolu tionary named Adolph Dehn. The exhibition fairly breathes with vigor and effort. Lots of effort. Per haps some of it has far to go and con servation would seem prudent policy. Time has a way of tempering both the colours and the spirit. Some of it might be better art if it had at least a smattering of academic organisation. But there are a few who will survive themselves. One is left with the im pression that the experiment is decid edly worth while. Art is an instrument with many strings and many vibrations. Some, geniuses are capable of making music on a kettledrum. I dare say there would be a distinct gap in the artistic history of Chicago if it did not include both Neoarlimusc and the gen ial rebel Mr. Weisenborn. "Alley Oop Chicago." — OSKAR J. W. HANSEN. Backgrounds By One Who Knew Them When— Charles W. Dunkley was sport' ing editor on a paper in a Michigan town so small that it had no sport, be fore coming to Chicago and joining the staff of the Associated Press. ? James L. Monaghan was employed as a switchman by the Chicago, Bur lington and Quincy Railroad. ? Bernard E. Sunny, president of the Illinois Bell Telephone Company, began his business career as a telegraph operator. ? James Hamilton Lewis worked as a laborer on the ore docks at Buffalo, New York. ? Tom McGuire was a special police man for the Chicago, Milwaukee and St. Paul Railroad. ? Julius Rosenwald was proprietor of a small tailor shop in the old Far- well building. ? Frank O. Lowden taught school in a small town in Iowa and later won a prise in oratory in college. 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