Thursday. April 18» 1939
The Gold Hill News, Gold Hill, Oregon
----- SiH'akinn of Sports------
COMES a MOMENT
By ELINOR MAXWELL
M ary Lorin< and her father. Jim. an in-
effeiwual attorney, meet a train wnicn
brings his wealthy sister-in-law. unmarried
Linnie Cotsweil and her friend. L ellaO rm «*
by. divorcee, for a Christmas visit Waking
at home for them are Mary's mother, her
younger sister. Ellen; her father’s nagging
maiden sister. Aunt Mamie, and Peter, the
baby of the fam ily At the depot Dr. Chrt»-
topher Cragg helps the guests with their lug
gage M ary is secretly In love with Doctor
Cragg In leaving, her Aunt Linnle urges
M ary to visit her in New York, but Mary re
fuses
M ary works In a rental
where she spends her spare time writing
short stories M a ry’s father Is let out as
railroad attorney, the fees of which were
most the sole support of his family To earn
money, she decides to begin writing in ear
nest. M a ry feels sure that her newest sto-
rv. "A t Sea." would please the editors or
National Weekly After finishing it she calls
Doctor Cragg. who comes to the book store
for a current novel Falling from a ladder
while getting his book, she regains con-
setousness to find his arms around her. He
tells her he loves her. and then tells her he
is to be married the coming month to a girl
he has known all his life Despondent. M ary
decides to accept her Aunt Llnnte’s invita
tion In New York her aunt laughs at her
for her plana to write, a id Insists that she
meet as many eligible men aa possible. The
new week brings two letters One. from the
National Weekly, with a »100 check for her
story, makes her deliriously happy. The
other, from her sister, tells her that finan
cial conditions at home are getting worse.
The next day. at a party given by her aunt.
M a rv meets distinguished Jerome Taylor,
wealthy middle aged man-about-town. and
effusive Count Umberto Balianci.
The
count's otlv manner nauseates her A note
from her father the following day pleads
with her not to mention the family's finan
cial plight to her aunt. After reading It she
forces herself to begin srork on her next
short story, which Is more difficult to write
than the first. She labors on until her sunt
Informs her that Count Umberto, whom Le
ila terms a sponger and fortune hunter. Is to
take them to dinner that evening He takes
them to a garish restaurant In Greenwich
Village That evening M ary sends her story.
"Their Son." to the National Weekly She
goes to so*1 Phillip Buchanan, editor of the
National Weeklv. to whom she has given
her last story. He Invites her to lunch. He
congratulates her for the simple treatment
given the first story, and says that her last
offering will receive immediate attention.
At lunch she Is Introduced to attractive Jim
Ormsby. Leila's former husband M ary tells
Leila that she has met Jim and knows from
L e ila’s actions that she still loves him. A
letter from home tells M ary that Christo
pher Cragg has finally married Dared by
the news. M ary spends a miserable evening
with her aunt at Jerry Taylor’s penthouse.
wonderful! I’d love to stay here.
Thank you so much. Why, in the
time you’re away, I can write at
least six shorts!”
It was the morning of the second
day in March that Addie called
Mary to the telephone. "It’s Miss
Hickenlooper,” the Mulatto said m
a stentorian whisper, “or, anyhow,
that’s all I could make out of the
nam e.”
“ Perhaps she’s calling up about
‘Their Son,’ ” she thought, rushing to
the telephone. ”Or do editors have
their receptionists attend to things
of that sort?”
But Miss Hickenlooper’s business
did not concern the manuscript. In
stead, she informed Mary that she
was calling for Mr. Buchanan. He
had asked a number of people to
his apartment for cocktails at five
that afternoon. Could Mary come?
Mary accepted with the only bit
of enthusiasm she had experienced
for anything in days. “Thank you,
Miss Hickenlooper,” she replied.
“I’ll be there."
Mr. Buchanan’s apartment—the
second floor of a house which had
once been someone’s very smart
town home—was located in the East
Fifties. Mary climbed one flight of
the graceful, old mahogany stair
case, and stopped timidly before a
tall, paneled door through which
could be heard the buzz of conver
sation. No bell was to be seen, but
a knocker of dull brass occupied
CHAPTER V m
Mary had taken out her type
writer several times during that first
week after the arrival of Ellen’s let
ter telling of Chris’ marriage. She
had tried to write, but her mind
would give forth nothing, and, at
long last, she had decided not to
attempt any work for another solid
week. She would accept every in
vitation showered upon her by Count
Balianci and Jerome Taylor: try to
divert her thoughts from Chris by
taking an interest in the amuse
ments offered by these two men
who appeared to be vying with each
other for her company. Eventually,
perhaps, she would be refreshed by
their diversions, and able to return
to business.
In consequence of
which, she spent every evening with
either Balianci or Taylor; even
went, accompanied by Aunt Linnie,
to Journey’s End, Taylor’s estate in
Westchester, for a week-end.
There she danced with Jerome,
she walked with him, she played a
little atrocious Bridge as his partner.
Her mind, however, was back in
Hawkinsville, and she would never
have dreamed of what was tran
spiring, had not Aunt Linnie re
marked nearly a dozen times a
day:
“My dear, the man’s simply mad
about you, and I swear it’s the first
time anybody’s ever known him to
be seriously in love with anybody.
Marry him, my dear, if he asks
you, and he most certainly will. Just
think, darling, what he can do for
you!”
Mary would reply, “Yes, Aunt
Linnie, but Jerome’s old enough to
be my father. I really couldn’t
marry him.”
To which Aunt Linnie would re
ply, "Oh, nonsense! What if he is
old enough to be your father? He’s
stunning-looking, and he’s charming
—and he’s rich as Croesus. All this
talk about young love is poppy-cock.
Any love wears off after the first
few years. And then what have
you besides worry over the grocery
bill, and how you'll manage to pay
the dentist for straightening the chil
dren’s teeth?”
Linnie’s and Lelia’s plans for a
West Indies cruise were now com
pleted. They were sailing on the
Itasca the fifteenth of March, and
expected to be gone at least six
weeks. Linnie extended to Mary a
most cordial invitation to accompa
ny them, but Mary finally managed
to convince her aunt of the sincerity
of her desire to write. “I can never
thank you enough, Aunt Linnie,” she
said in conclusion, “but I am going
to make writing my business, and
it won’t ever amount to much of a
success if I go gallivanting off on
glorious pleasure trips.”
“Then,” Linnie said firmly, “the
thing for you to do, since you’re
hell-bent on belonging to the intel
ligentsia, is to remain right here in
New York and work. You can’t
accomplish anything by returning to
Hawkinsville, and you might as well
just stay in this apartment. Addie
will be running it just the sam e.”
Mary rushed to her aunt and
threw grateful arms about her
shoulders. “Oh. Aunt Linnie. how
Eventually,
Mr.
Buchanan
found time to come and sit on
the arm of her cbair.
a spot in the middle of the center
panel, and with a gloved hand that
trembled in spite of the self-control
she was trying hard to exert, Mary
lifted the metal hammer and
knocked.
This process had to be repeated
three or four times before it elicited
any response, but eventually a
husky male, with a large pugna
cious face, turned the knob and
asked Mary to come in. He wore
dark trousers and a white duck coat,
and Mary assumed that he was Mr.
Buchanan’s servant. He looked far
more like a pugilist than a butler-
valet, and she learned later that
day that “Spike” actually had been
more or less actively engaged in
fisticuffs until a night several years
previous, when Phillip Buchanan had
literally dragged him out of the
gutter, and installed him in his mod
est bachelor abode.
Phil Buchanan, surrounded by
guests, and in the act of mixing a
highball at a wheel-in bar, looked
up, a bit startled, and beheld Mary
standing in the doorway. "All right,
Spike,” he replied with something
akin to a sigh of resignation, and
came swiftly forward.
“I’m so glad you came, Miss Lor
ing. Do forgive Spike's manner of
announcing you. He simply can’t
see any sense in the more esthetic
points of .he social amenities—and
maybe the guy’s right. You see,
everybody else has been here be
fore, and just barged in.”
“I rather liked it,” Mary admit
ted, smiling up into Phil Buchanan’s
amused, gray eyes. "It made me
feel at home. If anybody in Haw
kinsville had a man-servant, I’m
sure he’d be just as informal as
Spike”
Slowly, he took her about the big
comfortable room, introducing her
to one group after another, enunci
ating her name clearly, speaking it
in full. “This is Mary Loring,” he
said, and Mary warmed to the gra
cious kindness in his voice. “Her
first story, ‘At Sea,’ will appear in
The National Weekly the fifteenth of
next month. Miss Loring, may I
present . . . ” And, in turn, he men
tioned the name and connection of
each person there.
“He’s press-agenting m e,” Mary
void herself. “Bless his heart—he’s
rather sweet.”
Eventually, the introductions were
‘Hutch’Remains
Level - Headed
Despite Praise
Peeling New Potatoes.—When
scraping new potutoes, use a tin
sel pot cleaner kept especially for
the purpose lnsteud of a knife.
When Painting.—A handful of
huy placed In a bucket of water,
which should he changed every
few hours, will help to absorb the
smell of fresh puint.
• • •
By R O B E R T M cSH A N E
C harles H utch
F rederick
inson . Detroit’s $30.000 pitcher,
o ARCADIA HOUSE PUBLICATIONS - WNU SERVICE
SYNOPSIS
HOUSEHOLD
QUESTIONS
over, and he placed her in a low
chair before the fire of channel coal
that crackled in the hearth, asked
Mrs. Van Winkle, who appeared to
be acting as hostess, to fetch her
a cup of tea; then left her to the
mercies of two intense young men,
who, after greeting her effusively
enough, returned wholeheartedly to
a discussion of the relative merits
of two recently published historical
novels.
A black Great Dane of rather
startling proportions—evidently the
dog that Spike was known to walk—
either blinked sleepily before the
fire, or else made himself a nuisance
by begging first one guest and then
another for food. He was a beauti
ful, lumbering animal, slightly gray
around the snoot and knotty at the
knees, and his name was Oscar.
Conversation buzzed and crackled
about the room. Over by the east
window, three men and a dowdily-
dressed young woman were shrilly
discussing the colossal sale of a new
best-seller.
Eventually, Mr. Buchanan found
time to come and sit on the arm of
her chair. "I ve been meaning to
drop you a note,” he said, balanc
ing, rather dangerously, a highball
and a cigarette in the same hand.
“We’d like a picture of you for our
edition of Friday the eighth, and a
short biographical sketch. Sort of
introductory affair to the appear
ance of ’At Sea’ a wee< later. Can
you manage it?”
“Heavens, I don’t know! 1 haven’t
had my picture taken since I was
ten!”
“Um—well, that would scarcely
do. We’re exploiting you as some
what of a prodigy, but I hardly think
we can make our readers believe
you’re as young as all that! I’ll tell
you what—Miss Hickenlooper will
make an appointment for you with
a photographer some time this
week, and he can take a few shots
at you.”
“If you want me to, certainly?’
Then, glancing at her watch, "It’s
later than I thought it was. I must
be going.”
“Dinner engagement?”
“Well—yes.”
"I’m sorry. A bunch of us'll prob
ably drift into Tony’s, later on to
night, and I’d rather hoped you’d
go with us.”
“I wish I could, ’ Mary replied,
thinking how much more stimulat
ing an evening with these hectic, in
teresting people would be than the
one she had in store. Jerome Tay
lor was calling for her at seven. The
dinner would be delectable. They
would have the very choicest seats
at the theater, and later go on to a
club for supper. Everything would
be
perfect—but
suddenly
she
wished, with all her fervor, that she
might just stay on here with Phillip
Buchanan and his friends.
CHAPTER IX
Spurred on with a new enthusi
asm for writing because of having
met, although rather casually and at
no great length, a few arrived au
thors, Mary again set to work
the next day. She entitled her new
story “Concerning Anne,” and, with
a feverish zeal but not much convic
tion, devoted the entire day to work
ing on it. Aunt Linnie and Lelia
were occupied with some last-min
ute shopping for their cruise, and
the apartment was blessedly quiet.
Miss
Hickenlooper,
sounding
slightly more cordial than she had
that day at the office, telephoned
Mary around three o’clock, and in
formed her that she had made an
appointment tor her for some sit
tings at the photographer’s at four
the following day. And would she
mind dropping in the office before
going to have her picture taken?
Mr. Buchanan wished to talk to her.
Mary acceded happily to both re
quests, saying to herself, "Mr. Bu
chanan's probably made his deci-
sion on my story, and I believe. I
really believe, it’s favorable. Other-
wise, he would merely have re-
turned the manuscript with a po
lite note of refusal."
The following day, she refused
luncheon invitations both from Je
rome Taylor and Count Balianci.
"Concerning Anne” must be re-
typed, and whipped into shape in
order to present it to Mr. Buchanan
that afternoon. Her heart was light
while she made her plans. One
story was finished, and another was
about to be accepted. She was, she
felt, going places and, for the time
being, although she did not quite
realize it, she had completely for
gotten Christopher Cragg. At least,
the hurt of his marrying lisa Grace-
land was not bedeviling her every
conscious thought.
She arrived at The National Week
ly quarters at exactly three o'clock,
a large envelope containing her new
manuscript under her arm. There
were three people seated in the
waiting room, but. much to her
amazement. Miss Hickenlooper es
corted her immediately, and with
somewhat of a flourish, to Mr. Bu
chanan's office.
He was seated at his desk, gaz
ing angrily at a typed letter in his
hand. The afternoon sun filtered
through the Venetian blind of the
window behind him, and settled on
that strangely sunburned hair of his,
making him look. Mary thought, like
a little boy who has spent too many
hours on the beach.
Buchanan rose hastily from his
swivel chair. "Oh, Miss Loring!
How are you? Won't you sit down?”
Mary seated herself on the edge
of the chair that faced his desk.
“I’m very well, thank you. And I've
really been working since 1 saw you
the other day. Meeting all those
interesting people at your apart
ment stimulated me immensely, and
I got busy at once on a new short.”
"Um! That’s fine. Have you fin
ished it?"
Mary placed the brown envelope
on the desk before him. “Here it
is. I thought I might as well bring
it with me since 1 was dropping in
this afternoon anyhow. Miss Hick
enlooper said you wanted to see
me."
Phil
Buchanan
extracted
a
crushed package of cigarettes from
the pocket of ¡.is tweed coat; ex
tended it rather vaguely towards
Mary who nodded a refusal; helped
himself, and lighted a match. "Yes,
I wanted to talk to you about ‘Their
Son? "
Mary's heart turned a somersault.
"Oh, so you’ve read it?”
“ Yes, after Mr. Van Winkle
turned it over to me with a recom-
mendation for thumbs down.”
"For what?”
“Thumbs down. He didn't like it,
Miss Loring.
He said—well, to
speak quite frankly, he said it was
trite.”
Mary felt the hot blood rushing to
her face.
“ But I decided to read it, any-
how,” Buchanan went on, “and I’m
afraid I have to agree with him. It
doesn’t come up to the standard you
set for your<-'lf when you wrote “At
Sea.” The—well—the snap’s just not
there. The plot's weak. The story
lacks conviction.”
Mary felt as if she had been
slapped in the face. The man’s
words seemed so brutal, and his re
jection of "Their Son” was such a
shock. She had definitely counted
on receiving a check for it this after
noon. A foolish !“mp filled her
throat, and to her dismay she felt
hot tears welling into her eyes and
sliding treacherously from beneath
her lashes. She could not trust her
self even to look across at the man
on the other side of the desk.
(TO HE CONTINUED)
P sy c h o lo g ist C ites F ive G rou n d s for
L ove for M usic, E n jo y e d by M ost P eo p le
Love for music can be explained
by the psychologist. Dr. Carl E.
Seashore of the University of Iowa,
who as psychologist has for years
been studying and predicting musi
cal ability and appreciation, scouts
the idea that love for music is an
inexplicable emotion. Love of mu
sic can be accounted for on five
grounds, he writes, in the Music Ed
ucators Journal.
The first reason is physiological.
We have an organism that regis
ters music and responds to it some
what like a resonator. Not only the
central nervous system is affected,
but the peripheral nervous system,
all the muscles, all the internal or
gans, and especially the autonomic
system with its endocrines which
furnishes a physical basis for emo
tion. The whole body is put into c
glow of well-being by the pleasure
of hearing musical sounds.
A single sound may be beautiful
in itself, like a flower or a human
face, Doctor Seashore emphasizes.
The untutored mind and the musi
cally trained can alike delight in
their charm quite apart from their
utility n building up musical form.
Delight in “harmonic structure, the
melodic progressions, the rhythmic
patterns, the qualitative modula
tions, in the flow of beautiful sounds”
is another reason for love of music.
Music carries us through the realms
of creative imagination.
We love music also because it is
the language of social bonds. Music
is a m essage and can move the so
cial group into concerted action and
into a feeling of common fellow
ship. Finally we love music be
cause it is a means of self-expres
sion. It furnishes us with the Joy
of putting into a fitting medium our
love, our fears, our sympathy, our
feelings of fellowship, our com
munion with the Divine.
On
these
five
fundamental
grounds, says Doctor Seashore,
rests the psychologist’s adequate ex
planation why we love music.
Brought First Sheep
The Spaniard Coronado brought
the first domesticated sheep to
America in 1540; but apparently
they died, and sheep brought by the
Spaniard Onate in 1598 were ances
tors of Navajo Indian sheep.
has one outstanding virtue which
will do much to save him from his
friends and well-wishers.
|
; “ Hutch" Is a solid, unimaginative
| player. Much more so than the av
; erage youth his age, which Is 1$.
Imperturbable and unemotional, the
youngster has been the subject of
more publicity pieces than any
pitcher of his age In the history of
So far this spotlight
j the game.
j hasn't daasled hint In the least.
Most of the stuff written about the
Seattle youth has been In superla
tive praise. One author gave him
the "pitching magic of Christy
Mathewson in hla right arm." An
other article was titled “The ’Noth
ing Ball* No One Can Hit.”
Hutchinson still has to prove him
self in big league competition. Un-
R em ovin g
P aper
L s b e ls .— You
cun readily remove the paper
label from u bottle If you wet the
label and hold it near the flume
of the stove.
• • •
For Nervous Fingers.—If you
are continually breaking eggs
when trying to sepurute them, try
breaking the eggs one nt a time
Into a funnel which has been
placed over a Jelly tumbler. The
white will puss through the funnel,
leaving the yolk in the funnel.
AT LAST!
THE TRUTH ABOUT
LOSING FAT
N EW YORK, N V
In a t « t br •
iruminrnt N. Y. phT.«i»n and nationally
JS wt'wwn litat
n«w»iMi|»wr woman —
• total nt -’* 6 lb* in 40 day*. Y O U , «*©«
can f-.ll..« i h l. S A M E . S t - N S IIH - E plan
c: nown
fig h t at hon»* anti here it la;
F lra t o f a ll t<> lig h t ©»» ’ « ••* "»<••»
•w rw ta Rat p le n tifu lly o i Ira n m rata, f»»h.
(ow l. h ra h fru it» and vegrtables. A n d 1 «
p ro M T functio nin g by rem oval a t acctNMS-
lafetl w aatra take a half taasp«wnfttl ©I
K iu tr h e n In hot w ater e v e r/ m orning. —
D O N ’T M IS S A M O K N I M U — Kruaelm«»
ta made rin h t here In U
S. A. from
(am o tii Fngliah form ula.
.
A n * th ia la Im p a r ta n tt
K r a e a b e a ta
N O T h a r m fu l. It la $»•!
sam e pea p le l i m r o l l y h e lle e e . M a lh a r
I t ’s a b le n d a f »1 a c tiv e m > n *ra la . w h ic h
w h e n d la a a lv e d In w a te r m a k e a h e a lth -
fa t m in e r a l d r in k a lm lla r ! • h ig h ly efTee-
l iv e N pa w a te r» w h e re w e a lth y w e m e a
h a v a gan a f a r y e a r» . A Jar ef K ru a e h e n
• aata a n lv a fe w r e n ts an d taata « w aeha
So. fat ladies get some gum 'vtionl M A K E
U P Y o r k M I N D Y O l r l I. S T IC K to the
above H a n fo r
«lava and |u«t aee if
you d on’t lose fat and feel healthier and
younger. Y o u can get Kruaehen at d ru g
gists everywhere.
FRED HUTCHINSON
Sinews of Virtue
Good company and good d i s
course ore the very sinews of vir
tue.—Izaak Walton.
questionably his admirers had very
worthy motives in heaping praise
on his head. But they also succeed
ed in putting the boy on the spot.
To live up to his publicity would re
quire the skill of a genius. If he
fails it will be largely the fault of
his friends who have built him up
into a pitching juggernaut.
He will need all his composure
and steadiness. American league
wits are practicing for Hutchinson.
A high-priced and highly publicized
player, he offers a fair target for
their “ riding." And they won’t he
gentle when they start ribbing him
about his “ nothing ball" and his
“ magical right arm.”
Best in Minors?
Termed the greatest pitcher in the
minor leagues last year, Hutchin-
son’s claim to that distinction—or
rather his friends’ claim to that hon-
or for him—can be disputed. Paul
Trout. Sandcut, Ind., idol, won 22
! games and lost 6 in the Texas
! league. Hutchinson won 25 and lost
7 in the Pacific Coast league. Trout’s
victories were gathered in three and
, one-half months of play while Hutch
inson's were compiled in six months
] of competition. All in all. Trout’s
record for the year was the more
, formidable.
Nevertheless, Hutchinson Is a
I great ball player. He was beaten
j only once as a high school pitcher,
twice as an American Legion pitch
i er, twice while hurling for Yakima
and seven times last year. That la
a great record.
His immediate future would be in
less doubt if the superlative oraisc
I would come to a sudden end. Few
! things are as harmful to a young
athlete as extravagant, over-done
acclaim. His personal cheering sec
tion would do well to soft pedal its
applause until the season is under
way.
Sport Shorts
LJ ASKELL Indian institute has
L* bowed out of the big time with
an announcement that hereafter the
school will meet only prep teams
on the gridiron. Haskell, in former
years, played Notre Dame, teams
of the Big Six and the Big Ten . . .
Prof. Herbert Olivecrona, Swedish
brain specialist, says boxing is no
more dangerous than any other
sport, but that a fighter should re
tire from the ring for at least a
year after being knocked out . . .
Three Florida golf courses, aban
doned during the depression, have
been reconditioned and reopened
. . . Stagehand, winner of the Santa
Anita handicap and derby, was the
leading money winner of 1938. Prior
to that Joseph E. Widener sold him
for only $8,000 , . . Sixty-five year
old Tom Sharkey, heavyweight con
tender in the days of Corbett, Fitz-
simmons and Jeffries, is appearing
as a strong man in the Golden Gate
exposition . . , For the past five
seasons, Ernie Lombardi of the
Reds, who led the National league
in batting last year, has not made
a sacrifice bunt . . . The Canadian
Futurity for three-year-old trotters
ind pacers has been awarded to
Strathroy for Labor day. Purses
for each division of pacers and trot
ters will be $3,500 . . . The Ameri
can Olympic rowing committee has
decided to send oarsmen to com
pete in five events in Finland in
1940 . . . Harry Hillman recently
started his thirty-first campaign as
track coach at Dartmouth.
'
!
i
:
|
,
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