August 3J929 Price 15 Cents National Advertising Representatives CHICAGO: Woodward and Kelly, 3 00 N. Michigan Ave. NEW YORK: John 1$. Woodward, 1 10 East 4 2nd St. DETROIT: Woodward and Kelly, 40S Fine Arts Rids;. SAN FRANCISCO: C. George Kiwness, 303 Crookpr First National B-uik Bids. LOS ANGELES: Arthur A. Hinkley, Room 024. 117 West !)th St. ATLANTA: A. D. Grant, 711 712 Glenn Rids. "Reader Confidence" The Most Cherished and Characteristic Possession of The Chicago Daily News A characteristic letter in the files of The Daily News closes with this statement: "In all the 20 years we have been buying through advertisements in The Daily News we have always felt safe because what we bought was advertised in The Chicago Daily News." This is "reader confidence." It is the conscious or unconscious feeling of the average reader of The Chicago Daily News . . . His confidence in the integrity of his paper carries over to the advertisers who use it. "Reader confidence" is our most highly prized and jealously guarded posses sion. It is the most valuable thing we have to offer to our advertiser. It has been won by more than 54 years of consistent loyalty to two very definite policies: FIRST — fearless, independent and constructive editorial leadership . . . The Chicago Daily News has never aligned itself with any political party except when that party's principles and measures coincided with its own convictions of the public good . . . Its publishers have steadfastly refused to hold stock in any pub lic service corporation — to reward private friends, punish private enemies, or serve private interests through The Chicago Daily News. It has always held aloof, impartial, free to criticize all men and measures in which the people were con cerned. It has consistently wrought and fought for the advancement of Chicago and its people, while serving them superlatively with the news of the day, features, editorials and clean advertising. SECOND — unvarying, constructive and conservative censorship of the adver tisements offered. No two publishers agree in all the details of such censorship, and The Chicago Daily News quarrels with no other publication over them . . . Its criterion is the best interests of its readers. Its policy is to accept no advertising of medicines containing habit-forming drugs, or that might be harmful if taken internally or used externally. It will not know ingly accept any fraudulent or misleading advertisement. It can not, of course, guarantee the goods of its advertisers; but its carefulness is known, and its readers accord it a confidence sel dom given to any newspaper. A measure of this confidence in evitably attaches to the advertisements it carries. Rigid adherence to these two policies, consistently main tained by The Chicago Daily News for more than half a cen tury, is the rock upon which its "reader confidence" is built. "Our new home, necessitated by your growing preference, is your home. We want you to visit it . . . enjoy it with us." WALTER A. STRONG, Publisher. THE CHICAGO DAILY NEWS Daily News Plaza, 400 W. Madison Street, Chicago A, .UGUST at Fields 3 F's hold sway . . . Furs, Furniture, and Footwear. I The event of the 3 F s is always impor tant to the smart Chicagoan . . . the best midsummer date books are inscribed Shop at Field's — Shoes for Janet — New Beaver Coat — Chair for Guest Room. FrR And no wonaerChicagoans anticipate 3 F's . . . for marvelous, exclusive merchandise at truly remark able reductions is the reward. MARSHALL FIELD & COMPANY I 2 TWE CHICAGOAN ^r^f^XZ^, STAGE Musical Comedy PLEASURE BOUND— Four Cohans, 119 North Clark. Central 8240. A lavish hot weather show enlivened by Phil Baker, Jack Pearl, Eileen Stanley, Shaw and Lee, an admirable collection of nif' ties and brightly tuneful score. It flour' ishes despite the deadly dog days. Cur- tain 8:15. Sat. and Wed. 2:1?. Drama AFTER DARK— Woods, 54 West Ran dolph. Central 8240. A melodrama spurred on by hisses, boohs and yodels from the audience in the Hoboken man' ner. It's an interesting relic of the American stage and a great opportunity for the visiting smart cracker. Might drop in. Curtain 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. THE HUT FARM— Cort, 132 North Dear born. Central 0019. The best stage comedy current before a sun-weary Town. Wallace Ford is an admirable lead. His is ably supported. Curtain 8:30. Sat. and Wed. 2:30. Vaudeville THE PALACE— 159 West Randolph. State 6977. A cool and comfortable the atre displaying a weekly menu supervised by Keith-Albee. This time of year first magnitude stars are known to lose their individual places in the stage universe and blend with the Keith'Albee nebula. Call the box office for weekly programs. STATE LAKE— 190 North State. Dear born 6204. Orpheum circuit vaudeville changing weekly, but now and then hold ing over a feature act. Call the box office for definite information. Burlesque STAR AND GARTER— Madison at Hal- sted. A raucous and crowded stage which draws pretty well during the sum mer doldrums. It is a novelty to the blase theatregoer, a source document for the student of the stage, and the grand est spectacle ever heard of for West Madison Street's wide ranging popula tion. Midnight Saturday. STATE-CONGRESS— 531 South State. A midnight show (Saturday) in the unre fined burlesque tradition. It is, so to speak, elemental theatre. And the house is fairly cool. RIALTO— 336 South State. A late and merry burlesque house, perhaps the most fashionable of them all. It is surpris ingly brisk, occasionally very funny and — for the squeamish — gratifyingly re spectable. "THE CHICAGOAN" PRESENTS— August, by H. O. Hofman Cover Current Entertainment Page 2 Knife and Napkin 4 Editorially 7 Arbor Opera, by Robert Pollak 9 The Goings On That Panicked Grandpa, by Ethel Spears 12 Writing the Week-End Novel, by Francis C. Coughlin 13 I. K. Pond — Chicagoan, by Charles Collins 15 Gentleman, by Sid Hix 16 Town Talk 17 Emotion, by C. W. Anderson 18 Companionates, by Alan Dunn 19 The Cinema, by William R. Weaver.. 22 Norma Shearer, by Nat Carson 23 The Stage, by Charles Collins 24 The Roving Reporter, by Francis C. Coughlin 26 Go, Chicago, by Lucia Lewis 28 The Chicagoenne, by Marcia Vaughn 30 Music, by Robert Pollak 32 Books, by Susan Wilbur 34 <? ,<* , I-- \ _ JA CINEMA The Last of Mrs. Cheyney: Tremend ously recommended. [Go.] The Trial of Mary Dugan: Almost as tremendously recommended. [Go, if you haven't seen The Last of Mrs. Cheyney.] The Cocoanuts: Recommended, with reservations. [Attend anyway.] Dangerous Curves: Clara Bow in a bad spot. [No.] The Mysterious Dr. Fu Manchu: A good plot ruined by the worst speeches ever concocted for the tongue of man. [Heavens, no.] This Is Heaven: Immigrant stuff, and not very good, in which Vilma Banky speaks, but not very much. [Better not.] The Office Scandal: Possibly the real reason why Phyllis Haver gave up. [Positively not.] Fashions in Love: Newspaper news to contrary nothwithstanding, Adolphe Menjou is great in this and this is The Concert. [Don't miss it.] FLIGHTS* CLEVELAND— Lv. 4:00 p. m. central time. Ar. 7:45 p. m. eastern time. Twelve-passenger tri-motored planes. DETROIT— Two planes daily. Lv. 7:30 a. m. Ar. 11:00 a. m. Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:30 p. m. (Arrivals, eastern stand ard time.) Twelve-passenger tri-motored planes. No Sunday service. ST. PAUL— Two planes daily. Lv. 6:10 a. m. Ar. 10:40 a. m. Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:45 p. m. Fourteen-passenger tri- motored planes. MINNEAPOLIS— Two planes daily. Lv. 6:10 a. m. Ar. 10:50 a. m. Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:55 p. m. Fourteen passen ger tri-motored planes. ST. LOUIS— Lv. 1:00 p. m. Ar. 3:40 p. m. Six-passenger planes. MILWAUKEE— Lv. 6:10 a. m. Ar. 7:00 a. m. Proceeds to Green Bay. Seven- passenger cabin planes. CINCINNATI— Lv. 6:00 a. m. Ar. 10:00 a. m. Two and four-passenger cabin planes. LIJiCOLH, NEB.— Lv. 8:00 a. m. Ar. 1:30 p. m. Stops at Cedar Rapids, Des Moines and Omaha. Two-passenger cabin planes. * Central standard time. For reservations and information 'phone State 7111. All planes take off from the Municipal Air Port, 63rd St. and Cicero Ave. The Chicagoan — Martin J Quigley, Publisher and Editor; W. R. Weaver, Managing Editor; published fortnightly by The Chicagoan Publish ing Co., 407 South Dearborn St., Chicago, 111. New York Office: 565 Fifth Ave. Los Angeles Office: 1605 North Cahuenga St. Pacific Coast Advertis ing Representatives— Simpson-Riley, Union Oil Building, Los Angeles; Russ Building, San Francisco. Subscription $3.00 annually; single copies lie. Vol. VII. No. 10— Aug. 3, 1929. Entered as second class matter, March 25, 1927, at the Post-Office at Chicago, 111., under the act of March J, 18/y. TI4E CHICAGOAN o Uniform Service Standard Prices wherever you may go It is a comfort and satisfaction to Cadillac, La Salle and Fleetwood owners to know that wherever they may drive — near or far — Cadillac service by Cadillac men awaits them. Nothing mars the pleasure of motoring more than delays in obtaining parts or repairs, and argu ments over unwarranted charges. When you take delivery on a new Cadillac or La Salle, you know abso lutely that the Cadillac guarantee means what it says, without equivocation or evasion. Furthermore, you can get the service to which you are entitled wherever you may go — East, West, North and South. Cadillac service is nation-wide. Just show your service card and the Cadillac station will render the same service that you would receive where you bought your Cadillac or La Salle. The guarantee provides for service on a basis of 3,000 miles in 90 days, 12,000 miles in one year. 2 to 9 Mechanical Superiorities 10 — Nation-wide SERVICE 1 2 3 4 5 7 8 9 lO Smartness and style, inside and out. Silent Shift Transmission permits gear changes at any speed without clashing. Security-Plate Glass in all windows means safety. Duplex Four-Wheel Brakes — a touch of the pedal stops your car. An even more powerful and smoother running Cadillac - built, 90 - degree, V-type 8. Wonderfully easy steering. Adjustable front seat places brake and clutch pedals within easy reach of any driver. Pneumatic control principle applied to Fisher bodies assures quietness. Chromium plated exterior nickel parts provide permanent sheen. Nation-wide service — Cadillac Service. On the foundation stone of Cadillac Nation-wide Service are placed the fundamental and exclusive mechanical advantages of 1929 Cadillacs and La Salles. And these are surmounted by a distinct beauty of line and color that completes the Cadillac program for the permanent satisfaction of Cadillac and La Salle owners. CADILLAC MOTOR CAR COMPANY Division of General Motors Corporation CHICAGO BRANCHES 2301 South Michigan Avenue 1810 Ridge Avenue, Evanston 4114 Irving Park Boulevard 108 N. First St., Highland Park 818-826 Madison St., Oak Park 5020 Harper Ave. 5201 Broadway 119 S. Kedzie Ave. 2015 East 71st St. The New TheNew La SALLE 7**» FLEETWOOD 4 TWE CHICAGOAN TABLES North EDGEWATER BEACH HOTEL— 5 100 North at the Lake. Longbeach 6000. By and large the Marine Dining Room, cooled by the lake and properly served, is as thoughtful a dinner and dance selec- tion as exists hereabouts. Very nice people. Ted Fiorito's band. LAKESHORE DRIVE HOTEL— 181 Lake- shore Drive. Superior 8500. May we suggest a brief stroll through the incred' ible circus of Oak Street Beach to be followed — and soothed— -by dinner in this tavern to the authentic Gold Coast? John Birgh is headwaiter. DRAKE HOTEL— Lakeshore Drive at the Boulevard. Superior 2200. Another knowing and proper choice for dining and dancing. Jack Chapman's band. Dancing until 2 week nights and 3 Satur- day. Exceptionally good people. The Drake is largest of the class hotels. BELMOKT HOTEL— 3156 Sheridan Road. Bittersweet 2100. A pleasant choice for guest or diner anywhere on the mid' north side. Well administered in the kitchen. CLUB AMBASSADEUR— 226 East On tario. Delaware 0930. A late and extremely aware night refuge strumming .to Jimmy Noone's band and animated by knowing and pleasure loving customers. Ernie Hales is headwaiter. Eye-taking hostesses. Open until early mass, any way. CLUB ALABAM— 747 Rush. Delaware 3260. Also a late and knowing resort which does its best until dawn or after. Eddie Jackson's colored band. Southern and Chinese cooking. Hawaiian enter tainers and handsome American hostesses. Gene Harris is headwaiter. LE PETIT GOURMET— 61? North Mich igan. A fashionable and exclusive restaurant serving dinners out-of-doors in a flag-stoned court. Excellent people. Memorable cuisine. CAFE ANN' JEAN— 16 East Huron. A new cafe opened July 10 gives promise of being a gathering place for show people. It may be the kind of restaurant which you must discover early to hold up your prestige for shrewd dining. TURKISH VILLAGE— 606 North Clark. Delaware 1456. Late, loud, long and lively. Any way to take it you give the party a break. KELLTS STABLES— Rush at Austin. Delaware 2141. This ear-splitting club has been called more bad names by re formers than any two night places in the world. Why, remains a mystery. But better see for yourself. Johnny Makeley is headwaiter. PEARSOH HOTEL— 190 East Pearson. Superior 8200. A quet and aloof hotel admirably administered in all departments. A felicitous choice, indeed, for Sunday dinner. Good people. FRASCATI— 619 Cass. Delaware 9669. An Italian restaurant pleasantly decorated [listings begin on page 2] with just a touch of Latin genius about the kitchen. A knowing trencherman drops in here every so often. RED STAR INN— 1528 North Clark. Delaware 3942. An imposingly victualed German eating place which explains in stalwart edibles just what manner of men were the Prussian Guards. Herr Gallauer is proprietor. JIM IRELAND'S OYSTER HOUSE— 632 North Clark. A vast and tasty collec tion of sea foods is here eased down on ample tables. Open until 4 a. m. A show place. An experience. Like as not Jim Ireland sees to his tables in person. LAIGLON— 22 East Ontario. Delaware 1909. Mons. Teddy Majerus here sees to a French and Creole establishment long notable for its trenchermen. Private dining rooms of all sizes. A so-so band. Open late. JULIEKS— 1009 North Rush. Delaware 4341. A great place for the scallop and frog leg devotee. Tremendous servings dished up table d'hote by members of the Julien family. And a show place. 6:30 sharp. Mama Julien looks after things. CAFE OLD STAMBOUL— 39 East Oak. Turkish victual set down in a levantine atmosphere for an unusual evening be hind the napkin. Mons. Mosgofian is proprietor. Pick a cool evening. ¦ RICKETTS— 2727 North Clark. An all night restaurant well patronized in a late and merry district. Downtown BLACKSTOHE HOTEL— 616 South Mich igan. Harrison 4300. A splendid and somewhat aloof hostelry long notable for food, service, accommodation. Undoubt edly a high point in Chicago civilization. August Dittrich is maitre d'hotel. STEVENS HOTEL— 730 South Michigan. Wabash 4400. Largest of the world's hotels and intelligently scaled down to the needs of the individual guest, the Stevens offers roof garden dancing and promenade with Ralph Foote's band until 2. Stalder is headwaiter. CONGRESS HOTEL— Congress at Michi gan. Harrison 3800. A boulevard show place, alert and glittering the Balloon Room is a favored retreat any summer's night. Gene Fosdick's band. Ray Bar- rette is headwaiter. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe. Randolph 7500. A gracious and alto gether hospitable inn well centered to the Town, the Palmer House offers an ad mirable cuisine and exceptional music by the Palmer House Symphony. Muller is maitre d'hotel. BLACKHA WK CAFE— 139 North Wa bash. Dearborn 6260. A place for danc ing and young, lively, much syncopated until 1 a. m. The Four Horsemen band. Dan Tully is headwaiter. COLLEGE INN— Hotel Sherman. Frank lin 2100. A downtown night club strong in entertainment. A mixed patronage. Fairly late and fairly lively. Good food is briskly served up. Braun is headwaiter. ST. HUBERTS OLD EHGLISH GRILL —316 Federal. Wabash 0770. Cookery done staunchly and well after the English manner is here brought to imposing per fection. A dining room for men. And upstairs a room for men and women. Until 9 p. m. Charles Dawell is pro prietor. BREVOORT HOTEL— 120 West Madison. Franklin 2363. American victual is set forth in a manner which makes for public thanksgiving at the nearest Washington monument. Sandrock is maitre d'hotel. South SHORELAHD HOTEL— 5454 Southshore Drive. Plaza 1000. A marker for the discriminating diner on the mid-south side. An elaborate cuisine, a pleasant and musical dining room and the most soothing service yet to come to this chronicler's attention. CAFE LOUISIANE— 1341 South Michi gan. A splendid restaurant preserving cookery as a Creole rite and long a har bor for the knowing eater. Dancing, if you are able to dance after a Louisiane meal. Open late. Merry. Mons. Max is headwaiter. Mons. Gaston Alciatore is high priest. WUN KOW'S— Wentworth at 22nd. A Chinese restaurant highly skilled in the confection of native delicacies and laud ably broadminded about serving large portions of the same. It is not artistic, refreshingly unfashionable. The same for GUEY SAM'S in the same block. And the Roadhouses SKT HARBOR PETRUSHKA CLUB— Sky Harbor, the Dundee Road, say five miles out of Glencoe. A splendid re treat embracing the joint delights of country air and the downtown Petrushka setting and service. Always the people whose names are news. Kinsky is head- waiter. Khmara is master of ceremonies. Telephone for reservations and consult the young lady at the downtown office in The Daily Hews building. VILLA VENICE— The Milwaukee Road near Wheeling. Telephone Wheeling 8. Dining, dancing and eye-taking enter tainment in a most beautiful environ ment. Villa Venice is, perhaps, the handsomest country cabaret in the states. Excellent people, too. Call for reserva tions. GARDEN OF ALLAH— The Dempster Road. A lavish setting for a lively fling at rural life with unquestioned improve ments. And not too far out. THE DELLS— The Dempster Road. Highly syncopated music of Coon-San ders, a floor show, food, young and agile customers. LINCOLN TAVERN — The Dempster Road. Of the same order as The Dells, Lincoln Tavern is a friendly and frolic- TW£ CHICAGOAN 5 Open Country - A Play Wherein Is Disclosed a Most Important Precaution The action ta\es place at a well \nown and extremely gracious road- house aloof from the Town and rea sonably guarded against the ex tremes of a midland climate. Two couples are seated at a table whose possession is in itself a testimony of unquestioned prestige in manner, reputation and accomplishment. They tal\. Deveraux: Well, it's a grand night for it. Marilla: The drive was splendid. The country air — incredible. Elizabeth : I thought so. I really thought so. John: Nonsense, you thought nothing of the sort. Elizabeth: But, John, I did. John : No, Elizabeth, you did not. That is, if I recall your conversa tion after we lost the way near Wilmette. Elizabeth: My conversation? JOHN: (He is overly bland as he tests the chill of his glass.) Your very own, my dear. Elizabeth : About Quebec? John : No. Elizabeth: Santa Barbara? John : No. Deveraux: Nothing European? John: Not at all. Marilla : Not your atrocious new Panama? John: She did speak of my hat, to be sure. But it's not what I was thinking of. Elizabeth: It couldn't be about Esther? John: Heaven's no. She's been divorced three months. Even the papers have stopped quoting from trial evidence. Marilla: Has Elizabeth been talk ing about me? John: No, indeed, Marilla. I shouldn't have mentioned it. It's only that Elizabeth finds the country loathesome and said so after we had been lost in that maze of road repairing. Deveraux: It's a great defect in her character, really. She will By s. weatherbee roades never know the lure of the wil derness with rod, gun and camera. The singing pines croon ing to an unstained sky. The — Marilla: This rhapsody from Dev who doesn't know a pine tree from a hall tree. Oh noble woodsman, where catchum big Sioux trail, ugh? Deveraux: No spika da Englis. Wantum fire water for squaw? Elizabeth: Thank you, Dev. I didn't know you went in for the big woods type of thing. John: I milked a cow once. (This claim is ignored.) Marilla: Elizabeth, I don't be lieve Dev has so much as gone barefoot out of sight of his gov erness. Deveraux: Oh, but I have dared the wilderness. Now take the Iroquois Lodge — Marilla: Yes, the manager had to complain about the continual celebration in his elegant fifth floor suite. Charged you for tiger rug, I believe. It was beaten to death with niblicks. And the drapes done over into an im promptu wigwam. Deveraux: No Blackfoot ever had a wigwam that could touch it. Marilla: It was days before the manager could bear to think of it. Deveraux: (Musing.) Sensitive fellow, wasn't he? Awfully un strung. John: Nevertheless, Elizabeth ab hors the country. Elizabeth: I abhor roughing it. John: Is losing a paved road in my car roughing it? Elizabeth: No. I am entirely serious. I don't like the country. I like a trip in it. I like a few hours away from the city. I can bear with a civilized resort most gracefully. But isolation after a certain point is painful. And, frankly, I take no interest in live stock nor in or any variety of dude farming. Deveraux: (He is astonished at her vehemence.) Mustn't touch the landscape, Elizabeth. Don't pet a landscape and it won't bite you. Never pet a strange land scape — John: Your reaction is interest ing. I am moderately fond of outdoors. You know I have a cabin on the Upper " Peninsula. And I find it enjoyable. Such things, I suppose, are a matter to taste and temperament. Deveraux : With my tastes, a tem perament's nothing but a nui sance. John: But you speak of isolation, and there, I think, your trouble lies. I do find isolation from the Town and from the life of the Town unpleasant. Rather I did find it unpleasant. I found my self lonely, not so much for friends and companions, for many of our people summer north, but for a touch of the city — a reflec tion, a record, a kind of intimate and knowing translation of the events I knew must be going on. Elizabeth: I suppose that's what I feel. John: It's easily solved. Very easily. I simply leave word at my office when I go north. I make very very sure my secretary forwards my regular office copy of The Chicagoan. 6 H4E CHICAGOAN w 100 mms SPB4* S % mm % f ¦ (.(• T\ERMIT me to cor- J^ rect a current misun derstanding. True, I was a man of fashion, but I was no fop. Lord Byron, you re member, said of me "There is nothing about his clothes but a certain exquisite pro priety." Indeed, it was my wit, and not my clothes, that *ff first brought me to the notice of His Majesty. But, it's as arbiter elegantarium, and not as a maker of epigrams that the world knows me. ? Well, well, go ahead, read your Little About Every thing in The Journal. I turned a pretty phrase in my time, and would have contri buted my bon mots to the column, but I died too soon." Shade of Beau Brummel CHICAGO DAILY JOURNAL CHICAGOAN THERE is a Chicago legend abroad in the land. It can be encount ered everywhere — in the news papers, the bookshops, the theatres, the motion-pictures, the gossip of the citizenry. It has certain aspects that are not flattering to civic pride, but, generally speaking, it deals with the virility and prowess of the sons of Father Dearborn. We don't start anything we can't finish. In other words, to the rest of the nation we have become romantic. The most notable contributor to the Chicago legend during the past month was a certain Lewis Wilson, pro fessionally known as Hack. He is a doughty knight, always ready to break a bat in the service of Baron Wrigley, Lord of Chicle and seneschal of the Cubs. Mr. Wilson's manner of celebrating the Fourth of July has been widely heralded as fresh proof of Chicago's vigor. He vehemently printed his bare knuckles on the undershot jaws of two Cincinnati pitchers. Whether or not Hack acted in the best interests of baseball is debatable. It is a game of skill and craft, and to go berserk with rage, to abandon the security of first base after a hit and leap into the opponents' dug-out as if bent upon mopping up an enemy trench, is not a part of its traditions. Hack has been rebuked by the baseball hierarchy for his exploit — but mildly, on evidence that he had provocation. Nevertheless we are inclined to say, "Well done, thou good and faithful Cub." We have been getting bored by New York's too long possession of the most picturesque figure in baseball — the Big Bambino. At last Chicago can trump that hero with this man Wilson — hustling Hack, the furious fielder, the home-run hound, the battling Billiken. ? THE Chicago City Council rarely receives a compli ment. It is like the house committee of a club; its oversights and mistakes are greeted with snarls, but its good deeds are accepted with silence. For a change, then, let us rise and sing the praise of the Council. It has done something so rare, so extraordi nary, in the history of American legislative assemblies that the fact should be shouted from the house-tops. For all we know, a new era may date from this achievement. It has repealed a law! After three weeks of an attempt to enforce an anti-jaywalking ordinance, it has discovered that this bit of sheep-minded legislation was unnecessary and undesired. Therefore it has striken the law out of the code without ceremony. Oh, frabjous day! Oh, gleam of hope! Oh, rainbow in the sky! A country that is suffocating in laws, drown ing in statutes, groaning under amendments, should cry out in joy at the good news from Chicago. Clap hands for the aldermen. Editorially THE powers of darkness and dementia are forever creeping up out of the abysses into which they have been thrust. Witness our last Fourth of July. The safeness and sanity for which a generation has worked were overthrown. The old dragon of high ex plosives in the hands of imbeciles escaped from its lair and stalked abroad as a menacing nuisance. It was a funda mentalist holiday. The morally corrupting influences of prohibition may account for this outbreak of social recklessness. That noble experiment has been like the venom poured into the ear of Hamlet's father — "swift as quicksilver it courses through the natural gates and alleys of the body." It has poisoned the well-springs of American character. But so far as Chicago is concerned, there seems to have been a direct agent for the encouragement of racket. The American Legion maintained booths for the sale of fire works at the motor gateways to the city. The funds thus gained were for a worthy purpose, of course, but it is questionable doctrine to maintain that the end justifies the means. One wonders if the Legion stopped to think how their shell-shocked and consumptive comrades in hos pitals enjoyed that thirty-six hours of incessant fusillade. JULIUS ROSENWALD, as a philanthropist, gives for the sake of the giving rather than for the announce ment of his riches and generosity. Therefore the museum to be housed in the Fine Arts Building in Jack son Park has, at his insistence, changed its corporate name. It will not be known as the Rosenwald Industrial Museum, but as the Museum of Science and Industry, founded by Julius Rosenwald. Thus testimony is given that the insti tution, fittingly established in this industrial metropolis, the first of its kind in the country, is not a one-man affair but a part of the soul of the city. Mr. Rosenwald has acted like a wise citizen. Founda tions that emphasize the name of a single donor sometimes suffer from a lack of civic co-operation. The Armour Institute of Technology, which has a brilliant record in teaching the applied sciences, became an orphan school after the decline of the Armour fortune. It sorely needs adoption but cannot find a patron. The Goodman Theatre could make excellent use of an endowment fund, but thus far the matter seems to have been referred back to the family that gave the building. Mr. Rosenwald, in making his decision, is said to have had some scruples over the possible effect of his modesty upon other millionaires. He wondered if a precedent of anonymity might not discourage potential philanthropists. The only answer to which is that he needn't worry. The vanity of seeking to perpetuate one's name is a constant factor in the equation of humanity. TWC CHICAGOAN our spectator sports pump modern ---a pump created especially for one's spectator sports costumes ---and already a favorite with women of fashion, white suede with polished tan calf trimming. (edcon with the 5-centi meter leather heel.) 15.50 sake- fifth avenue new yorJ chicago TI4E CHICAGOAN 9 Arbor Opera An Estimate of Ravinia and the Man Behind It UNDER the direction of an Ameri can business man, obviously born with the manifold gifts of an im presario, Ravinia has grown in eigh teen years from a dingy amusement park dedicated to a visionary and im practicable aesthetic uplift program, to an operatic institution artistically respectable and unique. To examine the history of Ravinia it is necessary to inquire into the past of Louis Eck stein. He was born in Milwaukee more years ago than you would think to watch him work. His elementary education gave little enough promise of how and where he was to make his dent in cultural America, for he ac quired meticulous business training un der that stern old chirographist, Robert C. Spencer, the man who made handwriting famous. Young Louis passed from under the Spencerian thumb with the acco lade of his master. He was "gentlemanly in deport' ment, attentive to his studies, and progressive in all branches of the course." Plenty of indi cation here, perhaps, of the further magazine owner, real-estate de veloper and organizer of chain drug stores. But a far cry from Ravinia. There BY ROBERT POLLAK were certain signs, however. Eck stein played the, violin and not badly. Once in his career he poised for a little, undecided whether to be come a professional fiddler or go to work at a small salary in a Milwaukee railroad office. He was inveterately fond of orchestral concerts and took every opportunity to hear the light opera so dear to the German-American hearts of the 80's. It is probably for some such reason that the robust old Fra Diavolo popped up in the Ravinia repertoire a couple of years ago. But the railroad office and the need for three squares a day won the first skirm ish. He bounced along over the heads of older and more experienced em ployees, eventually landing the man ager's job in his office. And it was not by any particular "drag" but by a powerful concentration upon and de votion to the task of the moment, com bined with a native shrewdness as formidable as that of any Yankee. It is these qualities that go today to the management of Ravinia. We will not listen to the cres cendo of his career until 1911. Then Eckstein was already a substantial burgher on the North Shore. A traction man with enough idealism to risk a tidy sum for the sacred cause of Art and to run a railroad from Milwaukee to Chicago and to set aside a tract of land south of the ,^MMiM '&2£&i>l4er>u, 10 TUECUICAGOAN village of Ravinia for purposes of high-brow amusement. He was ap parently far ahead of his time and naively enthusiastic. The park ven ture, if not the railroad, went on the rocks, and the proud magnates of Highland Park and Glencoe were threatened with an impending Coney Island resort. The thought of roller- coasters and sideshows was unendur able. An indignation meeting was called and Eckstein sat in one of the front seats. He had his own ideas about Ravinia and, fortunately, he was made vice-president of the infant Ravinia Park Society. It was the natal day of a permanent grand opera company. The beginnings were simple and praise-worthy. A man named Fred erick Stock brought his orchestra out north for a half a season. A lady with the resounding handle of Baron ess Irmgard Von Rottenthal performed in classical dances. There were eve nings consisting of excerpts from popu lar operas sung by Leonid Samoloff, Lois Ewell and Louis Kreidler. These are names you have no doubt forgot ten or have never heard. Ravinia in 1913 was inexpensive and experimen tal. It had to be. Opera of interna tional scope and brilliance was a long way up the line. Subsequent seasons find Ravinia making some amusing but forgivable experiments. In 1914 it was thought expedient to give the public a taste of ball-room dancing. It was the sea son of imported tangoes and maxixes. But familiar names begin to appear in the operatic roster, notably Morgan Kingston and Louis D'Angelo. The Secret of Suzanne was given complete. (And why not give it in 1930, Mr. Eckstein?) By 1917 Ravinia had about decided to place its principal em phasis on opera. Bright names begin to flash by. Eckstein knew — and knows — that the peculiar opera public wants to be impressed. The domina tion of the "star system" has always hovered over American opera houses as well as American theatres. Papi, Muzio, Braslau, Rothier, Hackett, Mason, Easton, Dux, Schipa, Rethberg and Martinelli, a succession of glorious voices gathered from the leading opera companies of the world. As the years rolled by the management made tenta tive experiments with novelties. It was the choice of these that marked Eckstein with the brand of the genu ine impresario. His percentage of mistakes has been amazingly small. Once he makes up his mind he plunges into the huge expense and labor inci dent to the mounting and production of a new opera without looking back for an instant. Let it suffice here to name only a few of his winners: Henri Z&ianfon* Rabaud's Marouf, a gay score and a fine one, fit vehicle for Mario Cham- lee; the revival of Fra Diavolo, sturdy specimen of opera comique; La Vida Breve, De Falla's short opera, throb bing with the dance music of Spain translated into the modern idiom. THE casual visitor at the huge park, of which the opera forms the nucleus, cannot fail to come under the sway of the specific magic of the place. The tinsel, marble and plush of the ordinary opera house grow tire some before long. But over the actual physical surroundings for opera on the North Shore one can really rhapsodize. The huge canopy covers a fanshaped auditorium open on all sides but one. The orchestra, the cream of the Chi cago Symphony, by the way, stretches imposingly across a shallow pit. The lights on the music racks gleam golden. Across the ceiling the bulky shadow of the conductor moves like some phan tom of the opera. In the audience people seem happy and at ease. The coals of cigarettes flicker in the dusk. You sense that you are almost out-of- doors by the occasional faint whiff of perfume from the gardens of the park or the subtle odor from shrub and tree. When there is a moon it seems to do its best for Ravinia. Even the passing trains of the Northwestern hoot pianissimo, lest they interfere with one of Bori's subtle phrases. The Ravinia audience is one of the most polyglot in the world. And it makes a most definite impression be cause there is no separation of gallery, balcony and pit. This audience is not subject to the caste system of dif ferent levels. You can sweep it with one glance of the eye. To be sure, a railing keeps standees and bench- warmers from the sanctum of those who have reserved seats. But they all express themselves with a surprisingly TWECWICAGOAN n unanimity and differ in appearance more than in the quantity of their ap preciation. Who are they? They come from the region bounded on the south by Gary and on the north by Milwaukee. They are millionaire residents of Lake Forest and Glencoe, day laborers, usually Italian, from the west side of Chicago, University summer students. How do they dress? In every vari ety of garb. Dinner coat, summer formal, frocks by Patou, simple sum mer dresses, velvet coats and ties a la Boheme, rusty tweed and plus fours. How do they come? In Rolls- Royces and Hispanos, or standing on the platform of the North Shore elec tric from Rogers Park north; on weari some locals from Wilmette, and fast Northwestern trains from Milwaukee. It is an audience not as highbrow as Orchestra Hall's, not as smug as Pat ten Gym's, not as ritzy as the Civic Opera's. THERE are units in the docile Ravinia machine that do not im mediately meet the eye. On the Green Bay side of the park stands the studio building where annually new sets are constructed for novelties and old ones are refurbished for the long grind of the summer season. Here, too, are storerooms for upwards of two thou sand costumes, descriptive of most of the historical phases in the life of the well-known homo sapiens. The com plete accoutrements for sailors and soldiers, young dandies and courtiers, dancers, courtesans and slaves, kings and queens, designed in accordance with the demands of particular periods and races, lie neatly labeled and stored in the building just east of the tracks. Stowed away there is enough furniture to fill half a dozen Austrian castles. North of the Refectory is a Western Union telegraph office maintained for the august critics of the morning papers. The building that houses the ticker office contains a large rehearsal hall. It is used on schedule by ballet, principals, chorus and orchestra. When Ravinia prepares a new opera it is in this hall, and another like it on the west side of the tracks, that the various pieces in the operatic mosaic are as sembled. The principals, who make up a reasonably friendly colony of dwell ers on the North Shore, rehearse their individual roles with Assistant Conduc tor Pelletier in their own homes. In the meantime Spadoni drills the Ravinia chorus. The orchestra holds morning rehearsal under the baton of whatever leader has been assigned to the opera. The attention of the management is not wholly devoted to opera. It has issued a manifesto as trite as it is cor rect; to wit, that children should be encouraged to appreciate good music. Accordingly, every Thursday afternoon has been set aside for thousands of lit tle Jacks and Jills, who crowd into the theatre — gratis, too — where De Lamar- ter and his band give special children's programs. Selected vaudeville special ties and excerpts from light opera are served up to the young gods. The Fifth of Beethoven is made more pala table by frequent trips to the refectory for chocolate ice cream cones. Once a season the children's regiment moves over to the Park Stadium and holds a grand carnival with folk-dancing, military bands and general whoopee. IS there anything the matter with Ravinia? Not much. It certainly possesses a unique figure at its helm. What Louis Ekstein pays into the sea sonal deficit is nobody's business. He has only a few guarantors and no sub scribers. If it ever becomes possible to make opera on a large scale profit able he will be the first to discover the secret. He is probably dishing out a small fortune every year to keep his pet project up to snuff. And in the arrangement of programs and casts and attention to managerial detail he can not be beat. The Ravinia repertoire is about as good as it can be and it shows definite signs of improvement every year. To be sure, everybody has a kick to file. I, for one, do not understand why Eck stein does*not supplant one or two of the hackneyed works in the repertoire with some of the immortal operas of Mozart. He has a locale and, I be lieve, a company equipped to do Cosi fan Tutte or Figaro. The artistic level of the orchestral concerts on Sunday afternoon could be raised a few hun dred notches without anyone being the worse for it. After all, there is no reason to assume that the concert audi ences do not measure in intellectual stature with the Thursday night "pop" goers at Orchestra Hall. It is not so much that the Ravinia concerts are "light" or popular. They are down right dull, a collection usually of the mediocre pot-boilers of the orchestral literature. They reflect no particular credit on M. De Lamarter. Eheu, but what of it? After all there is an old saying about examining gift horses. And Ravinia is a gift and a privilege. And if it is not per fect now I'm much afraid it will be some day if the man behind it keeps up his pace. 12 THE CHICAGOAN The Goings-On That Panicked Grandpa — 1. (And durned if they dont ^anic us!) TWE CHICAGOAN 13 Writing the Week-End Novel (Manuscript Notes for Projected Authorship) CONSIDERING all feasible means of attaining a certain vocal pres tige, it seems probable that authorship offers the surest and least vexatious path to distinction. And going further into authorship— having weighed the essay, the travel book, the sheaf of verse and the personal revelation-one comes to a conviction that the novel is at once the most certain and most easily achieved stepping stone of them all. A passable sort of book should be done up in a single week-end. (Vol taire polished off Candide in three days and it was a finished book when he turned it over to his printer.) But allowing a reasonable amateur's handi cap the beginning author should count on the first draft only over the week end and reserve the second and final rewrite for the dull days between Mon day and Friday following. For greater convenience projected works are arranged in a number of classifications. A choice is optional and success, we believe, infallible. There is, first, the War Novel. * * * THE war novel is sure-fire, a quick seller, always a moving document. It comes under two labels, (A) the American, (B) the German. A synopsis of the American novel is as follows: Chuck, Eddie, Hank, Bill, Joe, Steve, Tom and Moe Apfel- strudel are the last squad in K Com pany, Umptysteenth Infantry, Cold Steel Division. Their commanding of ficer (if Marines, "Skipper") is old Capt. "Nails" Thompson. The scene opens at the front with a lull just be fore K Company goes over in a hot sector; it is raining, cold, eerie and in tensely disagreeable. The men are hopelessly lost. Capt. Thompson is lost. The nasty tac-tac-tac of a Ger man machine gun dominates the blasted terrain out beyond the rusty, naked wire. Nevertheless, Chuck, Hank, Bill, and Steve steal apple pies from a bewhiskered French mayor un accountably present in that desolate terrain. Tom and Eddie dazzle a couple of village Mademoiselles with snappy Broadway nifties (compile By FRANCIS C. COUGHLIN these from any current musical show). Joe is amusingly threatened with court martial by Capt. Nails because he in sists on lugging a 75 up into the line instead of his Springfield rifle. Little Moe Apfelstrudel steals a quart of cognac from an M. P. Wham! It is a heavy barrage. The attack com mences. But hold! Just before the men surge over the top Little Moe passes his quart of cognac. Three cheers for Moe Apfelstrudel. Three groans for the Methodist Board of Temperance, Prohibition and Public Morals. The squad shoulders over, all but Joe, who is ordered to mark time with his stolen 75 while his comrades die (such is military discipline). The squad is held up by machine gun fire. All is lost. No! Not yet! Behind the doomed men comes the reassuring bark of a 75 fired from the shoulder. It is Joe. Joe demolishes the German gun nest. The squad defeats three regiments of Prussian Guards hand to hand. Nevertheless, Joe goes on K. P., valor or no valor. "Ah, men," sighs the brave captain, "it was never like this at Lombard College. War is hell." "The hell it is," says Little Moe Apfelstrudel. He has stolen another bottle of cognac. And the tiny French village is a peaceful place with white oxen mirrored against an age-green canal and old Pere Goriot smiling in the sun. (B) The German War Novel: A squad, Karl, Edvard, Heinrich, Wil- helm, Josef, Stefan, Tomas, and Moe Apfelstrudel moves into the awful line. Heinrich eats a cedar shingle, which is an ersatz pancake. Karl nibbles an old sock. Wilhelm catches a slug through the esophagus and dies in testate. Josef disappears on the spume of an 8-inch shell. Nevertheless they move up. The French gain 50,000 yards. Tomas is killed in the wire. He is two days dying. The British gain 50,000 yards. Stefan, who has been holding back the American 3rd Army, is wounded. The Americans gain 50,000 yards. A beautiful sun set lights no man's land like Wotan's ring of magic fire. Little Moe Apfel strudel is alone. Ah the unglaublich beauty of those about to die! He whistles plaintively, "Oh Susanna, Wie Is das Leben O so Shon." Wham! That's all folks. Stand by for your station announcement and the new psychology for the kiddies' hour. * * * THE Psychological Novel is differ' erent. It goes like this: Estelle loves either Pierre or G. J. M. Flem- ming. She cannot make up her mind; she psychs her psychosis. But G. J. M. Flemming is drawn to Estelle by her indecision. He knows that once she becomes fixed in her preference he will not love her. While she wavers he is constant. When she is constant he wavers. Pierre, on the other hand, loves either Estelle or G. J. M. Flem ming. Sometimes he has dreams. Once he dreamed about a step ladder. Another time, after reading The Well of Loneliness, he dreamed of a horse. This puzzles Pierre. The three meet in Estelle's apartment to talk things over. They cannot reach a decision. Last line: "Turning, turning, turning, turning, in this squirrel cage of a mind." With a little fixing this can easily be suppressed in Boston. * * * THE Movie Novel: (The main thing is to have a dozen mob scenes which can be handsomely worked over into Hollywood revels.) Well, Count Leopoldo Luigi Cristo bal di Mustaccoli bids farewell to his 14 TWE CHICAGOAN "Now remember, Muriel, this is strictly confidential- native land, after a tremendous blow out in the ancestral palace, to seek his fortune in America. Theme, Song of the Bayou, recaptioned as a Neapolitan air and called, "Every Little Street Will Be Awful Sweet, When Again We Meet — in J^aples." In his palatial cabin aboard the S. S. Ravioli — an other party scene — the count hears a witching voice from the steerage. It is, he discovers, a mysterious peasant girl, Elisa Maria Taglarini al Sugo. Sure enough, love finds a way. Elisa and Leopoldo dine in his cabin on the S. S. Ravioli — another revel end ing in the repulse of the count. This repulse leads to a dandy patriotic and heart-gripping tableau wherein Count Leopoldo is shown hat-over-heart wor shipping the Statue of Liberty in his new-found Americanism, while Elisa soothes little Beppo Gorgonzola in the steerage. Follows a couple of se quences — pardon, chapters — showing the count in a whoopee party on Long Island while Elisa presides over a shin dig on the lower East Side. And then — ah, it is first night at opera. Count Leopoldo attends with his fiancee, the rich but nasty Natalia Pinetree of old American stock. He sees a marvelous new coloratura on stage. No, it cannot be! Yes, it is! Praise Heaven, it is Elisa! The house is in raptures over her singing. Count Leopoldo invites the whole company to his Long Island home. There in the midst of a stupendous brawl he throws over Natalia and announces his love for Elisa. In the final chapters, after a revel or two, the pair return to Italy for a honeymoon. THE Nigger Novel: (This one is soft.) C. Darwin Bouregard, who is a brilliant but submerged col ored youth, lives in squalor on a Mis sissippi levee in darkest Louisiana. Nevertheless Mistuh Bouregard is am bitious. Quietly he learns Latin, Greek, French, German, Spanish, He brew, Gaelic and Basque. Also he plays the violin, paints in oils, com poses verse and revels in non-Euclidian mathematics. Nevertheless he speaks in the true Gullah dialect and believes in ha'nts. Tiring of his life on the levee with no intellectual contacts out side the great classics and a half dozen learned journals, Mistuh Bouregard comes North. Here he is a great social success. Writers, artists, executives, millionaires fawn on him. One eve ning while at dinner with the Otto van Knyphausens, who are decendants of a vulgar but wealthy family of Dutch oyster fishers, young C. Darwin Bouregard picks up the wrong oyster fork and is thus disgraced. He leaves the van Knyphausen home to go back to the levee where he discovers true love among his own people. Pardon, didn't we mention Pansy? Well, Pansy has been young Darwin's love all along. They grew up to gether. She is now a famous dancer, the toast of the crowned heads. * * * THE Society Novel: The society novel is a bit difficult. It must conform to traditional usage in that it must have no vestige of plot, char acterization, dramatic action or verbal felicity. It is composed entirely of words, anywhere from 30,000 to 100, ~ 000 of them. And it is always affec tionately dedicated to someone mys terious. And it must be financed by a reputable sponsor before it takes the eye of a wolf -hearted publisher. Nevertheless, it's the best bet of all. It will be handsomely reviewed in the society columns which are so largely supplanting the book review page. The author is immediately and grati- fyingly compared to James Joyce, A. A. Milne, Oswald Spengler, George San- tayna, Oscar Wilde and Francois de La Rochefoucauld. Moreover the author's picture appears in the paper under two prize horses and a genuine: baronet. THE CHICAGOAN 15 CHICAGOAN/ ONCE upon a time there were two brothers. ,:>, Many a great story has begun that way. The brother-theme runs per sistently through all the myths and fables and sagas of the world. It is an eternal value in fiction as well as a constant factor in life. It branches off into two standard plots — the broth ers who hated and the brothers who loved. As examples of the former, one need only cite Cain and Abel, or their counterparts in "The Master of Ballan- trae." Of the latter, one might men tion Castor and Pollux, or, if he wanted to be modern, the Pond boys. Once upon a time, then, there were two brothers — Irving K. and Allen B. Pond. This is really the story of both of them, but Allen, the younger, went to join the Dioscuri in the Elysian Fields not many months ago, and Irv ing was left alone. They had marched shoulder to shoulder so long that it seemed as if this parting was too cruel to be borne. Irving without Allen was like one of the Art Institute lions with out his mate. THEY came up to Chicago from the University of Michigan many years ago. Irving, they say, had been the first man to score a touchdown for the Maize and Blue in intercollegiate football — that's how long ago it was. Irving, tall and stalwart; Allen, tall and slender. They came with their drafting boards and their T-squares and opened an office for the practice of the profession of architecture. And here they remained, their roots pene trating deeper and deeper into civic life, until they came to seem like two great, ancient trees, standing side by side as the veterans of a forest. They worked together, they lived together, stanch in their fraternal de votion, obstinate in their bachelorhood. They joined the same clubs and had the same circle of friends. Wherever you saw Irving, you were almost cer tain to find Allen. They became famil iar figures along Michigan Avenue — a street in the creation of whose sky-line they had a hand; they walked together in step like sons of Anak, always dressed in plain gray suits of the same pattern; quiet, sober men of earnest purposes and high ideals. Irving K. Pond By CHARLES COLLINS AND yet, in many aspects of char acter, there were no two broth ers less alike. Irving was an athlete; Allen was innocent of exercise. Irv ing was virile; Allen was gentle. Irv ing was ironic; Allen was mild. But these were external characteristics only: in their work and their mental atti tudes, the contrast runs the other way. Irving ran to art; he was the designer of their firm. Allen was the engineer of the partnership, and his hobby was civic reform. The robust Irving was a humorist while his ascetic brother was a crusader. When Allen was launching some movement at a City Club luncheon, or issuing manifestoes against aldermanic candidates not ap proved by the Municipal Voters League, or protecting ex-Superintend- ant of Schools McAndrew against the patrioteering mace of Bill the Builder, Irving would quite likely be on his way to the circus, whistling a tune from a Gilbert-and-Sullivan opera. In spite of his apparent starkness, there was — and is — something of the eternal boy in Irving K. Pond, known to his intimates as I. K. or Ike. He never got over turning somersaults. This statement is no figure of speech; he is a chronic gymnast. His exploits on the tumbling mat are famous at the Central Y. M. C. A. gymnasium; he was practically built into the place, and for years he never missed a day of diligent practice at tricks worthy of a professional. He is more than six feet tall and weighs more than two hun dred pounds; but at an age when most men would be doddering about in total senility, he was leaping into the air,. revolving head-over-heels, and landing. lightly on his toes in perfect gymnastic- form. These exploits became a myth and a legend; and as the years passed on certain skeptics began to doubt the story. It was too incredible. WHEREUPON, I. K. made a point of celebrating each birth day before witnesses with the somer saults of his youth. Photographs were taken of him in mid-air, at the half- turn, head two feet from the floor and legs aloft. These snap-shots have cir cled the globe; they are the most re markable snap-shots of an old man ever taken. Even Bernard Shaw is jealous of them. Irving K. Pond did this on his last birthday, and has not yet an nounced his retirement from acrobatics. Along with this astonishing devotion to the execution of somersaults, there went a connoisseurship of the gym nastic arts. He haunted the vaudeville halls to study and applaud the humble acrobats who would open or close the bill. And when a circus came to town, he passed into a state of ecstasy. The pitching of the big tops in Grant Park brought a gleam of passion into his cool gray eyes. Then the veteran architect, the habitue of highbrow teas at the Little Room, the author of "The Meaning of Architecture," would desert the west side of Michigan Ave nue, and recapture his boyhood with the smell of tan-bark. "Who's the man lunching with I. K. Pond?" one of the Cliff Dwellers might ask another during these circus days. And the right answer would be: "That's the star acrobat of Ring- ling's." It is of record that upon one of these 16 THE CHICAGOAN 'Take my seat, Lady" % occasions an envious club member, after studying this quaint grouping of the architect and the mountebank, re marked : "Some day that Pond boy is going to run away from home and get a job feeding the elephants." AND so the years went treading on, "like great black oxen." Years of zealous devotion to good gov ernment for Allen. Years of philoso phizing over an American art of architecture for I. K. Years of achieve ment for Pond and Pond. Years of inseparability for these gifted, con trasted brothers. They built Hull House, the Northwestern University Settlement, the Chicago Commons, the City Club. They became a definite part of Chicago's cultural life. They had the instinct of social service; they worked not for themselves so much as for the community. Their most notable piece of archi tecture, perhaps, is the Michigan Union, a club-house and recreation center for the men students of their Alma Mater. They donated the site for this building — their old homestead in Ann Arbor. Other state univer sities are now patterning similar in stitutions after this model. The Wom en's Union, at Ann Arbor, was its natural sequel, and it too came out of the office of Pond and Pond. Last winter the partnership was dis solved, in the only way that such a life-long association of brothers could be broken. Allen B. Pond died, mourned by the city whose best inter ests he had faithfully and unselfishly served. Irving K. Pond faced empty chairs in both his home and his office. YOU know the answer to this story, if you remember what you have read in the newspapers. That Pond boy ran away at last — not to feed the elephants but to get married. There was a lady of old Ann Arbor days; I. K. slipped off to call on her last June; and the next thing his friends knew, he was telling impertinent re porters in that dry, ironic voice of his: "Lindbergh and I don't want to be annoyed." Perhaps that was his last flip-flop. Perhaps Mrs. Pond will now pass a ban against somersaults on birthdays. But no matter how reformed, from celibacy as well as acrobatics, Irving K. Pond remains, at the age of 72, one of the youngest men in Chicago. THE CHICAGOAN 17 TOWN TALK Reverie STUDENTS of the old University of Chicago, when that school was at Thirty-fourth and Cottage Grove, used to drink beer, though the school was strongly Baptist, in "The Shades," a tavern at Thirty-fifth and Cottage Grove. "The Shades" afforded a continual subject for indignation on the campus (even after the new university was created on the midway of the World's Fair grounds, in 1894) but the tavern flour ished and its ' doors swung to and fro for college students in spite of faculty and student alarm. Across the street was the White Horse Inn, where now stands a gas station. A fine garden in the back invited the most exclusive patronage, when the Douglas House, on Thirty- fifth street, now a negro tenement, was the most exclusive family hotel on the South Side. At Fifty-first and State streets, in the 'seventies, was a German beer garden, a pleasant Sunday ride from town for the family, which was most popular for Sunday picnics. At Grace and Broadway the old Bismarck Garden shed its perfume throughout the hot summer. It shed more than perfume when it was re fitted and renamed to become the famous Marigold Garden known equally for its beautiful beer, beauti ful singing and fabulous leisure. The Rienzi at Diversey and Clark was also open air and furnished hon orable competition to the Bismarck. Its malt beverages were altogether be yond competition; vulgar commercial ism had not yet corrupted the Brau- meisters glamorous calling. And there was Kretchmer's, a sad garden plot with three moth eaten trees and Rhine wines whose very memories are felonious these cramped and thirsty times. And Thieleman's of World's Fair ' fame, a garden sound in malt liquors and divinely musical to an orchestra under the baton of the great Theodore Thomas. Downtown, to name pearls at ran dom, was the glistening establishment owned by Kunz and Remler, now, alas, no more than a res taurant on Wabash — a good restaurant, true — but what of it? Kunz and Remler 's coils were famous among beer addicts. Also there were down town beer tunnels, one near to McVickers theatre and a solace for honest musicians. And there was Vogelsang's, which ap proved a little soft singing and furnished appropriate stimulation, cool, tall and soft-amber. The finest tavern of the old days, before the stockyards began to expand, was the Bull's Head Tavern, at West ern and Halsted. The tavern was a good day's jog from Geneva and St. Charles; wealthy farmers and stockmen from the west ern part of the county, driving their herds into the stockyards, timed their trip to reach the Bull's Head tavern at sundown, in time for a glass before dinner. It was the offi cial point of departure, too, for the homeward trip, after the cattle had been sold. And there were picnic groves . . . there were picnic groves. Club THE height of negro cultural exclusiveness in Chicago is reached in three groups, The Cen tury club for women, the De Saible club, composed of older men who are for the most part Chicago born, and the Negro Book Lovers' Club organized to publish the works of Chicago negro writers. For many years an attempt was made to limit membership in The Cen tury Club to women of the city's old est negro families. For the last ten years, however, women of "aristocratic southern migrant families" have been admitted and the membership has swelled past exclusiveness. Art, litera ture, music and charity are the inter ests of the club. A few years ago The Century was hostess to the na tional convention of the National Fed eration of Negro Women's Clubs, and about four hundred women from all over the country attended. The De Saible Club was organized to raise funds for a fitting memorial to Jean Baptiste Point De Saible, a San Domingan negro, who was the first settler and land owner in "Eschi- cagon." He built a cabin at the mouth of the Chicago river, and lived there many years, where he prospered as a trader and representative of the French government. He sold his cabin to John Kinzie, and passed from the view of man and of history. No negro school child in Chicago does not know that the Domingan negro was the first resident of Chicago, but the old men of the De Saible club have found few of the younger gen eration interested enough in the fact to donate to ward a De Saible stone. The Negro Book Lov ers have had more suc cess than the members of the De Saible club. They at least have been able to establish club rooms in the neighborhood of Thirty-fifth and State streets, but there is con siderable criticism of such a "low" location for a truly high-brow group. This reporter has been unable to locate any pub lications brought out by the Book Lovers. Cofifi ers w HAT with hot weather temper and vexatious crowds, drivers is THE CHICAGOAN "Don't you just feel that we're emotionally sympathetic ?' in from Bureau Junction, Illinois, and Sam Browne belts in August, the con stabulary has been hard pressed to re tain its collective dignity. On the whole, however, police department has been grave, majestic, stern, and unre lenting. It has been as immutable as a laggard traffic light, and under try ing conditions. It is a thing to respect, if not, indeed, to admire. It is with delight, therefore, that we .^report a' grave piece of treason against the sombre traditions of the law. At three o'clock on a very recent after noon — in plain sight of all who might care to see — two police officers in full uniform posted themselves before the Illinois Central Terminal. One officer carried a catcher's mitt, the other a pitcher's glove. They played an im aginary game with signals for fast and slow balls. They retired ghostly bat ters on fabulous outcurves and high fast pitches shot over inside corners. Incoming visitors to the town formed a small, appreciative bleacher crowd. All in all, the pitcher's duel went off with out a hitch. Meanwhile — and to compound trea son — Michigan avenue traffic went on uneventfully. Even the eddy for sta tion taxis arranged itself in a brisk and well ordered swirl. View SKYSCRAPERS, we believe, are best seen from the old watering trough at the foot of Rush Street, near the north bank of the river. Here the old city drowses at the foot of the new. The old marble watering trough and the low brick buildings of the street that was once an artery of trucking traffic hold aloof unchanged in the shadow of the Wrigley towers, the London Guaranty Building and the Mather Tower. The sweep of river about the bases of tall new towers and the shadowy maze of the lower levels of Wacker Drive, as viewed from the old water ing trough, where the pavement still bears the marks of generations of stamping hoofs, gives to that little com pact group of buildings a new and ar resting perspective. One has turned from the swift boulevard into the trammel of the old town. The view is best at evening while the river still re flects its towers in water shot with magic color from a dozen electric signs. Building A MINIATURE Rue de la Paix, replete with exquisite shops and (we hope) exquisite shoppers, is to be one of the features of the Michigan Square building when it attains com pletion about the first of November next. The lobby and mezzanine floor of the new building will be fashioned into an arcade, on which will front sixty- two shops which will cater to the most luxurious tastes of the city's womankind. Many of them, in fact, the majority, will house branches of European and New York firms with just a few already well known Chi cago trade names to add a familiar and homelike flavor to the de luxe feminine mart. The shop fronts in themselves are expected to afford a display of lavish beauty. For instance, one dealer in furs whose lease has al ready been appropriately signed on the dotted line, has announced his inten tion of having his shop decorated as a primitive trading post. A stationer who is to peddle his wares therein will have his shop front adorned with facsimiles of authentic samples of speci mens of ancient writing. Two floors of shops will cluster around a huge rotunda, the vaulted dome of which will measure 90 feet in width and 90 feet in depth — the aver age city street measures only 66 feet across. Not detracting from decora tions will be the columns arranged along the length of the lobby. These will be largely of glass in futuristic designs, which will be illuminated at night to produce an unusual lighting effect. In the daytime the columns as well as the rotunda will be bathed in sunlight streaming through the top of the dome. The final touch to the whole will be the dining place planned for the shop floors. Very much like an outdoor European cafe, it will have its tables set out under the dome where shoppers can sip their noon or after noon coffee in convenient proximity to the tempting shops, in the light of the sun and out of reach of the ele ments. There will also be an elaborate series of lounges in the glittering arcade to supply a meeting place for the shop pers and their friends. Besides these exclusive features the Michigan Square building will be one of Chicago's few that occupy an en tire city block. The building will occupy the block bounded by North Michigan avenue and Rush street on THE CHICAGOAN 19 the east and west, and by Ohio street and Grand avenue on the north and south. Hogan and Farwell, renting agents, declare that many of the sixty- two shops have already been spoken for. The pioneering architects are Holabird and Root. ohow Business THE opening of "Show Girl" in New York, an opening gala with fabulous first night prices and a great scurry among the customers of Papa Ziegfeld, was not without its Chicago repercussion. To be sure, the repercussion ante dated the show. It came about when William Anthony McGuire, then busy with translating the novel into a stage framework for the spectacle, an nounced his intention of attending his sister's wedding in Chicago. This an nouncement caused Papa Ziegfeld to scream in anguish. His show was two weeks from opening night. Only the first of the three acts was finished. The prospect of no script and a star libret tist off on a wedding party was too harrowing for any producer. Never theless Mr. Ziegfeld is no crass enter priser. He is, himself, a man of senti ment. Therefore, he made McGuire a business proposition. Briefly, it was that the wedding should be moved to New York. The entire ceremony, guests and all, would be on Flo Zieg feld. McGuire declined. Flo Ziegfeld stood by his offer. The wedding went on in Chicago, minus McGuire. And "Show Girl" opened splendidly on time. Justice A STORY is being told of automo tive justice that approaches the poetic. A Chicago dweller, president of a large trucking company, took his new Rolls Royce out for an airing. At a loop corner his car was crashed by a taxicab. It was crashed badly. The bill for damages, when repairs had finally been made, came to just under three thousand dollars. The gentleman took the bill to the president of the taxicab company, with whom he was well acquainted, and presented it confidently. He was astonished, then grieved, and finally annoyed, to hear that there would be no recompense. "You damaged our taxicab, we dam- "But you really can't compare them, at all — Rodney's a vegetarian' aged your car," said the president genially. "We'll each pay our loss and forget the matter." "But your cab was at fault," pro tested the gentleman. "That," said the president, "might be difficult to prove. But you're at liberty to get the best lawyer you can find and sue us. What do you say to a round of golf tomorrow — " In a few hours the gentleman pre sented himself for a formal interview. "Are you going to pay this repair bill?" he demanded grimly. "I am not," was the reply. "It is our unalterable rule, in case of acci dents, that each party pays his own repair bill. We can't change our policy just for your benefit." "Oh, can't you?" murmured the gen tleman. Then, "Do you happen to know how many ten-ton trucks I have on the streets of Chicago?" The president did. He named an approximate figure that was stagger ing but true. "And do you know how many five- ton trucks I am operating?" The president knew that too. "And have you any idea of the number of one-ton trucks I own?" The president quoted a figure that sounded like a guess at the number of waves in Lake Michigan. "Well," said the gentleman, "I have just given orders for each of my trucks to tangle with one of your taxicabs at every opportunity. That order will go into effect at four o'clock this after noon. Of course, as you yourself have said, each of us will pay his own re pair bills — " "My secretary will make out a check for the damages done to your car," said the president of the taxicab com pany. 20 THE CHICAGOAN Shoes COMPARABLE to the technique of Mr. Lucien Lelong of Paris is that of Mr. W. T. Kelly of Chi cago in the matter of handling his pub lic. Mr. Kelly, although one of the heads of his department, is still a shoe salesman in the fifth floor shoe depart ment for women of Marshall Field and Company. He is not of the confra ternity whose members sidle noiselessly behind the unwary customer to in quire, accompanied by a brisk rubbing of hands. The patron who would be served makes the inquiry concerning Mr. Kelly's activities by telephone. Communicating with a secretary ma- dame must find out at what hour of that day, the next day, or sometimes in the course of the current or follow ing week Mr. Kelly will be at leisure. The secretary then skims the pages of Mr. Kelly's appointment book and in forms madame when she may find him not occupied save in assisting herself. The book is in turn consulted by Mr. Kelly. Each morning he makes a hasty survey to determine which one of his customers will be in before nightfall. He knows each one of these by name, knows her taste and possibly foresees her reactions. According to this mental catalogue he selects his wares from the stock and lays them out anent ing of the hour's appointee. He has a mental card index, as well, of the size of each madame's foot and never has to have recourse to the lowly foot measure, any more than to the usual run of salesman's machinations. His status is unique in the perhaps limited world of his line of trade. His tech nique has so far proved incomparable. Track GENTLEMEN are not often seen running through Loop buildings or streets. It is not a strange sight, of course, and little attention is paid to the occasional sprinter. The other day, however, there was a decided exception to this laissez-faire practice as regards running gentlemen. A young man was noticed racing through a Loop bank. Undoubtedly a train or an important appointment awaited him and caused his selection of rapid traveling. He had done a hundred yards (it was in a large bank) in fair time, when he was stopped by a bank policeman and asked to confine his progress to a walk. Both, young man and policeman, were very pleas ant about it all. The incident leads us to believe that it is quite against banking rules to have young men sprinting within their walls. Also, it is dangerous. Contest BETTER than crossword puzzles or Ask-Me-Another is the new game of Name-the-Building. It is played by parking on the Outer Drive between Jackson Park and Fifty-third Street or at one of the dead ends on the old Chi' cago Beach property north of Hyde Park Boulevard. From those points, on a clear day, the curve of the shore enables one to see the downtown sky line from the Palmolive Building to the Thirty-ninth Street pumping station, rising gray-blue out of a blue lake into a blue sky, like a loosely handled, im- aginative water color. After the play ers have done exclaiming over the beauty of the layout for the game they can begin to play by taking turns in telling off the names of the distant silhouettes or all crying out at once as they recognize the Temple spire or the Straus beehive. The most sporting playing time is between dark and day light when one by one buildings begin to be picked out by points, lines and planes of electric lights. Then the ex pert can check his identifications and the amateur can find a new means of distinguishing buildings. A flashing light tops the Wrigley Building and the black mass in front of it is 333 looming like a giant shadow on the flood-lighted Wrigley terra cotta. An unblinking row of lights to the right indicates the Allerton. The monument to that school-girl complexion is a black square outline in gold. The Greenebaum beacon is a flash that marks the spot where the loop stands. The smudge of light far to the left is the pent house of the Stevens. The Cadillac-LaSalle sign north of the river, the Chevrolet topics at Randolph and the red reminder of Buick at Twenty- third Street are connected by festoons of street lamps on the drive. This fine outdoor game has, we presume, been The Bus-Top Addict Buys a Town Car THE CHICAGOAN 21 approved by the National Association for Not Seeing Europe First. Aesthetics NOW and then we come upon an artistic discovery, but not too often, surely — so much we advance in our own defense. With genuine de light we mention a new order of scof- flaw art altogether significant to the beauty of the Town. We refer to stores given over to traffic in beer sup plies and particularly to the shops near Wells and La Salle north, say, at Divi sion. Such stores are reminiscent of old style groceries and their stocks, besides being more glamorous in nature, are more pleasingly set out. There are tubs of corks, bins of cane, corn and beet sugars and bins of hops. Against one wall of the store, bottles rise in shining rows to the ceiling. They gleam with the colored glory of saloon windows and in the bottles are extracts and syrups, for making, by the addi tion of the proper amount of alcohol, every known and some unknown liquors, wines, brandies, whiskeys, not to mention unpronounceable foreign brews. There are racks and bins and show cases of bottles — beautiful empty bottles, ready for filling. Tall frosty white glass, fat squat ones, round ones, brown ones, green and clear ones. Flat bottles, and bottles for the sideboard, the pocket or the purse. There are ordinary gin bottles, and copies of colo nial flasks with figures of ships or In dians blown in their sides. At the rear of the store gleaming in the dusky light are shiny tin boilers and tubs, copper vats and kettles, coils of copper tubes and tin funnels, screens and filters. And there is practically nothing else. Menjou THERE is a South Side (east Seventy-third street) druggist who is either an excellent business man or exceedingly lucky. His fountain man is the reason for the statement. As to the fountain man's ability, we know nothing. Ability, in his case, isn't altogether necessary. The per fume of romance accompanies each malted milk. For the fountain man looks de cidedly like Adolph Menjou. He is younger than Menjou, but looks the "Yes, yes, Old Fellow; she was a handsome creature — but a bit_ too stable, too prosaic for my taste. Her soul somehow never caught a hint of wine and roses. . . ." seasoned blade nevertheless. We pre dict formally that he will have offers from the Big Time — Walgreen's or Liggett's. Sign NO longer, as a rule, do we bounce at a party after one a. m. Not for years (well, for six months, any way) have we spoken in jovial fash ion to young ladies before a proper in troduction. Perhaps, therefore, we were unreasonably startled when two young fellows drove an extremely smart roadster to a stage entrance, calmly produced a "Two Girls Wanted" sign, evidently confiscated from some restaurant, arrayed the placard on their roadster and strolled off to a nearby drugstore. Back in 15 minutes, the young men discovered two girls in the car. Both couples greeted each other casually. The roadster wheeled smoothly into traffic and the expedition was off. Bless all our doddering souls! 22 THE CHICAGOAN H^ke CINEMA A Pair — Beggin Your Pardon — of Shearers By WILLIAM R. WEAVER PERHAPS you » /* seen Ina Claire in l^MlluilL^^V The Last of Mrs. - ^a^asaE&i Cheyney. But you have not the full measure of either star until you have seen Norma Shearer in both plays. And then you have Miss Shearer's measure as well. Plus the gathering impression that this is the most im portant of the three. Thanks to a doddering censor board, The Trial of Mary Dugan was post poned until its hearing, at the Roose velt, coincided with enactment of The Last of Mrs. Cheyney at the Chicago. This made it practicable to witness Miss Shearer's personifications of the two colorful young ladies in a given evening. And this made possible a most pleasant and profitable passing of the hours between seven and midnight. Providing only that one visited, as one normally would, the Roosevelt first. For Bayard Veiller's play, patently, is not one to bear inspection too abruptly after Frederick Lonsdale's. But to get about the taking of these measurements: It may as well be granted that Miss Harding would do reasonably well in The Last of Mrs. Cheyney, although probably not so well as Miss Claire. And, if this be granted, it is merely fair to concede that Miss Claire would not find it im possible to train down to The Trial of Mary Dugan. On the basis of these purely hypothetical substitutions, Miss Claire would seem to measure slightly better than Miss Harding on points, but Mr. Lonsdale's superior celerity of dialogue is plainly on her side. As well to say that each is, in her sphere, an artiste, mayhap the best. All of which is but preface, of course, to the statement that Miss Shearer is as good a Mary Dugan as Miss Harding and in many ways a better Mrs. Cheyney than Miss Claire. I grant that Miss Shearer has, in the former characterization, the advantage of photographically heightened visibil ity during protracted sequences wherein she speaks no part of the dialogue. But I point out that in the second char acterization she is almost totally de pendent upon her lines and that she is, in point of fact, a far less person able actress than Miss Claire. I REFRAIN from assembling the fore going paragraphs in the blunt con clusion that Miss Shearer is the best of the three actresses. Firstly, be cause I can't make myself believe it. Secondly, because it's a bit rough on the other two. And thirdly, because I'm growing weary of being amazed by the ease with which these Holly wood upstarts dash off roles which have come to be accepted as all but sacred to the persons of Broadway stars whose claims to distinction are very largely these roles. This approaches tragedy. Dismissing, then, the Misses Harding and Claire, we have Miss Shearer and her excellent productions for consid eration. Miss Shearer's background is not tremendous. She gained notice in an obscure motion-picture version of The Stealers. She failed to attract at tention in The Snob, a trifling thing at most, and came back importantly as the girl in Lon Chaney's He Who Gets Slapped. A few fairly good parts, then, and so to a success in Upstage and a general disappointment in the generally disappointing Student Prince. There was something wrong with The Actress, too, perhaps its re grettable silence; but the best or worst of these productions can have had lit tle to do with development of the talent that buds in her Mary Dugan and blooms in her Mrs. Cheyney. It is a little more comforting to re flect that, had the cinematograph ground a little less finely, Miss Shearer might have found her way from Mon treal High School in 1920 to Broad way instead of Hollywood Boulevard. In which case we over-sensitive stud ents of stageflesh would be spared all this embarrassment in acclaiming her greatness. The Cocoanuts" I HAD hoped to hear, at last, all of Groucho's wisecracks. I had an idea that Harpo would strum his bloomin' lyre at greater length, that the third brother would really cut loose on the piano and that — although hope here was thin — the fourth brother would reveal some visible or audible reason for inclusion in the billing. Alas for hope. Whereas, at the Chicago theatre laughter drowned but two of three Groucho wheezes, in McVickers it drowns four of five. Or possibly, six of seven. At one point, surely, a com plete sequence. And Harpo plays less, as does the pianist, and the fourth brother merely walks through. Not all of Mary Eaton's dancing, nor Oscar Shaw's singing, nor the superbly photographed chorus dancing, compen sates for this disappointment. If one might rent McVickers for a private performance of "The Cocoa- nuts" I think it would afford practically perfect entertainment. The Office Scandal I HAD read a splendid article on talking-pictures by Mr. Ralph Block in Vanity Fair. I had read, else where, that Miss Phyllis Haver was to retire after completion of The Office Scandal. I had read a newspaper ad vertisement referring to The Office Scandal as an all-talking picture. I went to the Avalon to hear it. I am going to quit reading. For The Office Scandal is vocal for only a few brief moments at its close. And it is, I was startled to note, a Ralph Block Production. I do not blame Miss Haver for retiring after its manufacture. Mr. Block should con fine himself to writing excellent ar ticles for Vanity Fair. This Is Heaven 9 ^yWAS opening night at the 1 United Artists . and a goodly crowd was there. So was Vilma Banky. Who said she was glad to be. Adding that she has been naturalized and is now an American citizen. Which seemed to please everybody. For everybody applauded. Indicating, as did This Is Heaven, doubt. Be cause This Is Heaven employs speech briefly and sparsely at the start and finish only. And is not much better in the vast silence that lies between. "Dangerous Curves CLARA BOW is in this play. So is Richard Aden. It is a play about a circus. The circus is not very good. Neither is the play. Neither is Richard Arlen. TWE CHICAGOAN 23 ipEStef V-hP-" .^a^ it^ v# 'K^J ymjmL , /.A E^H iff A^s JL /c^C i - ¦ ^- ^—— ^r^s^ JZ^^^U, M/55 Norma Shearer, late of Montreal High School, takes important hand in what has been called the civilization of the cinema as (left) Frederick Lonsdale s heroine in "The Last of Mrs. Cheyney" and (right) Bayard Veillers classic chorine in "The Trial of Mary Dugan." A solemn consideration of Miss Shearers amazing vocahty is conducted on f>age 22. 24 THE CHICAGOAN RELEASED TODAY nThe ST A G E Say, What 's the Best Show in Town?" By CHARLES COLLINS UNIVERSALIS MILLION CANDLE PCWCC A4CTICN PICTURE SENSATION Hitting the Ceiling — Only top-floor tenants are safe with this song-and-dance provoker by the Colonial Club Orchestra. The chorus of its merry refrain is sung with great gusto by Dick Robertson. Sing a Little Love Song — As an inspiration — or a conso lation, try several large doses of "Dr. Scrappy" Lambert's tuneful tonic. Artfully assisted in his good work by the Colonial Club Orchestra. 4349 THESE are the days when a fellow who writes about the theatre is no longer plagued by the question from friends, neighbors and acquaintances: "What's the best show in town?" For Chicago's sup ply of stage entertainment has almost reached the vanishing point. Please note that this is a normal condition in midsummer, and therefore cannot be taken as proof that the terrible talkies have abolished the so-called drama. Pleasure Bound, at the Grand, is flourishing handsomely, and will re main until the end of August. The ?>{ut Farm, at the Cort, is pegging along gamely. As I write, A Con necticut Tan\ee and After Dar\ are also extant, but they have their flags of departure up and will be missing at the date of issue. So we have only two shows to choose from. But if asked, which is the better, Pleasure Bound or The 7\[ut Farm, I still would stand aghast at the question, as I do in the height of the season. For to answer it prop erly, I must know the asker's tastes, background, education and heredity; whether he intends to take his wife, his stenographer or his school-girl daughter; whether he plans to go to a theatre as a part of an evening of whoopee or in the quest of spiritual re freshment. We monomaniacs who make a pro fession of reporting and reviewing shows can't help becoming analytic. We approach each premiere as a sci entist approaches a new bug, eager to determine its species, and its variations from type as an individual. We write about our discoveries in the hope that from the facts presented the play-goer who happens to read the column may be able to make up his mind which bug he prefers. AS a matter of fact, from a strictly i\ critical point of view, there is never a "best show" in town. There are only various kinds of shows for various kinds of people. This state ment is, no doubt, a heresy against the American spirit, which eternally de mands the Best and Biggest in every manifestation of life; nevertheless, it stands as a plank in my platform. That is why, when asked to put a finger on the best show, I often answer, "I don't know," thereby gaining a repu tation as a man who doesn't know his own business. Mr. Donaghey of The Tribune solves this problem by qualifying his dicta with the phrase, "in kind." It is an excellent device as a safeguard against dangerous superlatives. I have always intended to tell Fred, however, that the phrase is slightly lacking in idiomatic value. What he means, of course, is "in its kind." If he will turn to the dictionary, he will cuV cover that "in kind" has a specialized meaning, as follows: "In the produce or designated com modity itself, as distinguished from its value in money." Bad News from Moscow A BRIEF dispatch from Moscow, buried on the comic-strip pages of the newspapers recently, conveyed extremely painful news to those whose interests in the drama are international. The Moscow Art theatre will be "so' cialized," and a communist manager will be appointed to co-operate with Stanislavsky in its direction. In other words, the art conscience of the world's foremost theatre has been destroyed. The Seagull (its popular name) has gone bolshevik, by compulsion. Ever since the establishment of the soviet government, the Moscow Art theatre has had this fate hanging over its head. It has tried to steer a safe course without losing its artistic iden tity; it has put on propaganda plays whenever it could find a manuscript that wasn't raving nonsense; it has shelved the works of its beloved Tchekhof, to which it practically owes its life, because the commissars thought that they gave too much emphasis to the manners of gentlefolk in the old regime. Now it must go the whole route, apparently; it must become a mouthpiece for all the lunacies of com- THE CHICAGOAN munism, or it must die. I think it will die, or lose its iden tity and its prestige in a manner equivalent to death. Stanislavsky will probably carry on, for his life is bound up in the Seagull; he will strive, with the gentle wisdom and diplomacy that are his, to impart some gleams of the artistic spirit to his communist confrere and watch-dog. But he is old; he will sink under the task; he may even die of a broken heart. And then, in spite of its happy family of devoted play ers and technicians, who eat, sleep and think nothing but stagecraft and drama, the Moscow Art theatre will be \aput. Finished. Another light in the world will flicker out under the shadow of bolshevism, which is not so much a political and economic system as it is an expression, in every activ ity of life, of the malevolence of the dumb, the hatred of ignorance for en lightenment. Efiitafths THESE people of the theatre, easily remembered by play-goers, have within recent weeks been called before the presence of the cosmic Stage Director: Dustin Farnum: Pioneer of cow boy heroes in our generation, creator of a type that the movies adopted as their soundest commodity; star of "The Virginian," in which he nightly, for several years, did the bad-man Trampas to death in chivalric gun play; a romantic figure on the stage and a quiet, engaging comrade for his fellows when the night's work was done. His great popularity carried him into the pictures, but he never "went Hollywood." John Kellerd: A Shakespearean who had outlived his generation and whose last years were almost without occupation. He played "Hamlet" on Broadway longer than anyone except John Barrymore, who beat his record by one night. "To die, to sleep — and by a sleep to say we end the heart ache—" Harry Frazee: The producer of many plays who, from a humble be ginning in .Chicago, rose to a position among the magnificoes of Broadway. He built the Cort in Chicago, the Frazee in New York. His activity as an amusement purveyor extended into the realm of professional baseball. Of recent years he had been inactive. Old- timers along Randolph Street will miss him. SKOKIE RIDGE HOMES Are in Harmony with the Rambling Terrain The interesting topography has governed the type of homes already built. It will play a large part in the design of homes to be built. In the selection of your home it is highly impor tant to consider the natural environment and its effect on the property values, present and future. Skokie Ridge speaks for itself. BAIRD & WARNER Office: 1071 Skokie Ridge Drive, Glencoe Phones: Glencoe 1554 — Briargate 1855 Representative Always on Property Sheridan Road to Park Avenue, Glencoe, West to Bluff Street, North to Dundee Road and West to Entrance 26 THE CHICAGOAN 7%e ROVING REPORTER Folk Dancing at Navy Pier By FRANCIS C. COUGHLIN In the critical matter of sum mer dining the thoroughly knowing diner out considers first, the consummate perfec tion of the true Creole menu with its native adjustment to warm weather. WHATEVER else can be said of Navy Pier, no man may sensi bly deny it is 3,000 feet long and rig orously American. Indeed, the pier entrance itself is patriotically illumi nated, the name flanked by electric flags. And at the pier tip, where stale air from a factory and warehouse en vironment onshore is magically dis sipated by a cool seepage of lake wind, the pier goes into nationalistic display of flags and bunting as fervid as the first Armistice Day. Moreover, to quote from a handbill distributed at the pier end, "Navy Pier Ballroom offers to the people of Chi cago a delightful summer of dancing and entertainment to the rhythm of the well known Norm Sherr and his Navy Pier Jackie Orchestra, while en joying the cool lake breezes of old Lake Michigan." Beyond the deadline through which no patrician motorist may pass, the pier ballroom is approached through a leisurely cluster of tables, resembling— but, alas, only resembling — a beer garden. At the extreme tip is the ball room, a vast, inverted baking pan over a shining floor and a scream of pa triotic color. Purple bulbs arch grandly to the purple decked ceiling. The flag is scarlet and blue drapery woven into the electric warp. One expects the orchestra, which is in naval uniform, to crash into Columbia the Gem of the Ocean. Instead, it mar shals brass, strings and thudding drum beat to achieve the groan and tinkle of ja2x over an underlying tom-tom rhythm of the drums. Smoothly a hundred dancing couples take the floor. And with that instant the observer comes upon an authentic American folk dance. It is the dance as performed by adepts from the folk itself, the dance as danced by stenog raphers and shop girls to contemporary music with current boy friends. It is not, so far as this observer could deter mine, reminiscent of any negro or old world technique. Most certainly it is no interpretation in the ballet sense — these dancers are refreshingly innocent of any conscious impingement on art in any of its forms. But the little Slavic girl pressed closely to that dark youth who is ob viously of Latin blood, has worked out, with her brothers and sisters, her own response to the steady, orchestral swoon and beat. She is amazingly deft on waxed floor. The rhythm of the band catches to a rhythm in her blood. Nonchalantly the couple cut and double time. They promenade a mo ment, a slow walk complicated by a double syncopation, arms about each other's waists. They swing briskly and unaccountably into a hesitation step made more difficult by toe tap ping done exquisitely in time. Again the mode varies ; they do a straight fox trot, only pausing now and then by a swooping turn modified, perhaps, from the tango. And an instant later they hold hands facing each other to execute a kind of jig and shuffle, a strange repercussion of the long forgotten frontier by children of recent emigrants who never could have known the naked Illinois prairie. This blonde and dark pair are out standing. Indeed they draw a round of ingenuous applause from the shuf fling stag line. Yet other dancers, hun dreds of them, dance the same steps. No ballroom instructor in the world could have taught these things, no more than any fashion expert in the world could have designed the girl's dresses or endured the men's styles. Girls are little, high-waisted and dark, a single dress seemingly their only garment, their legs bare down to bright half sox in high heeled, short-vamped shoes. Or they are blonde and loose to the band's swing, their faces impassive, their movements timed to a nice, technical perfection. Dancers are at once bold and aloof — they are confident in clasp and step; they rarely speak to their partners. On Saturday nights, so the ticket taker estimates (admission 50 cents to all) 4,000 dancers come to Navy Pier. But on week nights the crowd falls off. Tonight, a Tuesday, business is slack, indeed, with perhaps 400 couples pres ent altogether. Monday nights are free of dancing. Sunday nights, of course, are gala affairs — no ghost of Puritanism goes thin lipped out the long dusty walk to Navy Pier. THE CHICAGOAN 27 At 12 o'clock the band glides into Home, Sweet Home. Slow moving couples dance a little closer. Here and there they move cheek to cheek. Even before the music finishes the crowd starts off the floor. Abruptly the dance is over. Outside, some little distance down the pier where cars may be parked, there is bustle and leavetak- ing. Parents, the drab, lumpy, poor people whose dancing days are long since swallowed up in the work of the world, retrieve their daughters. Gay young fellows in borrowed cars re trieve other daughters; girls pile in three deep when transportation is cheerfully offered. Surface cars do a handsome business. But 12 o'clock is not the high hour of Navy Pier. The high hour is nearer 11 when gaudy lights are flicked off to leave the floor in semi-darkness for moonlight dancing. Only a few side fixtures mirror themselves as oil colors on the waxed floor. The tempo of the dance slows for the moonlight number. The band finds its wail and rhythm: "I left my love in A-valon Besides the sea I left my love in AvaLON— " Dark heads move together. The lake breeze is fresh and adventurous 3,000 yards from a scummy shore. The floor is magic tapestry. The girl who has frankly adjusted her one gar ment, blown coolingly down its front and assumed the emotionless, bland look of a public hall dancer and stepped off with Joe Spinocchi from over near Milton street knows nothing about Avalon. Why, in Heaven's name, should she? She knows nothing about dancing, either. Except, perhaps, that she dances perfectly beyond the dreams of a debutante, just now taking the floor a mile north at the Drake. Here this description should end. Navy Pier is an experience transcend ing any reality conferred by somewhat casual prose. Some day, some notable artist and observer will find it sig nificant. Any time it is worth a trip. But let this note come now to an extremely ill-tempered question: It is, Why, by all that is lunatic in legis lation, are lawful citizens restrained from walking north along the lake after 12 p. m.? Will some magnifico of the Lincoln Park Board explain to this angry reporter — and, if it so please his puissance, to the stern but apologetic copper saddled with the en forcement of that outrageous ruling? T here's music in the air . . . Cyi s never loo tome J or ike newest hoi unswick number RADIOLA 33 •for drawing" room or sum= mer resort <^ so nonchalant RADIOLA 44 aZJoii must see this newest TvOh model E COMMONWEALTH EDISON LECTRIC SH 72 W. ADAMS ST., CHICAGO "The Chicagoan " 407 So Dearborn St. Chicago, Illinois Send "The Chicagoan" one year, $3 — two years, $?. (I have encircled my choice as you will notice.) T^ame.... Address. For the Strenuous Season— —a magazine exactly suited in viewpoint, touch and gusto to the exacting needs of a civilized reader during the crowded and critical months of June, July and August. 28 TOE CHICAGOAN THE PEARfON HOTEL East of the Water Tower GO. -CHICAGO Here and There in the Dog Days By LUCIA LEWIS N all Chicago — you will hardly find another such fortunate combi nation of residential advantages as these offered at the Pearson. Close to Lake Michigan on the East and Michigan Avenue on the West with Lincoln Park to the North . . . the Loop accessible within five minutes by bus or taxi . . . and. environment of suburban quiet ... a 300-car garage close by. The appointments are such as you would select in furnishing a home of your own. In recognition of the sound reasons why people prefer to live in apartment hotels there are no kitchenettes at the Pearson. The restaurant provides a delightful — varied menu of wholesome foods modestly priced. We shall be pleased to have you call today and inspect some especially desirable ac commodations just now available. 190 EAST PEARSON ST. Telephone Superior 8200 SCIENTIFIC folk tell us that for generally low minds and bodies no time of the year is meaner than the month of March, but I would put my money on a city August any time. I don't care how many boosters of the Town as a summer resort throw bricks in this di rection; that's my story and I'll "stick to it. The weather may be decent enough, but the buildings, the pave ments, the noise, the accustomed rou tine, whether it be LaSalle Street or the suburban house, are distinctly of the city. And August is a rural month that demands open spaces and change of scene. Gentlemen of the "die with boots on" persuasion, whose families have been sent packing for the summer, are silly not to do a little packing them selves, if only for short trips scattered through this period. Individuals who are doing long trips in fall, winter, and spring — a pleasant habit, too — find, nevertheless, that a brief jaunt in August isn't hard to take at all. While the third group, those who know they must have a change sometime, but haven't quite snapped into action, would do well to drop everything and run now. One would think this ex hortation wholly unnecessary but when one of the Town's leading mag nates gets a big hand in the papers be cause he has never had leisure enough to go to Europe, we conclude it is time for another round with the old cult of "let's rest when you and I are old Maggie." These random notes on assorted va cations are certified for August. If we made a practice of handing out "tested and approved" notices, the way they do for patent eggbeaters and such, they would be enthusiastically tagged, with maybe two three stars to boot. AMONG eastern summer lands the l Berkshires are just about at their best this month. In these gently roll ing, fresh green hills the motoring and riding are perfect, sports facilities ex cellent, and a certain aristocratic dig nity hangs over the whole New Eng land countryside. One of the more fashionable places — fashionable in a not hectic way — is Lenox in Massa chusetts. The hotel here, if you are not taking a place of your own, is the Aspinwall; a perfectly appointed and gracious house with good tennis and unusually fine golf course available. Also worth noting, in the Berkshire foothills, is gay Western View Farm at New Milford, Connecticut, where New York stars make a mailman's holi' day of it. The farm is over a hundred years old with silo and barns converted into very attractive bedrooms and one little theatre. It is at this theatre that the dramatic folk try out some inter esting things every summer. Western View is not Bohemian, however. Whatever quaintness it has is genuine, the guests are distinguished, the views are breath-taking, and the food is ab- solutely noble. ANYONE with a Southern complex i and, better still, a few high Southern connections to mention non chalantly, should have a happy time of it at Virginia Beach. This is one of my favorite months for that resort be cause the weather is fine — no swelter ing, I promise you — and the place is not jammed with tourists. The Cav' alier is a notable hotel and at this time is filled chiefly with good Southern families who are devoted to Virginia Beach as a summer haven. And these Virginians are a charming lot to play around with, even if they are snooty about Al Smith and tote plenty strong corn. Virginia Beach is within easy motoring distance of Norfolk, and a good way to get to Norfolk is by boat from New York or Washington. Tickets and reservations for trains, boats, and motor may be acquired here through one of the travel bureaus. On the other hand we have the splashy magnificence of the West. All sorts of possibilities here, all the way from a brief two weeks dash to the Black Hills or Colorado to a grand tour of the Canadian Rockies and Alaska. If you have a month or more to spare this is about the last call for Alaska. Ideal weather now and most of September. With the new fast schedules to Seattle, Alaska is not so THE CHICAGOAN 29 far away, and what a trip to contem plate on a day when the Illinois sun may be growing corn for some people but it's just melting asphalt for me. The boats from Seattle touch Ketchi kan, Wrangell, Juneau, and Seward, and from Seward if you wish you may do the Arctic Circle by train and car. All the glaciers, old mining towns, roaring rapids and frantic salmon you want to see. AS for the Canadian Rockies, Lake i Louise and Banff, you know, offer two of the world's glorious hotels and even a week or two there is worth taking the trip for; especially as the trip from Chicago — almost any way you go — is itself one of the most in teresting in the country. The southwest is quite a leap from Alaska, but it has its charms now as well as in winter. At least once in a lifetime, preferably now before the children start back to school, Mesa Verde should be done by every family. The cliff dwellings, Indian reservations, and bracing atmosphere make this a memorable jaunt for anyone. It is much easier, too, since Fred Harvey built his comfortable El Navajo as headquarters for the trip into the park from the new Gallup gateway. With a few weeks to spare it is a good idea to go on to Arizona for a little ranch life. The mountains around Prescott are cool in summer and there are several real cattle ranches here that make things very comfort able for limited numbers of dudes. Tri angle HC Ranch at Camp Wood has a great cattle range 6,000 feet up, in the middle of yellow pine country, full of game and trout streams. Another, not far from Prescott, is the Cross Tri angle, one of the oldest cattle ranches in the state. The postoffice address is Simmons, Arizona. Both of these are especially fine for children. Since we started this ranch and chil dren thing again, the Latchstring Inn, in South Dakota's Spearfish Canyon, must get a word. Splendid place for families or children alone. Postoffice is Savoy, South Dakota, and it is reached by way of Deadwood. AND now, if you are a boat loving i soul whose year is a total loss without an ocean voyage, a little lake and river cruise is always possible. As the roaring summer crowds begin to dwindle, towards the end of August [continued on page 33] World Cruise ... as done only by the Empress of Australia, "dream-ship of cruises." Perfect itinerary, studded with feature events, like Madeira's fairyland ball, Christmas in the Holy Land, world's gayest New Year's Eve in Cairo, and so around the globe. Sails Dec. 2. Takes 137 days. Costs from $2000. This winter- new ports, new "includeds," new low prices on optionals. Representative will visit you, or send details without obligation. Mediterranean Twin Cruises So popular we've had to double the sailings— the beloved Empress of Scotland Feb. 3, the yacht-like Empress of France Feb. 13. Four new ports, all the important places, with 17 whole days in Palestine and Egypt. Priced as low as $900 for the 73 days . . . smartest hotels, luxurious cars, our own resident agents to arrange sight-seeing and entertainment. Book now for favored rooms. Phone or write, R. S. Elworthy, Steamship General Agent, 71 E. Jackson Blvd., Chicago, 111. Telephone Wabash 1904 Canadian Pacific World's Greatest Travel System Carry Canadian Pacific Express Travellers Cheques— Good the World Over "\ hope your mother is much improved," he said. ''She is— your wonderful flowers are cheering her immensely." And being that type of fellow, he passed the compliment on to Wienhoeber. NO. 22 EAST ELM ST. SUPERIOR 060*1 <»l¥ NO MICHICAN AVE. SUPERIOR 0045 Pure may be given to infants without boiling Soft cannot injure the most delicate tissues No other spring water so pure and so soft as Chippewa Natural Spring Water (Bottled at the Springs) Try it — d rink eight glasses a day for two weeks. If you are not com pletely satisfied that it is the best and -w^^bw --" most beneficial you )(^^as^^-f1( ever drank, we will ^^^^p- refund your money. Phone Roosevelt 2920 Chippewa Spring Water Company 1318 S. Canal St. TI4E CHICAGOAN GmjU- For the cinema goer a bit too keen to be entirely casual The 1929 Motion Picture Almanac announces a complete, timely, compact and authoritative survey of the American screen industry — principal entertainer to 40,000,000 of our population. Among other things a careful analysis of the talking picture the short feature presentation acts production and producers long runs film executives production costs films, new and in the making authoritative star biographies Price (Post paid) $2 The Herald-World Bookshop 37 W. Van Buren Street Chicago, Illinois On Sale at Marshall Field & Com pany, Brentano's, Krock's Book Store, Post Office News and the Congress and Drake Hotels. The CUICACOENNrl The Furs of August By MARCIA VAUGHN THESE shrewd commercial efforts to set aside "Apple Day," "Send Your Friends a Greeting Week" and all that sort of thing ordinarily seem about as foolish to me as Ring Lard- ner's "Have a Baby Week." But I do confess a weakness for this August Fur Month idea. Of course, it is a grand business-building stunt of the fur trades and fills otherwise idle midsum mer days with the bustle of fitting and sewing so dear to the heart of short- season manufacturers, but it offers the shopper plenty of advantages as well. A mink coat, you know, is not built in a day, and the early order gets the benefit of unhurried, precise matching and sewing that are necessary for per fect fur workmanship. Then there is more room for a range of fancy than at any other time — the collections of skins are fresh and undepleted and the array of styles is positively dazzling. And when the shops, as they usually do, give us a good break on price in August, the whole thing becomes a splendid institution. A little advance scouting in the fur shops reveals a heartening style con sciousness. They have done a lot to furs in the past few seasons but this year's models more than ever indicate a grasp of line, intricate cut and fash ionable detail that is altogether satisfy ing. At Shayne's, for instance, there is a stunning natural summer ermine that is different in every single detail. The bottom is a circular flare with a slend erizing curved line extending from it to the shoulder in back. From the elbow to the wrist a similar little flare is hung over the straight sleeve, and a large crushed cape collar folds around the shoulders. Very tricky, yet not a thing you would tire of quickly. The huge collar distinguishes nearly every coat of the season, and very fit ting it is for soft furs. Folded high about the face it gives a softness to the most eagle-like profie, dropped back off the shoulder it produces just the right nonchalant effect for afternoon and evening affairs. And, my, how the big collar banishes that hippy look! T HE short furred animals are cer tainly having a sad time of it. All the wraps, except some of the woolly sports things, must be of the fabric - like close-cut furs that lend themselves to graceful draping. Caracul is a heavy favorite in all tones and broad tail is magnificent as ever. Shayne's fashion broadtail into the slinkiest coat imaginable, wrapped smoothly about the waist and flaring slightly below the hips. On this is a sumptuous collar of silver fox that looks like a separate scarf — perfect for the tall, willowy type. The same coat is extremely good looking in all caracul, without the fox. Silver fox does another noble deed at Shayne's on an evening wrap of white ermine. Sable or fox certainly give the right dash of contrast that lifts white ermine from the Follies class to real distinction. The word distinction brings us right smack into the mink family. Minks are like diamonds, always fine, but the cutting makes a tremendous difference in both of them. Two of the most beautiful coats I have seen were of these exquisite skins — a wrap-around Shayne model of fine eastern mink would make a perfect daytime coat or evening wrap. The cape collar does the trick; you must see it. The other was across the boulevard at L. Fried man, Inc. — perfect skins and an un usual square scallop effect around the hem created by expert mitering. FRIEDMAN shows an alluring array of caracul wraps, most of them flared. One in black has a lovely shawl collar of natural blue fox, than which there is no more becoming fur and another a collar of two silver fox scarves whose heads meet in a point at the back. Caracul in tones of brown is pretty devastating. At Fried man's they have a coffee caracul with just a little side flare and natural brown marten collar; and at the Marchand establishment (165 East Erie) is a little lighter caracul— san dalwood — with marten curled around in front to form an interesting collar. Either one of these tones is remark able for the starry-eyed, roseleaf sort of look it gives a gal. For the grande dame effect in a street coat I know nothing better than a Persian lamb in black with very light gray, almost white, lamb, worked in TI4E CHICAGOAN 31 a geometric design around the skirt. The flattering princess line, circular skirt, pointed cuffs, and crushed cape collar are all very new, yet it is a beautifully dignified coat. This was at Friedman's too. They also have some good looking sports coats in krim- mer which, if it isn't, should be some relation of Persian lamb. These are cut in English knockabout fashion that is very tailored and swagger looking. Krimmer, lapin, with here and there a nicely marked leopard, are the thing for sports wear. If one insists on going raccoon it must be very dark and soft, but even then I can't hand it much. A Shayne coat makes a splendid har mony of leopard with huge collar and cuffs of beaver, while Melvoin, 163 N. Michigan, and David Adler, next door, show some smart straight line coats, all beaver. Something quite unusual in a sports costume was a tweed and lapin suit I saw at Marchand's. The short jacket is tailored lapin and the skirt is very fine tweed in tones of brown, trimmed with bands of the lapin. MARY GIDDINGS is doing some interesting things with the suit idea. She designs her fur coats as part of the ensemble and creates lovely effects in two and three piece costumes. Gown of velvet or satin combined with a lustrous caracul wrap; tweed and wool sports dresses with lapin coats are some of her combina tions. She has a flair for the tout ensemble that has full sway now that furs have been added to the Giddings establishment. Another distinctive place is the house of Louis Berman. Here they feature the straight line or wrap around coats more than the flared ef fects and most of their street coats are self trimmed; which, done as well as they do it here, makes for exquisite simplicity. Very soft, silky baby caracul is one of the Berman favorites, and they make much of Galyak in warm sun- tan tones that are lovely. One of the newest things in evening wraps is their white caracul with collar of either sable or silver fox; pretty grand, I tell you. The silver fox is particularly rich in white hairs that make it tone in beau tifully with the coat. Ermine with white fox is another evening pet, and they are cutting their wraps long in back so that they are perfect with the uneven hems of the year. Furs of 1930 . . . Coats of unusual beauty . . . executed m the J accrues studios with that confident precision of line which proclaims the designer an artist . . . luxurious garments of tke ckoicest peltry . . . and prices are appreciably lower in August. 545 MICHIGAN AVENUE, NORTH 32 TWQ CHICAGOAN ONIGHT IN THE MAIN RESTAURANT If you're planning an evening's diver sion in the Loop, come to the Brevoort for a delightful prelude: a menu offer ing an intriguing variety of excellent foods; intelligent service; an environ ment at once cheering and restful. You'll have plenty of time to enjoy a leisurely meal. The Brevoort is con venient to all the principal theatres. 6 to 8 p. m. Every Evening Including Sundays Entrance Direct or Through Lobby No Cover Charge MU/ICAL NOTE/ La Rondine Comes to Ravinia By ROBERT POLLAK LA ROTiDIJiE, * first heard in Chicago at Ra vinia on the night of July 16, can only be described in the argot of Broadway as a "smash." This last score of Puccini, heard previously at Monte Carlo and the Metropolitan, is a curious melange of fetching waltz-tunes, bright snatches of melody and fresh and brilliantly de scriptive orchestration. It partakes in the first act of the quality of opera comique, in the second of that inno cent kind of light opera that almost achieves immortality. In the third act, running parallel with the unimpressive troubles of its hero and heroine, it returns to its com poser's characteristic pretentiousness and fake emotionalism. But this sec tion is fortunately short. It is obviously so little a part of the spirit of- the piece that you can almost brush it aside with the memory of the stirring quartet pre ceding the second curtain. Why Puccini went Puccini again to make a last act holiday is a mystery that this reviewer cannot plumb. For once, he had managed to throw off all of the bombast and the Sardoudle-doo that hangs about his music like some sweet poison gas. His reversion to type was as painful as it was unnecessary. Nevertheless La Rondine is two- thirds impressive. It is neither fish nor flesh nor good red music-drama, but its very informality and high color will be certain to endear it to the hearts of the Ravinia audiences. The manage ment has mounted and directed the piece superbly. And for that pass along credit to Eckstein and Lazzari. It has lent the beauty of person and voice of Bori to the principal role. To say that she carried the opera almost alone is to exaggerate only a little. It is not hard to convince us that she is one of the world's most magnificent combinations of singer and actress. And The Swallow is a thrilling addi tion to her formidable list of roles. rather negative part of the young lover, and that Tokatyan, singing for the first time this season, made some thing richly comic out of the pompous, poetical Prunier. There is a sou- brette, a typical Puccinikin, sister of Musetta in Boheme. Florence Mac beth took care of her in good style. Honors at the rostrum fell to Papi, who handled orchestra and ensemble with verve and intelligence. La Rondine, bright story in music of the Second Empire, has probably come to stay. It is close enough in spirit to Lehar, Friml and Jerome Kern to tickle the palates of the North Shore burghers and intelligentsia alike. And it would make Lee Shubert, self' admitted father of the light operatic renaissance, turn green with envy. Other Events IN spite of the fact that time wears thin the passionate score of Mon* temezzii's L'Amore dei Tre Re, the opera manages to retain its vividness. The reason for its hardiness undoubt' edly lies in the book of Benelli, a first' rate dramatist with a consummate knowledge of the difference between good and bad "theatre." Montemez.' Zis score began to lose its freshness for this hypersensitive critic some five years ago. It could even then be re- garded as a compromise between the lyricism of Verdi and the musico- dramatic technique of Wagner, two stools difficult to sit on. Montemeszi has already been the object of much justifiable condescension on the part of the hard-boiled Italian public. That LAmore still stands on its pegs with w HAT else? Only that John son made what he could of the THE CHICAGOAN 33 4retf t you thirsty for a drink of 0 good water/ WOULDN'T you like a water that is always crys tal-clear, always pure and sparkling, and always good to taste? Such water is available. It is Corinnis Waukesha Water, the finest, purest water in the world. Brought to Chi cago in glass-lined tank cars direct from the famous Corinnis Spring at Waukesha, Wisconsin. Put up in handy half-gallon bottles for home use. And delivered to your home anywhere in Chicago and suburbs for a few cents a bottle! any dignity is due at least as much to librettist as to composer. * The Love of Three Kings has al' ways been a particular bright spot in the Ravinia repertoire. It develops, as played on the North Shore, into a psy chological battle between father and daughter-in-law, the blind old king and the flower of the campagna, forced against her will to marry the son of the conqueror of her people. What Las&ari and Bori do with these roles is almost a matter of local history. There is so much dignity and poignancy about the basso's interpretation that you unconsciously grant him a place as all-round artist along with a fellow like Chaliapin. And there is so much magical glow and power in Bori's Fiora that it is easy to believe that she is reacting the drama of some noble ancestor. Guests SPEAKING the other day to a rep resentative of the Hotel Owner's Protective Association, conversation revolved mournfully upon the acquisi tiveness of paying guests. A member of a royal family of — Bulgaria, let us say — was recently a guest in a Chicago hotel. He left as graciously as he had stayed, feted by prominent families, the guest of notable people. Also, a third of the linen for the royal suite departed with its occu pant. A complete silver service pro vided for a midnight supper never came to light afterwards. Two ash trays disappeared. And, strangely, a Chicago telephone directory went with them. Only the grand piano continued in residence. The Gideon Society, which has for its goal the placing of bibles in public inns, reports the disappearance of 8,000 good books a year. For some reason 8,000 guests consider the Gideon Bible a desirable souvenir. An Evanston friend of ours is a moderate but indefatigable spoon col lector. His income tax attains to an imposing figure. He has been around the world five times. It is Europe for him every season or so. Since child hood he has gathered 1,136 spoons — ¦ each spoon engraved with the mono gram of a different hotel, railroad or steamship company. His most treas ured single item is a spoon-scoop, once a useful table implement at the royal table in Siam. This trophy the man from Evanston filched from the royal board while he dined as a guest of the heir apparent, a Cambridge class-mate of his in England. Go Chicago Hints for Dog Days [continued from page 29] and in September (but look out for Labor Day), these one and two week trips through the Lakes are the answer to a midlander's prayer. On the Chicago, Duluth and Georgian Bay Line, and with the De troit and Cleveland Company one travels in very fine steamers indeed; attractive staterooms, fine food and good service. And it is not gush to rave about the majestic scenery. From here to Mackinac, on the Georgian Bay trip among those bewildering islands, along the shores of four Great Lakes is one of the most changeful short cruises one could get anywhere. The other prime inland water trip is the cruise of the St. Lawrence and the Saguenay on the fine Canadian Steamship boats. The only thing about this cruise is that one hates to go on with the trip when the steamer touches spots like Quebec, Montreal, the Thou sand Islands and half a dozen other ports where conviviality prevails. If you can stay over, the new Manoir Richelieu at Murray Bay makes an ideal stop. This hotel, the country about it, the people, from William Howard Taft, who genially fills the landscape nearly every summer, to the humblest native, everything about Murray Bay is unbelievably delightful. But if you have no time to take up summer residence you do get a chance for short visits at each port, and even a one week cruise bucks you up re markably for the return to the little gray home in the West. HINCKLEY & SCHMITT, Inc. 420 W. Ontario St. SUPerior 6543 34 TWE CHICAGOAN you forget sticky evenings in L'Aiglon's rooms, evenly cooled with crabflakes shivering on ice, cold meats and truffles quivering in aspic . . . you laugh at stormy nights in the friendly glow of L'Aiglon's pleasant tables ... before a golden broiled Pom- pano, a crunchy, tender young squab . . . no matter how the thermometer shifts or your mood changes . . . we rise to the occasion! Luncheon Supper Dinner Dancing j(Wm Twenty-two East Ontario Delaware 1909 CLUB AMBASSADEUR 226 East Ontario A distinguished night club implies a careful cuisine, a proper set ting, superior patrons, splendid entertainment for these, THE AMBASSADEUR. Dancing, of course BOOK/ Hunky" "Splendor of God" By SUSAN WILBUR GIS NOKTH MICHIGAN IN general the critic of art or of literature abhors something new al most as instinc tively as nature used to be said to abhor a vacuum. Though, fortu nately, with most new things it is possible to find that the ancient Greeks also did them, and when it is, the critic is at once at his ease. The classical case in point being, of course, Edgar Lee Masters1 Spoon River Anthology. As soon as Mr. Masters explained to them that he had got his idea for it from the Greek Anthology, the critics stopped bother ing him. But in the rare cases where he can't find that even the Greeks have done a thing before, the critic is quite likely to ask, and in a manner that implies a negative answer: Is it worth doing? At least one review so far of the book of the month club choice for July, Thames Williamson's Hun\y, has been based on this query. IT is not my intention to go back to Polyphemus and point out that Homer found it worth doing. Though if the classics weren't so unfashionable a quite edifying comparison might be made between Hunky and his way with flour sacks and the cyclops and his way with goats. Nor even to show that Jencic is after all only a hairy ape put to a cleaner and more funda mental profession, and stung to human ity not by a taunt but by the slow ferment of love. Nor to point out that other best sellers of the past year or so have in a way been first cousin to Hunky. Last year's Femina-Vie Heureuse prize novel, The Whisper of a K[ame, in which there is a beneficent giant who had been hit on the head during the war. The heroine of Fan nie Hurst's Lummox. The boy friend in Sylvia Townsend Warner's A True Heart. Though in my capacity as critic I must confess that the existence of these comparisons in the back of my mind does put me somewhat more at my ease in discussing a novel which does at first blush appear to be in a class by itself. Hun\y is a slow book, a cosmic book, the story emerging with the delibera tion of evolution itself, or the develop ment of consciousness in man. The slow rhythm of the week at the bakery. Flour sacks, sugar sacks, pails of lard. The pleasant walk home at dawn. Bread and cheese and onions from the drawer in the commode. Sleep. Then sunset, and another beautiful night's work at the bakery. A satisfying life, if it only weren't for Saturday night, when there are no lights in the bakery, no sacks, no smell of fresh bread com ing out of the ovens. Years and years of it, with perhaps only three times in all when the hero had had to bother to think. Then suddenly, a machine to take his place with the sacks. No job. Timeless days. Sleep. Whiskey. Bread and onions. Finally the land lady. Then a visit to the head baker and the gradual emergence of the desire for a wife, three children, a stove, and the smell of cabbage soup cooking on it. And so on. A cosmic book, and yet with every symptom of symbolic intent comfort ably covered by the realistic details of breadmaking on a large scale. THREE volume novels may no longer be the custom as they were back in the days of Henry Fielding, but we do still have, quite undeniably, the trilogy habit. And when Honore Willsie Morrow writes for two years hand running stories about Lincoln's life in the White House and when the third year her new novel is entitled Splendor of God, there is no doubt that you do in a way get your mind made up to hearing all about the as sassination. Only to find that the book is not about Lincoln at all but about Ann and Adoniram Judson, mission aries to Burma in the year 1813. For anyone who has never fallen under the spell of old missionary biog raphies — which probably includes most of us — Splendor of God is as unusual and as piquant a thing as he is likely TWC CHICAGOAN 35 fee-To*^ «A MP rink College Inn Tomato Juiee Cockto 11 IF THE golf ball ducks your swing and your game is a laughing stock — you need a bracer. College Inn To mato Juice Cocktail guarantees right feeling. Food shops sell it . . . drug stores serve it . . . College Inn Food Products Co., Chicago. Chicken a la King Welsh Karebit . Lobster a la Newburg ChopSuey . . Cream of Tomato Soup James L. Cooke & Co. JAMES L. COOKE DAVID A. BADENOCH MEMBERS NEW YORK STOCK EXCHANGE CHICAGO STOCK EXCHANGE CHICAGO BOARD OF TRADE ASSOCIATE MEMBERS NEW YORK CURB EXCHANGE DIRECT WIRE CONNECTIONS 231 S. La Salle St. Chicago CENtral 8200 CAVANNA Drapery and Curtain Works, Inc. 6S3-6SS Diversey Parkway CURTAINS Lace Curtains, Draperies, Fine Linens, Slip Covers and Blankets CLEANED EXCLUSIVELY Mending and Alterations 20 Years of Good Work and Service Calls and Deliveries Everywhere BITTERSWEET 1387 to find on all the lists of this very early fall season of ours. Fundament ally, of course, it is a tragedy. Fevers, loss of children, the early death of Ann, a general inability to make any impression upon Buddhism, even, at one time, the danger that Adoniram might himself become a Buddhist. Rangoon afloat on dismal marshes, and the execution ground just next door to their house. But a picturesquesness of vast yellow moons, and of Burmese lanterns that even Adoniram could ap- preciate, and a humor that was not beyond Ann; as for instance when, come to preach Christianity, they couldn't even put up a house without observing Buddhist principles in the choice of their teakwood props, nor get servants to work for them unless they hung a sort of god-cage, or nat-house, on their front porch and put cooked rice and silver offerings in it every so often. Armchair Entertainment Paper Houses, by William Plomer. $2.50. (Coward-McCann.) A criticism of Japan through the medium of a series of short stories, written by a South African who is rumored to be not more than twenty- three years old, and whose chief points of attack are the subjugation of women and the fact that the Japanese are given to committing suicide without sufficient cause. One lady, for instance, in the preface, — which shows her to be a real and not an imaginary lady — committed it because her husband's pet parrot got out of its cage. Awkward for a man to start for town of a morning expecting to come home for a nice hot dinner later on, and then have two things like that happen. Recommended nonetheless for the nov elette "A Piece of Good Luck," which is both a work of literature and a non-tea house picture of Japanese life. Paris Is a Woman's Town, by Helen Josephy and Mary Margaret McBride. $3. (Coward-McCann.) A suggestion for any woman with not less than sixteen days to spend in Paris: eight, that is, to shop in, and another eight in which to recuperate in the American hospital at Neuilly. Better still for those who mean to stay a lot longer and who need to know how to get a job, or an education, or choose a boarding house, or deal with the young men from various countries whom they are likely to meet at it. Also most edifying even for the reader who is not a woman and who isn't going to Paris, since it gives further details of the Lanvin sale as featured in Arthur Meeker's "American Beauty" and tells where your favorite movie star lives, eats, and gets her clothes, and where Sinclair Lewis is sometimes to be seen eating chicken Maryland. Yes, you can get corn on the cob there, too. Or in cases of extreme homesickness a banana split fol lowed by pork and beans. AL ST. JOHN featured in "She Goes To War," ONE OF THE WELL KNOWN MEMBERS OF the BETWEEN THE ACTS CLUB BETWEEN THEACTS LITTLE CIGARS The fellow who invented the big cigar didn't figure on the high-speed hustle of modern life. That's why "B.T.A's" stepped in. . . the 15* cigar in 10 installments. They're sized to fit your shortest smoking moment . . . and to save the waste of half-smoked cigars. Smoke 10 and see . . . It's worth 15«i to know how good these little cigars are. If your deal er can't supply you, mail 15<f (stamps or coins) for a package. P. Lorillard Co., Inc., 119 West 40th Street, New York, N. Y. Copyright P. Lorillard Company . . . Established 1760 WOOD is coining back to its own for Interior Decoration We Specialize in Producing Antique Effects Visit Our Studio Inquiries Invited KELLY INTERIOR CRAFTS COMPANY 905-11 N.Wells St., Chicago The hot dog is nutritive, abundant, unabashed. Now and then one even has a taste for hot dogs. Nevertheless the hot dog wagon seldom graces the grounds of a notable country club, even though it attends the public links. The wagon gladdens the bleacher fan; it ignores the attender of important polo matches. It makes a brave showing at the beach, a poor appearance at your snug roadside tavern. May we suggest a like consideration in the matter of mid-summer reading? One can, of course, read current and innumerable hot dogs. Or one can be sure of a witty and knowing mirror of the Town, an adult translation of city life, an urbane view of city people, a graceful and informed comment on the Town, as seen by its foremost artists and writers. That is, one can be a little more sure of being a steady reader of THE CHICAGOAN if one's subscription is entered while the hot dog analogy is yet in mind. The subscription price is three dollars the year Five dollars for two years The address is four-o-seven south dearborn The art of gracious living There are certain fortunate people who seem to be born with a flair for life ... an instinct for good clothes, good food, good books and good friends. . . . And almost invariably such people find their fullest enjoyment of these things in the company of a cigarette equally good ... so mild and rich and golden-mellow that it lends a new fragrance to the art of living. © 1929, R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Co., Winston-Salem, N. C.