August 17 1929 <3& Price 15 Certs (M«§@M] Reg. U. S. Pat. Off. PACKARD Now— more than ever! ASK THE MAN WHO OWNS ONE In 1928 in Cook County, Packard sold 1 out of every 3 cars listing over $2,000 in price. Placed bumper to bumper these Pack- ards would reach from the Art Institute to Evanston. Standard Eight Sedan $ 2 3 8 1 Custom Eight Sedan $3878 DeLuxe Eight Sedan $5884 Delivered in Chicago PACKARD MOTOR CAR COMPANY of CHICAGO Twenty-Fourth and Michigan BRANCHES LINCOLN PARK ¦ EVANSTON HUBBARD WOODS ECUICAGOAN j MARMON announces the appointment as distributor the Marmon Sales Company ... an organ ization of men long established and important in Chicago automobile circles Marmon, now in its greatest period of success, announces a new con nection promising greatly expanded Marmon activity in the Chicago territory. The new Marmon organization is the Marmon Sales Company, 2419 S. Michigan. George P. Miller, an important figure in Chicago motor circles, heads the new enterprise. Associated with him is L. J. Brady, also prominently identified in the territory, who serves as general manager ooococoocooooooooooooooocoooooooooooooocoooooooocccocccccccccoc Geo. P. Miller, Pres.. long and prominently known in the industry. Greatly expanded facilities for sales and service of Marmon and Roosevelt straight-eights are now offered Chicago motorists by the ap- pointment of the Marmon Sales Com pany as new distrib utors. The new com pany operates from three buildings easily accessible to each other : Retail Sales Head quarters, 2419 S. Mich.; Sales Display for used cars, parts, and general shop, 2420 S. Mich.; and Service Headquarters, 2425-27 S. Wabash, only a few steps away. Both Mr. Miller, who heads the or ganization, and his General Manager, L. J. Brady, are prominent automobile men. Until Mr. Miller retired from active busi ness he headed one of Chicago's most successful automobile concerns. However, as is so often the case with active men of his type, he rapidly tired of inactivity and cast around for a new association. We quote Mr. Miller: "Early this year I rode in a friend's new Roosevelt. I noticed its beauty, construc tion and performance, and was amazed that a straight-eight of this quality could be sold for less than $1000 f.o.b. factory. "I saw in this car the opportunity I sought. First, how ever, I investigated everything about Marmon — its plants, production methods, its human ideas about distribution — and I found an ex tremely satisfactory affiliation." Marmon is happy to announce its con nection with such a man and such an or ganization^ he has built around him. We feel that Marmon and Roosevelt owners, Marmon dealers, and all who come in con tact with the Marmon Sales Company can feel assured that they will be treated con siderately, courteously and fairly, always. L. J. Brady, General Manager of the new Marmon organization. 2 TI4 ECUICAGOAN tei STAGE Musical Comedy FOLLOW THRU— Apollo, 74 West Ran dolph. Central 8240. A lively and bouncing show in the Good News tradi' tion, this one is scrupulously reviewed by Charles Collins on page 23 of this issue. Curtain 8:30. Saturday and Wednesday 2:30. PLEASURE BOUND— Four Cohans, 119 North Clark. Central 8240. A hot weather tonic cheerfully decorated by Phil Baker, Jack Pearl, Eileen Stanley, Shaw and Lee. A tuneful romp behind the footlights, well worth tenth row or- chestra. Curtain 8:30. Saturday and Wednesday 2:30. Drama AFTER DARK— Woods, 54 West Ran dolph. Central 8240. The tintype of melodrama assisted by hisses, boohs, yo- dels from the audience. Well, it depends on how happy you feel. Closing soon. Curtain 8:30. Saturday and Wednes day 2:30. THE NUT FARM— Cort, 132 North Dear born. Central 0019. The best stage comedy now before the Town, and prin cipally because of Wallace Ford and his very able supporting cast. Curtain 8:30. Saturday and Wednesday 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 AHD 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. RIALTO— 3 36 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 CHIC AGO AN" PRESENTS— Polo, by Constantin Alajalov Cover Current Entertainment Page 2 To Dine and Dance 4 Editorially 7 Polo Comes to Chicago, by Peter Vischer 9 Night Harbors, by Francis C. Cough- lin 12 Poetic Acceptances, by Donald Plant 14 Streets of the Town — The Mid way, by Robert Pollak 13 Militarist, by Sid Hix 16 Town Talk 17 Birth Control, by Phil Nesbit 18 Beach, by Clayton Rawson 19 Carl Sandburg — Chicagoan, by Lloyd Lewis 21 The Stage, by Charles Collins 23 The Cinema, by William R. Weaver 25 Go, Chicago, by Lucia Lewis 26 Musical Notes, by Robert Pollak 28 The Chicagoenne, by Marcia Vaughn 30 Books, by Susan Wilbur 32 Art, by J. Z. Jacobson 3 5 CINEMA (Sec, also, page 25) The Squall: Alice Joyce in a never-to- be-forgotten speaking part. [Emphat ically.] This Is Heaven: Vilma Banky in noth ing important. [No.] The Office Scandal: Mostly silent and altogether dull. [Miss it.] Dangerous Curves: They're Clara Bow's and she'd better begin rolling. [Miss it twice.] The Black Watch: It doesn't tick. [Pass it by.] Divorce Made Easy: Perhaps by taking the lady to see this picture. [If so dis- posed.] The Wheel of Life: Around and around with Richard Dix and Esther Ralston. [Don't stop.] Fox Follies: Bigger and better. [If you go to Ziegf eld's.] The Rainbow Man: Eddie Dowling al most does an Al Jolson and almost as well. [If you prefer Eddie.] The Studio Murder Mystery: Best of the murder mysteries to date. [If you go for these things.] The Idle Rich: The solvent citizen gets a break. [By all means.] Innocents of Paris: Comedy-drama with songs and Maurice Chevalier to sing them. [It's a pleasure.] 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. 9:15 a. m. Ar. 12:45 p. m. Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:30 p. m. Twelve-passenger tri- motored planes. (No Sunday service.) MINNEAPOLIS— Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:50 p. m. Lv. 6:10 p. m. Ar. 10:40 p. m. Fourteen-passenger tri-motored planes. ST. PAUL— Lv. 3:00 p. m. Ar. 6:40 p. m. Lv. 6:10 p. m. Ar. 10:40 p. m. 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. 8:30 a. m. Ar. 12:30 p. m. Lv. 2:00 p. m. Ar. 6:00 p. m. Two and four-passenger cabin planes. * Central standard time. For reserva tions and information phone State 7111. All planes take off from the Municipal Air port, 63rd St. and Cicero Ave. TUECUICAGOAN Immensely Flattering are Stevens* New Furs Huge up-standing Collars that frame the face . . . great sleeves that flare out to meet the tiniest of round muffs ... or else, deep big cuffs that need no muffs at all! Such is the trend, as revealed in the new Coats in our August Sale of Furs. Add to this the ingenuous work manship and carefully selected beauty of Stevens' Furs, and you II have some idea of the interesting values being presented. <HAS*A*STEVENS»& + BRO$ 17 North State Street 4 TMECWICAGOAN \C* TABLES Downtown BLACKSTONE HOTEL— 656 South Mich igan. Harrison 4300. An unquestioned high point in cuisine and accommoda tion, the Blackstone makes for the better life in Chicago. August Dittrich is mai- tre d'hotel. STEVENS HOTEL— 730 South Michigan. Wabash 4400. Largest of the Town's hotels. The Stevens nevertheless is nicely adjusted to the individual guest. Roof garden dancing and promenade to Ralph Foote's band offer mild diversion until 2:00 a. m. Stalder is headwaiter. CONGRESS HOTEL— Congress at Michi gan. Harrison 3800. A show place — mildly — and convenient to the boulevard, with the added attractions of the Balloon Room plus Peacock Alley. A good Sat urday night. Gene Fosdick's band. Ray Barrette is headwaiter. PALMER HOUSE— State at Monroe. Randolph 7500. A very gracious inn, neatly served and tuneful to the leading hotel orchestra hereabouts. An intelli gent choice for luncheon. Muller is mai- tre d'hotel. BLACKHAWK CAFE— 139 North Wa bash. Dearborn 6260. A dancing place frequented by young and lively patrons, open late, agile, merry, and reasonably priced. It is not, however, too exciting. Dan Tully is headwaiter. COLLEGE INN— Hotel Sherman. Frank lin 2100. A downtown night place, well patronised, and heavy on entertainment. Patrons are apt to be a diverse group, with the consequent range from interest to hilarity, depending on your table. Braun is headwaiter. ST. HUBERT'S OLD ENGLISH GRILL —316 Federal. Wabash 0770. Impos ing English victual is here soothingly brought to the table. Superb steaks and chops and a most authentic atmosphere. Charles Dawell is proprietor. The clos ing time, 9:00 p. m. BREVOORT HOTEL— 120 West Madi son. Franklin 2363. American foods lovingly compounded and briskly served here make possible a profitable evening behind the napkin. Sandrock is maitre d'hotel. The Open Road SKY HARBOR PETRUSHKA CLUB— Sky Harbor, The Dundee Road, five miles out of Glencoe. A splendid re treat, which is treated at length by Mr. Coughlin on page 13 of this issue. VILLA VENICE— The Milwaukee Road at the Des Plaines River near Wheeling. Telephone Wheeling 8. A handsome night place — perhaps the most beautiful in America — is also considered by Mr. Coughlin on page 13. GARDEN OF ALLAH— -The Dempster Road. A lively place for rural diversion made pleasanter by excellent music. Not too far out. LIHCOLH TAVERN— Dempster Road. A [listings begin on page 2] friendly and informal roadhouse. Not too far out and neither aloof nor expen sive. A suitable dancing choice for hot weather. North EDGEWATER BEACH HOTEL— 5300 North at the Lake. Longbeach 6000. The Marine Dining Room cooled by the lake and very carefully served pulsates to the rhythm of Ted Fiorito's band. A dining and dancing selection extremely respectable and frequented by genuinely nice people. Friday night finds the col legians out in force and flannels. LAKESHORE DRIVE HOTEL— 181 Lake- shore Drive. Superior 8500. The Gold Coast here dines in its authentic environ ment. Worldly, alert, splendidly served. John Birgh is headwaiter. DRAKE HOTEL— Lakeshore Drive at the Boulevard. Superior 2200. Largest of the class inns, the Drake offers superior dining and dancing, good people and superior accessories. Jack Chapman's band. Dancing until 2:00 week nights, 3:00 Saturdays. BELMONT HOTEL— 3156 Sheridan Road. Bittersweet 2100. Convenient to the mid-north side, adequately served and staffed. The Belmont is a diner choice for the Sunday motorists. CLUB AMBASSADEUR— 226 East On tario. Delaware 0930. A late and lively resort catering to Townwise folk, Am- bassadeur bowls along under the knowing direction of Danny Barone. An excellent choice for night livers. Swell hostesses. Jimmy Noone's band. Ernie Hales headwaiter. CLUB ALABAM— 747 Rush. Delaware 3260. A late and knowing refuge, too. Southern and Chinese cooking. Enter tainers. And handsome hostesses. Until dawn or thereabouts. Gene Harris is headwaiter. LE PETIT GOURMET— 615 North Mich igan. Fashionable and exclusive, as such distinctions go, this restaurant offers a brave menu and dining at colorful tables out-of-doors. A star for the summer diner. TURKISH VILLAGE— 606 North Clark. Delaware 1456. At this place you give everybody but Aunt Emmy from Wichita a resounding break. Open until the milkman calls. KELLY'S STABLES— Rush at Austin. Delaware 2141. When louder night clubs are made, Kelly's will still be screaming well up the register. Loudest night club in the universe. Young, very informal, a show spot. Johnny Makeley is headwaiter. PEARSON HOTEL— 190 East Pearson. Superior 8200. Quiet and eminently proper, the Pearson is a splendid choice for dinner any Sunday evening, or any other time. FRASCATI— 619 Cass. Delaware 9669. An Italian restaurant pleasantly decorated and well seen to about the kitchen. RED STAR INN— H28 North Clark. Delaware 3942. A rosy and opulent Gasthaus tremendously served with Ger man viands at quaint tables, all under the beneficent eye of Papa Galleur, pro prietor. May we commend potted squab with red cabbage? JIM IRELAHD'S OYSTER HOUSE— 632 North Clark. A sea food emporium breath taking in range and outlook, laud ably insistent on sound cooking and am ple portions. Open until 4:00 a. m. A show place. Jim Ireland sees to tables in person. L'AIGLOH — 22 East Ontario. Delaware 1909. Mons. Teddy Majerus — though now in Europe — supervises L'Aiglon through the eye of Mons. Alphonse Ma jerus, who carries on the family tradition. Private dining rooms of all sizes. A fair band. Open late. J ULIENS— 1009 North Rush. Delaware 4341. The succulent frog leg and tender scallop here are offered up in sacrifice to good eating at tremendous tables. Table d'hote at 6:30 sharp. Telephone for reservations and forthcoming menu. Mama Julien presides. CAFE OLD STAMBOUL— 39 East Oak. Stamboul has lately become a night club which, so far, we have not inspected. We have faith, however, in Mons. Mosgofin, proprietor. RICKETTS— 2727 North Clark. An all night restaurant patronized by insomniacs from all over the city. South CAFE LOUISIANE— 1341 South Michi gan. Michigan 1837. A Creole eating parlor unsurpassed. Dancing, too, if you are so disposed. Open late. Jovial. The prudent diner orders a Louisiane meal a la carte after conference with Mons. Max, headwaiter, or with Mons. Gaston Alciatore, who is high priest in the Creole rite. SHORELAHD HOTEL— 5454 Southshore Drive. Plaza 1000. A thoroughly aware dinner choice anywhere on the mid-south side. A wide range of excellent food, perfect service. GUET SAM'S— Wentworth at 22nd. A Chinese hell. Very clean, quiet, lavishly served — altogether a wise choice for the diner who fancies Oriental dishes. WUN KOW'S, in the same block, is less showy, but it concedes nothing to Guey Sam's in the kitchen. A Bit Novel (Only individual taste is the touchstone for these.) FOO CHOW'S— 411 South Clark. Wa bash 8870. A downtown Chinese establishment, nothing to speak of in at mosphere, but extremely bland and in genious in the kitchen. A luncheon suggestion. THE REVENNA— Division at Wells. Hungarian in motif and menu, the Ra venna dispenses substantial victual and offers its own brand of music (usually) and entertainment which does well for the not too snooty taste. Say, 8 p. m. TWECUICAGOAN 5 The Celebrity - A Play Accompanied by a Slight Intrusion of Moral By S. WEATHERBEE ROADES DRAMATIS PERSONAE MR. SWOFFARD, a celebrity hunter. JAMES, an unpublished author. PAVEL, an unheard critic. TOMAS, who once had a poem in the Line. MRS. SWOFFARD, even more Zealous than her husband. ELISA, an artist (with a trade pa- per). HELENE, plays the viola. DOROTHY, dances when not asked. THE CELEBRITY, whose name is later found to be Joe Broccoli. The risen curtain discovers all gathered in the Swoffard home ex cepting Mr. Swoffard, who has gone to the drug store for refreshment and a dozen limes, and THE CE LEBRITY, who appears later. Con versation is very, very intellectual. Mrs. Swoffard: I do hope Mr. Swoffard has no difficulty getting the refreshment. He has been gone a frightful time. Pavel : Time? Time is nothing. We have discarded that illusion. Time is simply a relation of ob jects in space. It has no objective meaning. James: Indeed, I am thinking of discarding Time in my novel. Mrs. Swoffard (proudly to Doro thy): Our James has already discarded a setting for his book. It is to be a novel in the abstract. Helene: And there are to be no disturbing interludes of conversa tion, and no characters. Elisa: I would call James' Kosmos a character. Helene: The central actor of the book, surely, but not a character. The role taken by the being called Kosmos is to be unguessed, be yond reality, altogether amor phous. ..Kosmos cannot be imagined, seen nor felt — Elisa : That is why I shall some day paint Kosmos. It will be a portrait. Mrs. Swoffard (horrified): Why, the book isn't written. James doesn't dare trust it to the type writer until it is crystallised in his mind. Otherwise it would run away with him. Perhaps destroy him. You have no idea how dev astating the thing is. Every day, in his mind, James has been dis membering the universe. Think of that! James (resigned to his great tas\) : It is the risk we must take. Why, after all, should I pamper the uni verse? One must be hard. Enter Edwin Swoffard with a drug store bundle under his arm and The Celebrity a swarthy, unshaven fellow in tow. He is obviously enjoying a secret and overpowering triumph. He in troduces the newcomer. Mr. Swoffard: May I present Mr. Broccoli? It was a rare piece of good fortune that we met in the drug store. Mr. Broccoli was so good as to furnish me with some of his own gin. He has consented to join us tonight. My dear, Mr. Broccoli is — (he whispers radiant ly to Mrs. Swoffard). Mrs. Swoffard: Fm so glad you've come, Mr. Broccoli. (She whispers to Elisa.) Elisa: Not really. (She whispers to Tomas.) ToMAS: (Grown extremely cor dial.) Have a drink, won't you, Broccoli? The Celebrity: Here's a mud in your eye. (All applaud this sally.) Helene: You must lead a very in teresting life, Mr. Broccoli. Tell us about yourself. The Celebrity: Wall, sometima yes, sometima no. Wat da hell — - James: (To Pavel.) I tell you he is. She told me. (Much im pressed.) Pavel : Broccoli, won't you have another? There is so much to talk of we ought to get a bit of drink ing over first. The Celebrity: Sure Mike! James: I should like to discuss the setting for a novel with you, Mr. Broccoli? Fm working now in an abstract mileu. The Celebrity: Well, mcbbc. Mebbe you catch. Dorothy: Do you recall the— The Celebrity: I don't go to show. Oh, two, three time I see Clara Bow. Pavel: I wonder what your opin ion is, Mr. Broccoli, on that trans parent fraud, "All Quiet on the Western Front"? The Celebrity: No, I livaa on the north side. 1 800. Helene: And music, and the dance — The Celebrity: Too old. Notta for me. Mrs. Swoffard: ( After a confer ence with Mr. Swoffard.) I don't believe it. But are you sure he said he was — Mr. Swoffard: I'm certain I caught the name. Mrs. Swoffard: You do write, don't you, Mr. Broccoli? The Celebrity: Sure I write. Wat's this? A joke? Mrs. Swoffard: I — that is Mr. Swoffard — understood you were connected with a magazine. The Celebrity : (Expansively.) Thatsa right. Helene: You are editor then? The Celebrity: Wattsa matta you. Crazy? Sure I work onna magazine. I work circulation de partment for thisa wisa magazine, how you call? Tschicagoan! 6 TK9CUICAGOAN THE CHICAGO JOURNAL MOW ASSOCIATES ITS EDITORIAL ACTIVITIES AND LINKS ITS NAME WITH THE CHICAGO DAILY NEWS Its program and policies are entrusted to the management of Walter A. Strong, publisher of The Chicago Daily News, and his associates. As soon as it can be arranged the Journal reading family will be served by The Daily News from the great new pub lishing plant on Daily News Plaza. In associating its name and record with one of America's leading progressive newspapers the Chicago Journal be lieves that it is taking a significant forward step in the service of its readers. For eighty-five years the Journal has been an active con structive force in the growth of Chicago. Under its pres ent management it has been fair and just in the interpre tation of events. It has always aimed to build a newspaper that its readers may read with enjoyment, understanding and respect. The Journal will not lose this identity. The Journal is not abandoning its program. It is entrusting that pro gram to an organization admirably equipped to carry it forward to a successful conclusion. A number of the features that have made the Journal a favorite newspaper in 80,000 Chicago homes are to be continued. To these features will be added the many writers and de partments that make The Daily News the great home news paper of Chicago. Together they will constitute the most brilliant staff, the most complete program of reader service offered by any Chicago daily newspaper. The readers of the Journal have been loyal to this news paper and its program. We trust that you will agree with us that in this new association the Journal policies and traditions pass into friendly hands; that its program for the betterment of Chicago is to be given new power, new direction, by this arrangement with The Chicago Daily News. CHICAGO DAILY JOURNAL IT isn't often that one sees a first- class Portent in the sky nowadays. Celestial prophecies have gone out of fashion. The ancients were highly favored by mystic phenomena of nature. They were always being awe- stricken by Stars of Bethlehem, by the "exhalations whiz zing in the air," that foretold the death of Julius Caesar, by comets of the Plague Years. When they spoke of history, they said it with fire-works. But we moderns are weak in stellar auguries. Not even the Great War could produce one for us. The only supernatural manifestation of that affair, the miraculous Bowmen of Mons, was a fiction- writer's invention. All of which is prelude to the announcement that Chi cago had a Portent of the good old kind recently. This is exclusive news. It escaped the meteorologists; and the dailies missed it. But it was seen by this writer, who has a witness to support his testimony. It was such an em phatic Portent that at the sight of it he jumped like a startled horse. The time was 10:45 on the night of July 25. A thun der-storm had drenched the city and was drifting across the lake. The sky was a low, blank ceiling of cloud and mist. Suddenly, about 30 degrees above the horizon W. S. W., a circle of pale-green light dawned through the storm- wrack. It was about three times the size of a full moon, which makes it a Portent of record-breaking dimensions. It hung there for a few seconds, and then transformed it self into a rocket-shaped streak of Cooper-Hewitt phos phorescence, gliding northward parallel to the horizon. It progressed about 10 degrees and then faded out. Well, there you are. In scientific terms it was, no doubt, an abnormal expression of electrical energy. As a Portent, you may interpret it according to your own hopes or fears. Its meaning to the city at large, however, is quite clear. The globe of light stood for a baseball; and the rocket showed what happens after a lusty wallop by Rogers Hornsby or Hack Wilson. Its message was what every body knows: There will be a world's championship series at Wrigley Field in early October. ? ONE of the menacing aspects of our mechanical civili zation is that power has been made a plaything — often for fools. We have not yet, as a race, at tained the wisdom and self-control which justifies our pos session of demoniac energy, to be turned on by the touch of a lever for our amusement. Genius makes the machines, but dumbsters have easy access to them. Witness, for example, the tragic collision between two licensed joy-ride motor-boats at the mouth of the river. What need or what excuse was there for driving these roaring peanuts of the deep through a harbor at forty miles an hour? Water is an inelastic element which re sents being sliced asunder so violently by such insignificance. A boat cannot be steered like a car on an asphalt highway, and four-wheel brakes are still unknown in marine equip- Editorially ment. A little forethought would have saved the new water-taxi service this catastrophe. An engine has much horse-power, but no horse-sense. THE American Council of Learned Societies, an ex ceedingly august body of scholars, has announced a new quest into the field of Americana — a study of sectional dialects and accents. We have plenty of them in spite of our famous standardization. We may eat in chain-restaurants, drink in chain drug-stores and sleep in chain-hotels; but in our manner of speech we will never become chain-gangs. Language has always been non-con formist and creative. One wonders what the Learned Societies will locate as the Chicago accent. There are not many symptoms of its existence. The average Chicagoan cannot be identified by his pronunciation of certain word-forms. A brusque, somewhat hard-boiled vein of diction, staccato and vigor ous, is characteristic of the natives of this region; but we do not say "foist" when we mean first, or call a bird a "boid." Chicago has not yet bred its cockney class, like the East Side of New York. Nor do we speak out of the sides of our mouths like convicts, which is another Man hattan characteristic. They say that a Chicagoan can be detected by the burr that he puts into the letter R. But that is common to the entire Middle West, wherever early American stock is found. Moreover, there is no reason why the letter R should not be burred. It is in the alphabet to be used, not to be disregarded. Slurring the R is an accent; pronounc ing it in a burry manner is speaking the language according to its origins. The "oi" sound in the New York cockney twang is a corruption akin to that of the "ai" sound for the long A of the London cockney. It is a stigma of the slums. New York caught its "boids"' and "foists," no doubt, from the "Oy, oy" of Jewish immigrants. Many Jewish idioms are creeping into the talk of the cities. On the streets, among children and flappers, you can hear, as an exclamation of surprise or admiration, the phrase, "Is it !" for the older American "Isn't it !" or "Ain't it !" A generation ago we cried out, "Ain't it awful!" Now unruly youth chirps Jewishly, "Is it terrible!" The results of this research will be awaited breathlessly. The Learned Societies can't work fast enough for us; we want to know all about the American language, from Tallahassee to Walla- Walla. . . . Well, we'll have to wait. The Learned Societies say they will take ten years at the job. ? DING! Dong! Ding! Squads, attention! The glut tonous caterpillars of the tussock moth are raping hundreds of trees in Lincoln Park. Round up the park commissioners and ask them if they have forgotten that this city's motto is "Urbs in horto." TWE CHICAGOAN Inree xSl ew Xoreien (^ i oxmections I kjCandiaj JTariS, for whose creams and lotions we are the exclusive agents in Chicago. y^yCldXj -L/Ondon7 presenting its creams in Chicago exclusively through oaks- Filth Avenue. -*¦ OntCiniSj JTariS, Iamous lor perlumes ana cos metics which we exclusively introduce to our Chicago clientele. SAKS-FIFTH AVENUE CHICAGO THE CHICAGOAN Polo Comes to Chicago Lively Paragraphs on the Significance of the Current Matches FOR some decades the odd notion has persisted, in a vague sort of a way, that polo is a game played by eight reckless young men cursed by im moderate wealth and deplorable habits, a game so dangerous that in a short time all become maimed and wounded, their worthless lives practically extinct. The game was supposed to be fright fully complicated, with all sorts of pro hibitions and inhibitions, making it em barrassing alike to players and specta tors. By PETER VISCHER Editor of POLO Polo is an ancient game and I rather suspect that this curious idea was started back in dusty days before the Christian era by lonesome wives or harassed enemies of the crown. Chinese poets tell the stories of many an emperor who wouldn't attend to his dynasties, much to the disgust of his queen. And hoary Persian bards, probably with a weather eye on the gate, have many a spicy tale of the legendary Akbar, who played polo using the skulls of his ex tinguished enemies for balls. Be that as it may, Chi cago has learned long since (O \ that polo is the simplest game in the world, that four men in jerseys of faded red or blue are hitting the ball in one direction and four men in grimy white jerseys are hitting it in the other. Chicago has long since come to know that the game is far from blood-thirsty, its players men of retiring mien who stand in line to vote and, like as not, take dirty looks from their secretaries. Everyone knows that polo players miss the ball with the flat side of the mallet instead of hitting it with the end. And hilarious laughter shakes the nation ike an earthquake at the quaint thought that polo is played only by men of fabulous wealth. T1 the most cxJiilarating game in the zvorld" bold assertions will be made clearly appar ent, even to newspaper experts, when the inter- circuit championship tournament of the Unit ed States Polo Association, and with it the so-called Twelve- Goal Championship, is con tested at two of Chicago's most famous polo clubs this month. August 12 is the opening date, and the clubs, as everyone knows (or will know in just a second), are Onwentsia and Oak Brook. Eight or so teams will meet in competition. They come to Chicago from every section of the United States, which means that they will be thor oughly representative of the polo players of the land. They will be, as I have indicated, sportsmen and gentlemen representative of American life, who play polo not for gain or profit nor yet for any other motive save that polo is grand sport, the most exhilarating game in world. Perhaps I ought to explain briefly just what "Intercircuit" and "Twelve-Goal" mean, just to show how sim ple the whole thing is, 10 TWE CHICAGOAN and to make it clear that these tournaments are events of national importance in the world of sport, worthy of Chicago's honest attention. POLO only came to the United States in 1876, four years after the English picked it up from India. At first there was only a handful of players, mostly at New York and Newport and Buf falo. But, America being a nation of horse lovers, polo took firm root and grew very quickly indeed. Before long an association of players was formed, the United States Polo Association, and for convenience it was decided to divide its member-clubs into groups, or circuits, a mere matter of geography with a quick glance at the time-table. Now, the pinnacle of polo is Inter national Polo; this corresponds to the Davis Cup tournament in tennis. The event of the greatest importance na tionally is the Open Championship tournament, designed for the best teams in the country; this corresponds to the National Open in golf. The most important sectional events are the various Circuit Tournaments, one held each year in every one of the nine cir cuits outlined by the Polo Association. And when the winners of the various intra-circuit tournaments get together for a grand spree, what have you got? Magnolia. (My error, you've got an Intercircuit Tournament. Q.E.D.) When the winners of the nine cir cuits get together there is no such thing as quarter; these teams play hard and fast, go at top speed, and hardly even stop to take breath. Obviously, there can be no such thing as a handicap al lowance in the intercircuit, even should you come from, let us say, Antigo. This tournament is played, in the language of polo, on the flat. However, to make action doubly sure, and to give the players who come to the Intercircuit plenty of polo ac tivity, the Twelve-Goal tournament is played at the same time. This is an other tournament just like the Inter circuit, only with a handicap allowance. POLO players, you see, are handi capped just like golfers. They are rated arbitrarily from zero to ten; the best, and the chap's name is Tommy Hitchcock, the American International captain, is rated at ten goals. The others scale down. Just as most golf ers who read this are rated at 24 or 25, if they're lucky, so most polo play ers have an idea that a handicap of ten goals means that you ought to be worth ten goals to your side, or shoot that many goals if you've got your mind on the game, but that's the bunk; the rat ings are purely arbitrary, as if you de cided among tennis players that Henri Cochet was worth ten, Bill Tilden nine, Jean Borotra eight, George Lott seven, and your cousin minus two. Every player, then, has a handicap rating. And every team's handicap may be judged by adding up the in dividual handicaps of the members. TWt CHICAGOAN n Do that with the teams entered in the Intercuit and the Twelve-Goal and you will find that each of the teams entered is worth about twelve goals; this would be curious, perhaps a startling coincidence, except for the fact that no team of more than twelve goals is allowed to play in these tour naments. These events are for the great body of polo players, designed to spur them on to finer things, higher handicaps, so that some day they may be good enough to play in the Open Championship and be bounced around by Hitchcock, Winston Guest, Eric Pedley, Earle Hopping and other high ly-rated stars. I WON'T pretend to list the vari ous teams entered in these tourna ments; after all, programs do have a function. I might just say that the Midwick four, coming from California to play for the Pacific Coast, represents one of the greatest centers of the game, and one of the most important. The team from Boise has won a notable series of triumphs in the home coun try, and hopes to play for the Pacific Northwest. Meadow Brook comes from the East. Texas, a state of peculiar significance to polo as the birthplace of so many polo ponies, sends up the Wichita Falls team to represent the Southwest. A highly promising Army team, consist ing of four pretty tough hombres, comes from Fort Hoyle in Maryland to rep resent the Southeast. A newly-formed club, Purchase, which purchased the fine polo grounds of the Westchester Biltmore in Purchase, which is a town, represents New England. Another Army team, sure to be magnificent in its horsemanship, comes from Fort Leavenworth to show what polo is like in the Rocky Mountains. A team from Fort Benning represents the South. And the Central representatives are, of course, well known to all Chicago. Seriously, the playing of these Na tional tournaments in Chicago is some thing of which polo is very proud. For the first time in the history of the game has a National tournament ventured so far west of the Atlantic seaboard. Polo is proud that Chicago's rapid rise in the game, its magnificent fields and eager players, to say nothing of its unbounded enthusiasm, made the move not merely desirable but quite necessary. 12 THE CHICAGOAN Night Harbors A Consideration of the Clubs Petrushka and Villa Venice By FRANCIS C. COUGHLIN OUT North, after the city has spent itself in a weary fringe of brick and plaster too tired for further ad vance against the implacable vastness of the Illinois prairie, after a huddle of little unpainted country towns dim under naked street lights, after a suc cession of barbecue stands, each in its electric setting of bogus jewels, the level plain takes the easy mold of prairie ridge and hollow. The night sky is a screen against which is pro jected the sudden, startling gesture of airport beacons — each one a fantastic shaft of light, slow across the horizon, incredibly swift and dazzling as it lev els its beam to the eye. Thus the set ting for Sky Harbor Petrushka Club on the Dundee Road, say five miles out of Glencoe. INDEED, the gilded tower of Pe trushka supports a beacon of its own, the guiding light to Sky Harbor Air port. And one approaches on an auto mobile road scarcely to be distinguished from the parallel runway from which planes take off on the flying field. The approach is brisk, bare, untrammelled. The club building rises from the flat earth, a building finely proportioned as though cut by a steel die, designed with splendid economy of line and mass. Inside, one turns to the left and as cends a stair to the club proper, a dim room seemingly cut by the same die but decorated in soft, blending colors and vague in candle light from white tables. Stcherban's orchestra is nimble and knowing with a dance tune; the danc ers are a kind of moving frieze on the Petrushka stage which is alternately a diminutive theatre and dance floor. IT is a gay crowd at Petrushka. A crowd alert, worldly and knowing. A crowd which takes its pleasure grace fully, thoughtful to savor each mood and moment. There is nothing hectic, nothing blatant, nothing raucously over done. Which is only to say that of all night places Petrushka summons the most distinguished clientele. Night af ter night its tables cater to the people whose names are news. One starts to the whirr of an air mo tor outside. It is a flying party back from a hop-off; an air trip is among the available entertainments at Sky Harbor. The party comes up to its tables. The orchestra concludes a dance piece, does a roll of drums and a crash of cymbals. There is a quiet instant before the Petrushka show. Khmara, Master of Ceremonies, makes a brief little speech of announce ment. He presents the artists, explains the nature of the entertainment (for a good many offerings are in French or Russian) and the show is smoothly un der way. A Petrushka show is a sing ing show with, occasionally, an inter polation of the heel bobbing Russian dance. There is nothing of the bur lesque house or beauty queen at mosphere about it. Stagings by San- karjewsky are excellent, stage direction, by Tamiroff and Kinsky — who is also chief servitor — is carried off with a dash and naivete at once rousing and beguiling. natjiaM^U THE CHICAGOAN 13 Just now, Deloff, the basso, lifts up his voice to fill the club. He sings The Flea in response to loud requests for that animal, a creature called blaha in Russian. Very ably in lavish pan tomime and in fine voice Deloff re counts the adventures of this humble blaha to draw a great hand. Mons. Claude Avrey, late of Parisian musical comedy, does his stint. He draws a round of cheers. Stcherban, the violinist, obliges with a number. He is obliged to repeat for an encore. There is a gypsy song finally by a grouped chorus, fine virile rhythm and a lifting finale. The lights switch on. Stage curtains whisk back on a cleared stage and dancers take up their steps. From the balcony one may inspect the flying field. The balcony is best say from seven until eight o'clock while the sun steeps the whole western sky with a prairie sunset. After the bal cony, a dinner, which is the noble handiwork of Colonel Yaschenka, formerly a military railroader under the Romanoff eagles and now a cook. It is so that one starts a proper evening at Sky Harbor. But by all means inspect the private club room on the third floor of Pet rushka, if only to see the decorations. The room is tall to a blue ceiling. A single light fixture, like some part of an airplane, lights it. Drapes are im mensely long, crossed with irregular bars of cloud blue. It is a triumph for Kaissarof, the artist who decorated all of Petrushka. It is altogether splendid. The room, incidentally, may be had for private parties. Generally speaking, Petrushka is a private club. That is, regular visitors have taken out membership cards — one to the party — at $11 each. One day guest cards, however, are to be had. And nice people vouched for either in appearance or by friends are readily admitted. The disagreeable leaven of hoodlums — too often inevitable at night places — does not vex Khmara at Petrushka. For one thing, Khmara confides that vulgar celebrants no mat ter how prosperous do not feel at home amid selections from French and Rus sian opera. For another thing, vulgar celebrants are decidedly ill at ease amid a preponderance of gracious and dis criminating people. It is best — though a trifle impolite, to be sure — to take leave of Petrushka while there is singing from the stage. Such leavetaking holds in the memory. The deep voices of men in chorus. The flaring light of candles. The dim walls in rich color. The waiters in vivid silken blouses, stalwart and atten tive. Guests scrupulously groomed, altogether at ease in a pleasant world. There you have it. 'Phone for reservations. THE Milwaukee road to Wheeling and across the Desplaines is just now undergoing repairs. ..It is easily passable and wholesomely free of racing lunatics. It is not too littered with hot dog stands and barbecue stations. And it affords ready access to the most beautifully situated road house in America. Villa Venice is at Milwau kee road and the Desplaines River. Villa Venice is lavishly laid out. A spacious dining room and its adjoining porticos will seat 800 guests. Decora tions and lighting by the Eastman Brothers Studios are flawlessly in ac cord with the grounds. The grounds, as we have said, are unrivalled. A handsome formal garden bordered by the lazy Desplaines is a cool and lux urious haven the hottest night. The wide porticos of the villa itself, the open dining room, tables on the soft lawn — all these things soothe the city-weary spirit and lap it thoroughly in grateful luxury. For Villa Venice is done to scale — not the modern scale unap- proached in precision, unity and defi nite singleness of purpose, but a kind of translated 18th century scale, easy, rococo, ample and with space to spare. If this be counted too high praise for landscape gardening, then the writer most earnestly advises skeptics to take the Wheeling road and see for themselves. The Villa is at its best, not at sun set, but some time after dark. Don 14 THE CHICAGOAN Bulletin "Aw, g'wan — there never was a fish that big" Bigelow's band is a lively band; it launches into late music with admir able bounce and gusto. It discourses blues and fox trots. It discovers sing ing talent among its young gentlemen. It is merry, and modern, and very hey-hey generally. It is up and doing, with a heart— so to speak — for any skate. So is musical comedy selected under the eye and ear of Albert Bouche. It is run off briskly and to a rapid change of scene and manner. A dance team, a tenor, a Mexican dance, an Oriental dance, a street carnival, a romping finale in the American musical comedy manner. These are picked at random from the long program. The show over, one may wander outside to the much mentioned garden pondering meanwhile on the admirable taste of Mons. Bouche, owner, proprie tor and moving spirit of the Villa, in assembling the various delights of Venice out of seemingly incongruous elements which blend so happily. It is somewhat as if the court of Louis Le Grande Monarque should find itself enlivened, after a proper dosage of chamber music, by a nimble musical show. Were this observer present on such mythical occasion, he would raise a hearty cheer even though it entailed a ride to the guillotine. People at the Villa are young danc ing people for the most part. The floor is wide beyond the most ambitious dreams of a night club architect. It is cool. It is perfectly kept. Service is good and not too obtrusive. It is diffi cult to imagine the Villa crowded unbearably. Prices are extremely rea sonable considering the quality of en tertainment. There are no formalities of admission. And Mons. Bouche is a gracious host, indeed. Let a word, too, be said for that ad mirable headwaiter, Johnny Itta. He is solicitous, mild mannered, a most com petent judge of good tables. And last, may we mention the garden? Well, call Wheeling 8, if you don't believe it! [NOTE: Mr. Coughlin's fort nightly summary of the Town's prin cipal cafes and restaurants — urban as well as rural — is published on page 4 of this issue.] The Day After 11 Duce Takes Uj> Golf ROME. — Benito Mussolini has been bitten by the golf bug to the extent of watching some experts from the U. S. A., with Irish and Italian blood in them, play the game. He attended a match in which Johnny Farrell and Gene Sarazen took part. The duce shot some at Gene and waggled a club. — Associated Press. 1 — No player shall take more than 1 5 waggles. 2 — "Fore" shall not be cried harshly. 3 — The penalty for driving into players shall be something terrible. 4 — There shall be no penalty for 3Ut-of -bounds or lost ball. 5 — "Rough" and sandtraps shall be eliminated; there shall be no bad lies. 6 — There shall be no alibis in the locker room. 7— Caddies shall be respectful in manner and thought. However, the true fascist will carry his own clubs. 8 — II Duce's handicap shall be 24 strokes and he will make any necessary revision thereof. 9— The honor of II Duce shall be :onceded without question. 10 — Previous orders on the subject of strong language shall not apply on golf courses. 1 1 — It will not be necessary for any fascist to keep the head down — b. f. s. Poetic Acceptances Robert Frost Accents the Chair of Emersonian Philosophy, Creative Farming and Rustic Psychology At University. My quatrains with their two long lines will say for me That I accept, And there's a chair that I would be adept At filling, and I hope there's room for me. I shall be done with apple picking soon, So when my winter wheat begins to sprout And the cows are out I'll leave my elves and gnomes and start at noon. If, in addition to my other labors, You will appoint me fencing master, too, I shall accept. Don't mind me if I do Say again, "Good fencers make good neighbors." — DONALD PLANT. THE CHICAGOAN 15 The Streets of the Town The Midway ALMOST every year in Mandel Hall i\ the hermaphrodite chorines of Blackfriars sing a song about the Mid way. It is usually a waltz tune, smack ing slightly of "Little Annie Rooney." On the first refrain the stage fills up with bustles, checked pants, and brown der bies, a hodge-podge of the authentic costumes of the mauve decade. And the alumnus, other wise slightly weary with the peregrinations of the usual musical comedy book, realizes suddenly that the traditions and the living presence of the famous Midway plais- ance are very closely bound up with the life of the University. To him who dwells on the verge of this long strip of grass and as phalt it comes as a shock ing paradox that, because the Midway was, thirty- six years ago, a street of raucous carnival, it has bequeathed its title for ever and ever to the bally-hoo alley of every tent show since the World's Fair, and outside Chicago the word suggests a little universe of fat ladies, snake charmers, and hula dancers whose curi ous qualities are shouted to the gaping audience in the strident tones of the barker. NO vision could be in greater con trast to the quiet serenity of the long plaisance stretching from Taft's Fountain of Time to the masonry of the Illinois Central elevation. The gaudy makeshift of the City White has fled the earth leaving behind the stately and dignified Gothic of Harper and Classics gazing at a little world held in the kindly embrace of the long thoroughfare. We travel down the north side. Here is the Eleanor Club almost smack against the side of the I. C. embank ment. Here dwells the far-from-down- trodden working girl, gazing a little wistfully maybe at the leisurely co-eds By ROBERT POLLAK to the west, but alert and trim enough on the express platform every morning. Next the Hotel Del Prado, home inter mittently of Michelsons, Breasteds and Meads, friendly alike to old ladies sun ning themselves quietly on the long porches and to the stalwart elevens, nines and fives which annually inyade the precincts of Bartlett Gym. Then the worn dirt and cinder of the Uni versity High School track and field, alive from nine to six with sand-lot ball games, with the little figures of future Eckersalls and Des Jardiens. The dilapidated Emmons Blaine, stretching gawkily from Kenwood to Kimbark, housing schulers of all ages and sizes, from nursery school tots to the bustling graduates of the School of Education. And in the next block the atmosphere becomes more definitely collegiate. The Midway occupies itself with the prob lem of the snarl of traffic at Wood- lawn. An occasional flivver, blazoned with wise-cracking legends, takes a fender or a headlight from an enemy Buick. Shiny Chryslers full of Mortar- Boards, Quadranglers and even the am biguous non-club gals (God bless them) pull up at the curb of Ida Noyes Hall. Inside, the ladies are only dimly aware of sumptuous Tudor, fine tapestry, and the magic of old oak as they chew at a cafeteria lunch. But the Midway never loses consciousness of the dignity of neighboring Quadrangles. Although it is never stiff it is always a little proud. Across Woodlawn is the grand Goodhue Chapel, one of the finest products of American architects. It stares intently out across the Midway and under stands its affinity with the famous plaisance. The President's House, so soon to be the home of the phenomenal Hutchinses. The worn- stones of Foster Hall that have heard for at least a quarter of a century the tears and giggles of dor mitory gals. Then down the line to the new hos pital, the twin towers of Harper, the Gothic build ings assigned to the spirit of Romantic and the Classic. At the end of the procession the mod ern hospital with its huge set-backs, dangerously close to the squalid purlieus of 58th and Ingleside. THE University wisely means to bind the Midway in a close clasp. The cost of property between Bartlett and Harper has forever obliterated the cozy expanses on the campus itself. Sleepy Hollow, that paradise of loafing places, is gone but not forgotten. The City Grey, given enough time and money, will rear itself to the south as well as to the north. Now the south side of the Midway is a conglomerate mixture. A row of shops near the I. C. tracks. The glaring sign on the St. George asking maybe for some friendly dragon. The little hotel where Clar ence Darrow used to live. A pictur esque church. A polo field where occa sionally the mounted figures of tur- baned Indian graduates are to be seen. The long, low studio of Taft. An imi tation Gothic apartment hotel at Drexel and a Socony station, doing its own small bit to maintain the Rockefeller .16 THE CHICAGOAN fortunes that have helped make the University. When we were a freshman reporter on The Daily Maroon, Lorado Taft told us about his plans for the Mid way, how he proposed to fill the old lagoons again, build ornate bridges across them and line the broad walks with the pompous statues of America'? areat ones. It occurs to us now how ghastly this decoration would have been- Because the Midway today has more of timelessness than the famous Fountain of Time. This row of merg- ing figures only sheds its aesthetic beneficence across Cottage Grove Avenue. The Fountain is a little too aloomy for the warm spirit of the plaisance. THE Midway, despite the fact that it is part and parcel of University life, extends a welcome to all. On winter nights the skaters cut figure- eights on its broad rink. The golden lights of Harper are dull enough to satisfy loving couples parked snugly in sedans along 59th Street, safe from the intrusion of pornographic cops of Jack son Park. In summer the sweaty, cheerful mob from the two neighboring parks overflows the sward of the Mid way. In the daytime they play mildly at lawn tennis, or practice mashie shots. Babies, with their particular immunity from flying golf and tennis balls, chuckle and crow in the arms of the Midway. A mill-worker from Gary spills his family out on the grass and mends the tire on the Ford. Lean, blonde young men in sweat shirts and trunks, lope idly by, gazing intently into a vista of intercollegiate track meets and Varsity letters. When sun down comes there is no let-up of scur rying vehicles that race madly through the red and green lights of the two central drives as if foolishly anxious to escape a place of rest and peace. The population of the Midway dwindles ex cept for the streaming arteries of motor traffic. In the dark we forgive the plaisance its mild sentimentality. Smart members of the class of 1932 are a little awed by the majesty of the nearby buildings. They shamefacedly hum the Alma Mater. They would sing the words if they knew them. They are not averse to holding hands and they prefer the soft turf under their feet to the macadam walks where the street lights twinkle the brightest. Under the big trees in front of the Library they have lost, girls and boys alike, the flip pancy that is father to "Joe College," Clara Bow's movie universities, and the gilt undergraduates of Warner Fabian. And although they don't quite under stand why, they like it. Urban Pastimes Running the Lights GENTLEMEN given to games of hazard and chance have long availed themselves of the temptation afforded by Loop stop lights. Can a pedestrian, starting, say, at the bridge, win to Congress street with out halting for the red signal? There have been differences of opinion in the matter. Some of them genuinely costly. Whatever the wager, the achievement is a feat requiring a calm, calculating mind and an agile stride. However, when a fragile and inno cent young lady recently informed her escort that she had walked from one end of the boulevard course to the other without once pausing for a light, the young man took heart. At the first light he sprinted. At the second he lagged. Midway he be came confused and was brought up sharply by a crimson circle. Finally he turned in his jaunt with two stops — a very good record, by the way. "Why," exclaimed the fair pedes trian, "I didn't mean exactly that I wasn't stopped along the way. You see, when the light went red I'd just look in the shop windows, and — " The reply of the boulevard athlete remains unrecorded. — G. E. P. "I tell you this Kellogg idea is all right, Jerry— these militarists ought to be sat upon good and plenty" THE CHICAGOAN u TOWN TALK Revolution WRECKERS have for some time been busy with the gal lant old Casino Club always aloof at Delaware Place and the Drive. At this writing the Casino is as badly cut up as the Alamo. Its facade trembles. Soon it will have vanished altogether. Only a brave shell remains, feeble pro test against the new, vulgar haste of the upper avenue. But the Casino's wreckers have added insult to injury. During work ing hours its violators are soberly about their business of bringing the building to the dust. At noons, however, and after hours, they seek relaxation in im promptu baseball games. These games are conducted with vast indecorum on the once chaste tennis grounds of the vanishing structure. Parade SOME things even the most alert observers cannot miss. Be he ever so wary he comes on them in such fashion that he can neither ignore nor escape. Item, the recent pajama pa rade which trammelled the boulevard at 10 o'clock. We arrived inadvertently; we stayed because we could not force through milling traffic. And — to make a clean breast of the business — we peeked now and then at the paraders. (There were four of them.) But mostly we talked to a taxi driver who was likewise hindered by traffic. The driver, amiable fellow, discoursed on the heat, the Cubs, peo- ple-who-would-look-at-anything (here wc curbed a wayward glance) and newspaper photogs, who, according to the driver, were merry fellows and regular devils for fast riding in cabs. The pajama parade itself, our narrator explained, did not please him. Still, he did not attend for pleasure but for commercial reasons. He had thought more paraders would appear, and paraders, to him, represented just so much profit. "You see," he went on, "after these fellows parade they'll be ashamed to go home in pajamas. Why, I may be able to pick up a fare to Oak Park." Fortnight TO cross the continent one and two- thirds times in two weeks totals up mileage to comprise a sizeable fort nightly jaunt. But to spend 10 leis urely days of the fortnight in Cali fornia sets, so far as we know, some thing of a record. Mrs. Howard L. Willett left New York July 22 for Los Angeles on the air line inaugurated by Col. Lindbergh on July 8. She spent 10 days seeing coast gardens. Taking plane for Chi cago, Mrs. Willett was back to her roof bungalow at 230 Lincoln Park West well within the allotted 14 days. Complex E have noticed that department store delivery truck men have an inferiority complex, whereas bold lads who man the shop trucks have not. It's this way: Delivery men from de partment stores, Field's, Mandel Broth ers', Stevens', Carson Pirie's and others, call at the back doors of the larger apartments with their packages; while the delivery men from the smaller stores, Shayne's, Finchley's, I. Miller's, Capper's and so on, all use front door bells, regardless of "Deliver All Goods to the Rear" signs. They all act un der order, we suppose. After all, it might as well be the one door as the other. The maid or housewife is just as apt to be in the front part of her apartment as in the rear. Truck IT comes to this : You drive too sexm after drinking, and eventually you hit a truck. This thorem had just been resoundingly demonstrated by a colored boy at the wheel of his lavishly col legiate Ford when a cop came. The crash had provided a crowd. There were explanations. First, the driver hadn't seen the truck because it had been going his way. This excuse the cop vitiated by a grandiose ges ture toward the hulking, red vehicle which had been struck. Second, the culprit averred that the truck had stopped suddenly in his path. The truck driver apostrophized the Trinity to maintain that he had not stopped until after he had been hit. The driver wet his lips and began again the law drew forth his well thumbed arrest pad. The motorist's lady friend nudged him, whispered and giggled. The driver looked. He turned to the offi cer with a mitigating plea, "Sho," lie observed, "it ain't only a truck load o' near beer." It is painful to record that the. arrested proceeded. Sport PARK boards have long pointed with pride to sports in progress in their different domains. Lincoln Park com missioners will tell you, for instance, that their park boasts of two lagoons for boating, tennis courts, a golf course, several casting piers and facilities, at 18 THE CHICAGOAN least one bathing beach, boating accom modations and a bridle path. But there is at least one form of social activity now in full swing on the park prop erty about which the commissioners have, presumably, not been informed. It's open air auction bridge. On Sunday afternoon when the picnic activities for the week are in their hey day, when every tree shelters at least one family group with its baskets of sandwiches and apple pie, one can observe bridge tables set up in the same leafy retreats or else set up somewhere under the bright sky — a game in progress that takes no heed of the elements nor pass ers-by. Equipment, of course, has to be brought from home in an automo bile, but no true bridge player is thereby daunted. Tables appear, and folding chairs for four players and cards and score pads. Nor are the confines of the park the only place where the game is taken out of its usual indoor habitat. On the beach walk of the Edgewater Beach Hotel the game is played on little iron tables lin ing the water's edge, where the wind, if it is proverbially playful, cheerfully kibitzes a four spades hand. Crusade THE other afternoon Clark street wayfarers were treated to a rare display of arms. A half dozen men strolled on to the dingy thoroughfare bearing war cutlery. It might have been an antique shop of armorer's stock being moved. Possibly Shriners or Knights of Pythias or the Temple were trying to work up a parade. At any rate bladed weapons were carried in the arms or on the belts or shoulders of the strolling six. There was a cutlass, several sabres, a pike, something that might have been a halberd, dirks, foils, scimitars, broadswords and several other weapons we didn't recognize. The rear guard was a little fellow who trudged along bearing proudly the burden of a great, two-handed claymore, fully six feet long. There weren't any stilettos, we noted, and we were sorry. Nor was there an escort of policemen. And, so far as a prudent inspection might disclose, there seemed to be no modern weapons. Hussy THAT women's clubs and police men are quite right in contending that bathing beach morals can be left pretty much to themselves is our grudg ing conclusion after an incident on Oak Street Beach last week. A bookish young lady, primly clothed, seated herself on those chaste sands and lit a cigarette. She read and smoked unmindful of her surroundings. Three women lay near her taking a thorough down-to-the-waist sun bath. The smoker did not please them. In fact, the largest of the reclining ladies sat up in extreme indignation. Her "Oh Ma, Maaa — here's the birth control lady" THE CHICAGOAN 19 'Obey, Myrtle — see you in ten minutes, over by the fat woman propriety found high, accusing voice. "Will you look at that?" proclaimed the outraged purist. "Shameless thing to smoke here on a public beach before little children! I shouldn't wonder at a fellow's getting fresh with her type. Mark my words, she'll some day be insulted good and proper!" Death CEMETERIES, it seems, are unde sirable neighbors. Nobody loves a burying ground. The moment a new one is proposed, owners of adjacent property take steps to head it off. In view of the difficulty of finding suitable sites, therefore, an eminent realtor was pardonably jubilant when he located a tract he thought would be injunction and prejudice proof. It was a proper distance from town, on a nicely surfaced road, across from a golf course. The nearest neighbors were far away and made no protest when in formed of the project. It looked rosy - at any rate it looked promising. The realtor is a fast worker. In no time at all he had built an artistic mausoleum and had subdivided his gar den spot for future residence. Custom ers were to be provided by Chicago Greeks, a colony long needful of a rest ing place. Everything was set. Then, one evening about eight o'clock, the realtor got a phone call from a friend. The friend had a friend who belonged to the golf club opposite the new cemetery. "Ed," said the friend of the friend, "I hear the Club is going to put the hat on your graveyard." "No!" exclaimed the realtor. "That's news. What's the plan?" "Injunction," said Bill succinctly. "They're going to court first thing in the morning." The realtor wasted several seconds in voting himself the most oppressed individual in Illinois — profits shot, im provement and landscaping work shot, twenty thousand dollar mausoleum shot. Then he went into action. He 'phoned the Greek colony; he 'phoned all his friends; he 'phoned the morgue. The message was the same to all: supply me a dead Greek, no mat ter how, at once! Everywhere through the night his cohorts searched for the imperative dead Greek. There were none to be found. Greece, it appeared, bred dis tressingly virile sons. About midnight, however, the real tor received a death announcement. He unclenched his teeth, gave various orders. Several hours later an elabo rate funeral procession wound its way toward the new graveyard through the gray dawn. With all proper rites, a brother was lowered into place. A stone, handsomely donated by the real tor, was set up. The new grave was sealed. Next morning in court the realtor's lawyer faced the golf club's lawyer and listened blandly to the latter 's request for an injunction against the cemetery. "The injunction can't be granted," was the gist of the realty lawyer's legal phrasing, "because the cemetery is ten anted." "It's what!" demanded a club mem ber who had trailed along. "It's occupied. People are buried in it." "Impossible!" said the member. "I was there last evening, and it wasn't 20 THE CHICAGOAN occupied then." "Well, it is now," was the calm re ply. "Poor Gus was interred this morning. It's all very sad, very sad." "Case dismissed," said His Honor. Traffic THE first traffic menace to attract citywide attention and sage dis cussion in Chicago newspapers was the bicycle tieup of both Madison Street and Grand Boulevard every blessed eve ning from five o'clock until six. That was in the 80's, when the cycling craze Zoomed highest. The wife of a prominent man on Ashland Boulevard, who very often found herself homeward bound behind a coachman and a pair of trotters, wrote to the newspapers to complain about the manner in which office work ers, homeward bound on their bicycles, filled Madison Street after five o'clock. "One has not the heart," she wrote, "to drive right in among these cyclists, for the horses' hooves and the carriage wheels might surely injure someone, yet if one does not do just that thing carriages must wait at cross streets sometimes for a full half hour, until the first rush is past." Grand Boulevard presented a similar vexation, for traffic regulation was not then, alas, the infallible science it is now. Cyclists were a problem to all vehicular traffic, even in the ordinary channels of travel, for they wheeled in and out rapidly, generally under foot, so that drivers of fast buggies and road wagons were in continual fear of collision and upset for the pesky vehi cles. So many loop workers rode bi cycles to work in the morning that the city found it necessary to draw up parking regulations. Grand Boulevard in the 80's was the grand promenade of the city. Driv ers of fast trotting horses used to race each other on the way to town from the Washington Park track, then at its fashionable zenith. The parkway down the center of the boulevard made a fine speedway, and young bloods of the Town set their buggy horses against each other to such effect that fashion ables turned out to watch the informal devilment. An old lady who used to live in a mansion on Grand Boulevard in those days says she has counted 300 carriages and horses pass her windows within a few minutes after the races at Wash ington Park, the outer roadways jammed with trotting horses of the bloods coming home from the day's sport, the inner parkway alive with the faster traveling equipages of the sporting fraternity itself, showing off horses by reckless bursts of speed. Around, over, under, and beside this horseflesh, the scorching cyclist turned in his nimble 15 miles per hour. The city fathers passed a law. F eh city ANEW building in the Town is i named more or less immediately by volunteers in providing public phraseology. Often enough the final name is long sought after until exactly the right caption sticks. The latest phrase, high in felicity and a bit tart in architectural criticism, finds lodgment against a black-and-gilt tower on Michigan Avenue. The tower is simply, "The Carbon Mon oxide Building." The Tribune editorial board ponders May Time's triple-starred approval of a Hearst motion-picture THE CHICAGOAN 21 CHICAGOAN/ Last of the Troubadours HP HE best singing Carl Sandburg t ever did was at the dinner Morris Fishbein gave for Sinclair Lewis, about four years back. Lewis had just come back from England, and Fishbein had assembled the local authors and critics to meet him — a score of guests or so — quite an affair. Everybody but the distinguished guest was talking about the British baronetcy that Lewis had turned down, and Ben Hecht got to calling him "Sir Red" on account of that and his red hair. To add to the whoop-de-doodle, James Weber Linn got himself jumped on by Lewis for some things he had said about Main Street, and Hecht immedi ately sided with "Sir Red" and at tacked Linn on the flank. Some of the other young rebels joined in, accusing Linn of conservatism in literature, and for a good hour Professor Weber was a verbal Doug Fairbanks, fencing with a dozen swordsmen all at once on a narrow stair, and doing a gallant job of it, too. The hullabaloo grew general. DOWN at the very end of the table, opposite the host, sat Chicago's biggest literary figure, Carl Sandburg, behind his hair and his stogy. Every once in a while Carl would shoot in a remark like a Virginia sharpshooter in leather pants, stepping out from be hind a hickory tree to plug a Tory, then stepping back to load his muzzle- loader again. At length Fishbein, to keep his table cloth from being bitten, asked Carl if he'd sing. Somebody brought a guitar and the iron-jawed Swede stood up and, in that soft, don't-give-a-damn way of his, sang The Buffalo S\inners. " 'Twas in the town of Jac\sboro, In the spring of seventy- three , A man by the name of Crego Came stepping up to me Saying, 'How do you do, young fellow, And how would you li\e to go And spend one summer pleasantly On the range of the buffalo?' " Everything got quiet as a church, for it's a great man's-song, all about starva tion, blood, fleas, hides, entrails, thirst and Indian-devils, and men being cheated out of their wages and killing their employers to get even — a novel, By LLOYD LEWIS Carl Sandburg Sketched by Peter Koch an epic novel boiled down to simple words and set to queer, haunting music that rises and falls like the winds on Western plains. I've heard the discov erer of the song, John Lomax, of Texas, sing it, but never like Carl sang it this night. It was like a funeral song to the pioneer America that has gone, and when Carl was done Sinclair Lewis spoke up, his face streaked with tears, "That's the America I came home to. That's it." Most of the other guests were swal lowing hard, too, and everybody was sort of glad when Keith Preston piped up to break the spell. Keith nodded his head at Lewis and said, "Kind hearts are more than coronets." They all laughed at that, Lewis, too, and Sandburg went on to livelier songs. It was the first time a lot of supposedly well informed men knew Carl as any thing but a poet and newspaperman. As a matter of fact he'd been singing for eight or nine years on the platform from Coast to Coast, filling all the en gagements he could handle, and at the time he was busy with engagements that netted him $250 a throw and all expenses. Later on he published his American Songbag and all the writers and critics knew about his singing, but to this day few of them seem to realize that the man is at his greatest with a guitar in his hand— undeniably a com plete and independent artist. CANDBERG may not be a great *J singer, but his singing is great. That night, leaving Fishbein's, Harry Hansen kept saying, "He's a great, great artist," and somebody said, "Who, Lewis?" and Hansen said, "Sandburg! Sinclair Lewis is great, too, of course, but Sandburg can sing." But even Harry never wrote about Carl's singing as he did about Carl's poetry and prose. Neither has any body else. I could never understand why. The man's voice is heavy and un trained — he never had but three vocal lessons and they were from a choir singer in Galesburg, Illinois, long ago — and all his accomplishments on the guitar sound alike, but from every song that he sings there comes a mood, a character, an emotion. He just stands there, swaying a little like a tree, and sings, and you see farmhands wailing their lonely ballads, hill-billies lament ing over sad tales of broken hearts and drowned girls, levee coons in the throes of the blues, cowboys singing down their herds, barroom loafers howling for sweeter women, Irish section hands wanting to go home, hoboes making fun of Jay Gould's daughter. The characters are real as life, only more lyric than life ever quite gets to be. Some of the book reviewers half-way regret Sandburg's career as a platform singer, wishing that he'd spend the time writing. What they don't under stand is that the man earns a happy livelihood at this art so that he can write exactly what he wants to write when he sits down to write. All kinds of people engage him to come and read his poetry and sing to them — college students, Gold Coast so ciety, Dill-pickles, school teachers' in stitutes, Harvard University Phi Beta Kappa conventions, radicals and Re publican clubs alike, editors' conven tions. Twice Broadway revues have tempted him, but both times he has answered, "The best things in song that I've got have been with my back to Broadway. I admire Irving Berlin as a businessman, but as an artist he's 22 a master song-plugger. To hell with Tin Pan Alley." AS a workman with songs, Sandburg Lhas more in common with Grover Cleveland Alexander than with Al Jol- son. He sings like Alexander pitches baseball — cool and slow. He stands long looking at an audience like Alex the Great looks at a batter. Both men are gray and cunning, easy and spare of style. It is characteristic of Carl that he resembles the pitcher. In Lom bard College, Carl had baseball ambi tions and, without the necessity of earning his tuition by delivering milk, might have become the professional out fielder that he wanted to be. Diamond slang crops out in his speech all the time, as when he instructs his agents never to book him for two consecutive lectures. "I can't pitch two games in a row," he says. Many listeners have asked him to teach them his vocal method. Always he eludes them in his slow, knowing way, understanding well enough that his method is not so much a method as a philosophy of life, a solitary art evolved in loneliness and in an eternal faith in democracy. Public singing started for Sandburg about thirteen years ago. Up to that time he had been piling up experience. Born in Galesburg to a Swedish immi grant and his wife — a stout, vital pair, at home in the new prairies — Carl had worked his way through college, sleep ing in a bitter, unheated room in win ter, a strange scholar going his own way, avoiding the college glee-club but singing with barber-shop harmonizers downtown, reading books with his own eyes, not those of his teachers. He graduated, but not until he had served in the Spanish-American War, traveled over the country "hooking rides" on freight trains, avoiding town-marshals narrowly — once unsuccessfully— work ing his way; the sort of Swede boy in whom the Viking blood was always fermenting. To this day Sandburg likes to be free to go. He is most indefinite about his comings and goings, although not when lecture engagements are to be kept. As a youth he roamed, worked and cogitated. Socialism drew him. From boyhood he had written odd little things down on paper and either thrown or tucked them away. In Mil waukee, where he was the secretary of a Socialistic mayor, he took to express ing himself on the stump. In Lombard College he had won the Swan Decla mation Prize. For Union Labor he stumped widely, wrote arguments, cam paigned for and among the workers. In this period he wrote the poetic de nunciation of the Rev. Billy Sunday that, to this day, remains as the most thorough skinning that the evangelist ever received. WHEN The Day Boo\, an adless newspaper for the masses, was started in Chicago, Sandburg was a staff writer. The salary, $27.50 a week, was less than other newspapers would have paid him, but it was work he wanted to do. He ate sparingly, rode the street cars as far as they went toward Maywood, his home, then walked the rest of the way. In one- arm lunchrooms and on the trolleys he wrote poems; walking under the stars, he thought about other poems. Poetry Magazine began printing them, gave him a prize; a New York publisher issued them. Book pages across the country showed the impact the volume Chicago Poems had caused. He rose up alongside Edgar Lee Masters and Vachel Lindsay and Sherwood Ander son. That was in 1916, when H. L. Mencken was calling Chicago the lit erary capital of America. The others have gone away; Sandburg remains. Perhaps his instinctive refusal to leave the terrain that he knew has been re sponsible for the fact that his art and fame have gone on past his rivals. At least that fact has been part of it. However, to get back to the plain facts of Sandburgiana, The Day Boo\ failed during the war. Sandburg, the Spanish-American veteran, mooned around looking at flags and guns, listen ing to old calls. But he had a wife and three children now and the Viking blood had to cool. He worked for the Newspaper Enterprise Association, and then for The Chicago Daily Kews, where he has remained, as reporter, THE CHICAGOAN then movie critic, and now bi-weekly columnist. But with the fame of being a poet back in 1916 he began to get calls to a new business, that of lecturing. "Come and read your poems," he was told. At the end of one of these very first readings he laid aside Chicago Poems, dug out a guitar from behind the rostrum and said, "I will now sing a few folk-songs that somehow tie into the folk-quality I have tried to get into my verse. They are all authentic songs people have sung for years. If you don't care for them and want to leave the hall it will be all right with me. I'll only be doing what I'd be doing if I were home, anyway." The audience stayed, liking the songs better than the poems, and since that day the singing has been half of every program. When the Republican Club of New York asked him, as the author of Abraham Lincoln, the Prairie Tears, to address it, two years ago, they added, "Bring along your guitar." ALL through his roamings as a youth i Sandburg had listened to the songs people sang. He had jotted them down, using a weird system of musical shorthand. And as he went about the country, in this later period of his ca reer giving song-lectures, new folk songs rolled in on him. There is nothing dearer to the aver age person than to give great people assistance. Sandburg reaped this har vest. Lecture-committees in towns where he came to read and sing soon learned that Sandburg is one of the de luxe guests of Our Times. Pic turesque in his long, prematurely gray hair, his speech and his gentle rough ness, he colors up a living room im moderately. When he feels at home, he will sing, tell anecdotes in tantaliz ing slowness, and make his hosts ec static. With such ability he has found himself, for years, swamped with prof fers of folk-songs. Traveling as he has all over America, he had the chance to winnow out the best from a colossal number of songs. Of these he made The American Songbag of 300-odd se lections. This, published in 1927, was his seventh book. Cornhus\ers (1918), Smo\e and Steel (1920), Slabs of the Sunburnt West (1922), Rootabaga Stories (1922), Rootabaga Pigeons (1923), Abraham Lincoln, the Prairie Tears (1927), have been the others. Only Lincoln is straight prose. The Roota- THE CHICAGOAN 23 nrke JTA G B Let s Call Follow Through" A Bir*die By CHARLES COLLINS baga books are prose poems, midland fairy tales for children, replacements for kings and elves offered in the form of familiar prairie words and objects. FROM his home on a bluff overlook ing Lake Michigan near Harbert he goes out no more than twenty-five times a year to read his poems and sing his songs. For one thing, he is free from money worries. The magazine se rial rights on Lincoln alone were a young fortune. For another thing, he is deep in other books— and he likes to swim and play with his kids. He is barely fifty, but the Viking blood can find outlets now on printed pages in stead of on the blinds of express trains heading West. "I can't be hurried," is his favorite saying now, as he goes off in his bath ing pants to run down the beach and swim for an hour. A slow change has come over his songs of late years — fewer and fewer have become hobo songs on his pro grams. Scarcely ever nowadays does he include the I. W. W. marching song : "Oh why don't you wor\ li\e other men do? How the hell can I wor\ when there's no wor\ to do? Hallelujah! I'm a bum. Hallelujah! Bum again. Hallelujah! Give us a hand-out To revive us again. "Oh I love my boss, and my boss loves me, And that is the reason I'm so hung-ree. Hallelujah, etc., etc." He still uses a dehorned version of "Frankie and Johnny" to grand effect, but imaginative, fantastic negro spir ituals occupy a larger place on his pro grams now. Sandburg has become quieter, deeper, more spiritual, better tuned to the abstract pathos of song. He no longer strains at the last line for emphasis. aS the years enrich his collection of f\ folk-songs he becomes more secure in his conviction that the common peo ple are instinctively better artists than the pontifical experts will admit. "Culture," he once said, "is the product of many minds. A song that has grown slowly, passing from mouth to mouth, is apt to acquire a dignity and an endurance that a composition by one man will not possess. As a boy [continued on page 24] i ( J~yUTTQ7^_ up your overcoat" — L-J This can hardly be classified as acceptable midsummer advice. '.'When the wind is free — " Whether it's free or calm, not even a waistcoat should be mentioned in this weather. "Ta\e good care of yourself — you belong to me." And Follow Through, in which this hot song is to be found, now belongs to us. It may be found at the Apollo by anyone who is looking for some fresh and rewarding play-going. Its opening there in the heart of the dog- days may be taken as the warning gun of the new stage season. It's a lonely front-runner, however; the rest of the pack are several laps behind. This bright and engaging musical show is easily identifiable by experts in the girls-and-gags department of the drama as a successor to Good T^ews. It has the same cluster of authors, and it follows the same formula. It is not collegiate, like its counterpart, because it deals with the adult sport of golf instead of the school-days inebriation of football. But it's young, neverthe less. It discards the paunchy old divot-diggers who traditionally dodder around the nineteenth hole in favor of the Helen Willses of the ancient and honorable game. It presents golf as a diversion of luscious kittens. The golfer's chronic grouch about women on the course would be cured forever if the country clubs could muster a feminine contingent like the principal * and chorus of Follow Through. Take, for example, the big comedy scene in the locker room, without which no show about golf is according to St. Andrew. It reminds one of the by-gone days when the world thought that A. H. Woods was a wild and wicked manager because he staged a play called Ladies flight In A Tur\isl: Bath. For this is the girls' shower- bath and highball department, and as an exhibition of female fundamentals in clothing it surpasses the advertising pages of our most stimulating maga zines. When the two he-comedians in vade this shrine of shapes, disguised as plumbers sent to improve the water supply, the situation becomes somewhat intricate. The fantastic merriment classifies, however, as good clean fun according to the standards of this blushless age. The comics may he priers but they're not peepers. FOLLOW THROUGH parallels the pattern of Good J^ews in this man ner: two sleek golf club girls, one of them a warm mamma of a champion, the other the sweet and modest daugh ter of the resident professional, are deeply smitten by the manly charms of a visiting Walter Hagen. They compete for him with the regulation feminine dazzlements, and then play a match to decide which is the better gal. This contest reaches its climax on the green of the last hole. And when 24 THE CHICAGOAN the heroine sinks her thirty-foot putt for love and victory, the gallery of cus tomers exclaims in wonder. It looks like the real thing instead of stage stuff, and how she can do it every night — for a miss would spoil the plot — may puzzle the uninitiated. Well, if you want to know, that putt is yanked into the hole by a string. All golfers will agree that this is an ex cellent method of sinking the refrac tory pill. The participants in Follow Through are, for the most part, rising young players whose records are unimpor tant but whose performances are ex emplary. Lillian Bond and Nayan Pearce are the two girls in the case, and they're easy on both the eye and the ear. Olive Olsen is the tom-boy who works for the laughs, and she gets them resoundingly. She seems to be headed for a reputation, with Wil' liam Wayne, another representative of the new crop of clowns, running right along beside her. The athlete so ardently pursued by the amorous sportswomen is crisply represented by Warren Hull; and Harry Tighe, an old-timer, is the butt of a lot of good golfing jokes as an irrepressible new member. Fair Warning IN answer to numerous inquiries from the very young and the yearn' ing intelligentsia, it may be announced that the drama's ultimate test of whether you are modern or not, Eu gene O'Neill's Strange Interlude, will be vouchsafed to Chicago on December 2, at the Blackstone Theatre, for an indefinite engagement with a Theatre Guild cast. This sexly double-header, dealing with the career of a nympho according to Freud, will be preceded in the Theatre Guild schedule by Caprice (September 23); Wings Over Europe (October 14); and Shaw's Major Bar bara (November 4). R. U. R. will also be given by the Guild as a spring aftermath, beginning March 24. Carl Sandburg [continued from page 23] I was suspicious of vocal training and I stayed away from the college glee club, yet I've missed few chances to hear great singers. I learned from them to sing with the whole body and to make every song a role." He is the last of the troubadours, is Sandburg, the last of the nomad artists who hunted out the songs people made up, and then sang them back to the people like a revelation. An Ameri can Ossian, a throwback to the days when songs passed from mouth to mouth. Both his singing and his search for songs are part of his belief in the essential merit of the common man. Like Whitman, his philosophy is that of a pioneer Quaker who has turned paradoxically to song. Rous seau, Goethe and old Walt would have sat up at night to hear him sing. George Fox, for all his Quaker distrust of music, would have understood him perfectly. However, that is speculation. All I know for sure is that you should have heard him sing the night he made Sin clair Lewis cry. Olive Olsen, tom-boy of the musical show, "Follow Through," is headed for a reputation, says Dr. Collins in his review THE CHICAGOAN 25 7#6? CINEMA The Talkies Take to the Boulevard By WILLIAM R. WEAVER MICHIGAN BOULEVARD has its first talking-picture. It will have more. This one is Philip Barry's Paris Bound. Ann Harding is the star. You may enjoy it from the beginning by entering the Studebaker at 12:20, 2:22, 4:22, 6:22, 7:52 or 9:52. The interest that prompts you to a reading of this column is my authority for say ing you ought not to miss the play. For Paris Bound is not merely the first talking-picture to come to the boulevard; it is the first one that has belonged there. It has about it less of the movie, and less of the stage, than any previous product of Western Elec- tric's magic lamp. And it has more of reality than I have known to be achieved singly in flesh or film drama. A barely perceptible space separates the milestones in this giddy era, but I'm sure this is a marker of more than momentary moment. Responsibility for the peculiar reality of Paris Bound is shared by many. Mr. Barry's dialogue is suave without wise cracking, tight but never crisp, potent but not pungent, undramatic as a court stenographer's shorthand. Miss Hard ing's utterance of the principal role is as casual, one feels, as her directions to a key-clerk at the Blackstone. When Fredric March, the husband, 'phones goodbye to his small son, the young ster's unheard responses can be repeated verbatim by every member of the audi ence. And when, toward the end of the play, one is beginning to feel that an extremely realistic stageplay is be ing reproduced before him, Director Edward H. Griffith borrows from his lately treasured store of Hollywood abracadabra a tremendously effective ballet which he superimposes upon the uninterrupted plot-action to create a result which is without parallel in nar rative devices. From this point for ward the play is reality in all but the negligible point of fact. Paris Bound is the picture to see to day, or tonight. On it you may or may not care to predicate your stand in the always simmering debate as to the fu ture of the Theater. Of it you may or may not care to talk at length and enjoyably with friends who have or have not seen it. By it you may or may not elect to prove or disprove any disputed point in any discussion of marital matters triangular or four- pointed. From it, and of course this is the vital thing, you can obtain the best ninety minutes of entertainment cur rently available to the citizens of this man's Town. THE second best picture in Town is W. Somerset Maugham's Charm ing Sinners. If Mr. Barry's dialogue is suave without wisecracking, Mr. Maugham's is more so with it. If Miss Harding's enunciation is casual, Ruth Chatterton's is as becoming for all its brilliancy. Nor is Clive Brooke's hus bandly demeanor materially less con vincing, however different, than Mr. March's. Only in manner, a matter of choice at most, is Charming Sinners a lesser production than Paris Bound. In manner and in its failure to ever seem more than a play. Both productions deal, and not dis similarly, with infidelity. The husband is the delinquent in each case. In each case the wife learns of and copes with the situation. In neither case is di vorce or death the solution. These have been the solutions insisted upon by motion-picture censors, to the ex tent of banning many silent pictures lacking them, for lo these innumerable stupid years. Yet Charming Sinners and Paris Bound are on display, and no doubt reducing the divorce rate splendidly. Possibly the censors don't understand them. "Thunderbolt THIS ought to be the last of the gangster pictures. Because there's little hope of, and no need for, making a better one. In this one George Ban croft lives as the gangster lives, docs as the gangster does, is as the gangster is. Until the finish, when he dies on the scaffold instead of in gang battle, his performance is precisely the perform ance of the gangster you've met in Tribune headlines. Witnessing Thun derbolt is equivalent to knowing a bct- ter-than-average gangster intimately, and a good deal safer. Presumably, the purpose of these gangster pictures has been to provide a precise record of the species for a posterity which it is pleasant to hope will not meet it. Thunderbolt is such a record. Let's have no more. "The River of Romance" WALLACE BEERY, Mary Brian, Henry B. Walthall and Charles "Buddy" Rogers are principals in this. This was Booth Tarkington's Magnolia. A bit of Tarkington still lingers about it, in the quaint dialogue, in the essen tially juvenile plotting, in the setting, of course, and in the repetition of key- speeches. But it is not a particularly important entertainment; a nice enough little thing to drop in upon some time when waiting for something else to do, but nothing to stop over for. Wallace Beery is best in it, Mary Brian is charming in a childish way and Henry B. Walthall is first rate as the father of the boy it's all about. The boy being this Rogers person and why I've no more idea than he. Cinema Guide On With the Show: Everybody, almost, in a Technicolor follies. [Go.] Drag: Competently contrived domestic drama for the domestically incompetent. [If interested.] She Goes to War: Vulgar. [No.] The Man and the Moment: Billic Dove and Rod LaRocque and terrible. [By no means.] The Last of Mrs. Cheyney: Norma Shearer's best. [Positively.] The Trial of Mary Dugan: Norma Shearer's next best. [Absolutely.] The Cocoanuts: The Four Marks Brothers and four hundred other good reasons for having a good time. [With out fail.] Fashions in Love: Adolphe Menjou in perfect satirical comedy. [Surely.] (Supplemental listing on page 2) 26 THE CHICAGOAN ''Chicago's Newest Beauty Spot" PARK EDGEWATER APARTMENTS ¦ ' "M '¦ . ¦ .¦¦:¦¦. ::" "¦ ¦; 6100 Sheridan Road Overlooking The La\e 2H» 3, 4 & 5 Rooms Of Exceptional Character STRIKING ARCHITECTURE, marvelous lake and boulevard views. Adjacent to magnificent residences, close to schools, shops and transportation. Every room bright ... no other tall buildings for blocks. Rooms exceptionally large. Carpeted throughout. Nile green, orchid, and golden yellow bathroom fixtures. chromium plated fittings. Shower stalls. Marble sills and thresholds in all baths. Many closets. Built in shoe racks, vanity dresser wardrobes, etc. Ideal kitchens with extra large refrigera tors. Rentals from $100.00 include gas, light and refrigeration . . . out standing values! A limited number of apartments will be furnished on request. Inspection daily and eve nings or telephone . . Sheldrake 10474 . . APARTMENTS Rentals Direction oj O. E. TRONNES ORGANIZATION 360 N. Michigan Boulevard GO, CHICAGO Season to Taste By LUCIA L E.W I s WHEN, as and if one catches the "season" bug too hard travel becomes just so much routine, not so different from the round at home. Without deprecating the glamour of fashionable spots at the height of their season this department urges an occasional visit in the quiet months for a change from the same people, the same activities and the ever-present notoriety hounds that flock to every "smart" resort at the "smart" time. The so-called off sea son hath charms in the matter • of peace, a wealth of splendid accommo dations, and the opportunity it pre sents to find out what the natives are like when they are not crowded out by tourists. Take September and October in Bermuda, for example. I have. And never found it a bit hotter in Septem ber than it is at famous Eastertime. The climate is just about perfect and the "atmosphere" more so. You dis cover that there really are a few Ber- mudans on the islands, and what a charming, hospitable people they are when they have time to catch their breath between visiting delegates. On the boat and in the hotels you find it quite simple to saunter up for a Mar tini instead of fighting through a solid phalanx of fellow countrymen who see nothing of Bermuda but the bar's White Horse and that very, very clear ly. You get a chance to play on the Riddell's Bay or Midocean links, often crowded with tournaments in the spring of the year. Best of all, you can meander about the place on a bicycle without passing many carriages. To the self-conscious American who adopts this mode of transportation that is an advantage. There being an ornery something in wheels that starts them spinning in ever decreasing circles with ludicrous collapse at the end or sends them dashing madly into stone walls whenever a carriage of supercilious Americans passes. On quiet roads a few days' practice makes one the master of the wheel and, con sequently, master of the islands. For this is the ideal carrier in Bermuda, great exercise, and refreshingly silly and young. Riding is splendid, of course, on the bridle paths along the ocean, and car riages are always available. These quiet paths, overhung with flaming bushes and rarely disturbed except for the distant tinkle of a bicycle bell or the clop-clop of a passing team are more soothing than anything I know for motor beset Chicagoans. SOME of the roaring big hotels are closed at this time of year, but many fine ones along the bay and the ocean are open all . year. The In verurie's big pier hanging over the bay is popular among dance lovers, and the Belmont Manor terrace at night with music floating from the ballroom, stars above, and champagne at the table, furnishes glamour enough for anyone. Elbow Beach on the ocean side is built magnificently high over the beach where nearly all Bermuda swims and suns itself on the exquisite coral sand. The Frascati is a merry place and at St. George, the hotel of the same name is wonderful for real rest and seclusion. Either the Furness line or a good travel bureau will make reservations at these or any of the other half-dozen hostelries that will be starting up soon, as the October racing season ap proaches. Another choice spot for late Sep tember and October is Cuba. Cuba is THE CHICAGOAN always gay but at this time it is a native gaiety quite different from the hectic play of the big season when it is hard to see anything but the crowds at Sloppy Joe's bar and the races. When the tourists come in droves the Cubans retire to their estates, but now the place is really theirs. They stroll vivaciously about the shops, sit leisure ly at the little cafe tables and at their dances do that smooth, conversational shuffle of theirs to the weird native music that gets one the way real negro jazz does. The genuine flavor of Cuba is yours for the asking, and October there is surprisingly bracing and pleasant. Not all the lines that run steamers to Cuba in winter operate now, but the United Fruit and the Ward lines have excellent service regularly, from New York to Havana, while the Pan- American Airways fly from Miami to Havana in a couple of hours. IN a discussion of islands anywhere, any time, the Hawaiian group can not escape notice — not that it wants to. These Hawaiians are willing ones, ready to play whenever guests blow in, and they have plenty of guests all the time. The residents I know there as sure me they do heavy work on pine apples, real estate, or naval matters, but they always manage to convey a thoroughly holiday impression. Though spring is particularly popu lar for Hawaiian trips, September is just as temperate in climate and gay in atmosphere. Waikiki Beach is glori ous and at this season desirable cot tages are easy to get if you are not staying at one of the hotels. Of the latter the Royal Hawaiian is perhaps the most dazzling, though there is a string of others from small quiet ones with seven or eight guests up to any thing you want in numbers, splendor and size. All the golf courses are in excellent condition. A letter from your own club, if you don't happen- to know anyone in Hawaii, helps you to get a courtesy card at the country clubs, though several of the hotel courses are just as fine and quite a few of the good clubs sell temporary memberships at not too steep rates. The Hawaiian Tourist Bureau on Fort Street in Honolulu is very helpful with golf, ho tel or housing arrangements and any thing else making for your comfort in the islands. At least half one's time is spent on 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 28 IN THE MAIM 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 the beach or in the surf, so go prepared in the way of bathing suits and beach paraphernalia — paraphernalia for prac tical purposes, no elaboration. These waters are conducive to such active swimming, surf boarding and water sports as you never saw before. The big regatta in September is worth aim ing for if you plan to go this fall. The trip over is a delightful one, with the Matson, Dollar and Nippon Yusen Kaisha lines trying their best to outdo the Atlantic companies in com fort and luxury. AN interesting cruise to these parts kand others is the Matson's Malolo cruise of the Pacific which sets forth from San Francisco the middle of Sep tember. The Malolo is a beautiful cruising vessel and the Pacific is a per fect cruising sea. The trip takes in exotic ports of the Orient, the South Sea islands, Philippines and Hawaiian group and is handled by American Express, so it's simple to get all the details and tickets right here on Ran dolph street. IN December and January Raymond and Whitcomb start their opulent cruises which cover the high spots of the Southwest and California and, if you choose, take you on to Hawaii and back. The west is done on the specially built cruise trains which carry everything. By the way, their land cruise cars, as well as similar trains operated by American Express are busy now in the western mountains, ranch country, and up to the Canadian Rockies. They are grand for covering the west in an absolutely effortless, luxurious fashion, supplying the finest trains, automo biles, hotels, scenery and entertainment. It is the sea cruise idea applied to land travel and not at all the cheap sight seeing trip we are wont to associate with "land tours." Many other variations may be played on the seasonal motif. The North Cape should be done in spring or summer the first time, but if you have already seen the midnight sun you get an absolutely different aspect of the Scandinavian countries in autumn. The peaks around the fjords are fiery with color and the soft haz,e in the mountains is heavenly. Then, of course, the hunting season just opens now, for reindeer, moose, and that delectable Norwegian species of grouse. TWECWICAGOAN Musical Notes The Jazz Battle HILE vulgar and monotonous pedants argue over the relative merits of Wagner and Brahms, the cul tural world of the Rialto is torn by great strife. I refer to the aesthetic contest between the Vo-do-deoers and the Budup-duppers, not to mention the minority group known as the Hodot- and-daers. The origins of these great classical schools of contemporary bel canto lie submerged in the mystery of night club and vaudeville. Their linea ments as intellectual movements are nevertheless quite clear. The Vo-do- deo school, for instance, is primarily male. Once, not many months ago, the whirling discs of Victor and Columbia trumpeted a song called Crazy Words, Crazy Tune. Its lyric was, to say the least, unimportant. But on the tag end of each line of the chorus was that magical phrase that tugged at the heart of the nation. Sung in four part har mony by quartets of the Joe College type, crooned dulcetly by thousands of embryo Nick Lucases, it swept through Tin Pan Alley like a cyclone. These States went Vo-deo-do-deo-do. Prominent among the pioneers were three sleek youths known — and still known, be-jabbers — as Paul White- man's Rhythm Boys. They were not only expert vo-do-deoers, but also in ventors of additional harmonic oddities. Upon the great organ point of Vo-deo they built fugues composed of such meaningless gibberish as you'd walk miles to hear, toccatas that sounded like a day nursery at play. At intervals in their song they banged down the lid of the piano so that the audience jumped with joy — or sheer nervousness. They brought to the concert platform an ornithological ditty about a meeting of the bluebirds and the blackbirds, called, strangely enough, When the Bluebirds Met the Blac\birds. It boasted — would you believe it — a rhyming of weathers and feathers. All in all a pretty hot song, particularly when punctuated with ferocious slam ming of the piano top. But all this was on the side. Never, not for one minute, did these boys or thousands of their ilk forget their daily vo-do-deo. And now that the immortal snippet is not heard as often as of yore, one is tempted to paraphrase Walter Win- chell and sigh, "What's become of the Vo-do-deoers, thank God?" TWE CHICAGOAN 20 et Electricity be your servant . . . at E CALTH EDISON £1 IC SHOP 5 COMMONWEALTH LECTR 72 W. ADAMS ST., CHICAGO THE Hodot-and-daers can be dis missed with a condescending wave of the hand. They have little follow ing and no distinguished high-priest. They inhabit the campuses, or campi, of movie universities. They ride around in Fords whitewashed with mysterious legends, flinging their chant to a public that has never really been won over. The Hodot-and-daers are a mite too intellectual for the masses. But the Budup-duppers. There's a sound for sore ears. Budup-dupping has its own high-priestess, a baby-faced chanteuse named Helen Kane who went from Ike Bloom's Frolics to Hollywood via the musical comedy stage. Her technique was once all her own, but now her disciples are legion. Her method consists of an almost complete abandonment of the melodic line of a song, like the improvising of a jazx saxophonist. What can be heard of the English language in the lyric is twisted into a moist, sugary baby talk. And every line ends with a moment of succulent twaddle in which the bud- up-dup motive is somewhere included. The net effect is ravishing and the cult has won thousands of devotees, includ ing such illustrious Kanines as Zelma O'Neill, Peggy Bernier and Bobby Gor man. The latter, for instance, was recently on exhibit at the Palace. She twines herself around a capable looking Baldwin and sings. I Wanna Be Loved by You, budup-dupping in a manner that would stimulate the gonads of a saint. The orchestra stirs nervously in the pit, the audience sways like an Af rican prayer meeting. Vo-do-deo may be crisply up to date; hodot-and-da may be smartly collegiate. But in budup-dup there is passion. A THOUSAND years from now some musical philologist will run across the wax records of 1928-29. He will listen painstakingly to a female voice intoning in wayward melody what he recognises to be quaint old American English. And then suddenly he will hear magical and mysterious phrases, all compact of vo-dos and budups, juicy linguistic lolly-pops. He will present a thirty thousand word the- sis to some academy of science devoted to philological research. He will tell the whiskered academicians whatinell the Rhythm Boys and Helen Kane were gushing, raving and oozing about. And he'll have to be a terrible liar. — ROBERT POLLAK. "The Chicagoan " 407 So Dearborn St. Chicago, Illinois Send "The Chicagoan" one year, $3 — two years, $5. (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. 30 THE CHICAGOAN DISTINCTIVELY METROPOLITAN SERVICE AT THE FOOT OF THE ROCKIES G>UPPOSE you could sit in the most comfortable room in Park Avenue, or in the Paris restaurant most agreeable to your fancy, and look out and see — Pikes Peak, or viv id red cliffs, or the broad plains melting away in indescribable colors! Now, add the thought that your favorite indoor or outdoor recreation (unless it's ocean voyag ing) is immediately at hand, and you have the whole Broadmoor story ! Such claims deserve your personal investigation, and we suggest the coming Fall as the most suitable time to make it. BROADMOOR COLORADO SPRINGS HOME OF THE FAMOUS MANITQU SPARKLING WATERS Always open. Write for information and reservations or inquire at The Ritz, New York; 23, Haymarket, London; 11 Rue de Castiglione, Paris The CWICACOCNNC Sing a Song of Caracul By MARCIA VAUGHN THIS fur coat quest began calmly enough, but it ends in a state ap proaching hysteria. An ecstatic survey of the August offerings has provided this reporter with all the makings for a winter beset with wish-fulfillment dreams, since I have seen no less than forty-nine wraps I should like to call mine own. It is quite evident that the furriers have hearkened to the clamor about femininity in dress and have risen in their might to put it over. The soft becoming effects that take the place of past seasons' rather hard chic are in herent in the velvety caraculs and broadtails, the soft fox and downy lapins that are the darlings of the de signers. To top it off they must femi nize still more by fitted lines, graceful flares, dressmaker details — and here is where the fine designers triumph, in knowing just how far to go and how to avoid fussiness. They are gay, without over-elabora tion, even in severe sports things. For these, lapin is most frequently chosen, and what a relief it is after the shaggy, heavy coats of other years! In its beige tones it is very flattering, but a few coats in other shades are even more striking. One at Field's in nutria tone has a swagger back and very practical collar which can be thrown open or pulled through a loop and buttoned snugly around the neck. Another here is extremely good looking in dark brown, with the cuffs and pockets out lined by a very narrow band of bisque lapin, inserted into the brown. This, too, is full in back to give the swagger effect. Stevens make much of soft gray lapin swagger coats lined to match your sports dress if you please, and Jacques have a stunning beige model with colorful knitted wool lining. Though you wouldn't think it to look at a goat, its progeny produces a love ly soft coat. A natural gray kid with a huge collar, shown at Field's, makes as fine a sports coat as one would care to see. LEOPARD shifts around in very ac- m, commodating fashion for sports, street and afternoon wear. It is par ticularly good with a long-haired fur to tone down the harshness of the spotted skin. On one Field coat a huge beaver collar and cuffs are supplemented by wide bands of beaver at the sides where the hem flares out in the prin cess cut, and another has the collar of leopard but the cuffs and hem of a lovely soft red fox that is rarely seen. Carson's have a beautiful leopard, too, with collar, cuffs and hem in beaver, and the same come-hither princess line. Afternoon and general wear coats are especially distinguished by dress maker touches and it's caracul, caracul all the way. You find it in straight lines or flared a little at the sides, swooping a bit at the back, but always fitted in at the waist much more suave ly than in former years. Some of the most exquisite coats are all caracul, untouched by extraneous furs, as at Jacques, who features black, self -trimmed, straight-line coats. Here, too, are some attractive ensembles with simple wrap-around skirt of broadcloth or velvet, satin blouse in eggshell, green or ivory, and straight little cara cul jacket in finger tip length. They are so insidiously supple, these caraculs and broadtails, and so becom ing to the tall and short, the fat and thin alike. No willowy blonde could resist the black caracul, circular line around the hips, with white ermine scarf collar and narrow ermine bands for cuffs, that is one of Field's treas ures. Their black caracul with high collar and mousquetaire cuffs, fitted at the waist and the least bit fuller in the skirt is perfect for diminutives. Clever touches bloom here in profusion. They have a natural caracul, darkish brown, with natural blue fox collar and pointed cuffs reaching almost to the elbow; very interesting cape collars on black that fold over soft as anything to make an upstanding double collar; silver fox scarves with the heads worked into a smooth soft pointed ef fect on the collar of a side flaring caracul; coffee caracul (the manufac turers are begging us to call it "kaffe" but I understand coffee much better) with huge cape and tuxedo collar of kolinsky; and perhaps most unusual of all, a flat stone marten collar on a dyed ermine coat that is a bow and yet isn't anything at all like the bows that have been done to a weary death on spring coats. TWE CHICAGOAN 31 KOLINSKY is used on a stunning caracul at Mandel's which has a unique, diagonal cape sewed flat across the back slanting from the left hip to the right hem. Another Mandel coat has all the new marks of straight back with side flare, a cleverly looped cuff and double Jenny collar. Too, they have Persian lamb in a good looking chocolate tone that I saw nowhere else. And Persian lamb is very smart this year. The most magnificent broadtail I spotted at Carson's, wealthy with sil ver fox collar, cuffs and bands on the side hem, and they had a drippy brown caracul wrap trimmed in fox that was pretty opulent too. With these after noon coats flat, round little muffs are frequently shown and make amusing accessories. All this discussion leaves us just a bit cramped for space on evening things but, anyway — they are about knee length, longer in back, bell or puffed sleeves, crushed cape or tuxedo collars, and capes are coming back. These were outstanding in this week's journey: Short, bisque color lapin wraps at Stevens and Field's, ideal for younger girls on whom the more magnificent furs are impossible. A dull gold brocade, banded on collar cuffs and hem by Japanese weasel, at Blum's; also at Blum's, ermine and sable, and ermine and silver fox. Er mine with tailored self collar in Tuxedo effect and puffed sleeve, and ermine with Hudson Bay sable at Mandel's. Ermine at Field's with silver fox on a huge collar that frames the face as magnificently as any ruff of Elizabeth's time. The ermines seem to have it, but even here the omnipresent caracul bobs up in white with collars of silver fox or sable. Items With modern interiors no plants are so suitable as the blunt cactus. Wien- hober and George Wittbold both have them, all the way from tiny varieties about two inches high to startling big ones spread ing their spines several feet. . . . Amateur photographers should entrust their films to the Eastman Store at 13 3 N. Wabash. One day service, and they print a much better picture than you ever dreamed you could take. ... If you ever get stranded around the Union Station at luncheon or dinner time you will be agreeably surprised by the pleasant haven Fred Harvey provides in the station restaurant. It saves time and nerves to stay right there with friends who have only an hour or so between trains. Hand some, quiet place with paneled walls and ceiling, great comfortable wing chairs and excellent food. The Ideal Gateway lo and from Europe Everyone longs to go to Spain. No one knows why — but the longing persists — and, once there, all one's imagings are surpassed. Spain is not remote, inaccessible, nor costly to visit. Plan now, to be there in September, October, or any time this Fall or Winter, and while the great expositions at Barcelona and Seville are still open. A Land of Indefinable Charm What is the charm of Spain? Is it in her glorious scenery, her great cathedrals and palaces, her ancient aqueducts and amphitheatres, her quaint native customs and costumes, or her cordial welcome to the visi tor? You alone can tell — for each traveler finds here new riches for himself. Spain is a jewel of many facets. A tour of Spain adds inv measurably to the enjoy ment of one's trip abroad. Let us give you full infor mation and help you plan your itinerary, without ob ligation. We sell no tickets, and render service only. Spanish Tourist Informa tion Office, 695 Fifth Avenue, T^ew Tor\. Enjoy the smooth and Southern route to sunny Spain, traversed by the new and luxurious S p a n i s h Royal Mail Liners. Un surpassed cuisine and serv ice. Moderate rates. For booklets or bookings, con sult any travel bureau, or Spani.s'lt Royal Mail Line, 24 Stati Street, K[ew Tor\. zliose amo £eeA &ma/n minas (MS NOItTH MICHIGAN 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 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 JQ0W Twenty-two East Ontario Delaware 1909 32 TI4E CHICAGOAN LAW&RT GoEf NAT/kE. cr? ty> •ftc^A LAT&5T ^RUNftflCK RECORD SONG" the theme song of the Picture Ml PAGAN" BOOK/ Costume, and Other, Novels By SUSAN WILBUR IT has all happened plenty of times before, of course. Twenty-three cen turies ago people back in Cairo used to stop each other on the street corners and talk about progress. If they were men, they discussed the wonders of science, the only difference being that when they meant Einstein they said Euclid, or shook their heads over the possibility of the Pharos starting a sky scraper fad. If they were women they said: poor grandma: just think there weren't any pipes then: when she wanted water she had to send to the corner fountain. And four thousand years before that there must have been a flurry on the street corners of Memphis, when people saw the great pyramid appearing out of a clear sky (or nearly so: the step pyramid had broken the shock) as well as in one. And before that there was the time when someone discovered that metal could be used for other purposes besides making pretty beads, thereby putting a crimp in the polished stone industry. Progress. Yes. All of it. Archae ology, paleontology — even geology, when you come to think of it. But not progress spelled with a capital P. It has taken the twentieth century to spell it that way. Today, when you needn't be more than thirty to remember with excitement the first time you ever rode in a motor car. While a six-year-old takes his first ride in an airship and feels no excitement at all. Quite the contrary. Finds it duller than walking. When you walk you can at least tell that you're moving. ALL of which makes a book like Sul livan's "Our Times" more potent than fiction. No wonder it is now occurring to novelists to take a leaf out of it. Why, they have only to remem ber the year nineteen hundred, or at a pinch the year 1910, to be able to write a costume novel. And to pity Joseph Hergesheimer meanwhile for ruining his eyes in libraries over clothes and morals not much more curious. The trouble with the earlier novels of this type being of course a too ex clusive trusting to memories. In "Fall Flight," for instance, Eleanor Gizycka gave a picture of Chicago in the nine ties or nineteen hundreds, I forget which, that was tantalising, no less. But apparently she couldn't remember more than a few chapters full and so transported us to the Russian court, of which she could remember a plenty. Likewise with Mary Roberts Rinehart's "This Strange Adventure." It is only with Susan Ertz's "The Galaxy," published this fortnight, that the genre reaches full sophistication. And this in spite of the fact that the author goes about things in much the same way as the two authors mentioned in the preceding paragraph. She does not, for instance, trust us to take an interest in a heroine who has perfect manners and what used to be called a splendid bust. She takes a slim one, with pep. But nonetheless motivates both her heroine's slimness and her modernity completely in terms of Prog ress. Her modernity coming via her brother and his free-thinking tutor. And her slimness as the indirect result TWE CHICAGOAN 33 The Joy of the kitchen SOMETHING NEW Saves laundry expense, and the ruining of towels. No more dirty rags, Saves Steps, Time and Hands. Can you imagine anything more necessary to have handy than CAVANNA KITCHEN SERVICE PAPER Each pack of paper in a wire con tainer, all complete, all ready to hang over the kitchen sink. For quick service, Single Draw for a thousand uses. One package will prove it. If your grocer cannot supply you, we will send to you post paid one package for 35c or three packages for one dollar. Call Bittersweet 1387 or address CAVANNA PAPER SERVICE 653 Diversey Pkwy., Chicago, 111. The one absolutely cer tain guarantee of the best theatre seats on the best theatrical aisles is the or der of those seats through Couthoui for tickets Branchet at all the lead ing hotels and clvbt. flNECLOTUES fORMtN AND BOYS AStabrBest RANCCLPH AND WAS A$M- CHICAGO Free Information ON SJSSs^ A specialized service in choosing a school absolutely free of charge to you. For busy parents and questioning hoys and girls reliable information about the kind of school desired. Why select hurriedly when expert advice can Oe had by writing to THE CHICAGO DAILY NEWS School and College Bureau Oept. P, Daily News Plaza, 400 W. Madison St. Chicago, III. of it, her Victorian parents having a habit of commenting unfavorably upon her modernity — usually just before meals. This eye for historic consistency be ing indicative of the book as a whole. Miss ErtVs characters suggest by flashes actual poets, personages, and beautiful women of the seventies, eighties, and nineties, something as Aldous Huxley's do for a later period in "Point Counter Point." The reader may shy rather at the heroine, with her grown daughter, ar riving from England just in time to include the San Francisco earthquake among their sightseeing, and at her mar rying late in life an un-naturalized Ger man that she may experience an in terned husband as well as a son at the front. Or smile when, unable to mix her own characters up in quite every thing, she takes a paragraph off now and then to indicate what they were reading that year in their morning pa pers. But after all is said and done it comes to just this: The Galaxy is a piece of fiction having practically all the enticements of non-fiction. IN "They Stooped to Folly,11 also pub lished this fortnight, Ellen Glasgow has hit upon a theme that ought to turn a number of her fellow novelists green with envy. Elizabeth for one. John Erskine for another; that is, if he could have found a way of relating it to Troy or to some other of the more legendary wars. Like Elizabeth's last novel, and John Erskine's first one, it has to do with sin. Three genera tions of it. With Miss Agatha, who sinned in the eighties and retired there after to a third story back bedroom of the family mansion. With Mrs. Dal- rymple, who sinned in the nineteen hundreds and moved to Paris to profit by her consequent understanding of men. With Milly, a war-time sinner, who couldn't be made to realize that she had. Not told serially, however, but en tirely in post-war terms, whereby Miss Agatha may be shown reviving to the extent of banana sundaes and movie shows, and Mrs. Dalrymple recovering her reputation by means of war work. All of which is of course pleasantly satirical. In point of execution the book falls short, however, of what either Eliza beth or Mr. Erskine might have made of it. Like both of them, Miss Glas- What about the water you serve ? THE fastidious hostess would as soon serve a dinner without a salad course as to serve bitter, cloudy water to her family or guests. So she serves Corinnis Waukesha Water serenely certain her hospital ity is above reproach. For Corinnis is always crystal-clear, always sparkling with purity and always - delightful to taste. Due to its widespread popularity Corinnis Waukesha Water costs but a few cents a bottle. We deliver it to your door anywhere in Chi cago and suburbs. Shipped any where in the United States. Why not order a case today? Particularly Important Use Corinnis Waukesha Water in your electric refrigerator for the freezing of your ice cubes. Corinnis ice cubes cool drinks without detracting from their delicate flavors. HINCKLEY & SCUM LIT, Inc. 420 W. Ontario St. SUPerior 6543 Sold at your neighborhood store WAUKESHA WATER 34 rUECUICAGOAN College Inn Lobster a la Newburg THE day of the lobster palace is gone . . . but still with us is that king of all sea foods . . . Lobster a la Newburg. And now,/or the first time, you can have it at home . . . just as it is served in the famous Hotel Sher man. There's no trouble preparing College Inn Lobster a la Newburg — it is ready to serve. You'll find it a welcome dish. All good food shops sell it. College Inn Food Products Co., Chicago. Jj<rae management as Hotel Plaza gow apparently keeps a notebook of epigram and observation. But she lacks Elizabeth's quality of wringing out that last drop of fun: n.b. what wouldn't Elizabeth have done with the virtuous Mary Victoria when, having been requested to rescue Milly's lover, she returns married to him. And John Erskine's ping-ping-ping, though she strives for it in conversations which go on by the page. ANY number of attempts have been imade on the part of Hindus and Hindu sympathizers to refute Kathar ine Mayo's "Mother India.11 I remem ber in particular, one by Dhan Gopal Mukerji, which went about things gently but firmly: you have hurt my feelings, I refuse to hurt yours, but all the same here are the facts. The argu ment ad hominem, so to speak, having been universally prominent. Namely, that if a Hindu who couldn't speak English should pay as casual a visit to America as Miss Mayo paid to In dia, his findings would probably be astonishingly similar. So far, the experiment has not ac tually been tried. Perhaps because most educated Hindus do speak Eng lish. But in the meantime there arrives a retaliation that is a retaliation. It is entitled "Uncle Sham: Being the Strange Tale of a Civilization Run Amok11 and has just been published by the Times Publishing Company, La hore, India. Its author, Kanhaya Lai Gauba, knows America a little, but ap parently not little enough to feel that he is qualified to write an original book about it. Consequently, though it is in the mood of Miss Mayo that he writes, it is in the actual words of H. L. Mencken, Judge Lindsay, Dr. Lowrie, and Bernard Macfadden. Whereby he establishes the most hair-raising proba bilities with regard to lynching, the Ku Klux Klan, and the low virginity rate of New York. For his church chapter he doesn't even need Elmer Gantry — "fact" sufficing. Without date he quotes The Chicago Tribune as saying: Walter Noak was sentenced to life im prisonment yesterday for stealing $2. Law enforcement in Chicago is that strict that you can't get away with any thing except murder. * The Galaxy, by Susan Ertz. (D. Apple- ton and Company.) A novel of the Anglo-Saxon emergence from Victorian- ism and the economic supremacy of the male, together with a study of the pass ing of the antimacassar and the Turkish corner, the title standing for the dichot omy between the freethinker who looked at the Milky Way and saw suns and uni verses, and the pious clergyman who re garded it as something, almost anything, in fact, put in the sky for the contem plation of the just. They Stooped to Folly, by Ellen Glas gow. (Doubleday, Doran.) $2.50. Ac cording to the poem, when lovely woman stoops to folly her next step is to be melancholy. Rhyme demands it. This novel takes three test cases, and shows that whereas it may have worked out that way in the eighties, and to a certain ex tent in the nineteen hundreds, you can't always count on it nowadays. Southern setting as in Miss Glasgow's last novel, "Barren Ground," and practically the same cast of characters. Uncle Sham: Being the Strange Tale of a Civilization Run Amok, by Kan haya Lai Gauba. With over forty illus trations. (The Times Publishing Com pany, Lahore, India.) A snappy come back for Katharine Mayo. The forty illustrations include pictures of American ladies in speak-easies, in galoshes, and in barber shops with lather on their chins. We Are the Dead, by Ann Reid. (Har per and Brothers.) Not often can real ism startle anybody nowadays, but it does rather in this British novel about a care fully brought up girl whose mother forces her to marry the quite exceptionally sav age young miner who has violated her. The marriage has its major aspects of tragedy, but these do not cause the au thor to forget its minor ones. As for instance when the heroine is giving a polite thin bread and cake tea party and her husband not only asks her to open a can of salmon but gets a spot on her best tea cloth. Class Reunion, by Franz Werfel. (Simon and Schuster.) As the publishers are remarking in their advertising, though this book doesn't quite tip the scales at a pound, in other respects it is full weight. An examining magistrate, about to leave his courtroom for a reunion of the class of 1902, which will include one successful actor, one millionaire, one pro fessor, and a round dozen of clerks, thinks he sees in the last prisoner the boy who was to have sent the class down to history. And step by step as the tale unrolls it is not the prisoner who is con victed, but the judge himself. Convicted of having by an ingenious campaign of destruction turned sour the school life, the whole life, of a boy whose superiority he could only compete with by under mining it and destroying it. An insid ious tragedy, which makes full use of its characters and its background for pur poses of pity and terror. Devils, Drugs, and Doctors, by Howard W. Haggard. (Harper and Brothers.) $5. Just as the honest science of chem istry sprang from the dubious source of alchemy, so medicine has for its ancestors all sorts of superstitions and strange prac tices. Dr. Haggard tells about the most picturesque — -and horrible — of these, and contrasts them with scientific medicine. TME CHICAGOAN 35 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 EO Chicago Wins the Intercircuit and Twelve-Goal Polo Tournaments, which will he played in August. This is the first time these two national championships will he played this far west — an eloquent testimonial to the nationwide recognition of Ch'cago as a polo center. POLO The Magazine of the Game Quigley Publishing Company 407 S. Dearborn St. POLO is obtainable by subscription only: $5 for one veai.( $g for two years, $10 for three years. CAFE ANN-JEAN £? For a ^A ^^~ Discrim- ^^K — M ina,ins W \<- ->f ^^^L Distinguished ^^J ^B^ Italian Food JT ¦ Just West of the ¦ ¦ Boulevard at ¦ 1 16 East Huron St. I ¦¦' rf lirnrrfr CAVANNA Drapery and Curtain Works, Inc. 6S3-65S 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 ART At the Institute UNLESS my memory is playing me tricks Uncle Dudley Crafts Wat son, matinee idol of the ladies1 lullaby clubs, once discovered the influence of vodka in the work of William S. Schwartz;. Well, the fiery complexion of the laborer on display in Mr. Schwartz's current one man show at the Art Institute seems to indicate that that gent had had more than a few swigs of, if not vodka, at any rate the near- est thing to it purchasable at our numerous blind alley emporiums. Of course that is not what Uncle Dudley meant. What he, in his cute way, wished to stress is the Russian element in Schwartz,^ creations; for Schwartz, you understand, is a Russian Jew who came to this country when he was seventeen. Truly, there are Russian influences in the productions of this steaming painter-sculptor-singer, both implicit and explicit. Most noteworthy among them is the contemporary Russian painter Boris Grigoriew. Mr. Schwartz has learned a good deal from Tavaristsch Grigoriew. There is a family resemblance between the work of the two artists. There is the same tendency to sit a human figure looking at you in the foreground. There is the same tendency to have the landscape or interior background hovering around the figure in similarly shaped semi-abstract forms. But the colors are decidedly different. Grigoriew's colors, though strong and positive, have something ingratiat ing about them, something which may be compared with the tones of a violin and a piano. Schwartz's, on the other hand, have something strident and raucous about them, something akin to the bellowing of a steam calliope. They are powerful, defiant even, but they lack luminosity and brilliance. IN the matter of form the Chicagoan stands up well alongside the Mus covite. There is decision and verve in Schwartz's lines and curves. They are determined and sure-footed and at the same time rhythmical and vibrant. Another Russianism, so to speak, in Schwartz's work is the leaning toward constructivism. In the current show that tendency is most blatantly appar ent in Lithograph No. 16. But there are some indications of it in all his On all occasions it is best to drink only a pure soft water — Whether one lives "wisely*5 or one lives "too well" Chippewa Spring Water will prove beneficial if used regularly and in sufficient quantity — There is no other so good — Competent medical and analytical authorities de clare that *Chippewa Natural Spring Water is the purest and softest in the world — TRY IT— Drink eight glasses a day for two weeks. If you are not benefited and completely satisfied that it is the best water you ever used, we will refund your money. Phone Rooxevelt 2020 Chippewa Spring Water Company 1318 S. Canal St. "Bottled at the Springs 36 TI4E CHICAGOAN • — The Par\ Dearborn — • NEW VALUES In a Wonderful New Apartment Hotel A GREAT new building in a mar velous "close in" location! North Dearborn Parkway at Goethe Street . . . less than 10 minutes to the loop . . . three blocks south of Lincoln Park. Fourteen stories of finer living in apartments of 1}£> 2%, 3 rooms and larger, completely furnished with full hotel service. Also hotel rooms. Every modern convenience plus new refinements in furnishings and service. Barber shop, valet, beauty parlor, commissary, restaurant and drug store. Roof garden, lounge room and many other features. Remarkable rental values for so fine a building. Hotel rooms as low as #65.00, kitchenettes #85.00, bedroom suites #130.00 and up. Inspection daily and evenings. September oc cupancy. Early renters get the "pick o' the pack." . . Superior 7698 . . 2/wehe cfixty Worth Z)earborn$'arkwayat<joelhe Rentals Direction of O. E. TRONNES ORGANIZATION 360 N. Michigan Boulevard work. This would be praiseworthy, for constructivism is in harmony with the spirit of the age, were it not that too often Schwartz's constructivist de signs have the artificiality of a stage setting. Mr. Schwartz is a versatile virtuoso. He has a remarkable mastery of tech nique. Indeed, he knows too well what he wants to do and how to do it. There ought to be, it seems to me, something in the work of an artist that is surprising even to himself. He should put into his work more than he knows, more than he is consciously aware of. He should often start out to do one thing and find he has done something different. That, one feels, doesn't happen to Schwartz. His work lacks the super-conscious element. ACROSS the way from Schwartz's i\ show is the joint exhibit of G. O. Dahlstrom and Francis Foy. This af fords an opportunity for those who are ever on the scent of race and national ity in art to compare and contrast the Russian and the Jew in Schwartz's work with the Scandinavian in Dahl- strom's and the Irish in Foy's. There is a solidity and heaviness in some of Dahlstrom's pieces which might be characterized as Swedish. But these may be simply masculine or more like ly still just plain Dahlstrom. Likewise there is a nimbus- like surface in some of Foy's paintings and a sparkling sheen in others which might be hailed as manifestations of Irish mysticism and Irish liveliness. "Front Steps" is a good example of the old Dahlstrom manner. Its virtue is solidity, and the defects of that vir tue are a certain stiffness and heavi ness. In its favor also is an admirable luminosity of atmosphere. The newer Dahlstrom manner, or at any rate the more satisfying one, finds form in the small pieces depicting Parisian scenes There is more sprightliness here, more suggestiveness, more said by implica tion rather than directly, more rhythm and movement. Of Francis Foy's paintings the most delightful perhaps is "Paris Cheese Vendor." The yellow tarpaulin cover ing of the push cart is melodious with out being sugary. And there is a sub dued humor in the barrel-like figures which is not too literary and which does not usurp the primacy that in all genuine art, belongs to form and color. Her portrait of Beatrice Levy, too, is excellent. —J. 2. JACOBSON. 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. 0? :.V:.,. —Ci_i . Ir-w 1 ; ! J * it / pi 1 t ¦?*at»^ ~<3 V X.' A graceful acceptance of August— tempered by a no less graceful acceptance of the things above average to the Town and its civilized interests— finds meticu lous reflection in the pages of THE CHICAGOAN. The subscription price is three dollars the year Five dollars for two years The address is four-o-seven south dearborn In*! ? » I 9WA . IP mk'wt. f I ? g ¦* J" li ¦ni'" /iy v , Id Is,. !!"¦'¦¦ ' — - . it ¦ ... ... ==^.^HBgg.gMi! ¦" ' „ J"" »¦» juwy ,«**, ****» j 1 //fl if"" H B * r 1 Am V 1 short, plain words, each puff of pure leaf in this cigarette is blended like each other puff; no streak, no sting can mar the even, rich, mild taste of it. The law says no one else can match it. The public has taken to it. They like its plump shape, its firmness, the smooth draw and even ash of it— its proper way of not spilling itself about But mostly, of course, the fact that it is so obviously worth the little it costs Yes; old Sir Walter (if he knows what's going on in his America) should think himself very decently represented indeed. [ PLAIN — OR TIPPED ] BROWN AND WILLIAMSON TOBACCO CORPORATION, L 0 u i s v i 1 1 e, K e n t u c k y