For Forfni^b March 24, Price 15 Certs Q^eNEW to progress in motor car body styles, ed the century's great advances in beau- in its January issue refers to the new ty and distinction of body design. The Hupmobile Century Eight as "a com- confidence placed in Hupmobile manu- posite picture of the 1928 American facturing integrity over a period of twen- car". This tribute confirms the verdict ty years is now dramatically paralleled by of the National Automobile Shows, a new pride in appearance that is win- where of all cars exhibited, the new ning thousands of owners to Hupmobile. GAMBILL MOTOR CO., Inc. Hupmobile Distributors 2230 Michigan Ave., Calumet 5800 HUPMOBILE The Chicagoan — Martin J. Quigley, Publisher and Editor; published fortnightly by The Chicagoan Publishing Co., 407 South Dearborn St Chicago, 111. New York Office: 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 5617 Hollywood lilvd. Subscription $3.00 annually, single copies 15c. Vol. IV No. 13— For the Fortnight ending March 24. (On Sale March 10.) Entered as second-class matter at the Post Office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. TME CHICAGOAN Silent THE TRIBUTE ACCORDED WOMEN GOWNED BY ^Martha The T)rake OUR SHOP EXCLUSIVELY FOR MISSES DIRECTLY OPPOSITE THE DRAKE AT OAK STREET 2 THE CHICAGOAN OCCASIONS CHICAGO STMPHONT ORCHESTRA — Thirtyseventh season. Regularly, Fri' day matinee, Saturday evening. For mid-week programs call Harrison 0362. CHICAGO CIVIC OPERA— On tour. To resume April 3. GALLI-CURCI— Orchestra Hall. Sunday, March 11. Afternoon, 3:30. FIFTEENTH— The Peaceful Kalends, ten days after the sinister Ides of March. THE SEVENTEENTH— One more venge ful buffet at King George. SPE-RING— Official solar opening of the spring season with the equinox on March 21. TWENTY-FIFTH— Roars, not of an angry month's departure, but roars of approval for the new Chicagoan, then due on newsstands. STAGE Music on the Boards GOOD NEWS— Selwyn, 180 North Dear born. Central 3404. A collegiate romp divertingly done. Very remotely like col lege, but pleasingly like a brisk, tuneful, merry show. Reviewed inside by Charles Collins. Abe Lyman orchestrates. Cur tain 8:15, 2:15 Wed. and Sat. EARL CARROLL VANITIES— Illinois, 6? East Jackson. Harrison 6510. The sixth yearly. A long, loud, funny piece with Moran and Mack, Julius Tannen, Central 8240. Though boasting Julia Sanderson, Frank Crumpit, and Gersh win's music, Oh Kay isn't. Pooh- poohed in this issue by Charles Collins. Curtain 8:15. Sat and Wed. 2:15. AFRICANA— Adelphi, 11 North Clark. Randolph 4466. A colored and caloric revue starring Ethel Waters. Well her alded. Should be worth eyesight. And to be reviewed. Curtain 8:20. Sat. and Wed. mat. 2:20. Dramtnah THE SILVER CORD— Studebaker, 418 South Michigan. Harrison 2792. Laura Hope Crews splendid in a shrewd, shock ing play (both words used for their legit imate meaning). Awfully good (right). Evenings 8:30. Wed. and Sat. 2:30. THE LETTER— Olympic, 74 West Ran dolph. Central 8240. Opening March 12, with Karthrine Cornell in a Somerset Maugham vehicle, this thing of the stage presents a consummate actress in a com petent play. Ought to be excellent. To be reviewed. Curtain time probably 8:30. Mat. Wed. and Sat. (probably) 2:30. No Sunday performance. THE CONSTANT WIFE— Harris, 170 North Dearborn. Central 1880. Ethel Barrymore argues, and ably, for marital infidelity. A good job of propaganda, also by Maugham. Until April 7. Cur tain time, 8:30. Wed. and Sat. mat. 2:30. Nothing Sunday. EXCESS BAGGAGE— Princess, 319 South Clark. Central 8240. A drammcr of Johnny Dooley and Norman Frescott. Excellent revue stuff. Curtain 8:15, Sat. and Wed. 2:15. A HIGHT IN SPAIN— Four Cohans, 119 North Clark. Raucous and amusing di does cut by shapely though dubious Span iards. The senoritas Hoffman in a most agile stomach dance are herewith dis creetly praised. Evenings 8:15. Sat. and Wed. 2:15. THE DESERT SONG— Great Northern, 21 Quincy. Central 8240. The Rom berg romance goes on and on. A brave, glamorous, splendidly sung piece; see it by all means. Evenings 8:15. Sat. and Wed. 2:15. OH KAY— Garrick, 64 West Randolph. vaudeville life which impressed this ob server as so-so, but pleased the astute Collins. Read for yourself in this issue. Evenings 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. IRISH PLATERS— Herewith mentioned for an excellent posthumous review of "The Plough and the Stars" in this issue. And going on with "Juno and the Pay- cock." Without question the best drama in town. Magnificent. Evenings 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. "Diplomacy" opens March 17, and is reputed to offer an all- star cast. To be reviewed. WOODEN KIMONO— Cort, 132 North Dearborn. Central 0019. A drama for those who attend playhouses to be scared hairless. If you like shudder stuff. Even ings 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. SAVAGES UNDER THE SKXNJ — Min- turn Central, 64 East Van Buren. Har rison 5800. A panting and trouserless episode along the equator. It's a matter of preference. CAMILLE— Goodman Art Theatre, Lake- front at Monroe. Central 7085. A travesty, intentional, on a fair courtesan in the Great West — and incisively merry. Evenings, except Sunday, 8:15. Mat. Fri. 2:15. Saturday children's matinees and charming entertainment. On the whole, nicely done and worth while. CINEMA ERLANGER— 127 N. Clark— The King of Kings, reviewed on page 23. Twice daily, 2:15 and 8:15. WOODS — Randolph at Clark — Simba, Martin Johnson's jungle report, twice daily. UNITED ARTISTS— Dearborn at Ran dolph — Incomparable Chaplin in the in comparable Circus, until further notice. Continuous daily. Midnight show Sat urday. McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison— The Pat ent Leather Kid, previously displayed at higher prices in less adequate surround ings. Continuous. ROOSEVELT— 110 N. State— Old Iron sides, celluloid epic, until March 18 or longer. To be followed by The Cohens and Kellys in Paris. Continuous and pleasantly conducted performances. (Continued on Page 4) THE CHICAGOAN Just Remember RevelTs Gift Shop and the Rest Will Be Easy ! No gift enigmas if you come here. One visit to our gift shop on the main floor will certainly solve your problems. For example: Framed Water Color Pictures Beautiful hand blocked pictures in lovely color ings. Choice of several popular sizes at £5 £7.50 £13.50 Wrought Iron Smok ing Lamp Suitable for man's room or office. Choice of tan or green parchment shade, special at £9.50 Latest Style Compacts Smart, new styles includ ing the clever Dunhill Vanity . . . refills in the new shades. Priced from £1.50 to £25 Waste Baskets and Telephone Screens With prints from the old masters or in the most extreme modern art to order - — - in any color scheme. £3.50 to 11.50 You'll find the ideal gift for any occasion here. Revell'S at WABASH and ADAMS 4 TUE CHICAGOAN (Begin on Page 2) SPORTS BASEBALL— Opening at Comiskey Park, April 14. White Sox vs. St. Louis. BASKET BALL— National Catholic High School tournament at Loyola university, March 21-25. TRACK MEET — Big Ten Indoor meet, March 9-10, at Iowa City. HOCKEY — Blackhawks at Coliseum, March 12, vs. Pittsburgh; March 15, vs. Bos ton; March 17, vs. Detroit, and final game March 21, vs. New York (Rangers). RADIO Sunday Roxy, KYW, 1 p. m. Lyon fc? Healy artist recital, WMAQ, 1 p. m. Columbia Symphony, WQJ, 2 p. m. Collier's Hour, KYW, 7:1? p. m. Atwater Kent Hour, WGN, 8:1? p. m. American Singers, WJAZ, 8:30 p. m. Don Voorhees Band, WMAQ, 9:1? p. m. Monday Roxy and His Gang, KYW, 6:30 p. m. One-Half Hour with Great Composers, WEBH, 7:00 p. m. A. 6? P. Gypsies, WGN, 7:30 p. m. Musical Album, WMAQ, 8:00 p. m. General Motors, WGN, 8:30 p. m. Tuesday Stromberg Carlson Orchestra, KYW, 7:00 p. m. Eveready Hour, WGN, 8 p. m. Armand Hour, KYW, 9:30 p. m. Wednesday Great Moments from History, WEBH, 7 p. m. Ipana Troubadours, WLOB, 8 p. m. Goodrich Silvertown Hour, WGN, 8:30 p. m. Columbia Artists, WMAQ, 9 p. m. Thursday Dodge Bros. Hour, WEBH, 7 p. m. Maxwell House program, KYW, 8 p. m. Clicquot Club Eskimos, WGN, 8 p. m. Friday Godfrey Ludlow, violinist, KYW, 7 p. m. Wrigley Spearmen, KYW, 8 p. m. Anglo-Persians, WGN, 8 p. m. Palmolive Hour, WGN, 9 p. m. Thirty Minute Men, WMAQ, 9 p. m. Show Boat, WLS, 10 p. m. Saturday New York Symphony, KYW, 7 p. m. Philco Hour, KYW, 8 p. m. TABLES BLACKSTONE — 6?6 South Michigan. Harrison 4300. Fashionable and famous, in excellent taste, and secure in an un questioned social standing. Margraffs the music. August Dittrich, the headwaiter. STEVENS — 730 South Michigan. Wabash 4400. Immense in size, adequate, genial and popular. Gallechio's band. And a very competent $3 dinner. Mr. Stalder is headwaiter. CONGRESS— Congress at Michigan. Har rison 3800. A spectacle, gay and gleam ing. Johnny Hemp's smooth band in the Balloon Room, where Ray Barrec super vises the table service. Peacock Alley, of course. And all the atmosphere for a brave evening. PALMER HOUSE — State at Monroe. Randolph 7?00. A pleasant inn, well kept and hospitable. A notable sym phony orchestra. Highly adequate serv ice. Mutchler is headwaiter. PETRUSHKA CLUB— 403 South Wabash. Wabash 2497. A gay and wise night place frequented by high caste patrons. THE CHICAGOAN PRESENTS Spring, by Constantin Aladjalov. .. .Cover Places to Go Page 2 The Present Space 4 The Season's Greetings ? Intimate Chicago Views, by Burton Browne 6 Topics of the Town, by Martin J. Quigley 7 Do You Know Your Chicago?, by Hermina A. Selz 8 The Illinois Women's Athletic Club 9 If I May Say So, by Gene Markey. . 10 Kepping Up with Keyserling, by Barney Blair 11 Our Discreet Oases, by Francis C. Coughlin 13 Chicago Crime Anthology, by W. H. Williamson 1 ? The Irish Brigade, by Patrick O'Quinn 19 Erin Go Braugh, by Carreno 20 The Stage, by Charles Collins 21 Ft. Sheridan Exhibits, by D. C. Hig- ginson 22 The Cinema, by W. R. Weaver 23 Art, by Ulysses Jones 24 Musical Notes, by Robert Pollak 2? Newsprint, by Ezra 26 Another "Racket," by Ruth G. Berg man 28 The Chicagoenne, by Arcye Will 29 The Mail 31 Music, floor show, dining and dancing. One of the three-star clubs. Khmara is master of ceremonies. Kinsky is head- waiter. COLLEGE INN— Hotel Sherman. Dining and dancing with nice people, and even a few collegians. Pleasant and merry. Brown is headwaiter. BAL TABARM— Also Hotel Sherman. Floorshow, dining, and dancing in a smart, happy assemblage. Conventional and heaps of fun. Perhaps two and one- half stars. Dick Reed is headwaiter. CLUB AMBASSADOR— 226 East On tario. Delaware 0930. Sig. Barone, for merly of the Mirador, is opening this one any time now, with the Mirador cast. Dining, dancing and floor show. And Helen, most delightful of hostesses. Johnny Itta will be headwaiter. We list, too: MIDNIGHT FROLICS THE RAINBOW, CLUB ANSOMA CHEZ PIERRE, CLUB ALABAM, CT- MAC CLUB, PARODY CAFE, THE SUH'SET, THE RENDEZVOUS, and THE BLACKHAWK. Some of these places have been tinkered with by government sniffers. Some of them wear injunctions on their front doors. Yet they thrive and do business. We suggest 'phoning your favor ite place first. Or 'phone (not after 3 a. m.) E. C. Ycllowley, prohibition chief for this dry area. ORRINGTON HOTEL— 1710 Orrington Avenue. Evanston. University 8700. Dancing to Dell Coon's band Wednes days and Fridays. Capable cookery. And a pleasant place, spring time call, out north. Miss Kennedy is headwaitress. A BIT OF SWEDEN— 1011 Rush. Dela ware 4?98. Resolute victuals with for midable Nordic names, well worth a bout. Quaint, nice, different. ST. HUBERT'S OLD ENGLISH GRILL —316 Federal. Wabash 0770. The stately dining of Albion still impregnable in a rebel country. Magnificent steaks and chops. LAKESHORE DRIVE HOTEL — 181 Lalccshorc Drive. Superior 8?00. An ex clusive spot, strong in the resplendent patronage of suave and wealthy Gold Coasters. One of the very best. John Birgh is headwaiter. DRAKE HOTEL— Michigan Avenue and Lalccshorc Drive. Superior 2200. Smart, genial, popular, a large and high class inn. Dancing to Bobby Meeker's capa- blc rhythms. Peter Ferris is headwaiter. PEARSOH HOTEL— 190 East Pearson. Superior 8200. Quiet, scrupulous, com fortable, and well-bred. Thoroughly com petent menu. Thoroughly nice people. Sandifcr is headwaiter. L'AIGLON— 22 East Ontario. Delaware 1909. Teddy Majerus is host for this eating parlor lately opened in new, dandy quarters. Splendid food until 1 a. m. Private dining rooms if desired. MARINE DINING ROOM — Edgewater Beach Hotel. Longbeach 6000. Nice, happy and refreshingly proper. Gus Ed wards' music. Vince Laczko at the tables. THE APEX CLUB— 3 ?th and Calumet. Black and tan. Happy. A bit redolent of Harlem. THE REX— State at 22nd. Happy and hard. Now and then downright mili tant. But worth a try. 'Phone first. KELLY'S STABLES— Rush at Austin. Delaware 2141. A show place, ear-split ting, harmless, informal, and cheap. Johnny Akeley is headwaiter. Yell for him. NORTH SHORE HOTEL— 1611 Chicago Avenue, Evanston. University 6400. A pleasant inn given over to good food and lots of it. A commendable dinner place during north shore motoring. ART ART INSTITUTE— The thirty-second an nual, an exhibition by artists of the Chi cago area. Eighteenth annual etching showing of etchings under the auspices of the Chicago Society of Etchers. Mosle's Japanese art. And the Swope Chiaroscuro prints. ARTS CLUB OF CHICAGO— Picasso's drawings. Marsden Hartley's drawings. CHESTER JOHNSON GALLERIES — Staid English portraiture, and modern French didoes. MARSHALL FIELD GALLERIES— The No-Jury Show, loud with modern pieces of what Meicr-Graefe unwittingly pro nounced "Acht!" Discussed capably on Page 24. ALBERT ROULLIER GALLERIES -— Prints excellent, recently purchased abroad. A splendid showing of etchings well worth seeing. SECESSION. LTD.— Modern decorative arts, interesting and possibly important. Imported fabrics, china, and glassware. TI4E CHICAGOAN 5 a St. Patrick Invented >> the Monkey-Wrench- (Engineer's Song) IT 7 HEN the great saint found his bishop's staff merely intrigued an untutored skull, he was forced to try another argument. Presumably it was the monkey wrench. A hint from the new invention, and an enlight ened heathen stayed convinced. The process was necessary, a trifle strenuous, just a bit unsubtle. T HE world moved on- nHHE CHICAGOAN, a magazine in a strenuous community, -*¦ stands, too, for the civilized interests. Issue after issue it pre sents one basic thesis : A lively, amusing, significant spectacle, gaily and literately handled. (Not a wrench in the reading.) OPORTS, music, stage, books, and art — of course. The people and w*-' things of Chicago worth knowing — there too. And, above all, a vivid, contemporary record of the most zestful civic spectacle on the planet. 1 Nothing strenuous about this: The dotted line forms on the right. The Chicagoan 407 So. Dearborn St. Chicago, 111. Send "The Chicagoan" one year $3.00 — two years $5.00. Name Address City State TUECUICAGOAN L1VJ § M: Intimate Chicago Views Mr. Blair Personally Inspects Chicago Surface Lines Service _ _QWICAGOAN nbpics of the Hbuon I OLICE officials in public pro nouncements have frequently declared that gun warfare in Chicago is an un important crime manifestation because the results of these homicidal activities are confined to the personnel of gang land. It is pointed out cynically that this informal removal of undesirable citizens has its good points in that it often relieves the state of the expense and effort of formal execution or im prisonment. It may be observed, of course, that such a policy is hardly in accord with the best principles of public law and order, but it must be admitted that it is not without a certain merit. We have not as yet heard of any extension of this policy to cover the recent bombings of the domiciles of some of our lesser political figures. It would be interesting to know if in this case also it is felt that the public in terest is being served. Treeing the Horse r\ GAIN we hear the familiar an nouncement that the horse is doomed to go. This time the announcement emerges from a convention of a milk dealers' association. We are told that "progress" d e - mands the in troduction of the automotive ve hicle in connec tion with the important func- t i o n of urban milk distribu tion. There is, in deed, a melan choly note in the announcement of the passing of the horse-drawn milk wagon, but the removal of horses from that plodding business has nothing to do with it. The milk wagon, encountered abroad in the early hours of the new day, has long served a useful purpose in afford ing definite indication — at a time and upon an occasion when indefinite in dication is of no use whatsoever — that the evening has been spent and that the realities of another day are at hand. With these slow, rhythmical hoof- beats no longer available to convey their time-honored message that the day is done, we fear that the well- ordered routine of those who through long practice have schooled themselves to arrive home just before the rising sun will be seriously interfered with. However, the passing of the horse from this and from every other type of drudgery is something that sportsmen "Tan him see awightf will regard with complete satisfaction. The noblest embodiment of the horse has always been the horse in the field of sport and it is there that his pre mier position will never be threatened. The cause of the horse was aided and not impaired by his removal from working uses. When each successive branch of commerce and industry proclaims that the horse is "doomed" it means only that he is freed from another type of drudgery and consequently brought a step closer to that ideal day when his use will be confined to the field of sport where his character and his capa bilities are best appreciated. Imported Analysis V/UR skyscrapers have something of the charm of the pyramids of Egypt, especially at evening, we are informed by Herr Julius Meier-Graefe, distin guished German art critic, who is in cluded in the latest host of foreign ex perts of one thing or another engaged in the popular practice of roughing it in America. Almost with- o u t identifies - tion as to nationality for eign visitors to Chicago may be known for their country of or igin by the tem per of their re- marks to the press. The Brit- i s h visitor is sharp and un compromising and frequently says something TI4b" CHICAGOAN that may not contribute to his popular ity, but does reveal a target for crit icism; the German visitor is deter minedly optimistic and the Frenchman is wildly enthusiastic. In this case, however, Herr Meier- Graefe's intended compliment doubt lessly came with little effort because Chicago's architecture of commerce and business, exemplified in a long list of imposing structures, represents a de velopment of note. But his comparison of the beauty of these buildings to the charm of the pyramids of Egypt leaves one just a little unconvinced as to just what he means unless it might be assumed that he has only a story-book acquaintance with the appearance of the pyramids. To compare the Tribune Tower with one of the pyramids of Egypt is a ludicrous notion. An Egyptian pyra mid is the same sort of an example of beauty as is the Stockyards. And we have never known the Stockyards to be charged with any sort of beauty. They are vast, imposing and great in their significance. So are the pyramids; but they are equally without beauty or charm. The pyramids of Giseh, lying just oustide the City of Cairo, are the best known of the Egyptian pyramids and their hallowed place in song and story leaves one quite unprepared for the forbidding sight they present. They are situated in a vast waste of rock and gravel and strewn about with the de bris of an unkempt Summer resort. Their weather-beaten appearance is a sufficient testimonial of their antiquity, but their broken and ambling lines have long since blotted out much of the original effectiveness of design. However, Herr Meier-Graefe is en titled to his classical reference which is always a safe ground to stand upon in answering the questions of the press. You Know — Doll Re ars in JKome 1 T SEEMS to us to be quite an in teresting thing that the American College in Rome, established in 1627 by Pope Urban VIII, is to be re- builded by Chicago finance. When this place that is now the metropolis of Chicago was an utter wilderness this Roman college was already a world-renowned institution. And now the college whose present building have outlived their usefulness turns to Chi cago for finances with which to con- Wherc is this foggy foyer? tinue its existence. It is a story that in one respect or another is finding many counterparts in connection with the Westward trend of the seats of the mighty. George Cardinal Mundelcin, in de vising and executing this plan for re building the American College in Rome adds importantly to his already powerful position at the Vatican. Cardinal Mundelein in Rome, and in the councils of the Vatican, typifies America. He is regarded as a modern miracle-worker, a source of accomplish ments which dazes the understanding of persons who do not know America. He is regarded a little anxiously at times because his undertakings and the methods which he employs so far transcend the procedure of centuries to which Rome is accustomed. Together with all of the other mem- — this quietly glorious relief bers of the College of Cardinals, Car dinal Mundelein is pastor of one of the five hundred churches of Rome. His church is one of the most noted and important basillicas of the city and was, incidentally, the last church in which Martin Luther officiated before leaving the faith of Rome. Cardinal Mun- delein's pastorate of this church is one of the continuing evidences of his power and influence in Rome. Before his elevation to the cardi- nalate, and while in Brooklyn, New York, Cardinal Mundelein focused at tention from the Vatican upon him self because of the extraordinary con tributions to papal funds which he collected. Since coming here it is un derstood that the archdiocese of Chi cago has become the most important zone of financial support to the Pope of all the dioceses in the world. The Illinois W omen's — . TI4ECI4ICAGOAN 9 — Y our Chicago? — this downtown lane? Unmasking I ROM official announcement we learn that the Ku Klux Klan is going out of existence and in the future will be known as the Knights of the Great Forest. With the passing of the pic turesque title, which was lifted from the vigilantes of the South who were organized to combat disorder following the Civil War, the present organiza tion will also abandon the mask and robe. While we are not exactly concerned over the welfare of this association, we feel that someone should point out to it that in abandoning its original title, together with the mask and robe, it is allowing to pass by the board a very considerable part of what has enabeled it to collect ten dollars per head from prospective members. The title, "Ku — this club and restaurant? Klux Klan," has an adventuresome lilt to it; the mask and robe provide se crecy and give the wearer the feeling that he is some sort of a crusading knight. Abandon these and what the thing is all about becomes increasingly difficult to explain — especially in view of the fact that every possible explana tion requires a generous admixture of hokus-pocus to enable it to stand up. Calling the association "Knights of the Great Forest" seems to be reducing its effective content to less than one- half of one per cent. H Partners ERE is a story which has been successfully dispelling the tedium at one of the resorts of the Southland fre quented by Chicagoans in flight from Chicago's wintry weather: In the hills a few miles away from the main hotel of the resort is a log- cabin roadhouse which has its obvious uses in a case like this. On Saturday nights a considerable delegation of the colonels' ladies and the Judy O'Gradys are accustomed, with escorts, to make rendezvous at the log-cabin, the former in escape from the social austerity of the hotel and the latter because there is hardly any place else to go. Among the vacationists at the resort this season is a distinguished-appearing bachelor who seems to be heavily laden with an old world sophistication. His boredom seems to be immense. Throughout a long visit he had held himself singularly detached from the events of the day, going about mostly alone. Only an occasional raised eye brow indicated that he was willing to make any acknowledgment at all of the existence of the place and the peo ple about him. On a recent Saturday night the colonels and their ladies were making a great show of the democratic spirit by reviewing interestedly the dancing at the log cabin which was being par ticipated in chiefly by the Judys and their boy friends, the Judys being mostly waitresses from the hotel. As the evening wore on to expansive lengths a newly arrived couple was admitted. The man was our boulevar- dier. His companion was — the butter girl from the hotel dining room. A Without Walking — Athletic Club GROUP of Chicago financial men, visiting in the South, recently made their first acquaintance with the brand of popular oratory indulged in by Mayor Walker of New York. The New York mayor was a guest at a luncheon, attended by the Chicago men, at Winston-Salem, N. C, the native heath of the Camel cigarette. The New York mayor in his ad dress was as usual swinging his audi ence merrily along with him. Eventually he came to the subject of cigarettes; and finally to the mention of the Camel cigarette in particular. "Camel cigarettes cause me to get all out of breath," New York's chief mag istrate declared. The other guests, including a num ber of officials of the company which manufactures the cigarette, gasped. "I get all out of breath," he contin ued, "reaching for them." MARTIN J. QUIGLEY. 10 TWECUICAGOAN t: IF deal of loud talk, not to mention mutter ing and low mumbles, concerning a play called, "The Racket," which New York has clasped to its ample bosom this sea son. According to the current legend, the wickedness revealed in this melo drama transpires in a large midwestern capital, the name of which is not sup posed to be mentioned — but let us say that it is situated between Evanston and Pullman, 111., along the shores of Ole Debbil Mich'. And (according to the legend) since it hints that soiled proceedings, such as robbery, arson, hi-jackery, murder, etc., are tolerated in high places, "The Racket" has displeased certain political potentates in the midwestern capital, which we shall refer to as C . Therefore the management of "The Racket" has been advised (or so the legend runs) not to disclose the play within the peaceful confines of C . Nobody, you understand, has actually marched forward with an ultimatum that "The Racket" may not set up its tents in C — -, but there have been veiled murmurs of discontent from mysterious sources, with the re sult that "The Racket" is quite defi nitely not including C — in its tour of the provinces. The author and the producer appear to put an absurd value on their health. All this seems a pity. "The Racket" is capital entertainment, and I have a fancy that the natives of C— — ¦ — ¦ would find it interesting in more ways than one. But its frankness has aroused the ire of this or that (prob ably that) political potentate. And political potentates always have the best interests of their constituents at heart, so perhaps it is just as well for the citizens of C if "The Racket" is withheld from their scrutiny. However, I have worked out a little scheme through which "The Racket" can be shown in C with prac tically no offense to anyone. To be sure my scheme calls for a bit of re writing — but then, plays are constantly being re-written by everybody around the theatre, including the ushers, so I feel that the author and the producer of "The Racket" will welcome my shy suggestions. Herewith follows a synop sis of the play, as rearranged to com ply with the City Hall censorship of the midwestern capital, C . I MAY /AY /O A Lets Have Lots of Censoring (C— — - is the town, you recall, where a play called "The Racket" can not be shown. Don't you remember? It seems that — well, anyhow, let's get on with the revised synopsis.) ACT I opens in a police-station in an outlying district of the Big City. (And, by the way, in my ver sion the name of the town is never mentioned. All the characters pretend that they think it's some other town. You can see right away what an ad vantage that is.) There is an opening chorus sung by several stalwart, hand some policemen. (I thought it better to put in music, so that in case the libretto should become too personal at any time, we can always go right into a musical number.) After the opening chorus, some reporters come in and play games. One of the reporters says to the policemen: "Well, boys, any thing new about the crime wave?" And the desk sergeant says, "What crime wave?" The reporter is somewhat embarrassed, and answers: "Why, isn't there a crime wave here? I thought — " He is interrupted by the police captain himself, who has just come in. (And mark this fellow, for he is one of the principal characters.) "Crime wave?" bellows the captain. "What crime wave?" Of course, by this time the reporter is pretty much ashamed of himself, and hangs his head. "There's no crime wave here — that's all British propaganda!" says the captain. Then follows a pretty little scene in which the reporters all go off to write articles reassuring the public that there is no crime wave. (Soft music for this part.) The big kick comes at the end of the act, when the policemen are chatting and laughing among themselves, and suddenly the telephone rings — loud and clear. "What's that?" cries the captain, jump ing to his feet. The policemen all stand in tense attitudes, listening. "It's the telephone," says the desk-sergeant. "That's funny — we haven't had an alarm in months." "There's dirty work afoot, men," mutters the captain. A tense, dramatic silence. Then, slowly the captain moves toward the telephone — as the curtain falls. (How is that for suspense?) But wait, "you ain't heard — " CT II is the same scene, twenty four hours later. The captain is at the win' dow, peering out. All the policemen are still standing in tense attitudes. Finally, one of them speaks up. "I can't stand any longer in this tense attitude!" he shrieks hysterically. "Sh!" The captain whirls around. "Not a sound from any of you! You know who is expected here — My old enemy — Joe So-and-So" (none of the characters have names, so there can be no hard feelings) "the worst all- around bad man in town." He'll be here any minute now. "So that was the guy that telephoned yesterday!" says the nervous policeman. "Well, why didn't you tell us?" Finally Joe So- and-So, the gangster, enters. He is smiling, and behind him troops a chorus of pretty girls. (This is where the love interest comes in.) "Well, well, captain, how are you?" shouts the gangster amiably. "Fine, thanks, Joe — how are you?" replies the captain. Having settled this point, the gangster hands out cigars all around. "And now," says he, "I'll tell you the real reason for my visit. I came to buy a hundred tickets to the Policemen's Benefit next week." The act ends with the captain and the gangster shaking hands, and the policemen and the girls performing a dance around them. ACT III opens with a big scenic ef- i feet. It is the night of the Police men's Benefit, and all the policemen and their girls are dancing. A sextette of jailers and judges sing a very funny number that goes : "T^ow that there is no more crime, "J<[o more bozos doing time — " You can see how it goes. Then there is some more plot, and the gangster confesses that he isn't really a gangster at all. It seems it was just a newspaper story. The finale is a pageant of Civic Progress. But I am ahead of my plot. The police captain asks the comedian why so-and-so, meaning some other fel low, hasn't been around tacking up the campaign posters, and the comedian answers: "He didn't have anything to tack them up with — he threw away his hammer and got a horn!" After the laugh a real horn blows off-stage, and the pageant begins. Political Potentates in flowing white robes, carrying bou quets of flowers, parade across the stage, and artificial doves, hanging from wires, flutter their wings. At the TWE CHICAGOAN n Chicagomen MR. O. L. HALL Overlord of "The Chicago Daily Journal" Searches the Misty Hor izon for a Possible Democratic Candidate grand finale the flag is run up, and the entire company sings. (I have mislaid the words of the song, but it is some thing to the effect that, no matter what you may read in the out of town pa pers, don't believe all this bunk about a crime wave, and we live in the best little old town in the little old U. S. A., and we'll soon have our subway, etc., etc.) And everybody is slapping everybody else on the back as the cur tain falls. This is my idea of a version of "The Racket" that would please young and old, and receive the official O. K. of the Political Potentates at the city hall in C . Although you never can tell. Somebody might object to the music. — GENE MARKEY. ? Many of the graduates will be glad to know that Miss Carmalette Kinney '23 was married about 2 weeks ago. — "The Com' mercial," Vicksburg (Michigan). Vicksburg? ? He reiterated his reiterated his desire that prohibition should be made an issue in the next Presidential campaign. — New Tor\ Herald'Tribune. Abshootly, Hie! Keeping Up with Keyserling A One-Act Comedy Drama in Three Acts CAST OF CHARACTERS Count Hermann Keyserling Himself The Impresario Baroness de Huec\ The Educator Glenn Fran\, President of the University of Wisconsin The Intellectual Fred At\ins Moore, Director, Chicago Forum Council The Critics . . . .Thomas D. and Sigrid E. Eliot, Dept. of Sociology, Northwestern University. The Host City Treasurer and Mrs. Chas. A. Peterson Representative of Local Nobility. Princess Michael Cantacuzene Reporters, Photographers, Society People, Intellectuals and Debutantes Time : March 1 1 and 12, 1928 Place : Chicago ACT I A room in the City Club. The Im presario is discussing Count Hermann Keyserling with the Intellectual. The Educator is off stage. The Intellectual — Is it true the Count Hermann Keyserling is the outstanding intellectual figure of contemporary Europe? The Impresario — Count Keyserling is 6 ft. tall and weighs 250 lbs. Intellectual — What is his theory of life? Impresario— That mankind has one great purpose — to produce great in dividuals. The Educator — (in deep voice from off stage) Count Keyserling may turn out to be a John the Baptist of a new western civilization. Impresario— Did you hear that? A voice from the wilderness of Wis consin! (Enter critics in loc\step) The Critics — (together) "The humorless ponderosity of style, am biguous verbiage and impossible paragraphing is soporific and obfus cating as an oldfashioned German meal." Impresario — -Who are these people? Intellectual — Educators from local University. They strive to discredit the complacent philosopher — Count Keyserling. Impresario — Away with them. Bring on the Press. (Exit Critics: Enter Press) The Press — (chanting) We're from the Trib, and the Post and the News: We've come to get Count Keyserling's views; What does he think of Flappers and Booze? And Blonde or Brunette, which does he choose? Impresario — Count Keyserling has difficulty in taking care of his laun dry. His hostess should see to it for him. It must always be returned the same day. He eats nothing fried. Press — (in unison) "Yes, yes, we are the Press! Now tell us quickly, how does he dress? What is his attitude on divorce? Companionate mar riage, murder, of course? Impresario — The Count refuses to meet people at supper, or after sup per, unless he is served with Cham pagne or French wine. He abso lutely needs this stimulant. Press — (in chorus) So do we! Intellectual — (anxious to change the subject) Count Keyserling has been sojourning on the California ranch of Charles R. Crane, a stu dent of the Count's philosophy. He will arrive tomorrow. Press — (together) Will he stand for a photo? Quotations in toto? Impresario — The Count does not ob ject to being photographed provided cameras are not used. If pressed to do so, he will shake hands with the President of the Rotary Club. Cer tain questions make him very nerv ous. (Enter Critics, who dance about) Critics — (together) "Keyserling points with pride to an underlying unity in the work, attributed to the underlying unity and reality of the subject matter. . . . Ethnocentrism limits international appeal, but is perhaps inevitable in such a work. Abstruseness and opaque bulk fur ther handicap its effectiveness 12 TUECI4ICAGOAN among either leaders of fashion or followers of custom." Curtain ACT II Home of The Host. Count Hermann Keyserling is surrounded by society people, intellectuals, rabbis, ministers, and butter and egg men. The Host — Now, Count, we're all anxious to hear your opinion of mar riage. Society People — (in chorus) We've all got sons and daughters; They don't do as they oughta — We're worried and we're harried cause we can't keep 'em married! Count Keyserling — "We can only be saved from the natural revolt against the superior forces of destiny by consciously identifying ourselves with the higher powers that promote destiny." (Enter Critics) Critics — (in chorus) "Verily; but how shall these be recognized, de fined?" Impresario — Enough! Enough! (to Hostess) The Count is weary — he is completely exhausted, both nervous ly and physically. He abhors and avoids to the point of becoming dis agreeable any sort of "small talk." One hour of boredom will make him ill for three days. (Enter Press at double quic\) Press — What's that? What's that? Is he ill? Impresario — I said, he eats nothing fried, neither can he eat raw fruits or salads. The only vegetable he enjoys is the potato. A Voice — (in telephone booth off stage) Hello, Tribune? City Editor? That you, Mike? Listen, I just talked with the Count. He don't like nothing fried. What's that? Does he know Peaches Browning? No, I ain't asked him yet. But you can say he don't like nothing fried. Yes, quote him. Also he likes camembert cheese. What? All right, listen: C for Chicago, A for Alfred, M for Mary, E for Edward, M for Mollie, B for Boston, E for Edward, R for Robert, and T for Tom — Camembert Cheese! Host — (mee\ly) Perhaps the Count would enjoy a little Champagne or French wine. Voice — (in telephone booth off stage) S'long Mike, they're goin' to buy a drink. Impresario — Is the Princess Can- tacuzene here? (Enter the Princess followed by photographers) Photographers — (in chorus) We want to shoot the Count and the Princess together. Ask the Count to take his hat off. (To Count) Cross your legs, please, Count. Host — It's time to eat, folks. Impresario — (in aside) Remember the Count can't digest raw vegetables. Count Keyserling, who will lecture on "Marriage." A Voice from the Gallery — (in hoarse whisper) Now, Handlers, get your instructions! Impresario — (in aside to Host) Such crude people. One would think that the opportunities for education en joyed by the average American would raise the plane of intellect to the point of appreciating a disserta tion on cosmotology. He must sit down at the table be fore eating. Host — All right, all right, all right! Count Keyserling — "It is an essen tial condition for the proper choice of partners that both should be on the same plane of existence — ." Impresario — (interrupting) Count Keyserling was born in the year 1880 on the family estate of Konno in the former Russian province of Livonia, a scion of a long line of Baltic noblemen, for many genera tions concerned in spiritual and in tellectual matters. He likes noth ing . Curtain ACT III The Auditorium of Orchestra Hall. The seats are filled. People are im patiently awaiting the appearance of Host— Eh, Huh. Society Editors — (to social regis trants in box) Did you pay for this box, or are you the guests of Mrs. J. Trentington Pattsmuffett? You are, or you did? Names, please, (in aside to assistants) Look 'em up in the book. Occupant of Next Box — (to com panions) Here comes the Society Editors. Give 'em your right names. Impresario — (in stage whisper) Here he comes! Here comes the Count. I hope he has had nothing fried. Voice of the Audience En Masse — (in Wedding March tempo) "Here comes the Count! Here comes the Count! — Curtain — barney blair. TI4EO4ICAG0AN 13 A LITTLE tavern on a Gold Coast street and set raffishly askew on the corner, it is no imposing speakeasy. There are a dozen within hailing dis tance, brighter, larger, and more briskly patronized — but not gayer, nor more hospitable, nor half so snug, secure, and warm. Booths line the sides of it, not many booths. They are generous partitions around a table, de signed not so much for superflu ous privacy — for here the guest may speak his soul or bawl his song after the immemorial drink ing custom of the Gael, and wel come — but to furnish a number of focal points where well-spiked beer and resolute gin can be set carefully down. A witty saying is bandied from one table to an other, around the partition or over it, what matter? Applause is generous and unsubtle. This is a tavern, not a mere grog shop. If the frequenter chooses, he may have an excellent meal with his cup. Some of the guests — a fairly constant body, the guests — are students, rosy, immaculate lads, loud with life. More are older people, seasoned in the world, wiser but not less gay. There are witty fellows and dull frauds and dupes — a narrow line dividing. But night after night it is a lusty tavern clan that gathers here. At least one table holds a symposium. Now and then the whole inn has its high point. JUST now a lady poet (and a good one) is sitting on the floor. She takes her shoes off. She tells about her operation — a gusty and in formal recital. The proprietor is a bit uneasy; he has never quite understood the poetic temperament. He remon strates gently. The poetess draws her feet under her to inform the host that of all garments a lady may conceiv ably remove, surely the shoes are the most modest, the least ' w objectionable. Besides her reet hurt. So does her opera tion. The proprietor, good and tried friend that he is, must realize these things. If not, why tut tut tut tut for him.. The booths roar ap proval. Three of Them A Discreet Tour of Discreet Places Someone at another table starts up: Gaudeamus igitur, Juvenes dum sumus; The lady joins in from the floor, Post jucundam juventutem, -far Sketched, despite tation, by J. H. E. And a whole table including two Notre Dame boys and the Kappa Bate from somewhere swells in on the next line, Post molestam senectutem T^os habebit humus! it goes, a fine swinging chorus the Kappa Bate's lady is heard protesting she will not sing the line: Vivant omnes virgines which, she pro tests, leaves her out. Poets have a weakness for taverns; perhaps because spiked beer is no tip ple for unimaginative souls. Over So until e temp- Clark against the wall the shade of Marlowe raises up a ghostly glass: Vita nostra brevis est Brevi finietur Villon, never strong of heart or mid dle, sulks sore-headed and wretched in the corner. ALONG West Madison street there are two parades; the dingy shamble from cheap flop houses to employment agencies on Canal street, in the morning, and, in the afternoon, a straggle back. Dirty men in laborer's blue stop off from the afternoon march to enter here where raw spirit and worse goes over the unkempt bar. The sweetish, cor rupt fetor of alcohol is stale in the long room. Bums sidle to the bar and huddle back from it, after what is literally a snort from the glasses on its wet sur face. Talk is a low-pitched mum ble through the close air, and, though perhaps fifty men are conversing, sounds are vague. Many of these are transient workers from the west, men with wind- reddened complexions, now and then lit up by tousled blonde hair and in congruously blue eyes. Drink does not make them bold, definite, and ex pansive. Rather it increases their humility; they drift deeper into a kind of amorphous lowliness — the unex pressed shame of a placeless and job less man. Still there are humble assertions. One fellow discovers himself to have been a prize-fighter. Another is a good mechanic — very possibly true. A third is a competent harvest hand. Others profess learning, the queer jumble hobos acquire from soap-boxers, newspapers, and lenient reading rooms in warm public libraries. An old man quotes Shakespeare with the unmistakable modu lation of a trained elocution ist. He was an actor, he says. He knew actors: Booth and Hampden, John Drew and the rest of them. A circle of hobos tender their admiring silence. The old man forgets. The mechanic explains that booze has ruined the old man's memory, that before that he was a wonder. A polished 14 TWECWICAGOAN and draggled compatriot, once a news paper crack, says he has heard of such things. All agree. Two cops in uni form enter, stare incuriously, and go out. A HOBO who has bought canned heat, "the drinking kind," squeezes the mass in a handkerchief, collects pink dribble in his glass, and gulps the mixture. He makes a horrid, involuntary face. the proprietor shrugs his shoul ders. Yes, they will drink it. Maybe it kills them, after a time. But if he doesn't sell it someone else will. Yes, he has whiskey, good whiskey. Fifty cents a shot, not much call for it here, but it's good. He sets out two glasses — Happy days! — It is. JERRY was drunk. It was early for Saturday afternoon, but the boys at the office had knocked over a few, quite a few, glasses. What Jerry wanted now was, as he put it, "a nice, cool saloon." So it was Adolph's, out south. A long, dark, opulent bar. The mir ror behind it glittered. A bartender in white linen and a negro assistant for the lunch counter, also in white linen. The bartender asks, after the prescribed ritual, and sets two well-collared steins before us. Moving in exact response to a racial tropism, our feet come to rest on the rail. Adolph's is a large place. To the external world — provided the external world is willing to disregard a pleas ant innuendo of hops which drifts out across the sidewalk — this is a restau rant. True enough the negro serves pretzels and sandwiches. The Old Man (Adolph) specializes in beer. That chill amber, frothing from well kept coils, is a meritorious product by any standard, he maintains. Yet now and then he is constrained to admit it is "green." A rush of business, the haste of a greedy braumeister, and an occa' sional "knockover" by prohibition men, these things are not conducive to the production of good brew. Beer should be fashioned amply out of time and meditation. The Old Man serves stronger liquors. But he does them scant honor even while he purveys them. He does respect ale. In the old days, he says, he was fond of wine. The mod ern parody he disavows. For the Old Man has been a saloonkeeper for 35 years. At 20 he was a German bar cherub, at 35 an owner in his own right of a modest corner place. Now, at 5 5, he is a disci plinarian in drink ing manners. He insists on the strict code of another day. NO PATRON may wrangle or brawl at his bar. And no woman may drink before its polished barrier. Indeed, the in creasing number of women drinkers alarms the Old Man, and while he will concede them a glass at a whitecovered table in his back rooms, he will not countenance ladies at his bar. Assuring us that beer bibbing is a slow and stately mat ter, he shows us to a table by the west wall. Five steins later he goes home after giving us a grave goodnight. Jake, his son, assumes the linen vest ments. Jake is of the new order. The establishment is still well run. No saloon under Adolph's escutcheon will ever become a dive. But the an cient, aloof, quiet manner of drinking fostered by the Old Man gives way to a new and livelier folk way. Ladies who have made the delightful discov ery that high heels hook neatly over a brass rail come out and chatter across the mahogany. A little soft singing is approved. Conversation becomes more sprightly and an occasional argument springs up. Nothing raucous, but lively and amusing as befits a race somewhat out from under the burden of pre-prohibition dignity. The negro assistant compounds sandwiches more frivolous than the standard male fa vorites, cheese, ham, and corned beef. Tawny steins pass impartially to both sexes. Nor is it the young and sup- posely wild set drinking. Most the couples are married, the usual party is the married foursome. Men drop in singly or in groups. A thirsty and tol' erant patrolman, tired of walking his beat, stops at the bar end for a glass. Neighbors chat over poised steins, for Adolph's is a suburban place near the I. C, and a neighborly one. Over at a table near the north wall two men raise their voices. They are Jerry and I. "It's a scurvy mess in this country," declaims Jerry, "when a pack of blue-nosed virgins in Arkan sas can keep an honest man from a glass of beer. A crime! An outrage!" "Outrage!" I agree. "Gentlemen," protests young Jake. "Quiet, please." "But prohibition " "No arguments, please, gentlemen." "Sorry, Jake. But prohibition " We sheath our fangs in amber. — FRANCIS C. COUGHLIN. Parlor Magic Telephonic Telepathy AS you know, it is in the winter i months that the parlor athlete flourishes at par or slightly better. When the bridge session nears the end, or a slight intermission is called to per mit the hostess to get in her evening's pouring and the host to do his re-icing, the athlete makes himself known. Non chalantly — it must be nonchalant — he fingers one of the decks of cards and remarks : "Rally round and I'll produce be fore your very eyes a phenomenon that would startle Messrs. Work, White head and Lenz, collectively or indi vidually." Whether the rest of those present rally or not, he needs no more encour agement — his big moment has arrived. Carelessly (and audibly) riffling the pack with utter abandon, he offers it to the visiting lady on the north. "Just choose a card, any one at all." She chooses to choose, and chooses the three of diamonds. "Now"— with just the suggestion of a superior gesture — "now, I'm going to give you the phone number of a cer tain man. You call him and ask him what card you are holding. If he doesn't tell you tout suite, we go down town in the morning and you buy Mr. Stevens' store in my name. Just step TWECI4ICAG0AN 15 over and call Brunswick 2779 and ask for Ben Walsh." After a lady-like amount of coaxing, the lady calls Brunswick 2779. "Is Mr. Walsh in?" "Which Mr. Walsh?" "Ben." "Just a moment, I'll call him." (Prescribed moment of silence.) "Hello." "Mr. Walsh, what card am I hold ing?" "The three of diamonds." BUT the next day, one of the lads who had to sit through the parlor demonstration determines to find out, if possible, the formula. He knows Captain John Naughton, at the Pekin avenue station, and the captain knows all about card tricks and confidence games. "Well, that's easy," he chuckles. "Some of the boys have been putting that one over for the last ten years. Usually, though, they want to bet someone they can do it. This athlete of yours must have bought the combi nation. "I've got the key there somewhere. Captain Hugh McCarthy over at Shef field avenue, knows it, too. Some fast- talker worked it on him once." After a little rummaging around, Naughton found it. There are three telephone numbers to be remembered — Brunswick 2779, Irving 1289 and Boulevard 0630. Thus three "proofs" can be given.) Someone is supposed to be at each of these phones any hour of the day or night, for the express purpose of telling callers what cards he or she may be holding. Each of the four suits has a synonym — a surname. Hearts are known as "Clark;" Spades as "Hunt;" Diamonds as "Walsh," and Clubs, as "Mills." And each of the thirteen cards in each suit has a "Christian" name. Look : Ace John 2 Fred 3 Ben 4 Ed 5 Billy 6 Tom 7 Joe 8 Harry 9 Mike, 10 Al Jack Emil Queen Paul King Charles — ROBT. COPELAND. Chicago Crime Anthology 1. Who Killed Amos Snell? THE SNELL MANSION ABOUT the middle of January, 1888, a young man named William B. Tas- cott wrote the fol lowing lines in the scrap-book of a girl friend in Oak Park: "What's the use of always fret ting At the troubles we shall find, Ever strewn along our pathway"! Struggle on and never mind." Less than a month later he was a fugitive from justice with a price on his head, charged with the murder of Amos J. Snell, multi-millionaire Chicago banker and real estate opera tor. Thus forty years ago was laid the groundwork for one of the most remark able criminal cases in the history of any nation. For "Willie" Tascott seemed to disappear as though the ground had swallowed him. From a preliminary re ward of $1,000, the offer ing grew until $50,000 reward was offered for the capture of Willie Tascott, AMOS h dead or alive. More than 200 suspects were arrested, all over the civilized world, and because no photograph of him was ever ob tained by either police or news papers, it was often necessary to send a Chicago police officer to view the suspect. Lieutenant John C. Dammann, re cently retired from active service, was frequently called upon, because he was one of the few members of the Chicago police THE PRINCIPAL CLEW who had known Tascott. Thousands of dollars were spent by the Chicago police in railroad fares and other traveling expenses; in telegraph tolls; handbills, by the thousands, and kindred other ways, and the net gain was nothing. All right! Let's see what is in this. AMOS J. Snell lived in a mansion at the north-west corner of Washington Boulevard and Ada street. His household consisted of him self, Mrs. Snell, a married daughter whose husband was out of the city when the murder occurred; two little grandchildren, a cook and a maid. The coachman lived in rooms over the stable in the rear, but had his meals with the two house servants, who lived on the third floor of the mansion, an old fashioned affair of three stories and English basement. On the afternoon of February 7, 1888, Mrs. Snell and her daughter went to Mil waukee to visit relatives. That night a big dance was given in a hall across Washington Boulevard from the Snell mansion. (Chicago's Gold Coast was then on the West Side.) The dance broke up about two hours after mid night, and for at least half an hour the night was re peatedly shattered by stentorian calls from the doorman, for the carriages of the elite. SNELL 16 TUECWICAGOAN "Music hath charms" Henry Winklehook, the coachman, rose as usual shortly after six o'clock in the morning of February 8, and at about seven went over to the mansion to get his breakfast. (There was con siderable snow on the ground.) As he approached the rear basement door he saw footprints in the snow and that the door was open. Startled with the thought of burglars, he gingerly stepped into the doorway and then saw that there was a hole in the door close by the lock. Twelve augur holes had been bored in a circle and the center block knocked out. No light was burning in the base ment. There was not the slightest sound of servants. Winklehook, badly frightened, tiptoed through the semi- darkness of the basement until he came to the stairway leading to the first floor. Window shutters on the first floor were still tightly closed, and Winkle hook slowly crept up the stairway in almost utter darkness. Arriving at the head of the stairs, he rounded the banister and tripped over a yielding ob ject on the floor. Quickly he stuck out one hand to save himself from fall ing, gripping the banister with the other. His free hand, fingers out spread, struck a face that was wet, — ¦ sticky wet. Winklehook emitted a yell that echoed through the house; dashed the other direction into the dining room, flinging open windows and shut ters, and yelling at the top of his voice. Then he dashed from the house and ran to the home of A. J. Stone, a son- in-law living at Randolph and Ada streets, a block away, screaming that Mr. Snell had been murdered. For the body lying on the flair al most at the head of the basement stair way was that of Amos J. Snell. He had been shot through the heart and through the head. MR. STONE hurried to the Snell home with Winklehook and they called lustily for the two house servants. Answers came, from the two grandchildren and from the servants. The servants had been cowering in terror in their own rooms, and the children likewise under the bed covers in their room on the second floor. With the knowledge that they were safe, the servants, Rose Berkstaller, the cook, and Ida Berenstone, the maid, told their stories. They had been sound asleep when roused by the sound of a shot and the voice of Mr. Snell, yelling, "Get out of here." Then came more shots, many more; a violent thump, and then dead silence in the house. Both sprang out of bed, locked their doors, and waited until they heard the voices of Mr. Stone and the coachman. Police from the Desplaines street station swarmed to the house. Mr. Snell was only partially dressed. Some averred that he had hastily donned some clothes; others that he had come in very late and had not quite disrobed. Near him on the floor was his own revolver with five chambers discharged. There were bullet holes in the walls, in the dining room door ahead of him, and in the walls behind him, proving that many shots had been fired. Down in the basement, in the front room, was Mr. Snell's office. His small safe had been opened and part of its contents were flung on the floor. Every drawer in his desk had been opened. Likewise the contents of two trunks were strewn over the floor. On the floor of the basement hallway was a dark lantern. Other members of the Snell family hastened to the house. They included Albert J. Snell, a son; Mrs. Stone, Mrs. W. S. McCrae and Mrs. F. N. Coffin, daughters, the latter two accompanied by their husbands, and Mrs. Snell, who with her daughter hastened back from Milwaukee. The time of the murder was estab lished as approximately two o'clock in the morning, by the fact that the fright ened servants heard the doorman call ing for carriages at the dance across the street. None of the neighbors had heard the muffled shots because of the "after the ball" racket. Examination of the safe showed that it had not been locked, nor had a small inner box been locked. Mr. Stone, who was in close touch with Mr. Snell's affairs, said that to the best of his knowledge the safe had not con' tained money. But numerous business papers were missing. During the next forty-eight hours virtually every thug, burglar, derelict and rough looking stranger in Chicago was arrested and grilled. Several times the police be lieved they were on a hot scent, but were not. Then, on February 10, came a real tip. Jennie Franks, living at 50 Curtis street, suggested to the police that TI4E04ICAGOAN 17 "maybe Willie Tascott knows some thing about it." Willie Tascott! Who was he? He was the black sheep son of a fairly wealthy paint manufacturer who lived at 140 Ashland avenue, in the heart of the old time Gold Coast. His father, mother, brothers and sisters were all high grade people. But Willie Tascott's escapades had been numerous. He lived at home only "sometimes." And who was Jennie Franks, who gave his name to the police? The newspapers gallantly described her as the "lady upon whom Tascott bestowed his affections." Tascott had had an engagement with her for the night of February 9, and did not keep it. Jennie was "hurt." Her feelings were sadly lacerated and to ease off the sting it seems that she took a drink or two. And old timers who may read this nar rative know what happened in the old days when one took a "drink or two." Quoting one of Will Reed Dunroy's famous quips: "Hell hath no fury like a woman 'corned.' " OUT went a dragnet for Willie Tascott, though for two days the name was kept under cover by the police. Then, on February 14, came another disclosure. A Mrs. Wick who ran a rooming house at 474 West Madison street, (these are all old num bers) asked the police to come to her house. "Sandy" Hanley, then a patrol man at Desplaines, later a famous Lieutenant, answered. Mrs. Wick ex plained that a young man who gave the name of T. A. Gathright had occu pied one of her rooms; that early in the morning of February 8 he had tapped on her door and said that he was going away for a few days, "and be sure that nothing in my room is disturbed." He had paid in advance. He answered the description of Willie Tascott that reposed in Sandy Hanley 's pocket. Mrs. Wick had with stood curiosity for four days and then she peeked into a bureau drawer, or two, and then took a good peek at the clothes closet. Silver knives, forks, spoons, plaques, art objects, jewelry! Sandy Hanley investigated the stove. It contained a mass of dead ashes atop of which were the burned and charred fragments of many papers. One or two unburned fragments were later identified by A. J. Stone as papers that had been taken from the safe in Mr. Snell's office. Lying near the rear basement door, a long, narrow pasteboard box such as used by hardware men, had been found. When the police had tried many stores they finally found H. G. Koppelmyer, hardware merchant at Madison and Curtis streets, who posi tively identified it, and the purchaser as Tascott. He said that a day or two before the murder a young man bought a cold chisel and several steel punches from him; that he wrapped each item separately, and to keep them intact, placed them all in that box. The young man, he said, had looked familiar and finally said: — "Don't you remember me? I'm Willie Tascott." CAME also Alfred G. Clarke, jeweler at 481 West Madison street, who said that one T. A. Gath right had brought to him a handsome gold headed cane on the knob of which he wished engraved the monogram, "W. B. T." And he wished it done quickly. On February 8 the young man had gotten the cane from the en- 'Pzt^r- Koch "I just wanta say, lady, you sure had some slick silver." "It's TREASURE, you know — Early American pattern, and Sterling, of course. 18 TI4ECWICAGOAN graver, telling him to bill it to Mr. Clarke, and Mr. Clarke was annoyed because the engraver demanded from him $2.00 for the job. All over the civilized world went the description: — Five feet, eight inches tall, weight} 140 pounds, full face, fair complexion, brown hair, large dark eyes, small moustache, broad shoulders, muscular, erect. Five days after the murder, when the telegraph wires had flashed the news all over the country to watch for Willie Tascott, a St. Paul, Minn., newsdealer, who was a former Chicago man and knew Tascott, gave another tip. On the previous day, he declared, he had seen Tascott buying Chicago newspapers, he had carried a big gold headed cane, and hastily left the news stand at the railroad station before the dealer could get close enough to him to speak. (At that time Tascott's name had not been mentioned in print.) And on the following day the St. Paul police found the gold headed cane with monogram "WBT" in a pawnshop. And then Willie Tascott faded away. EEKS, months, years, passed, and not once were the police able to get one definite clue as to his whereabouts. Members of his family were shadowed, their mail opened, their footsteps dogged, all to no avail. From time to time during the passing years there has come a flurry from some corner of the earth that "Tascott has been found." But the man has invariably proved to be some one else. Back in 1910 a young woman entered a Cleveland police station and asked "Was a man named Amos Snell mur dered in Chicago in 1888? If he was, I can tell you something about it." For two days the people of Chicago waited tensely, and then it was laughed off. Four years ago the Snell mansion was demolished to make way for the Ogden avenue improvement, and thus passed the last physical mark in this city of the most baffling murder mys tery in Chicago's history. BUT wait a minute! Amos J. Snell was murdered early in the morning of February 8, 1888. Forty years is a long time after which to pick up the dropped threads of a criminal mystery. But — From sources of unquestionable integrity, among them a certain Chi' cago banker, certain important facts have been obtained. It is not impossible that Willie Tas' cott is alive, nor that he is innocent of the murder charge against him. There are stranger things in any com' plete anthology of Chicago crime. We shall see what we shall see. — W. H. WILLIAMSON. (NOTE: Mr. Joe Dillabough's letter, adding to the facts of Dr. Cronin's mur der, published in the first story of this series, is printed on page 31. Illustrations on page If are from contemporary issues of The Chicago Tribune now owned by the Chicago- Historical Society.) The Light Touch ALTHOUGH numerous books of i etiquette have been published in recent years, one phase of our social life has been strangely overlooked by authorities on matters of conduct. Writers have prescribed the correct way to refuse an invitation and present a calling card, but no one has ever told how a bandit should address the lady whose valuables he is about to accept. It is surprising that our bandits have any poise. And yet they have. There is in particular, one young man practic- ing on the south side, who is a perfect Chesterfield of a bandit. His habit is to present himself to women motorists just after they have stepped into their cars and before they have started the motors. On one such occasion out near the South Shore Country Club he entered a smart sedan on the heels of the owner and quietly stated his errand. "Don't be alarmed," he reassured her; "all I want is your jewelry and your money. You may keep the car." A few weeks later the same young woman had again seated herself behind the wheel when the door of her car was opened and a familiar face appeared around it. The recogni' tion was mutual. "Well, isn't this a coincidence?" said the bandit, and de* parted with all the jewelry the young lady had not worn at the time of their previous encounter. — M. R. B. LEFT TO RIGHT (as the dailies have it) Mr. Edward N. Hurley and Mr. Edward Hines, in the inconceivably confused caricatures published — each as the other — in a recent issue. The makeup department — confusedly pinning a leather medal to its quaking breast the while — bows to both gentlemen and to G. M. TWECUICAGOAN 19 CHICAGOAN/ ELECTIONS of 1860 had gone against the Solid South so that a rail-splitter from Illinois and a sus pected abolitionist was soon to drawl in the White House. Slave states were furious and sullen. There was much political speechmaking : tall vengeful stuff in Georgia, Mississippi, and the Carolinas. And there were even rumors of constitutional estrange ment — a perplexing legal question. Of course, nothing serious. People thanked God that President Buchanan was the strong, silent man at Washing ton. A consensus of best minds pro nounced war unthinkable. Then, in a few months, an attempt to provision Fort Sumter. A cannonade. And the new president called for 75,000 militia to put down rebellion. A hot young Irishman, head of a Chicago marching company called Shield's Guards, was prompt to offer a regiment of Irish foreigners — he had offered his men gratuitously in January when war was far off. But Illinois had already furnished six militia regi ments. Governor Yates was patient in explaining that no more troops were needed; this war was a bag atelle anyway. The regiment was of fered at Washington, was taken April 20 — the first independent organization accepted by the national government. And on June 15, '61, the new outfit had become the Twenty-third Illinois Infantry (three years' service), its young commander, Col. James A. Mul ligan. Such was the Irish Brigade. IT was a halcyon war at first, muddled and green and raw, short on officers and long on men, lacking in drill, and pitifully short of equipment. But there was loud enthusiasm for the business. A short war, was the idea, and a merry one. The new regiment was quartered in Kane's brewery on west Polk St., Kane's brewery elegantly re-named the Frontenoy Barracks. This was in April, May and June. Southern Illinois, a long wedge be tween the doubtful slave states Ken tucky and Missouri, was an acute danger point. Men were desperately needed at Cairo and St. Louis. The Irish Brigade went south in July, "bold, disciplined, willing men" the papers called them. But " a disgrace" (in equipment) moaned the Chicago Tribune. Throughout August there The Irish Brigade were excursions into doubtful terri tory. In September came a hurried command ordering the brigade to Lex ington, Missouri, 120 miles into the state. Lexington was to be occupied against a supposed advance of Con federate forces. Mulligan arrived on September 10 with 1,200 men. Mis souri homeguards and militia supple mented his force on the spot to make up a post of 2,780 effectives. On Col. James A. Mulligan September 11 his pickets reported the Confederate army. Somebody in the high command had blundered unthink- ably. Rumors of a Rebel advance were .true. Only the "advance" was Gen eral Price and an army of 28,000. Gen. Raines, commander of the Southern advance guard, a larger force than Mulligan's entire command, at tacked promptly on the 11th, and cut Lexington off from outside communica tion. Mulligan refused to surrender. He was attacked a second time and fought Raines off. Price himself arrived on the field and proposed terms: Mulligan was to get out of Missouri and stay out. The Irish refused. They were attacked again, and again stood unshaken. Price, furious, brought up his cannon and played them on the town. His sharpshooters were ordered to occupy rifie pits against the Irish works. And nothing happened. There were more attacks. This obstinate Celt took too much time, and Confederate casualties were mounting. He was short of food, and water, and ammunition. The home guard in the beleaguered town was sick of it, tried to surrender, and Mulligan's men drove them back to their breast works. Finally, on Sept. 20, Price ordered a grand assault. The Union lines rumbled into flame; the charge withered and stopped. Confederate marksmen got into an undefended hospital full of Union wounded and galled the Irish works with a deadly fire. These were thrown out or bayo- netted. The Home Guard quit, raised a white flag. The Rebels gallantly slackened their fire. Mulligan's troop ers sallied back across the town and tore it down. The irate rebels opened up in chagrin. Mulligan himself was shot through both legs. A council of war decided on sur render. Price was willing. He had lost 800 men, and he disliked ham mering on indefinitely. The Brigade surrendered. Was paroled on the spot. And received, the thanks and citation of Congress. Mulligan, himself, re fused parole and was subsequently ex changed for a General Frost. A notable honor. LINCOLN summoned the young ^ commander to Washington and offered him a Brigadier-General's com mission. Fighting officers were hard to get. Young Col. Ulysses Grant of the 21st Illinois had just been promoted. He was a blundering, careless fellow but he would fight. Mulligan refused a higher rank. He explained that his men had enlisted, many of them, out of personal loyalty to him, and that he could not let them down. He was satisfied to command a regiment. In the Fall of '61, the Brigade was re-assembled at Camp Douglas, Chi cago, there to guard Confederate prisoners. Some of the young bloods, company commanders, didn't like the idea of guarding prisoners, and the rou tine drill of the camp. They didn't need drill, hadn't they been soldiers now for four months, and fought a battle? Let recruits drill; they wanted action. They organized a new regi' ment, the 58th Illinois. They got ac tion. The 58th was (Turn to page 32) 20 TWtCWICAGOAN The Irish flayers as seen in 0 Casey s "The Plough and the Stars," and there sketched by Alberto Carreno. Until March 17, the ladies and gentlemen here depicted will go on with "Juno and the Paycock," and go on, too, affording the most notable drama of many Chicago seasons. Magnificent. From left to right (toj)) are Arthur Sinclair, Marie O'Neill, Harry Hutchinson, Michael Scott, Sara Algood, Ria Mooney, Sydney Morgan, Shelah Richards, J. A, ORourke and Margaret O'Farrell. TMECUICAGOAN 21 It's a Gift YEAH, this window's got some swell diamonds in it, but I don't know. I'm not like most chorus girls, I don't care so much for diamonds. Oh, I think a nice diamond or two is all to the good, y'understand, but migod! Some dames wear 'em by the yard. As far as I'm concerned, I wouldn't cry my eyes out for any of 'em. Diamonds are all right enough to look at, but here's the way I am: I'd rather see a fellow send his money home to his poor old mother, you know what I mean? Now take that oval one there in the platinum setting. Ain't that beauti ful? It'd look swell on a hand like mine for instance — but as I say — Well, fellows have offered me dia monds before, but I always say, "How about the mortgage on the old home stead?" I say. And they've thanked me for it later. Oh, sometimes a guy insists, and when I see I'm gonna hurt his feelings I always give in. No use in hurting people's feelings, I always say. Look at that one with the two emeralds on the side! Boy! That's a ring. I'm the kind of a girl that can wear emeralds swell. Between you and I that's dirt cheap, too, when you con sider everything. A person would be really foolish to pass up a bargain like that. That is, if a fellow is going to show his apprecia tion of what a girl has done for him, he ought to pick up that little diamond and emerald ring for her. Of course some fellows can't afford even that much, but a man like you for instance, figures he'll treat a girl right or not go out with her at all. I was saying to the girls in the show the other day, I was saying, "Now, there's a fellow who appreciates what a girl does for him." I was talking about you, see? I was saying that and — Say! Let's go in just for fun and try that ring on. I'd sure like to have you see how I can wear emeralds. Look how it fits! Perfect! And so cheap. A girl would certainly appre ciate something like this from a fellow — not every fellow of course, but a fel low she could care for, you know what I mean? Oh, dearie! Not really! For me? Oh, I'm so surprised, I just can't breathe. Than\s! — sedalia. "The SJk G B T he Return of the Irish BEHOLD, at the Blackstone, the Irish Players of literary tradi tion. These are the old masters of enchanting brogue and folk-lore glam our; the originals from the Abbey of Dublin; the first interpreters of Synge and Yeats and Lady Greg ory; the early voices of the Cel tic renaissance. They are artists rich in racial char acter whose fame has gone singing around the world. There were gaps in the roster at roll- call, of course, but these were the heart of that delectable company: Sara Allgood and Maire O'Neill, gift ed sisters who were Deirdre and Cath- leen Houlihan and Pegeen Mike; Ar thur Sinclair, fantastic comedian who was a living fountain of Irish drollery; Sydney Morgan, stanch portrayer of peat-smoked peasants; J. A. O'Rourke, specialist in yelping blatherskites; Cathleen Drago, expert at colleens and wenches; and Harry Hutchinson, handy at any kind of an upstanding lad. Old familiar faces to Chicago, which has kept their memory green for fifteen years. But they have not aged seriously; their spirit is still young. THESE are the old Irish Players — - and this is the new Irish drama. At Eastertide, 1915, Ireland stirred out of her dreams, awoke to the rattle of ma chine guns, and became modern, dynamic, cantankerous, and more alarmingly Irish than ever. History tragically turned a page; a regime changed. There is now a Free State, which gives the Abbey a subsidy, thus establishing the first tax-endowed stage of English-speaking realms. There is also a certain Sean O'Casey, former hod-carrier and longshoreman, author of "The Plough and The Stars." O'Casey 's drama of the Easter Ris ing, which the veterans of the Abbey offered as their first bill, is astonishing. It has the saunter ing pace of impro visation, the volu ble flow of comic Irish rhodomon- tade, the informal ity of a series of unclimaxed sketches. But it also has the stark power, the grim impact, the crush ing denouement of Greek tragedy. It is, if such a thing there be, an unfor gettable play. The volatile Irish temperament has always been as fluent in satire as in sentimentality — witness Dean Swift among the an cients and George Bernard Shaw among the modern. This man O'Casey belongs to the great race of Irish satir ists, but he uses a new method. He follows the technique of the popular stage, slap-sticking his humor, melo- dramatiring his tragedy. He directs his satire toward the emotions. He is careless of plot- form, negligent of literary effect; but in a forthright, gusty way he creates a phase of life which he knows to the last shabby de tail and then chatters his picture with a relentless stroke of horror. The peo ple of the routined commercial stage used to say of the Irish Players, with condescending jealousy, that they were not professionals. But however labeled, what actors! It can be said of O'Casey, with more truth, that he is not a pro fessional playwright. But what a dramatist! He puts a new string in the old lyre. ALTHOUGH the themes of O'Casey's i\ three major plays — "The Shadow of a Gunman," "Juno and the Pay- cock," and "The Plough and The Stars" — are political and historical of background, he is non-partisan. He avoids the patriotic gesture. He is, it seems, a Free Stater rather than a Sinn Feiner, on the pragmatic theory, ex pressed in "Juno," that half a loaf is better than going hungry. Behind that, he is more socialist than nationalist 22 TWECUIGAGOAN SALVO FIRE— 3RD FD. ART Fourth Indoor Tournament v Fort Sheridan — February 29 But if any Irishman ever wrote in a mood "above the battle," his name is O'Casey. He is as aloof as Destiny, even when the blood of martyrs is hot upon the ground. "The Plough and The Stars" deals with a group of humble Dubliners in a slum tenement. It exhibits their af fections, rancors, prejudices and vices; it carries them casually into the brood ing atmosphere of insurrection; it brings them, still nagging, jeering and blathering, into a last act of blind, grotesque tragedy. The curtain falls upon a scene drenched with pity and withered with irony: — a young wife, her husband killed, her child still-born, flutters in mild insanity; the kindly termagant who had cheered for the Empire lies dead from an English bul let; and two British soldiers, brutalized by battle, drink the tea the slain woman had prepared for her slum companions and drowsily chant their marching song, "Keep the Home Fires Burning" — while Dublin flames. This is a remarkable play, acted in a manner that is inspired collaboration. Collegiate i i GOOD NEWS," at the Selwyn, is a musical comedy pledged to the higher education. In other words, it's collegiate. There have been many college shows since the theater man agers discovered smouldering youth, hot jazz, Red Grange, and the ardor of the young to attend universities of swine-herding, lathe-turning, slogan- writing and card-indexing; but this ap pears to be the best of the lot. It is, in fact, the best of its breed since "Leave It To Jane," which was the best since its parent-play, George Ade's "College Widow." "Good News" deals with small col lege antics, co-educational love, and football. It is so modern that it men tions the lateral pass, and its program credits Knute Rockne with technical first-aid to the libretto. The chorus girls are true to College Humor. The chorus men are not unbelievable when they assemble in training quarters be tween the halves to receive a razzing from their disgusted coach. The last- minute touch-down is visualized by the "Ben Hur" treadmill. Among the gifted pseudo-collegiates in the company are Jack Haley, who has a persuasive comic style as a soft, simpering sophomore; Max Hoffman, Jr., who fills the heroic half-back's role effectively because he doesn't look un like Harold Grange; Mildred Brown, who as the heroine is nice enough to be the sweetheart of Sigma Chi; Kath arine Morris, who is a plausible soror ity queen; and the promising Dorothy McNulty, who plays a campus jazz- child with dash, charm and humor. "Good News" offers much gayety, and is an ingratiating cartoon of student life in the "Hey! Hey!" period. Classic NO play-goer's career is complete without a glimpse of "The Beg gar's Opera," now lodged at the Eighth Street Theater for a second Chicago engagement. This classic of frivolity was the best show in town when the redcoats chased General Washington out of New York; and in TWECUICAGOAN 23 revival it does not seem much older, except for the songs, than Gilbert and Sullivan. If our research department were working, we could prove a family relationship between this Georgian bur lesque and some of the crook plays of the day, especially that bit of topical mockery called, "Chicago." A number of the players of the last revival are in the cast. The twentieth century version of "The Beggar's Opera" has covered a great deal of geography in its migrations, but it has not become provincialized. The drama on Eighth Street, therefore, is showing signs of civilization. Among the l'Hams" "CXCESS BAGGAGE," at the I— » Princess, is a topic-play which deals in the atmosphere and shop-talk of that specialized form of show-busi ness known as vaudeville. It is amus ingly true to the characteristics of the small-time "ham." Its hero is a clown whose heart is breaking because the other half of the sketch (his wife) seems to be drifting out of his life. But instead of using a knife, this Pagliacci bungles his famous "slide for life" at the Palace Theatre, N. Y., and nearly breaks his own neck, thus effecting a reconciliation. The slide down the tight rope back ward, from gallery to stage, is exhibited au naturel by an accomplished "double." This circus trick puts a thrill into the play; it is risky for the audience as well as the performer. James Spottswood is effective as the sad, unromantic clown; Pauline Mac- Lean appeals to the eye as the troop er's wife; and Frank Beaston, playing a brassy "single man" in love with the younger half of a sister act, checks in as a youth of promise. "Excess Bag gage" will not disappoint the play goer in quest of novelty. Tedious "/^\H, KAY," at the Garrick, is a V«/ musical comedy which asks for attention on these points: (1) a year's run in New York; (2) Julia Sander son, the indestructible ingenue, as a replacement for Gertrude Lawrence; (3) a score by George Gershwin, of the over-touted "Rhapsody in Blue;" and (4) a libretto by Guy Bolton, plodding plotter, and P. G. Wode- house, Anglo-American humorist. In spite of which, "Oh, Kay" is a great bore. — CHARLES COLLINS. Hlie CINEMA The King of Kings ' CECIL B. DE- MILLE is very well known as a gentleman capable of packing more glitter into a given length of celluloid than any other living per son. He is not at all well known as an able successful author who threw away his type writer and got a megaphone when — in about 5 B. K. - — thoughtful peo ple began to be lieve in the film as a narrative m e - dium. However, it is the latter (that is to say, former) DeMille whose "The King of Kings" may be seen at the Erlanger. "The King of Kings" is the finest picture in town. It is the poorest movie. It is the finest entertainment and the poorest amusement. It is a careful, accurate, undramatized and eminently suitable representation of the life of Christ. In its production Mr. DeMille has abandoned the megaphone and adopted the stylus. He is a com petent narrator with any implement Various individuals' names are men tioned in connection with Mr. De- Mille's production. Not even his own is important. It would have been bet ter, in view of developments, to pre serve the anonymity of the Bible — for the critics, professional and volunteer, are gabbling about this player's per formance, that one's makeup, the pho tography, continuity, the subtitling. There is even a legal action pending against the scenarist, charging plagia rism! But why go on. . . .? Go, instead, to the Erlanger. Chafilin ! CHARLES CHAPLIN'S "The Cir cus," which should weather the Summer nicely at the United Artists Theatre, has been duly acclaimed. It is knocking 'em out of their seats, as the saying goes, but people are not laughing at the best "gag" in the comedian's long list of uproarious comedies. The best Chap- linism of all time occurs near the start of the pic ture. Chaplin, in the original garb, is "trying out" for a job as clown in a circus. The man ager and his aides sit in solemn con templation while the comedian walks into the ring, twitches his cane, flips his heels, performs all the antics that have made Charlie Chaplin. Nobody laughs. — w. R. WEAVER. Now Showing The Student Prince — Faithfully trans cribed. (Go.) West Point — William Haines out of his element. (For the scenery.) Les Miserable s — Miserable. (Omit it.) The Crimson City — Dull aspects of Singa pore. (No.) Ladies Night in a Turkish Bath — Bur lesque, funny in spots. (Maybe.) The Circus — Chaplin's best. (Without fail.) Wife Savers — Beery-Hatton dumbshow, a little less dumb than usual. (Unneces sary. ) Across the Atlantic — Believe it or not, it was Monte Blue that did the flying. (Hurdle.) Gentlemen Prefer Blondes — Better than was to be expected. (Drop in.) Lady Raffles — Mrs. Jack Dempsey in six rounds. (Out.) The Last Command— Emil Tannings of Petrograd with Hollywood handicap. (Attend.) Beau Sarbeur — Emphatically not a sequel or equal — to Beau Geste. (Read a book.) The Private Life of Helen of Troy — Erskine with Sennett influence. (Look at it.) The Gaucho — Fairbanks at his best. (By all means.) Love — Garbo-Gilbert garbage. (By no means.) Two Flaming Youths — W. C. Fields and Chester Conklin. (Not tonight.) The Loves of Carmen — Victor McLaglen and Dolores Del Rio and the original plot. (Watch carefully.) 24 TWECI4ICAGOAN ART Judging the No-Jury I T STRUCK me, 1 quite suddenly, while I was talk ing to Forbes Watson over his breakfast at the Blackstone. At a quarter of eight! The editor of The Arts, who should always sign him- s e 1 f "yours ear nestly for native art," breakfasting at a quarter of eight! The pur pose of Mr. Wat son's visit being to spread palms of benison over the No-Jury show in progress at Field's, we naturally got into a discussion of Chicago artists. And that was when it struck me that we had no artists to speak of. I said, "Well, perhaps two or three—" and then was glad because he didn't say, "For example?". The thing is of course an exaggera tion. There are many pretty good art ists here. There are even a few very good ones. But, counted up in the fever of all this exhibitioning, they hardly serve to justify the ta-ra-ra. At the Art Institute, the annual show of Chicago artists. At the Neo- Arlimusc, a show of Chicago artists. At the Marshall Field Gallery, the an nual show of the Chicago No- Jury so ciety. Surely, if there is an artist in Chicago, he should have bobbed up in one of these exhibits. But all three shows are dead. Absolutely dead. THE trouble with Chicago is we have no gang. We have no mu tual admiration society of a dozen or so artists who hang together, exhibit to gether, force themselves to oe identified with Chicago, just as the Demuth- Sheeler - Marin - Hartley combination identified themselves as the Stieglitz group, and by persistent reiteration of their mutual self-esteem, managed to make the world believe they were American art. Our artists are all minor, yet among them are at least a dozen who could get together and form such a mutual admiration society and make them selves of increasing importance. I n - stead there exists among Chicago artists the bitterest system of snicker ing defamation, of jealous soldiering for petty honors, of scheming, of politics, that I have ever encoun- t e r e d in an art group. Over what? The "moderns" are still fighting a battle of sarcastic tolerance against the "conserva tives," unaware that the battle of mod ernism was a blowout ten years ago. THERE was a pretty healthy no- jury society here until the end of the show last year, when Rudolph Weisenborn resigned from the group, and headed his little tribe into the Neo- Arlimusc. Because the No-Jury was getting conservative? Because the No- Jury wouldn't fight? The truth is, there was nothing to battle in com mon, so the thing split into factions fighting each other. As a result the show this year is perfectly flat. The Weisenborn fac tion exhibits with No- Jury, as a ges ture. But the push-together outburst of the show is lacking. Net findings are these: A piece of batik-velvet called Transitional, by Beatrice Burke, appealed to me more than anything else in the show. It had one very obvious flat in color-spacing, but it was modest, decorative, pleasing. The rest of the show ran from school boy drawings of heads to would-be shockers that didn't shock. Adopting the alphabetical system, I was modestly impressed by these : Still Life, by Allgard Bernardino. (Forgotten by this writing — the day after.) K[egro Madonna, by Tennessee Mitchell Anderson. (Really fine, but we've seen it in so many exhibitions by now, it fails to kick.) Sunday Morning, by Harry Arnold. (Two sweet little girls hanging wash ing on a line. True American Art. Tweet tweet.) Snow, Tin and Rubber, by Max Al- bin Bachofen. (Showing a flivver thru a window casement. Very well com posed, and a worthy, purely native subject. Two stars.) Belvedere Flats, by Frances Badger. Fruiting Cactus, by Kathleen Black- shea. (Good composition; smutted color.) Madonna, by Elisabeth Colwell. (Would-be shocker.) Ergo, by Jean Ivan Erlandson. (A conventional Arab-head badly painted in a cubistic background that includes the irregular-shaped frame of the pic ture. The silliest attempt in the ex hibit. We must break our bounds! We must break our bounds! Must all pictures be square or oblong? Not! No! No! The Dunes, by V. M. S. Hannell. Portrait, and Trees, by Morris Kan- tor. (Well and clearly painted.) Construction, by Paul Kelpe. (Be cause it goes to show how stale the most radical stunts have become.) Rozalia, by Gregory H. Prusheck. Movement, by Felix Russman. (Two figures, with sand and foliage. The color effects in the sand are unusual and valid. Two stars.) Mardessa, by Ben Silbert. (A Chi cago boy who has gone away and be come a big, big painter, but who re members his home town. Painted hard and delicate, in the early Italian man ner. One star.) Sheridan Square, by Ethel Spears. (Because it is a large oil painting for $50, and almost good enough for a funny page in Life. She has done bet ter things.) Downtown Buildings, by Frances Strain. (Who has also done better things.) An Artist's Studio as Visualized by the Public, by Louise Taylor. (A rea sonably funny piece. But are these the urgent works of art for which No- Jury shows are organized?) The Last Sunrise, by Lothan Wel- shans. (A very silly shocker, showing a man on a cross, his tongue sticking out, and his body a very gruesome and sickening brown.) Two Figures and Mammy La, by William Zorach. (These have some punch.) AT THE Arts Club there are on view many paintings and draw ings by Marsden Hartley, and some drawings by Picasso. The Picasso® TI4ECUICAG0AN 25 are Picassos; I am glad to hear Hart ley detests them. Marsden Hartley is one of the Sie- glitz group, a New Englander, an im portant American artist. He has re cently experienced a sort of regenera tion, which he describes in a free (rather) verse recitation printed in the catalogue of his exhibition. He has, in caps, the motto: "To annihilate my self in the subject — to become ONE with it." Well, he has tried. He has three or four or five large canvases on one subject in the exhibit — a red mountain. He likes red earth. He told me so. The construction is solid, the color almost barbaric, the effect powerful. Hartley has been liv ing a long time abroad, but he consid ers himself, and his work shows him to be, essentially an American artist. His pencil drawings of apples and pears are delicate and give off a personality quite different from the oils. They are tentative, various arrangements of pears and apples, the outlines hesi tantly suggested with many wispy lines. They unite with the oils in giv ing the effect that they are the work of a thriving artist, a master of me dium, form, color, quality, and every other contributory attribute to the art of painting, who is honestly seeking a certain amount of satisfaction, a cer tain amount of relief, in his painting. — ULYSSES JONES. Assorted Vagrancies Roads to Revolution: With Here and There a Byway to Colonial Days, by Sarah Comstock. (Macmillan.) Of course the reader will be more than a hundred years late — but on the other hand the going will be much safer, and he will be able to re-live the Revolution imaginatively as he covers its terrain in his car. Safari: A Saga of the African Blue, by Martin Johnson. (Putnam.) The ad ventures of a man who took moving pictures of charging elephants — trusting his wife to shoot them if they got too near. The Innocents of Paris, by C. E. An drews. (Appleton.) Parisian night life but not of the Latin quarter — nor even of those French people who are in the social register. And David Snodgrass has drawn these people while Mr. Andrews talked to them. Egypt; Japan, by Pierre Loti. (Frederick A. Stokes.) The first two volumes in a new library edition of the works of an indefatigable French traveler and im pressionist. The first, also known as "Madame Chrysantheme," is illustrated with quaint inset vignettes by Rossi and Myrbach. Both pictures and text are in quaint contrast to the typical travel book of today. MU/ICAL NOTE/ Gabrilowitsch Fulfils His Tradition OS SIP GA BRILO WITSCH and his collar made their annual appearance with the local band at Orchestra Hall for the nineteenth pair of concerts, February 17 and 18. The season never seems com - plete without "Gabby" and his custom-built Clu- ett-Peabody. To be sure he would be a first-rate pianist without the neck piece, but it has become a vital part of the Gabrilowitsch tradition. It is like De Pachmann's monologues, and Rachmaninoff's prison hair-cut. The second Brahms concerto was the pianist's vehicle and a great thing he made of it, playing with brilliance, warmth and eloquence. Herr Stock contributed the grand old Brandenburg concerto of Bach, Delius "Dance Rhapsody" and "The Sirens" of Gliere. The Delius opus has not been played for several seasons. A charming work, by the Dutch Eng lishman, whose compositions have been all too rarely heard in this country, suffered somewhat at the hands of the Dirigent who palpably dragged it so badly in spots that its pulse was lost. The Gliere, redundant with a dated Wagnerian chromaticism, and crammed with shipwrecks and seduc tive wenches, is about set for the musi cal ash-can. We prefer "The Siren's Song" by Professor Jerome Kern, a neater exposition of a similar subject. Braslau-Gies eking ON the evening of Feb. 21 Sophie Braslau and Walter Gieseking appeared at Orchestra Hall in joint re cital. It sounded in advance like what the sport writers call a great combine, but La Braslau had a bad cold and substituted some bad acting for her usually abundant and excellent warb ling. She did contribute an effective song of Rachmaninoff, "Fate," built skillfully around the initial motive of Beethoven's Fifth. As for Giese king, he has every thing that a pianist could ever want. Unheard of by concert audiences in this country two years ago, he is, at least in the opin ion of this review er, one of the four or five master pianists in the world. His Bach, technically breath taking, has noth ing in it of ped antic stodginess. He is equally at home in Ravel or Debussy, where he achieves flood-tone pedal effects that are a lesson to pianists who occasional ly forget that the instrument is also played with the feet. He is hospitable to modern music. Witness his per formance of the Hindemith Concerto with the orchestra here. A calm and gigantic figure in the contemporary pianistic scene. "The Beggar s Ofiera" AT the University of Chicago there /\ is a legend that a lady professor in the English department went to hear two hundred consecutive performances of "The Beggar's Opera." And we have discovered stock-brokers, advertis ing agents and boot-leggers who are just as unabashed in their enthusiasm for Mr. John Gay's eighteenth century masterpiece. The airs, from the rous ing tavern song that opens the second act to the quietly melting, "If the Heart of a Man" sung by MacHeath, are graceful, antiquated and easy to remember. The artificial elegance of Polly and her brigand lover, the fresh comedy of Pilch and the Peachums, the simple sets and costumes designed by Claude Lovat-Fraser, the ingenious modern orchestration by Frederick Austen, all go to give the piece a time- lessness and universality of appeal that is the hall-mark of genuine art. The cast was substantially the same as in the previous American tour sev eral years after the 1920 revival by Mr. Nigel Playfair. As Polly we re membered, at any rate, the lovely 26 TUEO-IICAGOAN ACCESS OR IIES^H ATS MTAVOY si 5 Iforth Wclikcy/ii Obaniuie Sylvia Nelis. And there never could have been a better MacHeath than George Baker. Bartok BELA BARTOK, Hungary's gift to modern music, we heard twice a fortnight ago, once as soloist with the Cincinnati Symphony playing his own concerto under the baton of Fritz Reiner and two nights later at the Cordon in recital before the Chicago chapter of Pro-Musica. The British Ambassador was in the Cincinnati audience and the Bartok work was heard shortly after a complimentary "God Save the King." The transition was so abrupt that we look to see an early ultimatum from Downing Street to the Kingdom of Hungary. For, although it would be idle to question Bartok's musical integrity his music is a severe test for the most sympathetic followers of modern musi cal trends. The concerto is, in essence, a summing-up of all the brutal baldness and unromantic mechanism to be found in the world today. It is ruthless, angular music, devoid of all customary conceptions of tonality, and broken up into fierce metrical divisions in which the piano, in passages of thundered re peated notes, almost joins forever the percussion section of the modern or chestra. — ROBERT POLLAK. Newsprint Justice for All HETHER or not it is a proper function for a newspaper to engage its editors and reporters in hunt ing down criminals, newspapers have reserved this right for more than half a century and the reporter-detective has come to occupy a heroic role in story, stage and cinema. For two days, recently, the Trib blazoned across its front page the news that one of its reporters — at the ex pense of $5,000 to the newspaper and eight months of tireless effort — had brought a colored rapist to justice. The negro was guilty of two major of fenses — rape and misuse of the Trib want ad columns. He was speedily tried and sentenced to life imprison ment. He was told that he was for tunate to escape the death penalty. It was a commendable achievement. Announcement that safeguards are to be taken in the future which will pre vent criminals from luring women to unoccupied homes through want ads would probably be more reassuring to maids than a promise of relentless prosecution of the offender afterwards, but it was commendable. It is a good start. Newspaper want ad columns have been misused for years. Competition is keen. The cost of this advertising is comparatively low. If every ad had to be investigated before it was ac cepted, rates would be double or triple, or profits would disappear. ON THE other hand, the "recog nized want ad medium" in a com munity usually has a mighty profitable department. And display advertising is very apt to be placed with the news papers which show diligence in attract ing want ads. Want ads in volume are regarded as proof of reader inter est or reader acceptance by advertisers generally. Any layman can read almost any want ad column in any city newspaper and find a number of ads which should be noted as suspicious. Con men, pan- "imCUICAGOAN 27 derers, and dozens of other undesir ables manage to break their messages to the public from time to time. Cen sorship exists, but apparently it is not as rigid as it might be. It would be interesting to know just what steps the various newspapers are taking in this direction, if any. The Trib printed its rapist story in die Sunday edition, together with the Rongetti trial. Parents generally were thankful that children reach for the "funnies" first. The flood started about the time that the battle for big circulations opened. Apparently each newspaper in the city has a legitimate saturation point as far as readers is concerned, and the figure can only be forced higher than that by offering insurance cheaply or con ducting contests with big cash prizes. APPARENTLY we find newspa pers, or most of them, with from 10,000 to 300,000 readers, who can be kept away from confession magazines only when the dailies prove that truth is more spicy than fiction. The Rongetti trial must have de lighted circulation departments. Here is a sordid, commonplace story center ing about an alleged abortion. It has been flaunted day after day on front pages, dressed up with flaming head lines and lavish pictorial display. Every detail which would appeal to the morbid has been hashed and re hashed. It has even been permitted to push a cracking good train robbery, the de mise of the 2-cent gasoline tax, and dozens of other legitimate stories into the discard. The defense is that the reader makes the newspaper do it. More properly, it might be said that the "forced" reader — of little value except to pad circulation figures — makes the newspaper do it. The condition will probably cure itself. Excess circulation, which can only be held by editorial gymnastics, creates a mechanical expense which forces advertising rates to the worry point. Then, if excess circulation will not pay its own way, the Rongetti cases will be told in conservatively written paragraphs; circulations will shrink; advertising rates will come down and children may profitably read the daily papers. — EZRA. Vk 5C A DANERSK EMPIRE CHAIR Special at *2o.oo "QECAUSE this lovely little chair may suggest to you the joy of collecting Danersk furniture, it is offered for March only, at the very special price of $29.00 . . . regularly priced at $49.00. A perfect and charming example of the best Empire design! The legs and back are of solid Cuban mahogany, and the carefully upholstered seat is covered with jet hair cloth, with a center design in costly embroidery. You will find it a useful chair in almost any room — a set of four at the bridge table, here and there as an occasional chair, or in the breakfast room. You are most welcome to visit our showrooms and inspect at your leisure the beautiful related groups of Danersk furniture — for every room in the home — inspired by the masterpieces of the greatest periods in furniture design. DANERSK A SYMBOL OF AUTHENTIC GOOD TASTE Erskine-Danforth Corporation 315 North Michigan Avenue K Jfl 28 TUE CHICAGOAN a new spring face Revivify youthful charm of complexion and contour, oblit erate the unflattering signs of Skin-Fatigue, through a scienti fic beauty treatment at the spa cious, luxurious, new Maison de Beaute Valaze of the most dis tinguished beauty scientist of our dav — HELENA RUBINSTEIN Here, in the atmosphere of exo tic elegance, of rare restfulness, marvelously skilled fingers apply the Valaze Scientific Beauty Preparations, which build lasting beauty, according to the partic ular needs of each skin. Consultation and advice without charge, on home care of the skin and heightening personality through artful makeup. Valaze Water Lily Makeup, New VALAZE WATER LILY POWDER— flattering, clingy. Contains the in trinsically beautifying essence of water lily buds. NOVENA for dry skins, COMPLEXION for normal and oily skins. Shades for every type 1.50 VALAZE WATER LILY VANITIES — becoming shades of rouge and pow der in chic, square-shaped enameled cases of Chinese Red, Jade Green, Jet Black or Golden. Double Compact, 2.50; Golden, 3.00. Single Compact, 2.00; Golden, 2.50. VALAZE WATER LILY LIPSTICKS — RED RUBY (medium), enchanting daytime tone for all, Brunettes espe cially. RED CARDINAL (light) gay, vivid — perfect for Blondes and the ideal evening tint for all. Chinese Red, Jade Green or Jet Black cases. 1.2 5 Rubinstein beauty preparations are dispensed bv trained and competent advisers at all the better stores, or may be ordered directly from Dept. Ch 310. 670 N. Michigan Avenue Chicago. Telephone for Appointment — |Whitchall 4242 8 East 57th Street, New York Paris London Philadelphia Boston Detroit Newark Another "Racket" BOYS will be girls. Especially cob lege boys. And since the intro duction of the boyish bob and the flapper figure, the chorus men of the Princeton Triangle Club, the Michigan Mimes and other undergraduate com panies seen here have made superlative shebas. Now the Blackfriars out at the University of Chicago, are warming up for their annual musical comedy. Only football excites greater interest on the south side campus and draws a better gate than the jolly Friars1 show. Some years ago Percy Hammond listed the current Blackfriars produc tion as one of the ten best shows seen in Chicago that season. Up to this time, that show has not been equalled, but on the other hand, no subsequent performance had fallen so far below the standard as to cause the producing company or habitual first-nighters to despair of even bigger and better things. Every year at this time (some two months before the opening) the show in rehearsal is positively the best in the long illustrious history of the Blackfriars; but for a number of rea sons prognostications about this year's play seem to be based on something more substantial than hope eternal. For one thing, it is being produced by Bartlett Cormack; and not merely be cause Mr. Cormack is a successful actor and the author of "The Racket" now meeting with much favor in New York, but also because he is a Chicagoan, an alumnus of the University of Chicago, and himself the author of a former Blackfriars hit, this is heartening news to followers of the collegiate stage. Further than that, the 1928 book, known as "The House that Jack Built," won the decision in a contest in which eleven other manuscripts were sub mitted and came off with the fulsome praise of the faculty and student judges and Professor Frank O'Hara, di rector of dramatics at the university. Then the play comes from the expert typewriters of two wise juniors, Milton Mayer and George Morgenstern, both of whom have been taught not only at the university, but also in the hard school of Hearst journalism. "The House that Jack Built" is said to be "different." Let that pass. What ever else one of these student shows may be, the chances are that it is at least as good as any professional musi cal comedy is required to be. — RUTH G. BERGMAN. The Pearson Hotel, distinguished for its quiet air of refinement, is one block east of North Michigan Ave nue. While the Loop is quickly ac cessible by bus or taxi, many prefer the short walk. The Pearson con sistently maintains the high standard that guards quality. The appoint ments, furnishings, service and ad dress are attractive to families ac customed to live well who wish to escape the obvious inconveniences of the more remote sections. Such families appreciate the opportunities provided for quicker social and business contacts. The PEARSON HOTEL 190 East Pearson Street Telephone Superior 8200 Special Monthly Rates Upon Application Daily Ratca, Single. $3.50 to $6.00; Double. $5.00 to $7.00 TI4ECI4ICAGOAN 29 The CI4ICACOENNE Shofi Gossip TO MY mind the only time a girl with brown hair and eyes, or in other words, a decided brunette, should stoop to overdressing is when the lions at the Art Institute roar. Yesterday, lunching at Picadilly, I saw the antithesis of this. Sufficient to say that the effect was created by a passionate clinging to one color with the exception of an antique garnet brooch on the side of the hat and a bracelet to match. Indescribably smart to all who saw her and refreshing in its individuality. This restaurant, by the way, is most comfortable and attractive. An arm chair overlooking the lake if you are early enough, and if you tire of this an old nineteenth century wall paper to gase upon, with its pictures of the Mississippi, New Orleans, Niagara Falls and West Point. The food is excellent, especially the raisin buns. The service prompt and obscure, the way you like it, and the surroundings perfect to take someone companionable and be sure to hear what they have to say. ON MY way out I was attracted by some child's letter paper in the T. C. Shop on the same floor. This paper is white with a triangular group ing of heads in color and is quite ador able. Here, also, some unusual costume jewelry. I particularly care for a flat silver link bracelet, snaky looking, about an inch and a half wide with a large oblong lapis lazuli clasp. This could be taken home for twelve dol lars. Clara Laughlin, the author of "So This Is Paris," the world's best Bae deker, to my way of thinking, has a travel bureau on the floor above. O'Connor and Goldberg, on Mad ison Street, have some stunning dark blue kid shoes, if you need something more practical than the popular new rope, honey and gray tones being shown at all the shops. AT FIELD'S, looking for suits, I l\ went to the misses' section in the spirit of the times. The variety was impressive and led to the thought that PRING NEW MODES NEW SHADES NEW LINES FORMAL OPENIN MONDAY, MARCH NINETEENTH and continuing throughout the week NELLE DIAMOND Easter — symbolized by the lily and made glorious with floral display becomes more significant when the florist re flects the true art of his calling. Wienhober's selections for this Eastertide cannot fail to attract your admiration. Ernst Wienhoeber Co. No. 22 East Elm St. Superior 0609 914 No. Michigan Ave. Superior 0045 iANDARIN BRIDGE 5€T Breath-taking Beauty! Quality! Chinese red, decorated, folding bridge set, with Boy and Dragon design in rich oriental colors — a de light to the heart of every hostess. Dainty loveliness in every line, yet strong and comfortable, con venient and long lived. Set folds into a carton that slips into any closet. Bentwood, round cornered; upholstered seats; decorated leatherette top; two conven ient ash trays furnished. Write now for prices on this delightful home equipment. wan X-.».^S,-thi< COUPON toaa Rastettet EC Sons. IStP Wall Stmt. Date , tort Wayne, Indiana. Send me folder about the Mandarin Bridge Set tell me where I can buy it, and the price. Name . — Address THE CHICAGOAN IN a Scheyer Tailored Raglan. The perfec tion of line emphasizes and enriches its smart simplicity. Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. TEL. HARRISON 2680 A Importers NNOUNCES re- turn with the latest Parisian Models and Formal Opening for Spring Season 1928 6 7sJ. Michigan Ave. Chicago III. great care is necessary in "suiting" yourself to your personality. Two suits in particular were intriguing. One a lovely soft black twill with a broken white line stripe and a three-quarter coat with slanting pockets topped off with a man's revere collar and dressed up with a small black and white felt water lily. The blouse of heavy white silk, matching the lining of the coat, had a square fagotted neck with more in design below, the pocket on the wide tight belt matched. Here is my im pression of it: The other was a blue zasha three- quarter coat with sunburst pockets. You know what I mean, tucks radi- a t i n g from the pocket in different lengths and the same from the back of the neck down between the shoulder blades. The blouse a rose and white horizon tal stripe silk jer sey with tie both at neck and waist line. The neckline of this was the side V, and the whole costume adorably youthful. NOTICING a sedate, well groomed elderly man with his nose flattened against the pane of a window of the Park Lane Hotel on the corner of Surf Street and Sheridan Road, was more than enough to ex cite my rabid curiosity. Peering through the crook of his elbow I beheld a young lady industriously engaged with oils copying Del Sarto's portrait of himself. Investigation disclosed that this busy person, in keeping with this production era of ours, averages one copy a day, Del Sarto or what have you. Pidot's shop, where she does her stint, is, incidentally, piled up with good looking tables, chairs and what nots to help in the spring refurbishing of your home. A HUMAN laboratory our public library. The reading room was crowded with newspapers of the type I should say that advertising was not intended for, purchasing power nil. LUNCHEON — DINNER — SUPPIR "AS OTHERS SEE US" Sophisticated diners-out are gathering these nighta at the Pctrushka. Journal. Genuinely Russian, giving entertainment after the fashion known In New Terk and Pari*. Pott. Eljr Khraara Is the balleff of the Rvestan Petrunhka. He looka like a good-look- in* Lao Donnelly, la almoit as faan. and sings better.— Athlon Ste Prtrus'fjiia Club Ely Khmara. Manager Phone Wabash 2497 403 S. Wabaah Avi .. Women Who Prefer the IMPORTED now can have the famous Cosmetiques of /. LESQUENDIEU, Paris . . . incompara ble for enhancing femi nine charm and beauty. Maker* of TUSSY "the lipstick of imorl society" Tel. Whitehall 4180 GUEHRING STUDIOS A Temple of Youth Hairdressing and Barber Service 1400 Lake Shore Drive Spend Sunday Evening in ORCHESTRA HALL 216 S. Michigan Avenue at the famous Sunday tiuMtina (Hub Great Speakers: Harry B. Fosdick Wilfred T. Grenfell Stephen S. Wise Henry Van Dyke "Ralph Conner" Hugh Black CHOIR OF too- SOLOISTS ORGAN - SPECIALITIES - PIANO TWECWICAGOAN 31 IF you cannot (or will not) spend all of your life at Hot Springs, (Ark.) the waters there are needed for your better health (and most of us should drink them all the time) let us deliver to your home and office the famous Mountain Valley Mineral Water clear and fresh from one of the most noted springs of that great resort. It is unex celled as a table water and and has been recom mended by physicians everywhere for more than seventy years. Ask for booklet describing the properties of this fine water. just phone or write Monroe 5460 Mountain Valley Water Co. 739 W. Jackson Blvd. Monroe 5460 North Shore Branch, Evanston Ph. Greenleaf 4777 Pilgrim' s Progress Mr. Simple pauses before a stern and rock'bound box office to conteni' plate the S. R. O. sign and shudder out into the night. Mr. Worldly Wise Man, having stopped by for excellent tickets at Couthoui, Inc.,* raises an ironic eye brow and enters the theatre with his party. •Mr. Worldly Wise Man knew, of course. that he could have made his selection from a Couthoui stand at the Congress, Blackstone, Drake, La Salle, Morrison, Stevens, Sher man and Seneca hotels, or at the Hamilton, C.A.A., l.A.C, Union League, Standard, and University clubs. COUTHOUI For Tickets One of the reference rooms was filled with a most cosmopolitan gathering, ambitiojus students, bored law clerks and such. Particularly I noticed a woman about seventy-five, shabby red sweater, the pockets of which bulged with pa' pers, hat with plucked bird's wing and doing a balance act on the back of her head. A round baked apple face and long tan woolen tights worn pajama fashion and just clearing her boot tops. In front of her an old paper file with still more papers and the atmosphere one of feverish activity. I just had to find out what this was all about, and picking up a paper she had dropped af' forded an opportunity. The reason — a lifetime spent in an intensive study of navigation and story book tales of rescues at sea, believing that a favorite son having run away years ago (most of the men in the family having done the same thing) was unquestionably stranded on some distant isle and, as of old, was depend' ing on her care and thoughtfulness to save him from perishing in unknown exile. — ARCYE WILL. TheMail Letters of general interest to Chi' cagoans will be published when signed with full name and address. *AC. Trail To the Editor: In W. H. Williamson's story, "Chicago Crime Anthology," published in The Chi cagoan of March 10, I am represented as having traced Pat Dinan's white horse, hired by Detective Dan Coughlin to drag Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin to the scene of his death, The doctor, who had incurred the displeasure of a faction of the Clanna- Gael, was driven from the home of T. T. Conklin, North Clark and Division streets, to the Carlson cottage in North Ashland avenue, where he was hacked to death on the night of May 4, 1889. The cottage was rented for the purpose. A few sticks of furniture, bought second-hand, gave the charnel house a semblance of permanent occupancy. At that time I was in the employ of The Chicago Times and was assigned to investi gate an angle of the murder on the night following the tragedy after John F. Scan- Ian, Pat McGarry and other friends of the physician had made the rounds of the news paper offices and convinced my city editor, Peter Finley Dunn, and other city editors that threats made long before to do away with their friend had been carried out. The butchery was a bloody one indeed, for when the naked body was dragged from a catch basin at what is now Broadway and ALLERTON HOUSE To see it is to want to live there To live here is to be at home — when away from home! Michigan at Huron Chicago Extensive Comfortable Lounges Resident Women's Director Special Women's Elevators Fraternity Rooms Ball and Banquet Rooms Circulating Library Billiards Chess Cafeteria Athletic Exercise Rooms Allerton Glee Club in Main Dining Room Monday at 6:30 P. M. The World's Largest Indoor Golf Course CRAIG WOOD Professional in charge 18 Holes — Driving nets Sand traps — 6 Water Holes Public invited. ALLERTON HOUSE WEEKLY RATES PER PERSON Single • • $12.00 — $20.00 Doable • • $8.00 — $15.00 Transient • $2.50 — $3.50 Descriptive Leaflet on Request CHICAGO CLEVELAND NEW TORE 32 Foster Avenues (prairie then) the back of the head and shoulders was found to be criss-crossed by the blows of the weapon, presumably a hatchet. Absorbent cotton, taken from Cronin's surgical case, adhered to the wounds, notwithstanding the fact that the body had lain in the filthy sewer from May 4 until May 22. In the meantime, the report that the white horse, supposedly driven by one "Cooney, the Fox," had been hired from Dinan, 250 North Clark Street (old num ber), leaked out through a tip supplied by John Fleming, an ex-policeman attached to the Lake View force before annexation in 1889. Fleming informed me that sometime before the crime, John Sampson ("the ma jor") had been offered $100 by Coughlin to slug Cronin. My only connection with the white horse feature was to go to the livery stable and hire the horse and buggy. Accompanied by Charlie Beck, another Times reporter, I drove the horse to the Conklin residence, where Cronin had an apartment, and there it was identified by Mrs. Conklin, who had watched from an upper window the departure of the doctor. From there we went to an office in which was employed Frank T. Scanlan, close friend of the doctor and to whom he spoke as he was driven away from the curb. So, therefore, Mr. Williamson erred when he stated that I traced the movements of the horse from the Conklin home to the catch basin. The destination of the Dinan nag was the cottage, only. Following the murder, the body was hauled to the place of concealment in an express wagon. It had been placed in a "Saratoga" trunk and the theory presented in court was that the guilty persons had intended to dispose of it in the lake but were frightened. However, the body was taken from the trunk and dropped into the handy basin, where it was found by labor ers employed by the municipality of Lake View. A few hours later it was identified by Conklin, the Scanlans and others as it lay on a slab at the Sheffield avenue police station. That murder was referred to as "The Crime of the Century," and it left a trail of many tragedies in this country and abroad. One man fled to India and died there. Coughlin, Martin Bourke and Pat O'Sullivan were given life sentences. John P. Kunze, a Conklin stool pigeon, served three years. Others were acquitted. Bourke and O'Sullivan died in Joliet prison and "Big Dan," after serving a few years, was taken from there to a new trial and ac quitted. He opened a saloon in South Clark street, but, after a time, became involved in a jury fixing case in connection with a civil suit of one Carbine against the Illinois Central railway. He decamped and died in Honduras. — Joe Dillabough, Sanitary Dept. Room to rent to gentleman with sleeping porch attached. — Tope\a Capital. One of these fresh air fiends. ? One bosom ironer. Apply at once. Bijou Swiss Laundry. 2520 Magnolia St. — "H,ew Orleans Statesman. "At once" was not necessary. The Irish Brigade (Begin on page 19) cut to pieces at Shiloh — 450 casualties out of 1,085 of ficers and men. Only three companies out of ten escaped capture or total rout. In the meantime the 23rd was again brought to full strength. June 14, '62 it was ordered east to Harper's Ferry. It remained in the field through two dreary years of war. Part of the 8th Corps, it hung on Lee's flank during the great Southern invasion which ended at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. After Gettysburg it had a nasty brawl with Wade Hampton's cavalry. Then a winter of comparative ease. In April, '64, the three years' enlistment ran out. The Brigade re-enlisted at New Creek, Va. It returned to Chi cago for a month's furlough. Again it recruited to fill its ranks. This was a last brief interlude. JULY saw the 23rd Infantry again in Virginia. No green levies this time, but a staunch veteran Brigade commanded by a Colonel accustomed to command a brigade in the field, and occasionally a full division. These were the men praised by "Stonewall" Jackson, who said, "We must do our hardest fighting when Mulligan is brought to bay." And in July, '64, began the bloody, bitter, implacable warfare for the Shenandoah. Here was war again, no mere campaigning. A list of engagements tells its own story: July 3, Leestown; 5-7 Maryland Heights; 17-20, Sunken Gap; 23-24, Kernstown. Kernstown was another blunder. A battle which started off as a mere skirmish. Too late the commanding gen eral found he was engaged with Early's full army. He threw in the Irish Bri gade as a forlorn hope rear-guard. It held desperately against a grey wall of Confederate infantry. Col. Mulligan, severely wounded, stayed on his horse He was soon hit again. His color- bearer went down, and the green flag became a focal point for a rush of panting infantrymen from both sides. The Irish rescued their flag and drew back. Mulligan called for a last rally, and a rebel sharpshooter got home with a third slug. The Colonel fell. His young brother-in-law, Lieutenant James Nugent, himself wounded, tried to aid. He was shot dead. Another rush of grey bayonets and the green flag was again in danger. Mulligan gave his TUECWCAGOAN last command: "Lay me down, boys; save the flag." His staff joined in the melee about the banner and it was eventually brought off safe. Col. Mulli gan was left on the field. Two days later his brigade returned over the same ground, this time in a deadly, steady advance. In the) ruins of the captured rebel camp they found the body of their Colonel. Mulligan had died a wounded prisoner, July 26. ARS must go on. Sheridan, another Irishman, took com mand in the Shenandoah. Mulligan's Brigade, reduced to half its effectives at Kernstown, its ten companies cut to five and totaling 440 men, was again in action. August 12-16, Winchester (with Sheridan 20 miles away). August 17, Charlestown and Halls- town; 21-28 Berryville; Sept. 3, Opequan Creek; 19 Fisher's Hill; 21-22 Harrisonburg; October 13, Cedar Creek; 19, Cedar Creek. And then a lull. The exhausted troops were sent to a quiet sector on the James river as part of the 24th Corps. Again they were recruited. Early in '65 the bloody tangle of war churned through Cold Harbor and the Wilderness. The Irish Brigade saw action at Hatcher's run, March 25. One of two Illinois Regiments in the field with the Eastern Army, it led the savage charge which reduced Fort Gregg, key to Petersburg. Here Pri' vate Patrick Hyland, Co. D, was first over the gate of that citadel, and Private Hyland received a special Con' gressional medal. Before that, Private Creed, C Company, had been cited for a medal, gloriously won when he dropped his musket to lay down a rebel color-bearer with a lusty right swing and appropriate the man's battle-flag. And in the roll of heroes of the Irish Brigade '61 -'65, let due mention be made of Private Jacob Schultz who rose to a sergeancy. A stout man, Jacob Schultt, and a brave one. Schult2; Go Braugh! But time is deadlier than all the Confederate musketry, surer, and sharper of aim. Col. Mulligan lies under a tall Celtic cross in Calvary. Even his G. A. R. 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