For Forfoic^H- Ending April 2U928 nh 5 Cents Ml. Reg. U. S. Pat. Off, CyJeautp is a priceless attribute. \f'lo mai ler whether \flature bestows \lt or \ff-lan creates it, all epes turn in its direction. (( Nash has achieved beauty, and a finer mode of motoring, in the Nash motor car. Perfection of taste in line, in color and in appointment, with pains taking care in coachcraft, lend luxury to your motor ing when you choose the Nash. (][ There is a richer lustre to your car's finish. The Nash deep-lustre process imparts depth and sheen to color tones. (][ Nash interiors are exquisite. Upholsteries are chosen for beauty and quality from hundreds of fabrics offered by America's finest looms. Walnut and walnut-finish panelings are liberally used. Solid walnut steering wheels have inlaid designs. Silvered interiorware is done in patterns inspired by the artistry of Early American silversmiths. Every detail is correct. 0[ Nash leads the mode in motor cars with a finer mode of motoring. New Reduced Prices Now Effective CHICAGO NASH COMPANY H. T. Hollingshead, Pres. 2000 Michigan Ave. 2501 Michigan Ave. NASH SALES COMPANY {Wholesale Distributors') J. W. IJrewer, Gen. Mgr. 2000 Michigan Ave. (8011) •hb s : gf*. The Chicagoan — Martin J. Quigley. Publisher and Editor; published fortnightly by The Chicagoan Publishing Co., 407 South Dearborn St., Chicago, 111. New York Office'7 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 5617 Hollywood Blvd. Subscription $3.(10 annually, single copies 15c. Vol. V. No. 2 — For the Fortnight ending April 21. (On sale April 7.) Entered as second-class matter at the Post-Office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March 3, 1879. THE CHICAGOAN MY WORD! WHAT A FIX! Behold the two leading factors in a modern adaptation of "The House of a Thousand Candles!" Pity the poor bride and groom who are showered with candle sticks because thoughtless friends followed the line of least resistance and presented them with the very first object that flitted through their minds — silver candle sticks! Revell's Gift Shop is a happy haven for those who wish to give something distinctive, something different, something that will be appreciated, something that, when received, will represent the only one gift of that character. Revell's Gift Shop is on the main floor — conveniently located and fairly bristling with ideas for those who desire gifts that are individual. REVELL'S at WABASH and ADAMS 2 TWE CHICAGOAN CURRENT ENTERTAINMENT ° HM*k*° OCCASIONS PUBLIC SHOWING— The Easter parade, held April 8. PRIMARY — The hectic election before the real election. April 10. ARTS BALL— Frolic undisguised. Gold Room, Congress Hotel. April 10. FESTIVAL— Cleveland opens at the Sox park April 11. CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA — Regularly, Friday matinee, Saturday evening. 'Phone Harrison 0362. CELEBRATION— The Chicagoan again on the newsstands to high approval April 21. THE STAGE Musical Comedy GOOD NEWS— Selwyn, 180 North Dear- born. Central 3404. A sprightly col- lege romp briskly and tunefully done. Abe Lyman's music. Fetching chorus gals. And a worth while show by any standards. Go. Curtain 8:20. Wed. and Sat. 2:20. SHE'S MT BABT— Illinois, 65 East Jack son. Harrison 6510. Beatrice Lillie as the baby and a most entertaining infant in a slight but adequate vehicle. A de lightful evening. Reviewed approvingly by Charles Collins on page 19. 8:15 and 2:15. HARRT LAUDER— Olympic, 74 West Randolph. Central 8240. Sir Harry sings, speaks, and entertains for a week before the CHAUVE SOURIS moves in with Muscovite doings. To be reviewed. Lauder appears at 8:20 and 2:20. HONEYMOON LANE— Erlanger, 127 North Clark. State 2461. Sweet stuff and moderately amusing. Eddie Dowling the star. Reviewed on page 19 of this issue. Curtain 8:20, 2:20. THE DESERT SONG— Great Northern, 21 Quincy. Central 8240. This glamor ous fantasy of brave men and sweet deeds closes positively April 21. Splendid sing ing in a notable piece. By all means. Evenings 8:15. Sat. and Wed. 2:15. ARTISTS AND MODELS— Four Cohans, 119 North Clark. Central 8240. Con tinuing in the lewd and lusty tradition, only lately abandoned by Jolson and A Night in Spain, this piece is merry with brief clothing and barber shop wit. To be reviewed. Curtains 8:20, 2:20. Drama OPERA IN ENGLISH— Studebaker, 418 South Michigan. Harrison 2792. Ex cellent stuff, well sung, and well pre sented. April 7, 8, 9 Carmen; 10-11 Sunset Trail; 12-13 Martha; 14-15 Faust; Abduction from the Seraglio 16-18 in clusive. And repetitions of scores already sung from May 18 on. THE VIKINGS— Goodman Memorial The atre, Lakefront at Monroe. Central 7085. An Ibsen drama with epoch making light ing by the Clavilux. Discussed learnedly by Charles Collins on page 19. See it. .... f • > . • v Evenings 8:20. Matinee Friday 2:20. No Sunday performance. THE GREAT NECKER— Harris, 170 North Dearborn. Central 1880. The common people consider this piece hot stuff. Very so-so. 8:30 and 2:30. SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER— Black stone, 60 East Seventh. Harrison 6609. Oliver Goldsmith knocked them out in the aisle with this in the late '60s. The 17 60s. A neat, amusing classic. 8:30 and 2:30. EXCESS BAGGAGE— Garrick, 64 West Randolph. Central 8240. A shrewd and moving treatment of vaudeville life something after the manner of Broadway. We didn't like it. Everyone else in town does. We don't like it. Curtain 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. FOUR WALLS— Adelphi, 11 North Clark. Randolph 4466. Nuni Wisenfiend in a drama produced by John Golden. Looks fair in prospect. To be reviewed. Cur tain 8:20 and 2:20. THE WOODEN KIMONO— Cort, 132 North Dearborn. Central 0019. A thriller which will go on raising goose- flesh until April 14, when FLY BY NIGHT, a comedy-drama, eases nerves at the Cort. The latter to be reviewed. Curtains 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. STRAIGHT THROUGH THE DOOR— Princess, 319 South Clark. Central 8240. Mystery well done by William Hodge. Reviewed on page 19. Curtain 8:30 and 2:30 Wed. and Sat. MINTURN PLAYERS— Chateau, Broad way and Grace. Lakeview 7170. Weekly runs of last year's hits. Well done. If you like the old ones. Call the box office for timelier information. CINEMA UNITED ARTISTS— Randolph at Dear born — My Best Girl, reviewed on page 21 of this issue as Mary Pickford's best picture, continuously and under delight ful exhibition circumstances. Don't miss it. McVICKERS— 25 W. Madison— The Le gion of the Condemned, a sequel to Wings, with Gary Cooper as the princi pal ace. A pleasant and pleasantly con ducted theatre operating from early morn to midnight. ROOSEVELT— 110 N. State— Speedy, the increasingly infrequent Harold Lloyd in another of his uproarious entertainments. No singers, dancers, acrobats or jugglers clutter this stage, and accompanying pic torial features are admirably selected. Continuous, daily. MONROE — Monroe at Dearborn — Love Hungry, Lois Moran and Lawrence Gray in quest of the bluebird, continuous daily until further notice. And this is the theatre that exhibits Fox Movietone News before it is shown elsewhere in the city. ORPHEUM— State at Monroe— The Ten derloin, a background for Dolores Cos- tello, beginning when — and if — Mr. Jol- son's Vitaphonic The Jazz Singer ceases to attract the passing populace. Contin uous from early morn until late evening. PLAYHOUSE— 410 S. Michigan— Varied pictorial entertainments, prefaced by en tertaining announcements, under circum stances conducive to appreciation of the so-called better things. CHICAGO— State at Lake — The Smart Set, William Haines and associates in gay parody, April 9-15; The Crowd, Eleanor Boardman and others in slightly heavier stuff, April 16-22. With organ solos, jazz and symphony orchestras, musical revue stars and just plain vaudeville acts at no extra expense to the customer. Continuous, daily. ORIENTAL— Randolph off State— The Cohens and Kellys in Paris, just that, April 8-14, but of course Paul Ash and his bandsmen provide the chief reason for attending this theatre and — if this reason is deemed adequate — the titles of the pictures projected during the recesses granted the performers are quite unim portant. Continuous, daily, and the Ash band really is the best jazz outfit to be found in a Chicago cinema. ELSEWHERE— Pictures listed pro, con and perhaps, on page 23, are or will be on view in various cinemas conveniently close to your home. RADIO Sunday Roxy, KYW, 1 p. m. Lyon ^ Healy artist recital, WMAQ, 1 p. m. Columbia Symphony, WQJ, 2 p. m. Collier's Hour, KYW, 7:15 p. m. Atwater Kent Hour, WGN, 8:15 p. m. American Singers, WJA2, 8:30 p. m. Don Voorhees Band, WMAQ, 9:15 p. m. Monday Roxy and His Gang, KYW, 6:30 p. m. One-Half Hour with Great Composers, WEBH, 7:00 p. m. A. U 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, WLIB, 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. (Continued on Page 4) »sJL TI4ECI4ICAGOAN KNABE-AMP1CO STUDIOS ANNUAL PIANO SALE Save From 25% to 50% This is our well-known annual pre-inventory sale of new and used pianos and reproducing pianos. Our #150,000 factory surplus stock is included. You are cordially invited to call and inspect these beautiful instruments. The Ampico, Wm. Knabe 8C Co., J. 8C C. Fischer, Steger and many other well' known makes are offered. Many of these pianos have been used by artists recently and are in per fect condition. Do not delay. Call today! Note Any of these pianos can be purchased on a deferred payment basis of 10% down, the balance monthly over a period of thirty months. Your present piano gladly accepted in part payment. STEGER & SONS PIANO MFG. CO. Steger Building Northwest Corner Wabash and Jackson Harrison 1656 TI4ECUICAGOAN (Begin on Page 2) TABLES BLACKSTONE HOTEL— 6 56 South Mich igan. Harrison 4300. One of the most civilized dining places in the world. A by-word in excellence. August Dittrich is head waiter. MargrafFs music. STEVENS HOTEL— 730 South Michigan. Wabash 4400. A tremendously large inn, hospitable, brisk, and adequate. Husk O'Hare plays for dancers between 6 and 8 in the evening. Stalder is head waiter. And the check $3. CONGRESS HOTEL— Congress at Michi gan. Harrison 3800. The Balloon Room and Peacock Alley city show places, gay, wise and glittering with knowing night people at the tables. Ray Barrec is head waiter. Johnny Hamp's suave band. Un til 2 a. m. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe. Ran dolph 7500. Gracious in a long tradi tion of Palmer hospitality. A good hotel orchestra and a notable kitchen. Mutch- ler is head waiter. PETRUSHKA CLUB— 403 South Wabash. Wabash 2497. Resolutely Russian with a splendid cuisine. Dancing and enter tainment. The people whose names are news. Khamara is master of ceremonies. Kinsky is head waiter. No whoopee. But a gay evening. COLLEGE INN— Hotel Sherman. Frank lin 2100. Dining, dancing, and noted stage entertainers for the best after thea tre show in town. Happy and now and then hilarious. Until 2 a. m. Brown is head waiter. BAL TABARIN— Also Hotel Sherman. Saturday evenings only and a kind of annex to College Inn. So-so this late in the season. Dick Reed is headwaiter. CLUB AMBASSADOR— 226 East Onta rio. Dining, dancing and floorshow. Loud and late. And Helen, lovely, and most delightful of all hostesses. Johnny Itta is headwaiter. All in all Chicago night life is in the prohibition doldrums. We are obliged to sound a mournful note for the RENDEZ VOUS, JEFFRY TAVERN, and SUNSET closed (Helas!) by federal spies. The RAINBO, MIDNIGHT FROLICS, CLUB ANSONIA, CHEZ PIERRE, CLUB ALA- BAM, PARODY CAFE, CLUB CY- MAC, ANSONIA (under the chaste guid ance of Mike Fritzl) and the BLACK- HAWK have been plastered with injunc tions. To the best of our knowledge these places are open and happy. But from day to day, who can tell? We suggest 'phoning the place first. Or better, 'phone (not after 4 a. m.) E. C. Yellowley, local grand Cas sock of the dry army. A BIT OF SWEDEN— 1011 Rush. Dela ware 4598. Sturdy Nordic foods in a quaint and extremely adequate eating par lor. Try it. JULIENNE'S— 1009 Rush. Tremendous dining in the lavish French manner. Tuesdays and Fridays frog legs. Plain and friendly. And how durable. ST. HUBERT'S OLD EHGLISH GRILL— 316 Federal. Wabash 0770. Chops and steaks imposing as the high seas fleet. Fine, solemn, English victualry. Great. And soothingly served. LAKESHORE DRIVE HOTEL— 181 Lake- shore Drive. Superior 8500. Suave, dignified, fashionable, exclusive, wealthy. A Gold Coast high point. John Birgh is headwaiter. THE CHICAGOAN PRESENTS Stop/ by J. H. E. Clark Cover Current Entertainment Page 2 Guide to Good Reading 4 A Modest Analogy 5 Travelogue, by Peter Koch 6 Topics of the Town, by Martin J. Quigley 7 If I May Say So, by Gene Markey. ... 10 How to Be an Actress, by Arthur Meeker, Jr 11 Chicago Art Letter, by Samuel Put nam 14 Chicagoans, by G. M 15 Going to the Bow-wows, by Barney Blair 16 Law on the Rove, by Francis C. Coughlin . 18 The Stage, by Charles Collins 19 The Cinema, by W. R. Weaver 21 Street Scene, by Aladjalov 23 Art, by Ulysses Jones 24 The Chicagoenne, by Arcye Will. ... 26 Music, by Robert Pollak 28 Books, by Susan Wilbur 31 DRAKE HOTEL— Michigan Avenue and Lakeshore Drive. Superior 2200. Genial and popular. The largest of the class hotels. Bobby Meeker's music for danc ing. Peter Ferris the headwaiter. PEARSON HOTEL— 190 East Pearson. Superior 8200. Quiet, decorous, hospit able and well-bred. Thoroughly nice peo ple. Thoroughly competent menu and service. L'AIGLOH — 22 East Ontario. Delaware 1909. Rapturous victuals. Private din ing rooms if desired. Music. Teddy Majerus a solicitous host. MARINE DINING ROOM— Edgewater Beach Hotel. Longbeach 6000. Nice, happy, young, refreshing and proper. Gus Edward's smooth band. Vince Lacz;ko is headwaiter. THE RUSSIAN ART CLUB— 22 East Ad ams. Delaware 4683. New and nifty. Dining, dancing, and entertainment. Aft ernoon tea 2:30 to 5. The headwaiter M. Rotoff. THE APEX CLUB— 3 5th and Calumet. Black and Tan antics with an aura of Harlem about it. If you like being dev ilish. Regular patrons are hectic and happy. KELLY'S STABLES— Rush at Austin. Delaware 2141. A show place. Ear- splitting, harmless, informal (very) and cheap. One of the yelling out loud joints. Johnny Akeley is headwaiter. Bellow for him. GRANADA CAFE— 6800 Cottage Grove. Hyde Park 0646. Splendid music, but crowded dancing. And the crowd is young, gay, lively and amusing. One of the places. BELMONT HOTEL— 3156 Sheridan Road. Bittersweet 2100. Quiet dining on ex cellent foods. Private dining rooms if desired,. And a view of the glittering drive. SPORTS BASEBALL— White Sox vs. Cleveland at Comiskey Park April 11-14. White Sox vs. St. Louis April 15-17. Cubs vs. Cin cinnati April 18-21 RACING — The Aurora track at Exposi tion park opens May 1. THE DERBY— Churchill Downs, May 19. ART ART INSTITUTE— Eighth annual water color show. Photographic salon. Loan exhibition in Venetian room. Drawings and etchings by Millet. The Mosele col lection of Japanese art. ARTS CLUB OF CHICAGO— Antique Georgian silver, Sheffield plate, furniture from the Brainard Lemon collection. ALMCO GALLERIES— New and ultra modern lamps. Worth while. ACKERMANN'S— Currier and Ives prints of old Chicago. A very interesting, amusing, and colorful showing. See them. CHESTER JOHNSON GALLERIES— Modern French painters. Interesting. Perhaps significant. ALBERT ROULLIER GALLERIES— Al ways an excellent showing of prints and etchings. SECESSION. LTD.— Modern furniture and fixtures. A very interesting showing. THE CI4ICAG0AN A Hit THE quick slap of wood on leather. A streak of white — too fast for any fielder — arching far out over the green turf to an in stant, exulting roar from the stands. A scut tling on bases. And the runs come home. Afterward — Th, CHICAGOAN ZESTFUL as a three-bagger. Sparkling as a triple play. Knowing as a veteran catcher. Versatile as a crack shortstop. And we very gracefully mention the authority of an umpire. Jostling at the newsstands is tiresome as buying passports at the ball-park. The dotted line forms on the right. The Chicagoan 407 So. Dearborn St. Chicago, 111. Send "The Chicagoan1 ' one year $3.00 — two years $5.00. Name Address City State 6 TMECWICACOAN ¦-¦mw ">e.T^fc/od> m,u & 11 The Chicagoan s Own Travelogue — No. 1 Park Avenue, New York THE CHICAGOAN 7 Hbpicf of the If it suits his purposes he may see to it that the laws are enforced; again, if his interests will be advanced by mak- ing the law inoperative in certain cases, he can take that course. This procedure, however, usually leads to serious results because the criminal, once he comes to realise that V V E do not wish to intrude upon the newspapers1 elected sphere of Chi' cago crime publicity, but readers of The Chicagoan have lately been en countering such vast areas of news print devoted to local criminal mani festations, which of course they do not trouble themselves to read, that it oc curs to us that they might now feel the necessity of arming themselves against the inevitable questioning from the friend from St. Paul, Vienna or New York. These criminal manifestations have, of course, been receiving a degree of attention to which they are in no wise entitled because they do in fact amount only to the normal amount of outlawry and hoodlumism from which no great city has yet been able to escape. The local peculiarity of the situation is that small politics has seen fit to avail itself of cer tain means of direct action which involve fraternizing with what our sociological forums benignly term, "the criminal classes. " The existing multi plicity of reform and regulation laws is a power ful weapon in the hands of the poli tician who stands on the bor- d e r 1 i n e p osit i on midway be tween r e - s p e c t a - bility and outlawry.. "Of course it all depends upon just how you look at things of this the law as used is simply one of the tools of the game, feels that direct ac tion is the logical method for him to employ. What a quaint notion it was that the passing of the saloon would mean an absolute divorce between politics and crime! Curious, Indeed! V V E find ourselves among that considerable number who are contin ually amazed at the devious ways of local politics. It would seem that either a number of our original concepts are all wrong, or else a great deal of what is going on about us is striving diligently to be listed under such a classification. Recently a citizen of no little acclaim was dispatched by a fusil lade from sawed-off shotguns. It was one of the notable assassina tions of recent years. As the headlines swept through the city a fever of indignation was kindled. The vic tim was a great man! Had not he, upon leav ing for a voyage some time ago been tendered a testimonial signed by a list of great names, headed by that of the governor of the state! Had not an United States senator, upon hearing the shocking 6-\.$C*}^UL news, telephoned from Washington to express sort " sympathy! 8 THE CHICAGOAN An investigation of the crime was, of course, in order. "Sweeping in quiries"1 were announced from several sources, and meanwhile various facts of no little interest to the public com menced to appear in the light — and without much help from the author ities. It seems — to us, at any rate — curi ous that the deceased was in the habit of going about the city and his busi ness attended by a personal bodyguard. Subsequent developments, of course, indicate that this practice might have been introduced upon physician's orders, but it is very strange that in a community which is a peaceful one — as least as far as the records of the War Department go — and which en joys the modern urban conveniences of police, as well as fire protection, that a citizen in going about with an armed bodyguard should not arouse at least mild suspicion either toward himself, or his enemies, or both. The case is a puzzling one. The seats of the executive mighty, from the governor of the state, in whichever direction one chooses to trace the list, to the name at the other extremity in form us through public testimonial that the victim was — to say the very least — one of God's noblemen. On the other hand, when we listen to the chief of detectives, who in the city of Chicago must have some very graphic examples for comparison, we are told that the deceased had "the filthiest record of any man I know.11 It is all too confusing. . . . Refutation M R. JAMES O'DONNELL BEN NETT, writing in The Tribune, has gone to considerable pains and space to inform us in detail what the outside world is thinking about Chicago, and practically no part of what Mr. Bennett informs us the outside world is think ing about Chicago will be of any use as legends to adorn monuments or public buildings in the City. In fact, no matter how depleted the present stock of tributes to Chicago may be come there is no doubt that no part of Mr. Bennett's contributions will ever be found available. As a journalistic effort Mr. Bennett's articles may not be lacking in merit, but some newspaper inquiry along the line of how Chicago has come to enjoy this reputation would be very much more interesting. Obviously, a city's newspapers sup ply the information which creates abroad the reputation of that city. Hence the newspapers' responsibility for the pertinently unpleasant reputa tion of Chicago in various quarters outside the gates of the city. Sportsmanship — M.mus w E do not feel that we are too exacting when we insist that about a racetrack, at least, even in this day of minding our neighbor's business, that there should be some show of tolerance and liberality. The Maryland Racing Commission after thoughtful contemplation of newspaper headlines has issued an order ruling off the tracks of that state the horses of Mr. Harry F. Sinclair. It has been recalled that in an earlier day the James boys, Jesse and Frank, were prominent in thoroughbred rac ing circles and were never chased off the tracks. Racing officials in those days apparently were racing officials who were content to allow the estab- ¦ VSjWfc. lished machinery of justice to take care of those matters which were its proper concern. But in this enlightened day the Maryland Racing Commission keeps the barrier up against Mr. Sinclair's horses and does not even trouble itself to await the outcome of Mr. Sinclair's day in court. The action of the commission seems to suggest the opinion of its potentates that the James boys in their chosen profession were only dilettantes, while Mr. Sinclair, in similar pursuits, has workmanlike results to his credit. And this, with all due credit to Mr. Sinclair, is assuming just a little too much. Politics has never been a salutary influence in sport and in this case it has brought to Maryland one of the most unsportsmanlike actions in the history of the American turf. Cheaters Cheated O HORTLY after the first of the year three Chicago gamblers were on board a Florida limited hastening toward an industrious season at Palm Beach. Dur ing an evening enroute these three pro fessors of chance were idling at a table in the club car, mechanically shuffling amongst them a deck of playing cards. It being out of business hours, and no THE CHICAGOAN 9 strangers present, there was no thought of a game. Later in the evening a tall, straw- haired youth hesitated at the table and seeing one of the professors fingering the deck of cards inquired haltingly about a little game. Although the stranger appeared most unpromising none of the three had a ready excuse so the youth moved in and the deck was cut. As the young man picked up his cards with an extraordinary deftness a knowing glance was exchanged among the professors. Before many hands had been played the professors had ample evidence of the correctness of their original surmise — one of their own kind had joined the party, and a good one! The play went on. The Chicago gamblers individually and collectively were losing — not much, but they were losing and with a common consistency that had quickly impressed these veteran manipulators that the matter was not being left to chance. "Just to think," one of the Chicago gamblers later recited, "right before our eyes the kid was taking us — and plenty." They were interested; they played on. With the eyes of expert crafts men sought to find out just what new wrinkle was being practiced upon them. Finally, after the Chicago men had made a sizable contribution in the hope of arriving in Florida better equipped to practice their profession, the game broke up. The youth col lected his winnings, thanked his fellow players and arose. "Just a minute," one of the gamblers spoke up, "you're all right, kid, we'll hand it to ya, but tell us, just what were you doing with them cards?" "Why, gentlemen, I don't know what you mean." The youth replied. With a broad grin and a confessing wink he went off to his berth. Noi, oise T HE attention of those valiant souls who are waging relentless warfare against unnecessary noises in the city is invited to that brainless type of hotel and apartment building doorman who on bad-weather nights harbors himself within the protecting doorway and aimlessly toots his shrill-whistle call for taxicabs. A taxicab out of the range of the whistle, which in the meantime is num bering it victims by the score, cannot be hurried. It is to be assumed that a driver looking for a fare need not have a trumpet sounded immediately into his ear-drum. If a passing cab is engaged it likewise is to be assumed that even a hundred whistles will not prompt the driver to hurl his patrons into the storm at a doorman's bidding. If possession of one of these whistles is too great a temptation to noise- making they should be dispensed with and in their place a light or flag signal substituted. T. Traffic HE City Council has passed an ordinance prohibiting right-about-face movements of motor vehicles in the downtown district. This traffic move ment, which is now declared to be out side the law, is technically referred to as a "U" turn. traffic tangle. Even before the introduction of the "U" turn regulation, a great volume of needless mileage was being rolled up by the elimination of left-hand turns, causing motorists to circle tediously around many blocks, whereas a turn across traffic would have landed them at their destination at the saving of time and distance to themselves, and to the relief of traffic. The elimination of left-hand turns generally in the Loop looked like a solution of something, principally be cause of the helplessness of the average traffic officer to halt efficiently the ap proaching traffic and permit the motor ist bent on a left-hand turn to proceed with dispatch. Regulation of downtown traffic by ordinance is already sufficiently com plex. Before further complexities are intro duced we think it would be well for JL^ 4" SAFE ! • With all the experting that is now being lavished upon the Chicago traffic situation it probably is not surprising that the usually very helpful element of plain commonsense is finding very little play in the calculations of the specialists. To our inexpert mind we need no proof of the fact that every block need lessly traversed means adding just that much to the confusion of the Loop the Council to consider various ameli orations which may be effected by means of impressing upon traffic officers that their business is to facilitate traffic and not hinder it; to give them to understand that an arbitrary demon stration of their authority to hold back traffic after the light signal has flashed is not helping the situation. —MARTIN J. QUIGLEY. 10 THE CHICAGOAN I F I MAY /AY fO Show Business Is Business I FIRST encountered young Mr. Ed die Dowling, author and star of "Honeymoon Lane," the current can tata at the Erlanger, aboard the S.S. Paris three summers ago, returning from that city for which the old barge was named. Mr. Dowling had been leisurely summering over there with no less personage than Miss Ray Doo- ley, who in private life (though she is allowed very little of it) is known as Mrs. Dowling. Possibly even at that date the dapper little author-actor was contemplating "Honeymoon Lane." However, if he was, he had, on the ship, very few Irish types from which to gather material. The Irish, if I may say so, did not predominate. One day he recounted to me, with gestures, the sad story of his first musical comedy libretto. "After I finished the 'book'," nar rated young Mr. Dowling, "I was look ing around for a producer, and some body tipped me off that there was a pants-maker downtown, named (let us say) Ginsberg, who had made some money and couldn't wait to get in the theatrical business. In ten minutes I was in his office, with the manuscript under my arm. I told him about Mr. Klaw and Mr. Erlanger, Mr. Ziegfeld and a couple of other boys who had done very well peddling amusement — and Ginsberg's eyes were feverish with excitement. He locked the door of his office, so that nothing would disturb us, and I sat down and read the 'book' to him. He thought it was wonderful. " 'But I got a potner,' he told me, 'and I got to have him hear it before I can decide.1 So we made an appoint ment for the next day to read it to his partner, a big buttonhole-carver named Feitelheimer. The next day Ginsberg and I went over to Jersey City to Fei- telheimer's office, and I read it to the two of them. Feitelheimer agreed that it was a great show. He was even more enthusiastic than his partner. * * '^HEY were all set. Both of them 1 were web-footing around the of fice, telling each other how proud they would be to open the show on Broad way, with 'Ginsberg 6? Feitelheimer present1 — on the program. The con tract was as good as signed. " 'But Mrs. Feitelheimer has got to hear it,1 Feitelheimer said. 'I never make no decisions in business without she should be in on it.1 Ginsberg agreed that it would be an excellent idea for me to read the book to his spouse, too. So, the next afternoon, they congregated at Ginsberg's office, and I read it once more. The girls were crazy about it. Reba Feitelheimer and Becky Ginsberg both talked at once. What an opening night they'd have! I began to count my royalties right there. " 'It'll run a year,' Mrs. Feitelheimer prophesied joyously. 'But you know, Sam, we hadn't oughter sign any papers till your Uncle Abie hears it read.1 " 'And my Uncle Moshe, also,1 put in Mrs. Ginsberg. "Ginsberg and Feitelheimer nodded in agreement. There were a few other close relatives that must be consulted. They fixed it for me to go up to Gins berg's apartment in the Bronx the next evening, and read my 'script to the as sembled families. "Boy, that was a conference! A six- by-eight room, and all the combined relatives of the Ginsbergs and Feitel- heimers packed into it. The windows were shut, and as I read, they passed a can of herrings around, munching among themselves. But when I fin ished they were all excited. In concert they told me it was immense. I knew I had them this time. In my mind I had already begun casting the show. " 'It oughter make a million dollars,1 said Mrs. Feitelheimer's Aunt Minna Moscowitz. 'Aber- — you shouldn't ought to decide till Cousin Moe Goldblatt hears it — •' "What was the title of it when it was produced?" I asked Mr. Dowling. "Oh, it was never produced," he sighed. "A distant relative of Mrs. Ginsberg's brother-in-law, up in Utica, didn't like the second act!" HEN Miss Fanny Brice was appearing at the Palace re cently, she played a burlesque Mme. Pompadour, assisted by several actors, including Roger Davis, formerly of Davis's Trained Seals. At one place in the sketch Miss Brice, as the king's lady friend, said to the king: "What would you do if I should sell the story of our love to William Randolph Hearst?" It was always good for a laugh. Sometimes two or three laughs, depend ing, of course, on the size of the audi ence. On the day after the opening, a stern minion representing Mr. Hearst's newspapers, marched to the Palace and informed Mr. Nash, the genial manager, that the aforemen tioned line must be stricken from the performance. Mr. Hearst's name could not be taken in vain, etc. Miss Brice argued that Mr. Hearst had seen the sketch in California, and had rocked with mirth over it. No matter, she was told, the line must be cut. Whereupon the resourceful Fanny telegraphed to Mr. Hearst in Califor- THE CHICAGOAN n Chicagomen MR. I. NEWTON PERRY Attends a Pirate Ball Wearing His Own Mustache nia, explaining her dilemma. The same day an answer arrived: HAVE INSTRUCTED CHICAGO OFFICE THAT YOU HAVE MY PERMISSION TO USE THE LINE. AND INCIDENTALLY WHY DON'T YOU SELL ME THE NEXT STORY OF YOUR LOVE? WILLIAM RANDOLPH HEARST. To which Mile. Brice replied: FROM NOW ON l'M FREE-LANCING. —GENE MARKEY. How to Be an Actress In Any One of Four Short Lessons OF course, I take it for granted you want to go on the stage. The problem of when to be an actress is one that every Chicago woman, sooner or later, must decide for herself. The only question is, what kind of an actress do you wish to become? And how do you expect to set about becom ing it? To assist aspiring debutantes and dis contented meres de families in making their momentous choice (it is mo mentous to them, you must remember, no matter how dreadful they seem to you) I have catalogued for their con venience several of the more important types of stage stars grown right here in the heart of the middle west — yes, sir, with scarcely any cultivation at all! Included in this list are: — (1) The real actress (2) The Junior League Girl (3) The Art Theatre actress (4) The suburban actress. But we shall be very up-to-date in deed and leave the first till the last, while we deal as briefly as possible with the three imitation varieties. Does anyone object? No? Then let's begin at once before you have time to change your minds! The Junior League Girl, or How to Be Happy Though Animal: This is a very popular kind of actress. Nearly every girl you've ever danced with has been a member of the troupe at some period in the course of her march from Westover to wedded 1 ....... ' ... 1 I/O °x IV. V. bliss. The reason for this is easy to find: Junior League girls are always doing good! It is pleasant to combine philanthropy and self-expression, to feel that your efforts are putting bread in the mouths of little Italian children on the west side, as well as instrumental in keeping the Gold Coast kiddies and their governesses off the streets on Saturday mornings. If, however, you wish to act in the Junior League, you will have to put your pride in your pocket when it comes to assigning roles. Junior League plays, you see, are always about animals. No one knows why this is so, least of all the Junior League girls themselves, but the truth of the state ment cannot be questioned. Hence, unless your features are as flawless as Mary Astor's — and maybe even then — you will undoubtedly be cast as the Talking Cricket, encased from head to foot in torturing green oil cloth with just a slit to breathe by. Or else you will be sewn up in canvas as the Camel with the Wrinkled Knees, and in structed with horrid glee by the lady director to fall down hard whenever the children don't seem to be laughing enough. The physical strain by February, they say, is something frightful, espe cially if you happen to bruise easily. I have known quite pleasant young women who have appeared with cheer ful callousness as Rag Dolls, as Pump- kinheads, as Dormice, as Sawhorses, or «E5«aE2Si K^^l tAf&f^d tvP F\ \ ; / A^/jiMmm^se^t^ VI. Mock Turtles, or even Wogglebugs — as almost anything, in fact, but human beings. Sometimes I think I sympathize with the unwilling young matron who said, when asked if she wouldn't take part in the League's newest production — was it "Raggedy Ann and Raggedy Andy" or "Snow White and the Seven 12 THE CHICAGOAN The Army- Navy Ball Cafit. Evers, President Army and Navy Club, Polishing U$ His 'Varsity Drag Admiral Ziegemeier ant Gen. Malone in receiv ing line A Difficult Military Formation Dwarfs"? — "What? Be in a play without any men in it? Never!" The Art Theatre Actress, or a Little Lesson in Group Spirit: If you want to get anywhere on the real stage, there's no use in your read ing this, because Art Theatre actresses never turn into anything but older Art Theatre actresses. Chicago, I regret to say, is full of them. You can see them any day in droves lunching at the Piccadilly or teaing at the Arts Club. The type is so well known that it seems almost unnecessary to describe it in detail. But, after all, who are we not to cast the last stone? You may know these ladies from the volubility with which they are wont to discuss tempo — or rhythm — or chiaroscuro — over scented cigarettes in dim depths of undusted drawing rooms. As for their dramatic ability, in serious parts they are quiet and tense and The Navy, the Army and the Marine Corps awfully, awfully modern. You know what I mean — Eva Le Gallienne through a haze from the seventeenth row. In comedy they paint surprised expressions on their faces like Katinka in the "Chauve Souris" and lurch about like drunken sailors. (Does anyone, I wonder, by the way, except Russians, think Russian humor is humorous?) If in spite of what I have said you still feel you would like to have a try at being an Art Theatre actress, the matter is simplicity itself. Just call up the director — who was once a member of the mob in "The Miracle" and has ever since advertised himself as Morris Gest's right hand man — and tell him what you want. There will not be the slightest difficulty as long as you are willing to pay in advance, although he may pretend to hang back just a little from maidenly modesty. The range of parts you will be allowed to attempt in a theatre of this Gold hoom- C ogress kind is nothing short of amazing. You can play everything from "Camille" to "Little Nelly Kelly" — provided your bank balance holds out. I knew a girl once who joined one of these little groups because the di rector told her he intended to give her only such roles as came within her emotional comprehension, and the very next week she was cast as a drunken fille de joie with an Oedipus complex. Yes, and all her aunts were in the audi ence, too. Oh, well, it was for art's sake, of course. The Suburban Actress, or Never Let Your Left Hand Know: And this, dear children, is a Subur ban actress. What's that? You don't know what a Suburban actress is? Why, she is a lady from out of town who once had lunch with Alexandra Carlisle and has never got over it. See THE CHICAGOAN 13 how she runs back and forth on that little stage. Dear me, how fast she runs! No, dear, I don't think she's going to fall. You see, those boards are just placed on top of a row of school desks, so of course she has to be a little careful when she walks. But then she's used to that, you know. And shall I tell you a secret? I think she put the boards up herself not more than half an hour ago. My, my! Isn't she busy? See how she's smiling at the man in the front row who's reading his program so hard he can't seem to look up at all. Do you know who that man is? I give you three guesses — right, Willie, the first time. That is the husband of the Suburban actress, and he is just a Plain Business Man from Winnetka. What's that, Willie? You think she looks funny? Yes, dear, but you mustn't say so, because nobody else has noticed it. See, she's smiling again. Oh, no, she's opening her mouth to speak. But what is the matter? Noth ing seems to come out. Has she for gotten her lines? No, that can't be it, for we can see the kind lady who prompts them behind the screen, and she is playing canfield on the floor. We know she wouldn't be doing that if somebody has forgotten her lines. Now watch! The lady is wrinkling her forehead. Oh, dear, this is dread ful! Children, I'll tell you another great big secret — I believe the lady is thinking what to do. The man in the front row won't look up. He isn't any help at all. But see! Isn't she a clever lady? Look how she trips gracefully across the boards just as if she knew where she was going to — oh, what a shame! No, Willie, don't laugh; she didn't mean to kick that table over. That was just an accident. Now if that isn't bright! See, she pokes her head through the door, and we hear a little noise going "Ting-a- ling-a-ling!" Sounds like a telephone, doesn't it? And now she comes back to the middle of the room and says, just as naturally as can be, "Fency thet! What a bore! There's Gerald ringing me up again!" Everybody looks happier now. Even the husband looks up from his program and smiles. But shall I tell you just one more secret, children? I don't think that was the telephone we heard at all. I think it was the Suburban actress all the time. Wasn't that cute The Easter Parade of her? My, my! But of course we can't all be born in Winnetka. The Real Actress, or Daddy, Buy Me That: I find, on considering the question seriously, that I have really no sugges tions to offer as to how to become a real actress. Not more than one girl in a thousand has a chance of winning success, though that doesn't keep the other nine hundred and ninety-nine from trying. On the contrary! Generally speaking, there are only two ways of becoming this sort of star. One way is to make the pilgrimage to 5alsburg on your knees and move Mr. Reinhardt to tears by reciting the Lord's Prayer in a husky alto and a bathgown. And even then, unless your father controls at least four metropoli tan dailies or practically owns the city of Philadelphia, you might just as well save your pennies and run down to the Income Tax office and recite the multi plication table to Mrs. Reinecke. The other way is to marry a million aire and get him to give you your own theatre. And if I knew how to tell you how to do that, I wouldn't have to waste my time writing articles like this! — ARTHUR MEEKER, JR. It's A Fact ! Twenty blithe Americans Journeyed unto France, One of many caravans Seeking foreign slants. Five from Pittsburgh faltered first, Found a nice cafe, Gently nursed a raging thirst Nothing could allay. Five New Yorkers foundered next, Sunk in laughing eyes, Heedless of the solemn text: 'Ware the light that lies. Ten Chicagoans remained Who alone were pure, Haunting churches, tombs, ordained To goodness! Sworn by your Correspondent, — PAUL ERNST. 14 THE CHICAGOAN Chicago Art Letter— From Paris 'How Far that Tiny Candle — I HATE to en croach upon the province of the learned Herr Dokter Ulysses Jones. I cannot help recall ing the days when we were students to gether, Ulysses and I, at Goettingen,— or perhaps, it was Tubingen — and how he, Ulysses, would remark to me — But that, after all, is neither here nor there. The point is, I know of no man better fitted for the task of criticizing Chicago's artistic output. In the days when I knew him, he was specializing in the agaricaceous fungi, and I am pleased to see that he has been faithful to his first love. '¦ As I say, I have no desire to poach upon Dr. Jones' preserves, but I still cannot help feeling that the only proper place from which to write a Chicago Art Letter is Paris, and that if such a letter is not written here and now, it may never be written. As to why Paris is the only place from which to write a Chicago Art Letter, when Chicago begins to see that Why with out being told, there will be a call for an entirely different sort of letter from the one I am about to indite. The chief trouble with artistic Chicago, viewed from the Tour Eiffel, is the fact that it has no artists. Not literally, of course. I, personally, can think of one or two — of Ramon Shiva and Emil Armin and — and — and then, I just about stop. And the second trouble with artistic Chicago is the fact that its one or two real artists, like Armin and like Shiva, are not the ones that get the ballyhoo. Oh, I am not thinking now of the hoary old stand patters, of the Art Institute ribbon- winner, of the gentleman who paints the Dunes, etc., etc. No, even a gul lible public has ceased to fall very heavily for them. I am thinking, rather, of the flashy false-modernists who spring up over night, to the blare of newspaper and other trumpets, and who fail to provide even a one day's wonder. Why, the most loudly tooted "modernist" amongst us does what would have been promising work for the late nineteenth century! I will draw a gentle veil over certain other "discoveries" — "discoveries" that died before the print was dry that proclaimed them. They are not to be taken too seri ously, being, rather, material for the hu morist. It has come to be so easy now to mistake mere inability to paint for — naivete and all that sort of thing! As for one or two others, who possess real ability, they are too taken up with "movements" (a polite name for pub licity) to have time to do any moving in their art. In Montparnasse, speak of a "movement" or a "manifesto," and as soon as the guffaws have died, you will find yourself stuck with the drinks. But the words still possess a certain swagger on our own northside. AS to the Institute, I am not nearly Z\ so pessimistic on that subject as I used to be. I know now that, give her time, and she is bound to catch up. Hasn't she already caught up with Faggi? True, some ten years after the rest of the town, but still, she's up — that's the main thing. She may even, fifty years from now, be up with Chirico, Ernst and Miro — who knows? And after all, time being a fourth- dimensional illusion, what does it all matter? My son, on a Sabbath after noon in 1980, may find a pensive pleas ure in viewing the works which his father looked upon as "modern"; but I trust he will have the good taste to prefer the Godey Book to certain of our village "modernists." In the meanwhile, I am sure of one thing, and that is that, among the Chicago artists of today who will then be hung in the Institute, my offspring will encounter Ramon Shiva and Emil Armin. As I look back on the native scene over some thousands of watery miles, these are the only two figures that loom, for me, with any magnitude whatsoever. Of Armin I am sure. He has the doggedness of his peasant an cestry. Of Shiva I should be even surer, if I could only be sure that he cared enough about it all. He has a volatile gypsy temperament, and he loves life too well; but if he works — As it is, he is our one Chicago colorist. But what, some one may ask me, what about the No- Jury? I am sorry to have to answer that I believe the No-Jury to be as dead in Chicago as the Independents are in Paris and in New York. The movement everywhere appears to have spent itself. As for Chicago, the No-Jury died the day Ru dolph Weisenborn resigned. Weisen- born was the No- Jury, and the No- Jury was Weisenborn. Today, the No-Jury is an appanage of Respect ability. A group of painters not quite good enough to get into the Institute, but who long for all the tinseled glitter of officialdom. Whereas your true rebel, in paint as in politics, is always disrespectable. AS to the withdrawal of the Arts i\ Club room from the Institute, an event that has occurred during my absence, I am genuinely sorry — for the Institute. The Arts Club itself has nothing to worry about; its own very real public will, as always, find it out. The other public hardly matters. It would, likely, have passed unseeing through the Institute room. As long as the Arts Club stands, with women like Mrs. Carpenter and Miss Rouillier behind its art committee, there will be modern art in Chicago — at least, of the imported variety. A pessimistic letter, you remark. Ah, but wait! There is a ray of hope. Ulysses Jones has become the art critic of The Chicagoan. Chicago, in the past, has had too much "art criticism." It may now hear a little sense about the business of painting. — SAMUEL PUTNAM. Poetic Acceptances A. E. Houseman Accents All Opportunities to Attend Funerals of (a) Young Athletes, (b) Girls Wear ing Garlands, (c) Welsh Marches, (d) Teams Plowing and (e) Grecian Lads. Oh, when I read death notices, Then I am very glad. For I can gather lotuses And wal\ among the sad. There I shall stand with downward eye That's li\e a forest well, For all the young will always die, And listen to the \nell. And I shall come from miles about To ride behind the hearse. Call me as soon as you find out And I shall write a verse. — DONALD PLANT. THE CHICAGOAN 15 CHICAGOAN/ An Artistic Architect MR. BENJAMIN MARSHALL is the only man since Disraeli to wear ruffles on the bosoms of his dress- shirts. Moreover, if he took a fancy to wearing green silk hats or red velvet breeches, he would wear them. Quite casually. He is nothing if not an indi vidualist. Like the Chevalier Belasco, his attire is always picturesque. Undoubtedly both of them realize that a make-up has all the value of a trade-mark. Ben Marshall never appears without a flow ing Windsor tie. Sometimes it is of chaste black silk; sometimes jade green or magenta. His hat is always a soft one, with the brim turned down all around. He wore his hats this way for years before collegians and other snappy dressers adopted the mode. Though one of the most commercially successful of America's architects, he prefers to think of himself as an artist rather than as a builder. In conversa tion he frequently uses the word, "art- istic. BUT make no mistake. To him art is no poppy-seed, drugging the senses. Nay — and again, nay. He is a hard-headed business man, so shrewd that at his approach the banking barons of LaSalle Street sharpen their stilettos, as for valiant adversary. He often beats them at their own game. Some years ago his father bequeathed him a fortune. Since then Benny, as he is familiarly known about town, has doubled the fortune several times. Many a financier has been fooled by that flowing tie. To hear him talk about his plans for the future in architecture and art you might gather the impression that he is a dreamer. He is. But his dreams come true in terms of bricks, concrete and steel. He is a specialist in hotels. He de signed the Blackstone, the Drake, the Edgewater Beach — and a lengthy list of others. Not only can he plan and build hotels, but he possesses sound ideas as to how to operate them at a profit. He is also handy at out-guessing the Ben Marshall real-estate boys. Let Ben Marshall cast his roving eye over a barren waste in some suburb — and before the year is out the region will bloom with manor houses and landscaped gardens. He has the reputation of never losing on invest ments. These practical characteristics are not generally believed to accom pany flowing ties and "artistic" tend encies. Ben is a more complex fellow than his smiling, naif manner would lead you to suspect. FROM out his magic drawing-board — and adding machine — many tall buildings have reared their ornamental heads on this frontier. We need not catalogue them. However, his magnum opus deserves a passing word, if not a paragraph or a couple of volumes, pro fusely illustrated. It is his studio, that vast more-or-less Spanish villa on the lake, hard by the Drainage Canal (un lovely name for such a pleasant locale) where Evanston ends and Wilmette begins. The wonders of this amazing build ing have been noised abroad, and spe cial-articled in many a journal; its tur quoise swimming-pool, under an im mense glass roof that folds up when a button is pressed; its tropic gardens, with tall palm trees from Egypt, rare plants collected from the Orient, and hundreds of gay-plumaged birds; its huge studio, with a completely equipped stage; its glassed-in dining salon on the roof, in which (at a button touch) the table rises through the floor from be low, set with each course. Not to men tion .the labyrinthine suites, the Chinese love temple — and so forth. And so forth. There is a chateau so extraordi' nary that Caesar Borgia, Benvenuto Cellini and Harry Houdini might have collaborated in its ingenious design. But it is not merely a show place. One wing hums with business activity, where thirty draughtsmen are at work. (And they have their own restaurant and chef.) Another wing contains one of the largest architectural libraries in America. ONE feature of the studio is typical of its creator. He brought from France a delicate golden Louis XVI Sedan-chair, and made of it — a tele phone-booth. In this Valhalla of villas the master entertains on what the newspapers would call a lavish scale. He is one of Chicago's celebrated hosts. There is a legend that the Prince of Wales, feted privately by Mr. and Mrs. Mar shall on his recent visit, was reluctant to leave the place when duty called him to a state function. No one can blame the Prince. If the King of Spain ever got in there, it would be impossible to remove him. Ben Marshall works hard. Even when he is playing, he is working. Just now he is roaming about the Orient, picking up objects d'art and ideas. This jaunt might be considered a vacation. But it will doubtless prove a profitable one. He is no idler, this Chicago archi tect. A blythe spirit out of the Eighteenth century — driving a yellow Packard. — G. M. THE CHICAGOAN Going to For the Truth About the T U pERSONALLY," sniffed Choonam 1 Brilliantine of Manchoover, the champion Chow, as he gazed con temptuously upon the army of pedi greed canines at the Chicago kennel show, "I don't believe this story about a talking dog. I know my public, as you might say, and I am sure if dogs could talk they would not maintain their social position very long. Why, the choice bits of family gossip that could be handed out by this mob of muts would make Town Topics read like a flea cure recipe." "Hear! Hear!" chorused a score of dogs. "Sounds as though you were right," growled the Italian Greyhound from across the aisle, "but I heard Mrs. Charles Chadwick's Pom say that this talking bull dog, Princess Jacqueline they call her, came right out and yapped to a lot of newspaper men, not only here but in New York and Bos ton." "And what was she quoted as saying, if I may ask?" inquired the champion Chow. "Some home town gossip, I dare say. Hope it was nothing per sonal about Bangor society." "Oh, I don't know as to that," re plied the Irish Greyhound, "but if one can believe the newspapers, she has a very limited vocabulary, As I under stand it, all she said was 'Bangor! Bangor!' and 'Out! Out!' " "Well, for the barking out loud," broke in the Bedlington Terrier, "is that all? Why, I've been saying 'Gug genheim! Guggenheim!1 all my life, and Col. Robert never takes the slight est bit of notice." UlY that Toy Bull really can talk, I 1 move she take the stump here to make Chicago safe for canine democ racy," interrupted Duke O'Dave, the Irish Water Spaniel. "It's bad enough for us show dogs, but the poor curb stone setter hasn't a chance. It seems the only friend we have is Mrs. Irene Castle McLaughlin, who is campaign ing for a new dog pound. If you be lieve the new health commissioner, every Chicago dog has rabies unless he is equipped with collar, muzzle, and license, and has the Old Man on the end of a leash. Why, the cops passed up two bombers in my neighborhood THE CHICAGOAN 17 Bow- Wows .th Annual Chicago Dog Show last week and then shot my best friend when he sneaked out to visit a lady in the next block. It's a dog's life, IT1 say." "Oh, look," yapped the Toy Schnauzer, "here comes Alexander Stewart who owns that stuck-up, powder-puff Wire they call Champion Confident of Courtwood. Wires were all the rage last year, but I understand the Scotties are the new vogue among the smart set. It's a wonder Chicago society doesn't go in more for Blood hounds and Police Dogs. They'd be quite the Pom's pajamas, don't you think, Mr. English Bull?" "By my buck teeth, you said it!" grunted the Bull, getting slowly to his feet. "But there's no accounting for taste. Honestly, since this cousin of mine has started talking to the news papers, I've been afraid the Mayor would denounce me as an agent of George III. and have me shot as a spy I'm the original John Bull, you know." * /O PEAKING of being in right with w the present administration," barked Claus Von Sigalsburg, the champion Pinscher, "have you heard about our sporty friend, Racing Ramp, the Greyhound? He has cleaned up $35,000 in five years at the dog races, and won five derbies. That's a neat profit for chasing a stuffed rabbit for a mob of bank clerks." "Is that so?" sniffed the Irish Wolf hound, "well, I for one don't care to associate with professional gamblers or racing people. Only today Harold Foreman's Cairn Terriers were saying that this business of dog racing is ruin ing our social structure. All the pub lic wants is speed. Culture and family don't count any more." "Hey, you Afghan Hound, did you hear that?" howled Meadowlark Fear Not, the champion Beagle, to the aris tocratic Shahjehan Larkbeare. "Yes, I heard him," replied the Afghan with dignity. "But we Afghans have been the pets of kings and queens for more than five thou sand years. My ancestors were in the temples of India and Egypt. I myself am owned by a Chicago lawyer." "You don't say so?" breathed all the dogs in silent admiration. — BARNEY BLAIR. International Champion Choonam Drilliantine of Mane ho over Old English Shepherd Champion Duke Boris Loquacious Princess Jacqueline SKETCHES BJ PETER KOCH Dominican 18 THE CHICAGOAN ". . . remember the little gal, second from the end? She was the valance in the Living Curtain number. . . ." JOURNALI/TIC JOURNEY/ Lata on the Rove "A NYWAY," said the sergeant in /V charge — he pronounced it "an- nyway" — "it's a nice night for it." We shoulder out of the dingy police station and into a closed car. Not the tradi tional Cadillac, but a Peerless. The squad is taking a ride. It is a leisurely, comfortable expedi tion. These police officers are tall, thick, ruddy men. Very hearty and jovial fellows. Their laughter is full and untroubled. Their voices a little stronger than full. Their manner easy and spacious — perhaps the natural manner of big males on the rove. And when the driver finds a swear word apposite to his conversational theme he uses a barrel-chested oath, free at once of delicacy and innuendo, as oaths ought to be used. A squad car does not bristle with armament. At least not noticeably. The shotgun rack is fixed across the back of the driver's seat. A curved black box with snap catches. Presum ably the men carry pistols. There may be tear bombs about. On the running board is an officious black gong oper ated by a pull-cord in charge of the man who rides beside the driver. Though silent, this gong is our special insignia. To it traffic cops are instantly deferent — a pleasing phenomenon to the ordinary citizen who goes in dread of these officers. Pedestrians along the street spot the gong, too, and become painfully law-abiding as well as a little curious. They eddy for a half -second on Loop corners, stare as we pass, and remark to their fellows that a squad car is on the move. Policemen accept these little tributes with gracious dignity: That is, they ignore them. VERY abruptly we are out of the Loop and west on Madison to Hal- sted. A mean, poor, shoddy district animated by a straggle of hoboes and inexplicable night wanderers. We ease onto a side street of naked, paintless houses, most of them without even the shabby pretext of a lawn. Our cruis ing speed is slow. Perhaps 15 miles an hour. Silent. Our spotlight flicks in the dark to pick out a deserted wooden porch, a meek and empty object undeserving of such a dazzle. Nothing there. It is darker after the spot is off. A block down. Two blocks. Then, instantaneously, a man stands in the bright circle. "Come over here!" He comes. A very ordinary looking young fellow, slight and squinting. Annoyed. Confused. And a little afraid. "What's your name?" He answers something beginning with John. "Where do you live?" He names a street and number. "What are you doing here?" He gives a harmless an swer. "How old are you?" He is 23. "What's your name?" It is the same, beginning with John. With this he has seemingly passed a shrewd test; he is pardonably anxious to give the right answers. "All right, John." One of the coppers gives him his dismissal. We move off. Cut through an alley. And enter another street very like the first. THE light is restless now. It picks out a weary looking tree, a help less piece of vegetation unsuspectable of anything. It flares coldly into an alley mouth. Explores a fence corner. Once it picks out an open window with a wisp of curtain dangling in the night air. It lingers over this window as a man might ponder a pointless question. Burglary? Maybe. Or perhaps a sleeping room. Or a careless house wife. Or a drunken boarder. The spotlight gives up. It roves somewhere else. It discovers Joe. He is subtly ques tioned with heavy, dreadful dignity. But Joe, Jike John, knows the answers. THE CHICAGOAN 19 "The JTA G E Discovering the Clavilux We move off. The driver and a pleasant hulk in the back seat discuss restaurants. The hulk is hungry. He knows a good all night place run by a friend of his down on so-and-so street. Everybody is willing. By easy stages we arrive at so-and-so street. There are meat sandwiches, coffee, and plenty of catsup. Also there is beer. Good honest beer. The talk runs to crime. The hulk laments poor Danny Morgan, slain by an ordi nary (here a few words are deleted) door-mat thief whom Danny had stopped to question. Never gave him a chance. We all lament poor Danny. A fine man. A good cop. And two children. THESE squad men are no cool, de tached criminologists. Crime, to them, is not a breach in the social order which they, as agents of society, are called upon to discourage calmly with out vengeance or passion. Crime is a personal affront, a direct assault involv ing sometimes the deadly personal menace of a cornered gunman, brave and bitter with the penitentiary before him. Crime, to these men, requires summary and strenuous action. Four knuckles deep in the rascal's collar, a resounding buffet on the trowser seat, a thwack across the skull — these things are the proper relations between police men and criminals. A lot of good it will do, talking to some hoodlum about his complexes. (The catsup bottle is set down with a bang of approval.) Coppers hate the wrongdoer with a personal and violent malice. He's a bad egg. He deserves "what he gets. Well, back to work — We cruise again. Barren streets, dark, unkempt, noisesome alleys. Once under a viaduct, a swoop in the dark with the pound and jangle of a freight train overhead. Then suddenly we take a straight boulevard to the east and north. Our gong sounds once, impatient at a loaf ing motorist. And the meaningless blocks orient themselves into a coherent scheme. The station. We shoulder out. "Yeh," says the squad leader. "Sure glad to have met you. Say, you might come along Saturday. We're probably pulling a good pinch. This routine stuff's pretty dull. Yeh, every night. Well, same to you. So long." — F. C COUGHLIN. THERE has been no enforced Len ten abstinence among first-nighters since the last issue of The Chicagoan. Two highly constellated revivals of clas sics — "Diplomacy" and "She Stoops to Conquer" — have thrown the drama clubs and star-chasers into a flutter. The Actors' Fund has celebrated its an nual catch-as-catch-can benefit, giving Ethel Barrymore a chance to express her Juliet complex. Beatrice Lillie, William Hodge and Eddie Dowling have registered their names upon the electric signs and settled down for runs. The press agents have been as busy as traders at the General Motors posts on the Stock Exchange. But all this is merely a matter of shows coming and going as usual. . . . The arrival and departure of travelers at an inn. The blooming and fading of dreams not easily remembered. The casting of pebbles into a pool to watch the ripples flutter and die. . . . Dis cussion of such transitory events, from the viewpoint of their importance, is as vacant of purpose as that imperish able speech in "Juno and the Paycock" — "Phwhat is the moon? Phwhat is the stars?" But one thing has happened during the past fortnight which may be classed as significant. Curiously enough, it grew out of our own resident theatrical life. It means something. In the terms of after-dinner oratory, it "marks an epoch," and maybe even "makes his tory." It was the use of the Clavilux in the staging of Ibsen's "Vikings at Helgeland," at the Goodman Theatre. This was news. If it had happened in New York, London or Paris, it would Miss Beatrice Lillie, About to Commit One of Her W. K. Concerts 20 THE CHICAGOAN 'Yes, mam, fust nineteen minutes to the I. C, and you know what I. C. Service is" have been cabled around the world, and landed on quite a few first pages. THE Clavilux itself is not a novelty — Thomas Wilfred, its inventor, has been exhibiting it in "color-organ" programs for the past ten years. It has been copiously praised and ecstat ically marveled at by searchers for aesthetic thrills. But its value as a practical instrument in stage lighting, one which enlarges the visual technique of the theatre, had never before been tested. "The Vikings," at the Good man, was a first time. And the Clavi lux proved itself, beautifully, thor oughly. It was revealed as a device that David Belasco or Max Reinhardt should sell his soul to possess. So far as the theatre is concerned, there is nothing high-brow or hyper- aesthetic about Mr. Wilfred's inven tion. Its use for "color-organ" pro grams and as a light accompaniment to symphonic music have apparently ob scured the fact that there is something of concrete value in the production of plays. It is as simple in theory as a magic lantern, but as supple in its pos sibilities as an artist's imagination. For "The Vikings," Mr. Wilfred, sitting at his complex switch-board, which is not much larger than the key board of a piano, provided a sullen, slowly shifting northern sky; the surge of Atlantic waves upon a distant beach; the lambent flickering of fire-light in a Norse sea-king's dusky hall; and a Valkyr-ride through cloud-land to Val halla. Richard Wagner could have asked for no better Valkyr-ride than this! The illusion of these light effects had the enchantment of poetry. To all other tricks of stage lighting, this was what Keats is to Edison. . . . "Magic casements opening on the foam of perilous seas in faery lands forlorn." THE Clavilux is adaptable to the theatre wherever a touch of fan tasy and imagination is needed in the drama. It can produce a credible ghost for "Hamlet." It can work wonders with the witches and black magic of "Macbeth." In revues it can produce effects more picturesque and color- drenched than Ziegfeld has dreamed of. It can become a valuable first-aid to trick photography in evoking motion picture phantasmagoria. Thus far, of course, there is only one Clavilux switchboard, and only one Thomas Wilfred. But that phase of the matter could be easily remedied by the General Electric Company, to whose attention the commercial oppor tunities which reside in this artistic in vention are hereby recommended. The Muse of Nonsense BEATRICE LILLIE has come to the Illinois in "She's My Baby," and therefore the intelligentzia has put on cap and bells. She is to the so-called sophisticates what Charlie Chaplin is, or used to be, to the moronic masses — the most diverting creature in the world. She is the Fairy Queen of wise- crackers, the Ariel of burlesquers, the Puck of parody. It is difficult to put Miss Lillie's charm into words. Her humor is so quaint, her wit so zig-zag, that she passes outside familiar human categories and becomes a sprite. Her clowning is always wildly eccentric, and yet it never loses its mental delicacy. Her slap-stick is cerebral. She is a thirty- second degree kidder, dealing in lun atic tid-bits of that pastime. Her mirth is given special zest by her personal allurement. She is unconquerably pretty, even in the craziest of costumes. A boyish-form sweetheart, obsessed by the imp of the ridiculous — that is Bea trice Lillie. She is so fantastic that she destroys the plots of musical comedies. Hence the French farce frame-work of "She's My Baby" never seems substantial in a story-telling way. Its central character is too consistently erratic, ever to take an audience by surprise. But it's a first-rate B. Lillie show, ranking as one of the best entertainments of the spring. The star's happily selected as sociates include Clifton Webb, who has developed from a mere dancing fellow into a persuasive comedian; Jack Whit ing, a new boy of the song-shows, who is attractively red-headed and regular; Nick Ix)ng, Jr., who slings an agile hoof; Pauline Mason, an exceedingly nice singing ingenue; and Ula Sharon, who has become cherubic without los ing her butterfly technique of the ballet. Be Your Age, Eddie AT the Erlanger, the play-goer may find the* antithesis of Beatrice Lillie in Eddie Dowling, who frolics as star, author and composer of an am bitious show called "Honeymoon Lane." If Miss Lillie is the champagne of mus ical comedy, Mr. Dowling is the certi fied milk. He deals in juvenilia and infantilism. He usually runs a year in New York, where he seems to be as popular as Al Smith. Poor woiking goils and boys are his stock in trade. "Honeymoon Lane," as far as Mr. Dowling's copious contributions are concerned, is too young for anyone ex cept a grandmother. He plays a mill- hand yearning to marry a pickle-fac tory girl, and after he has yowled and wailed and prattled to the happy end ing of the dream-story, you are con vinced that he needs not a wife as much as a Teddy bear. I wish that this amiable comedian would decide to grow up, for he has gifts as an enter- THE CHICAGOAN 21 tainer and an ingratiating personality. As soon as he casts his first mental vote I will burst into applause. The production itself is a full-blown affair, rich in scenes, peopled with promising talents. Gordon Dooley threatens to outshine the other members of his comic tribe as a knock-about droll. Martha Morton, descendant of the Four Mortons, has inherited the genius of dancing shoes. Florence O'Denishawn, so thin that she becomes a sexless symbol of the dance, is poetic in rhythm and attitude. In contrast to the O'Denishawn's lean loveliness, a baby elephant named Kate Smith be comes an over-stuffed sensation as she raves through a black-bottom. Leo Beers pianologues neatly; and various others ably do their bits. "Honeymoon Lane" could be a good show without the assistance of Eddie Dowling. But I am doubtful whether to score his contribution as an assist or an error. Hodge-Podge WILLIAM HODGE has ceased to annoy the sceptics. He has dropped his profitable pose as First Reader and returned to the less spirit ual hokums of the theatre. There isn't a single reference to faith-healing and the mysterious power of mind over mat ter in his latest self-written play, now at the Princess under the title of "Straight Through the Door." This is a "mystery comedy," partly autobiographical. Mr. Hodge (in per son) is building a house in Westchester and having trouble with the artisans. His wife is flirting with the architect. The rough-neck contractor asks Mr. Hodge if his horns aren't pushing his hat off, and our hero replies with a chivalrous threat to punish this sneer at the little woman with a bullet through the heart. Presently someone ambushes the contractor and a bully ing detective accuses Mr. Hodge of murder. Amateur sleuthing follows. The play is a curious Hodgian con cession to the vogue for "mystery" stuff. It is naive of plot, realistic of detail, and cheerful of atmosphere. The cast is excellent, and Mr. Hodge plays his usual slow-spoken, squint- eyed self with pleasant results. "Straight Through the Door" is easy to take, even by jaded palates. —CHARLES COLLINS. <7he CINEMA A DeMilhon Dollar Production YOU might refer to "Chicago" as "a DeMillion dollar production" and get quite a laugh, as the saying is, but a better one is to be had by going to the theatre where it is on display and entering with Mr. DeMille into the spirit of the thing. It is the most interesting of the pictures and plays that have been dedicated to our town. "Chicago" is not, of course, Chicago. It is, instead, that gay Gilbert- and- Sullivan setting which headline writers have built around us for an attentive, if not amused, world. And it is as much better entertainment than other Chicago pictures and plays as Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan were better play- men than Maurine Watkins, Ben Hecht and the others who have taken our corporate name in vain. Mr. De Mille, whose participation in the mak ing of a picture inevitably effaces its author, has parafilmed Chicago much as Mr. Erskine paraphrased Troy; and the result is, in its way, an equally delightful thing. In the Chicago of "Chicago" a mur deress is as charming as Phyllis Haver, a husband who doesn't come home un expectedly is as commonplace as Victor Varconi, a Darrow is as urbane as Rob ert Edeson — and takes a case for $5,- 000. A reporter is as funny as T. Roy Barnes, a police officer as official as Clarence Burton, and the headlines of the morning papers agree with the facts and each other. There are no bonds men to deprive the lovely killer of her cozy jail, no continuances or writs to delay the wheels of injustice, and no night club contracts are offered the sightly slayer as she leaves the court room. These are a few of the reasons why "Chicago" is more melodramatic than Chicago and better entertainment than other Chicago plays. Perhaps another and more important reason is because Mr. DeMille, alone among the play writers, producers and directors who have had at us, has had the discern ment and good taste not to take the headlines too seriously. "My Best GirV IF public taste has changed no more than Mary Pickford in the twenty years since her supremely simple artis try won her the title of America's Sweetheart, "My Best Girl" will be on view at the United Artists theatre when Johnny comes marching home from Scout camp. It is, of course, the best picture in which Miss Pickford has appeared. In "My Best Girl" Miss Pickford admits the maturity you have known all these years, and for the first time in all these years you do not believe it. She enacts a shopgirl of marriage able age, she embraces and is embraced by attractive young Charles Rogers, and she convinces you that it's quite all right without convincing you that she's a minute older than she was when she embraced and was embraced by Marshall Neilan — then a personable young leading man as well as a director — in "Daddy Long Legs." Alongside Mary, even as this eminently compe- 'Yeah — they just ride natcherly out here fi in the Forest Preserve" - j| ¦ ¦ >.-*.<!? 22 THE CHICAGOAN tent young business woman of the five- and-ten industry, Clara Bow seems a grandmother. The story of "My Best Girl," sur prisingly enough, is a good story. Miss Pickford's usually aren't. In it she ex hibits talents which the youngsters of Hollywood — such mere girls as Corinne Griffith, Mae Murray, Pola Negri and Gloria Swanson — now may cultivate to their personal profit and with consider able benefit to the people who go to see their pictures. Q. E. D. NOW and then, usually as an econ omy measure, Hollywood permits a director to tell a picture. "Tell" is the word, for under these rare circum stances the director simply assembles his cast, orders his sets, confides his gen eral idea to his actors and goes to work. The result, as might be expected, is in variably a good picture. "The Iron Horse" was told before it was written — or adapted — for book publication. "A Girl in Every Port," now available in several local cinemas, is another. Howard Hawks, director and author of "A Girl in Every Port," went to work with the lean and likeable Victor McLaglen, the squat and substantial Robert Armstrong and the galvanic -jjj» %-*.(\xvUL8d&*A. — .> Louise Brooks as his principal construc tion material. He may have had no more than the title of his picture clearly in mind when he began shooting, for the first three or four sequences are no more nor less than comic skits staged in various picturesque ports by the then rival sailors, but when he got the yarn spinning it wove into such a pattern as is yielded by not one play or book adaptation in fifty. No pretty stage or page speeches were at hand to be spliced into the action; no cumbersome book or play constructions clogged the flow of the film. The idea born in Mr. Hawks' brain found a path of minimum resistance through megaphone to set, from set to camera and from camera, via projector lens, to screen. If you are one who has abandoned hope of finding entertainment in the cinema, risk one more evening on "A Girl in Every Port." Expect to see a plain, somewhat ribald, occasionally rough and wholly veracious account of two sailors' fistic, emotional and ethical engagements in such places as seamen haunt when ashore. Expect to see the mighty McLaglen ask the Spanish miss upon his lap, "Have you been true to me, Baby?" and to see her reply, "Si, Senor — twice," to a mutual if brief amusement terminated when, finding his rival's trademark upon the senorita's knee, he tosses her upon the bed and into the already populous discard. Ex pect quantities of this, and of drinking, fighting, swaggering; but expect, also, to leave the theatre with that lately unfamiliar feeling of having seen an honest picture. Then, if your bent is toward theor izing, ask yourself why all pictures are not contrived in this manner instead of being cribbed from three-act plays and 250-page books designed, second arily if not indeed primarily, for the specific purpose of providing a type of entertainment which the cinema, by the nature of its operation and clientele, cannot provide. None of the several answers to this question are very good. Relief CHICAGO is relieved of its bloody reflection and given equally col orful "lowdown" on another good town in "The Big City." The place pictured — if Virginia Pearson enacting a cabaret hostess named Tennessee who shouts "Give the little girl a big hand" can be accepted as evidence — is New York. Lon Chaney is the principal participant in crooked proceedings about which the story centers and, if a mere citizen may air an unbiased THE CHICAGOAN 23 opinion, the Gotham grade of crime is better. The criminals have a sense of humor. "The Big City" is the second picture in which Mr. Chaney has performed without the aid of crutches, porcelain eyeballs or amputations. This time he is a burglar, a cabaret owner, a gang leader and, in short, a quite possible figure of this, that or another metro politan underworld. He is in and out of burglarious competition with the similarly engaged Mathew Betz, and neither of the ungentlemen forget for a moment that uncomic crime is a pretty dull business. "The Big City" is never dull. That the astute Mr. Chaney is an actor in the full sense of the word has been a bit grudgingly conceded by the purists. His appearance in "Tell It to the Marines" sans even the conven tional cold cream — in reality his crown ing grotesquery — has been accepted as clinching the matter. "The Big City," wherein he performs with the common place appurtenances of the common or garden variety of picture star and with only these, is final proof. — W. R. WEAVER. Now Showing Chicago — Reviewed in this issue. My Best Girl — Likewise reviewed in this issue. A Girl in Every Port — Reviewed like wise in this issue. The Big Town — Yes, this one's reviewed in this issue, too. Burning Daylight — Klondike to Frisco with Milton Sills and without a fist fight. (See it.) Simba — The Martin Johnsons in the jun gle. (If you like jungles.) Tillie's Punctured Romance — Comic, but offensive. (No.) The Heart of a Follies Girl — Billie Dove, more beautiful than ever, in her weakest vehicle. (Er — no.) Why Sailors Go Wrong — Not the rea sons, but the reason. (Under no circum stances.) The Patent Leather Kid — Dick Barthel- mess' best since "Tol'able David." (Don't miss it.) Red Hair — Clara Bow's best. (Go.) The Showdown — George Bancroft and other able-bodied men and women in a great grandson of "Rain." (If you liked "Rain.") The Secret Hour — The hour being yours, the secret the picture's, the whole a vac uum. (Spin the dials.) Rose Marie — Alright, if you supply the lyrics. (Some night.) Coney Island — From the inside and quite interesting. (Yes.) Nameless Men — You can identify Anto nio Moreno, however, in the detective's Fedora. (Read the want-ads.) Square Crooks — Unusual crook comedy. (Perhaps.) The Circus — Chaplin's classic pantomime. (By all means.) The Gaucho — Fairbank's classic athletics. (Positively.) The Student Prince — Novarro and Shearer in a faithful, if mute, transcrip tion. (Okay.) Les Miserables — Well, .these things will happen. (Maybe the nap will do you good.) West Point — William Haines really shouldn't have accepted the assignment. (Probably better not.) The Crimson City — Alleged to be Singa pore; plainly Hollywood. (Certainly not.) Ladies Night in a Turkish Bath — Funny in spots, dirty in others. (No, that is, unless — ) Wife Savers — Beery and Hatton, louder and funnier. (Possibly.) Across the Atlantic — Asserting that it wasn't Lindy, but Monte Blue, after all. (Play contract.) Gentlemen Prefer Blondes — Yes, prac tically the same. (Yes.) The Private Life of Helen of Troy — If Erskme had been Sennett. (Surely.) Beau Sarbeur — Don't let the similarity fool you. (Read "Black Majesty.") Fox Movietone News — Newsreels with the noises left in. (By all means.) ,/'' J0 'Gee! I forgot to feed the canary this morning 24 THE CHICAGOAN "Why isn't the gin on the buffet, Ellis?" "Beg pardon, mam, I placed it in the pantry to age" ART Dold rums Aga in THE doldrums are upon us. Out of sheer desperation, went to the Art Institute of a Sunday after noon. The exhibition of work of Chicago artists still was clinging to the walls. Amused myself for half an hour watching the art-hungry citi zenry stream through the galleries. Truly, they come in great numbers of a Sunday afternoon. The mamas brushing their little boys away from the single, solitary, gleaming nude. The young intellectual couple — girl with black hair and smoky red mouth, boy with slouchy walk and scornful eyes. And just mobs and mobs of earnest citizens, and not anything there for them to laugh at, even! A rather curious thing happened. In one of the rooms a negro girl, about fourteen years old, stepped before a painting. She was dressed in on over- lopping boyish mackinaw coat, a crum pled paper package stuck in one pocket. Her black skirt sagged uneven under it. Her small black hat was frowsy. Yet altogether she had a lithe and eager form, a dark, long-throated loveliness, a hint of clarinet African beauty. She stopped in front of the toshiest bit of painting in the whole exhibition: a sweet-sweet magazine cover painting of a meow-meow girlie in a smock. Young pretty-pretty soft-face darling- nose art student type. Just a painting about as bad as the average student practice painting showing a girl in a smock holding a few brushes in her hand, against a light background. THE negro child unrolled a huge sheet of drawing paper, put it against the wall just under the paint ing, and began to copy the outlines on the portrait. She had to work in a crouching, cramped position, drawing against the wall, with the huge clumsy mackinaw sleeves bothering her, and swarms of citizenry forming a knot about her to look, look at a girl copying a picture! For thirty minutes the negro girl went on with that job. She was con scious of the crowd that continually formed, changed, re-formed behind her. But she was making a copy of that beautiful white artist girl. She drew earnestly and drew rather well, her outlines were firm and not amateur. Then I noticed, too, that she had several little slips of blue note-paper on which she had already sketched tiny copies of this girl-artist painting. When she had finished her full-size copy of the picture, she made notes on it about the colors. Then she stood for a moment, gazing upon her ideal of living perfection, to be a little white girl artist with a putty-face, dressed in a cute little smock, holding cute little paint-brushes and so the negro girl rolled up her drawing, put it under her arm, stuck her hands in the huge pockets of the clumsy mackinaw coat, and went out of the room. WANDERED back to the cold, far reaches of the Institute, and found the new Persian room. Not much of interest, except for three of four exquisite water-color portraits of the 17th — or is it 18th? — century school. I have always felt that in these water-color miniatures, simple, stylized, delicately fastidious, is to be found the perfection of the trend of modern art. They never fail to sur prise one with their melodious intimacy. Strolled further through the museum, noting a strange array of outlandish musical instruments, a room-full of Venetian paintings with no kick at all in the famous Titian on display, and the usual clever surprises that come upon one from the minor sketches and prints placed along the hallways. AT the Camera Club, for those who can find their way into the place through the great ghostly ground-floor hall of what used to be the downtown building of Northwestern University, at Lake and Dearborn streets, is an art exhibition equal to any exhibition of paintings in town. (Which is not overstuffed praise.) The occasion is the showing of the Pictorial Section from the 72nd annual exhibition of the THE CHICAGOAN 25 Royal Photographic Society of Great Britain. Some of the photographs (to form a complimentary inversion of a well-known critical formula) look like paintings. For a character study, there is no painting on exhibit in Chicago more forceful than the grubby, neckless Protestantischer Keistlieher, by O. K. Vogelsang. And for pretty-pretty country scenes, a photo by A. E. Brookes called "Fairy Tales" takes the cake from any of the entries in the annual painter's race to achieve the ultimate in saccharine. "A Good Breeze," by C. Cecil, is an excellently arranged photo in which a triangular sail is used to give a perfect diagonal to the composition. Quite modern in structure. These things reminded me a good deal of the old days when artists used to argue that photography was not art And of a chap named Gibbs who used to be in Chicago, and who was one of the first and best "abstract" photog raphers. With him, I often felt that there was a good deal of matter in the argument that the camera, as a product of the machine age, was a better me dium for artistic expression of the machine age than the free hand of an artist. This feeling was confirmed by a visit to the Chicago galleries association immediately after my look at the photo graphs. Three painters were on exhibit, or, at least two painters, and the works of three. Some paintings by Gilbert Foote are in the first room. Men gravely regarding geese, and that sort of thing. The colors look as if they want to be brilliant, but have had a screen drawn over them. THE large exhibit room is divided longitudinally. On one side, we have the works of Joseph Birren. On the other, of Irving Manoir. And a tea in the middle. Mr. Manior's things occasionally exhibited a glimmering of form. A bird, in itself, would be solidly pre sented. Perhaps another bird on the same canvas also solidly painted. But their arrangement in relation to each other, bad. Two decorative screens by Mr. Manoir were particularly muddy in color. However, he has made some experiments with pigment, and his spirit seems willing. — ULYSSES JONES. COSTUME AC- CES SORHES JW GIVE AN AUTHE ENTIC PARISIAN TOUCHY YOUR G / •S A/ OPT/-/ M/CA-/ / CAA/ Importers DESIRES TO ANNOUNCE AN EXHIBIT OF THE LATEST MODELS FROM THE LEADING FRENCH HOUSES 6 J\. Michigan Ave. Chicago, III. ^BBZEZZ X Y1NftViVnVfr±k Gthe BETTER HATS Vari-tones from England, France and Italy. Also FifielcTs domestic styletypee. S5 to $20. jwwg. 128 South Michigan Blvd. n«or V»n Buna St. North Section Wrigley Bldg. 26 TWECI4ICAG0AN Complexions and Costumes | The success of a costume is largely determined by the com plexion accompanying it. But the success of a complexion is altogether dependent upon spe cialized scientific care! In her exotically luxurious new Maison de Beaute Valaze, HELENA RUBINSTEIN, inter national beauty scientist, provides modern women with the one, sane, intelligent means of achiev ing youthful long-lasting beauty — Valaze Scientific Beauty Treat' ments and Preparations. Essen tially active and specialized to answer individual needs, these unique crea tions literally induce each skin to re new its own youth and beauty. For a harmonious cultivation of the face, figure, hair and hands, visit the new Maison de Beaute Valaze. A course of Recon structive Treatments for winter- weary skins is suggested. Ad vice on self-treatments and the art of make-up, WITHOUT OBLIGATION. Valaze Water Lily Creations Each of these rare and exquisite crea tions contains the youth-renewing es sence of water lily buds. Valaze Water Lily Cream — cleanses immaculately. Keeps the skin smooth, soft and delicately toned. 2.50, 4.00 Valaze Water Lily Powder — flatter ing, clingy. NOVENA for dry skins, COMPLEXION for normal and oily skins. Shades for every type. 1.50 Valaze Water Lily Vanities — becom ing shades of rouge and powder 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 especially. Red Cardinal (light) gay, vivid — perfect for Blondes and the ideal evening tint for alt. Chinese Red, Jade Green or Jet Black cases. 1.25 Valaze Water Lily Foundation Cream — the perfect make-up foundation. Lends the skin a soft and wonderfully alluring creaminess and makes rouge and powder remarkably adherent. 2.00 Rubinstein beauty preparations are dispensed at all the better stores, by trained and com petent advisers, or order direct from Dept. Ch 46. 670 N. Michigan Avenue Chicago. Telephone for Appointment — Whitehall 4242 8 East 57th Street, New York Paris London Philadelphia Boston Detroit Newark rhe CI4ICACOENNE Fords and Fortunes SEEING all the snappy Ford road sters — driven without exception by liveried chauffeurs so far — brought me cogitating a smart costume to languish in while so displaying your membership in the Model A Club. Carson Pirie has a very good looking dark bottle green leather coat lined with plaid basket weave material. This, worn over a light weight sweater and flannel skirt, will clothe you quite adequately for any whim of the weather, if you're starting your golf. [See illustration.] The skirt, by the way, is the old pleated in front kind. The circular ones, which are smart this season, are much too flyawayish to suit me, and the wind doesn't annoy the pleat ed kind quite so much. FIELD'S SPRING FASHION SHOW had so many attractive things it's hard to be spe cific. Here are a few high spots: 1. Serviceable and smart new tub silk ma terial in loose basket weave called Debonair, also uncrushable. 2. Navy blue hand kerchief linen dresses for summer. 3. Silk serge pleated and circular skirts to wear with sweaters. 4. Lots of navy blue with touches of red used in both dresses and suits for street. 5. Horsehair braid used under lace to stiffen your chiffon flounces, Chan el's idea. FIRST aid to the last minute Easter shopper with a child. Kunze Wel fare Mission (18 East Randolph Street) offers adorable chocolate nests with eggs and all kinds of marzipan vege tables. Mandels have some red wooden pails, painted with flowers, and wooden bun nies and elephants on runners that will thrill the kiddies to find in some hidden corner. The smartest child's barber shop is also here. They sit on a horse — merry-go-round fashion — while the fearsome operation takes place, and afterward they are rewarded with a peep-show, "Hansel and Gretel" and their other fairytale favorites. Inci dentally, it's quite a sight to see the expression of the grown ups looking on! In looking for a really good place to have some hemstitching done, I discov ered C. B. Noyes and Co., on the thirteenth floor of the Venetian Build ing. They also embroid er and bead and, of spe cial interest to the cour ageous one who makes her own, all kinds of studding and nailhead work is done on spring coats and blouses, speed ily and very smartly. D( ON'T you sometimes wish you knew what on earth everything was about and if you would get your pet wish? Go and have luncheon at the Fortune Tea Shop, 174 N. Michigan Ave nue. After a simple lunch nicely served, a Hindu or American In dian (I believe there is also one of Irish origin) will come to your table and tell you from tea leaves some snappy truths about yourself! Sounds silly, but they are horribly con vincing. The much talked of Count Keyserling had lunch there, I'm told, and among many others was surprised at the veracity of their statements. Anne Forester, in her attractive little house at 41 East Oak Street, has just returned from Europe, filled with the desire to make us all more comfortable, besides being beautiful and artistic in our homes. To do so, she has brought back from Chester and Shrewsbury some lovely antique chairs, tables, set tles and lots of pewter and copper for which I have a particular yen. One grand thing is a copper platter with a big bell cover large enough to hold a turkey. Miss Forester believes the American should stick to the English. Spanish and Italian furnishings being THE CHICAGOAN 27 -v/ v.r ¦i vH > difficult to carry out even to the smal lest accessories, which should be done to feel comfortable yourself. Not very far away is the well known Woman's Exchange. As they were hav ing their opening of children's clothes the first of the week, I was curious. There is a pink and white dimity, bound in pink, with pink buttons, and, especially note, a breast pocket your young daughter would adore. New toys — Topsy and Eva dressed in calico, with charming yarn hair that even Mrs. Coolidge is pleased to own, ac cording to a letter from her received by the deserving woman who makes them, some joined small wooden toys the size of your hand of the different characters in Alice "7TX in Wonderland. Alice is sketched herewith. Speaking of chil- \ dren, I wonder if you've ever seen the pictures taken by Donald C. Beidler, at 820 North Michigan Avenue? His camera is the only one of its kind and enables him to play with the child in his little flag-stoned walk garden or any place the child may go and snap the picture whenever he wishes. The difference being that his camera is always in fo cus so he gets the most natural poses possible, and you've never seen more adorable ones. Another shop, on Walton Place, that is new is Fairyland, the children's shop so well known in Evanston. They make clothes to order and sell them already made, either tailored or en tirely made by hand. And oh, the things they have are charming! Cun ning brother and sister suits and smart little hats, bonnets, and muffs. If you want advice about the wardrobe for a very small young person, I should say that you would be very well informed here, for they not only have every pos sible necessity and luxury for very smallest Chicagoans, but the people in charge are mothers. THAT the birthday of Abraham Lincoln should be marked by a wreath on his statue, near North Ave nue, is as it should be, but that the wreath should be placed around his neck Hawaiian fashion is appalling. I simply can't reconcile the two. Will someone lend me a step ladder? — ARCYE WILL. Ch/iir/t// Trt> — one of the little yiaveajce — niceties of living ¦ ••» OERVEL Electric Refrigeration is generous in the amount of ice it provides for table use — and it's so much easier to reduce these dainty cubes than to chip and crack and splinter in the old-time way. Readers of the Chicagoan may have the Servel placed in their homes or apart ments on trial. Call Randolph 1200 and ask for Mr. Reace. E COMMONWEALTH EBKQN CJ L£CTRieSHdPi3 72 West Adams Street Right Now — TO be fully informed of all the news of the game — with the opening of the glorious outdoor season but two months away — is the time to subscribe to POLO "TTie Magazine of the Game" One year $5.00 Two years 8.00 Three years 10.00 Quigley Publishing Co. 407 S. Dearborn St. Chicago On Sale at Brentano's f K-Vr V^VrVK ggSSEBJgB JyrYM EXCLUSIVE ?PATTERNS- IN SPRING- NECKWEAR Made to Fifield's specifications. Un surpassed in style, quality, value. Large assortments. $2.50 to $6. X BHii <H 328 South Michigan Blvd. near Van Buren St. North Section Wrigley Bldg. 28 TWt CHICAGOAN The TEMPLE of YOUTH MU/ICAL NOTE/ rran dO£ era in THE American Opera Company, now playing its first Chicago sea son at the Studebaker Theatre, takes firm hold of the old clothes of grand opera and tosses them into the junk- heap. We offer a brief resume of its various virtues, based on its opening "Faust" of March 27 : A. A small, but finely trained or chestra, under the direction of Frank St. Leger, who was never given the attention he merited when he was as sociated with the Chicago Civic Opera. B. Magnificent scenery by Robert Edmond Jones, the Provincetown art ist. No gaudy realism here. A sense of vastness achieved with simple arches, long drops and skillful lighting. C. A pretty Marguerite, a hand some Faust, a delightfully sardonic Mephisto, all adequate as actors, youth fully talented and fresh in their ap proach to the well-worn piece. D. A chorus trained in seductive group movement by Michio Itow, a dancer and an artist. The sense of mass gained by harmonious arrangement of male and female choruses where the number of singers is actually quite small. E. An English adaptation of the libretto stripped of "thees" and "thous" and as sensible as it could possibly be made considering the inanity of the original. F. Voices spirited and in every case good enough for the role. At least one, the basso of George Houston Modern Dress ¦ 1 menti°n' (Mephisto), worthy of special ^gg G. The bunk of «* *£*,* version stripped away. r r j^ar there is no unconvincing vision ^ ^gt guerite in the first act. The ag ^^j merely discovers her within a tj0n and the rest is left to the imag of the audience. This is an organization that is break' iius is an uig<n«*» ertoire sea' ing new ground and its rep ^ son is something you shouion The Thereminvox MLEON THEREMIN, Y^ ? Russian inventor, comes town and the Age of Machinery ge another large gold medal. For Thereminvox is, at least from a scien tific standpoint, an astounding devi • The young man wiggles his fingers front of a rod and a hoop, both proje^ ing from an oaken box, producing. through the medium of an ordinary loud speaker, a tone of extraordinary vibratory emotional quality running will through the gamut of timbres po sible to the modern orchestra. *£ Theremin plays, with piano accompan ^ ment, such simple melodies as Maria" and "The Swan" and makes very beautiful music. But as confronts the problems of complex^ and speed his invention ceases to terest the modern composer. For l comes obvious that to develop a te ^ nique for the instrument would astoundingly difficult. ( r V) The reason for this is not tar rUECUICAGOAN 29 seek. The piano, the violin, the trumpet and the oboe, all have their keyboards in one form or another. If any of these instruments are properly tuned, pitch is no longer a thing to worry about and the acquisition of a technique merely a matter of practice. The keyboard of the Thereminvox, however, is nothing but space. If the melody is slow enough the musician can feel his way through the air from one note to another, much as a violinist does in legato passages. But the in stant his piece calls for, say, a turn, or a quick scale, or an arpeggio, the pitch goes to smash with distressing results. The modern composer demands, above all, accuracy. He is stressing composition for wood-wind because the trifling inaccuracies of the strings bother him. The Thereminvox will make a temporary appeal to him only because it has enormous range, a striking vari ety of tone-tints, and an appealingly human sound manufactured by the vi brato of the operator's hand. But the formidable difficulties of any future technique for the device will probably put it away eventually in the museum for scientific curiosities. Percy Grainger LAST week Percy Grainger had his first appearance of the season at the Tuesday afternoon symphony con certs. He is no longer Huneker's "young Siegfried of the Antipodes." His hair, once almost golden, is turning a dull red, he is a teacher of master classes, and he will soon be subject to the sobering effects of matrimony. And yet his playing has lost little of its old sparkle and dash. His vehicle for the occasion was his own tour de force, the Grieg Concerto. He was picked by the composer to in' troduce this work to English audiences and his edition of it most musicians are pleased to consider authoritative. He realizes every possibility in its virile dance rhythms and avoids assiduously any exaggeration of its occasional sen timentalities. The result is a thrilling, dashing performance. Jascha Heifetz JASCHA HEIFETZ, home from a long Oriental tour, revealed spe cifically that he is still one of the bright and shining lights of the music indus try. Several of the local reviewers voiced a stale complaint against him. He is, they avow, cold and distant, so ., • ¦:•*.: CHOCOLATES There's a satisfying something in Foss Chocolates found in no other candy. A richness — a smoothness — a completely satisfy ing experience. You'll say so, too, when you try them. Made by H. D. FOSS & CO. Winona, Minn. Seasonable Orchids Roses Rambler Roses Sweet Peas Yellow Calla Lilies Snap Dragons Gardenias Daisies Tulips Ernst Wienhoeber Co. No. 22 East Elm St. Superior 0609 914 No. Michigan Ave. Superior 0045 The last word in Travel 6 urope hy Jtfotor The last word but the first choice of those we term "the best" . . . the cars are lyrics of speed and comfort . . . the chauffeurs, wondrous-wise about roads and places to go and things to do. All reasons why "Europe by Motor" spon sored by Franco-Belgique is the thing to do when you go abroad. Write for the booklet "Europe by Motor" Franco-Belgique Tours Co., Inc. 'Europe by Motor" . . . American personnel 333 Michigan Ave., Chicago, 111. 30 TUECUICAGOAN 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 Singla • • $12.00 — $20.00 Double • . $8.00 — $15.00 Transient - $2.50 $3.50 Descriptive Leaflet on Request CHICAGO CLEVELAND NEW YORK impeccable that it hurts. He is a great technician, but not a musician of first rank. This is, to get very nasty, the worst sort of balderdash. The trouble lies not in Heifets but in the literature of the instrument he has chosen for his own. Witness his program at the Audi torium a fortnight ago, largely Sara- sate, Novacek, and Lalo. The worst that can be said against him is that he is not as inquisitive about modern vio- lin composition as fiddlers like Tzigcti and Kochanski. If he would build his programs as they do, of Mozart, Brahms, Nin, De Falla Szymanowski — - to suggest only a few — we would hear no more quibbling about his standing as a foremost musician. — ROBERT POLLAK. The New Records Die VJal\ure, probably the best known of Wagner's music dramas, has been issued, practically uncut, by Victor in a special album comprising fourteen double-faced records. The First Act is made by the London Symphony, with Albert Coates wielding the baton, the Second and Third by the Orchestra of the State Opera of Berlin- under the direction of Leo Blcch. The principal singers concerned are Frieda Leider, Florence Austral, Walter Widdop and Friedrich Schorr. These discs are a great gramophone experience and justify bundles of superlatives. The tempi of Coates are, as usual, a little too rapid and the First Act rushes by too impetuously. But other than this the collection is unsur passed in the wide range of modern record ings. If you are a Wagnerian, go through the lot with the score of the music drama and you will get a bigger kick out of your evening than if you had spent it at an actual performance at the Metropolitan. Wild words, but try it and see. The cost seems high, but is actually mild enough — twenty- one dollars. The Man I Love, a momentarily famous bit of Gershwin, and Dream Kisses, are both recorded for Brunswick by the debonair Ben Bernie and the boys of the Hotel Roose velt. Catalogue handle: 3771. Our secret agent reports that Irving Ber lin's Sunshine as imagined by Paul White- man and his highly paid corps of experts is selling like wildfire and deservedly so. If you are a Berlin fan you can help him keep the wolf and Pa Mackay from the door by a modest investment. Victor 21240. FROM HOT SPRINGS (ARK.) Mountain Valley Water the finest mineral water on earth Recommended by physicians for more than seventy years. Unexcelled as a table water. WE DELIVER just phone M onroe 5460 or write Mountain Valley Water Co. 739 W. Jackson Blvd. Monroe 5460 North Shore Branch, Evanston Ph. Greenleaf 4777 good old eliza Night after night, she has a har rowing time of it. Uncertainties, delays, and like as not an icy recep tion before she gets across. That's her job. Not so the alert theatre goer: i.e., the man who stops at a Couthoui, Inc.* stand for tickets. No uncer tainties, no delays, no icy reception at the box office for him. He is assured of excellent seats for reason ably priced tickets in ample time. His theatre parties always go across. No job at all. The sensible thing to do. COUTHOUI For Tickets * The alert theatre goer can make his selection at a Couthoui, Inc., stand at the Congress, Blackstone, Drake, La Salle, Mor rison, Stevens, Sherman and Seneca hotels. Or at the Hamilton, C. A. A., I. A. C. Union League, Standard and University Club*. TWECI4ICAG0AN 31 SCHEYER TAILORED garment symbolizes all that is good and fine in authentic style and neither effort nor skill are spared to achieve desired results. Sundell -Thornton Jackson Blvd. at Wabash Kimball Bldg. TEL. HARRISON 2680 lATNOARIN BAIOGC 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. r-1"11 i r-^"-^- -r»-n< COUPON SOLlDKUMPPffT- Date. "Lout* Rastettrr EC Sons, 186P Walt Street, Fort Wayne, Indiana, Send me folder about the Mandarin Bridge Set tell me where 1 can buy it, and the price. Address MvOaaUru- BOOK/ Primary Considerations /*\ A /HAT ever have you got in V V there?" asked the strange young man, offering to help me with my bulging brief case. "Seven books about the presidential election," I re plied, continuing to put the bag from my left hand to my right and back again. Whereupon he lost interest. For my own part I am a great believer in literary preparedness. If for a trip to Europe, why not for a presidential election? Only three books of the seven, however, turned out to be adapted to the needs of the meanest intelligence. In "Presidential Years 1787-1860," Meade Minnigerode, as usual, squeezes all the fun there is to be squeezed out of old newspapers. He tells us how George Washington at campaign time was called an Anglomaniac and an embezzler, also a crocodile. How the billiard table at the White House be' came during the 1828 candidacy of Jackson "a piece of gambling furni ture." And so on down to the mo ment when Abraham Lincoln was called "sooty and scoundrelly in aspect, a cross between the nutmeg dealer, the horse swapper and the night man." Further amenities of this type are to be found in Don C. SeitVs "The Also Rans." Whereby it becomes apparent that although from George Washington on down we have always elected bad men for presidents, there were at all times a number of equally bad men whom we didn't quite elect. THOMAS FRANCIS MORAN chooses an optimistic sub-title: "American Presidents: Their Indi vidualities and Their Contributions to American Progress." But Bryce re mains to be coped with: "Great men are not chosen Presidents, firstly, be cause great men are rare in politics; secondly, because the method of choice does not bring them to the top; thirdly, because they are not, in quiet times, absolutely needed." Miracles have, to be sure, happened in times that were not quiet, and when a great man was absolutely needed. Lincoln, for instance. Professor Moran sug gests, however, that it might be well from now on not to expect miracles but to pick great presidents whether we need them or not. William Allen White calls his new 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 Rates, Single. $3.50 to $6.00; Double. $5.00 to $7.00 32 TUE CHICAGOAN GRASSEUI T J; ^Odorless Km Makes'&eautiful > * J:^,, jQAXuriant . "v', ., lawns;,;^:.-;;- *- ^ GARDENS ^ 7*5~-SHRUBS j V"5*v ^ './^0^\ • Would YOU Like toliave a ThickVelvetyLawn ? >t>^CRASSELtl PLANT FOOD.mmW yw# .'*" £<* delighted. Andremember its OPORLESS _— — : ; *• m '2 u ,v A scientifically balanced Food that contains all the essential elements of plant life, in forn easily assimilated. Makes turf deep rooted and colorful. On sale at leading stores, i 5, 10, 25, 50 and 100 lb. bags. The Grasselli Gtiemical Co., 2101 Canalport Ave., Chicago. Phone Canal 7490. Est. 1839 GRASSELLI GRADE <AStandardBeldlHshfi>r89Years LUNCHEON — DINNER — SUPPER HT HERE is only one Petrushka. And be- -*• cause it is so original, so unique, so different, it has won the discriminating folk of Chicago. Co to Petrushka if you would find real enjoyment of the better sort — genuine Russian "atmosphere," native Gypsy orchestra music, gay Chauve Souris enter tainment, and delicious Russian French cuisine. ^etruafjfea Club Ely Khmara. Manager Phone Wabash 2497 403 S. Wabash Are. book "Masks in a Pageant,11 but he too is chiefly concerned with presidents. He refuses to go back however beyond the memory of man, which in his case appears to extend as far as Harrison. But in order fully to understand what one is voting about, it is not enough to contemplate past presidents and past elections. Three new books about partisan politics were also among my seven. "Drifting Sands of Party Politics,11 by Oscar W. Underwood, gives an inside view of the enactment of the eighteenth amendment and of other things that have happened in Congress since 1895, when former senator Underwood began representing Alabama in that body. Then there are "The Democratic Party: A His tory,11 by Frank R. Kent, and its com- panion volume, "The Republican Party: A History,11 by William Starr Myers, which brings the story down to that moment in August, 1927, when the "I do not choose to run for President in 192811 slips were handed out to the newspaper correspondents. And here is a postscript to all this. If you can predict the future from tea leaves why not from spring book lists? Only two biographies of presidential timber have so far been announced. A full length of Herbert Hoover by Will Irwin, and one about Al Smith — "The Portrait of a Man as Governor,11 by Thomas H. Dickinson — the Smith be ing much, much smaller. — SUSAN WILBUR. Books of the Week The Criminal and His Allies, by Marcus Kavanaugh. The Bobbs-Merrill Company. $3. Crime is romance. Crime is front page stuff. A reader of many detective stories was once heard to remark that it was the ambition of his life to com mit a really well planned murder. That is, he added, it would be, if he could do it without hurting anybody. And that, of course, is where the rub comes. When Judge Kavanaugh asks us to con template the 12,000 murders committed in the United States last year in terms of 12,000 corpses, with an average of five widows and orphans weeping over each one, crime no longer seems par ticularly romantic. And for the thrifty, its charm will be even further reduced by a consideration of the number of Panama canals that could be built with the proceeds. "The Criminal and His Allies" is like a dash of cold water. It is technical, and competent, exciting and alarming, a step by step diagnosis of what is the matter and a step by step prescription for the weakness of the law, of the police force, and in particular, of public opinion, which permits the law to be weak, and the manning of the police force to be regarded as secondary to the building of new roads and new bridges. Judge Kavanaugh puts things strongly, and does not hesitate to say what he means to say, even when it is a question of putting into so many words the reason why a jury so often acquits a woman. Perhaps he puts some things too strongly. But after all this is a pioneer book, and to hit the mark it was necessary perhaps to aim somewhat past it. Many books have been written in behalf of the crim inal. This is perhaps the first ever to be written in behalf of his less romantic brother, the law-abiding citizen. High Thursday, by Roger Burlingame. (Charles Scribner's Sons.) $2. Recom mended both to wives who after twenty years have husbands who are passing through the dangerous age, and to flap pers trying to seduce art critics into matri mony. The scene is New York and Paris. In the latter town an excellent dinner is served. November Night, by the author of "Miss Tiverton Goes Out." (The Bobbs-Mer rill Company.) $2. A problem novel of which nothing is more problematical than the problem itself, which, put in its simplest terms might sound something like this: If a man with money marries a woman with a psychosis and a doubtful brother and they decide to have a child— What? The Bonney Family, by Ruth Suckow. (Alfred A. Knopf.) $2.50. Wherein Miss Suckow converts her Iowa back grounds into a real book. The Bridge of San Luis Rey, by Thorn ton Wilder. (A. y C. Boni.) When in 1714 the osier bridge of San Luis Rey broke, precipitating five people to death, a Franciscan traced their stories that he might "justify the ways of God to man." In this pattern Mr. Wilder gives a tale which has put him on the map. Finer Cars and Finer Tires With a strong leaning toward finer cars — there comes a longing for finer tires. VOGUE long ago sensed this feeling and today VOGUE Custom Built Tires command a position that is jealously guarded. Over sixty per cent of Chicago's smart cars are equipped with VO G UE TIRES. This is only logical. Discriminating car owners are as particular that their tires be dis tinctive — "classy," if you prefer the word — as they are that their apparel be immaculate. A beautiful car with an in different tire is a distinct shock to the esthetic sense we call "appreciation of beauty." VOGUE TIRES, with their aristo cratic creamy white side walls, black ebony tread built into the shoulder and crimson VOGUE insignia stamped on each tire are the finest expression of supreme quality. Contrary to gen eral belief VOGUES are not high priced. Their initial cost is but a frac tion more — their appearance, long mileage, perfect balance, traction and scientific construction make them the most economical tire buy in America. Next time you need tires equip with VOGUES. They are, indeed, Ameri ca's finest tires. VOGUE RUBBER COMPANY HARRY C. HOWER. Pres. ncliana Avenue at 24th St.. Chicago We guarantee Vogue Custom Buill Cords and Vogue Gum Im pregnated Balloon Cords to be free from all defects of work manship and mate rial, and that each tire n ill give 15,000 miles of freedom from tire trouble OG1UE CUSTOM BUILT Balloons 6* It's toasted" 7 No Throat Irritation No Cough.