The Washington times., 1932-11-23

Some Explanations
I suppose should really
write a few more lines about
this round-the-world idea OF
mine before drifting into arti-
cles about the conditions in
foreign cities. After all, it's
rather strange for a Broad.
way columnist to leave his ma
tive habitat (wowD and prowl
around the world in search Of
copy. don't think it's ever
been done before. And after
I've finished, the odds are that
It never will be again.
Frankly, I've been nursing
the idea for a long, long time,
Maybe 1 should have been a
gossip columnist because I've
always had a terrific yen to see
how the other folks lived. And
maybe I'm wrong. Practically
everyone has told me that I'll
be the happiest guy in the
world to get back to New
York.
Any maybe I will. Maybe
I'll be like the bird in that old
chestnut; the man who wore
very tight shoes all day long
Just because it felt So good
when he took them off at
night. But I don't know. AS
/ write this, I have a sense Of
elation. I feel that I'm doing
something that is good for me.
Perhaps that's because I haven't
been gone long enough to learn
the truth. Wen see.
Strange, though, about the
reactions of the various people
I met during the month before
I sailed. When I told every.
one that I was going around
the world, the answer was in
evitably one Of the following
three:
''You don't say! Could you
use a valet to go with you?"
Wish I were you. Bum voy-
age!"
"You lucky stiff! Don't need
q secretary, do you?"
Bum Voyage!
It got so that I knew exactly
which answer to expect from
the different people. The al
legged comedians always said
'Bum voyage!" and the rest
wanted to know whether need
ed a secretary or a valet. I met
no one who simply said Have a
swell trip, Mark, and come back
safe and sound" oh, we'll
Into my office one afternoon
marched Gil Wales, reporter de
luxe for various papers both
here and abroad. Mr.. Wales is
q nomad Of the press, a sort Of
victim Of nomad's land. When
he tires of New York he accepts
q job in Paris. When he tires Of
Paris he pounds a typewriter in
Chicago. When he quits Chi
cage he goes to Hollywood. And
there he rests, if possible.
Some seven or eight years ago
Gil had the desk next to mine
on the Daily News. He said
good night to me in the usual
fashion one evening-and the
next thing knew he was on his
way to Paris. When reached
Paris several years later one Of
the first visitors to my hotel
was Mr.. Wales.
Morning, Mark" he said, cas-
ually. It was exactly as though
he hadn't disappeared some
years before. Anything new?"
He wasn't going to outdo me
In that casual business. I hand
ed it right back.
''Not a thing, Gill;" I returned.
"Everything's just the same.
"How are you enjoying your
work in Paris this trip?"
He shrugged his shoulders.
'Not so much" he replied.
'"Think I'll hop for India Soon."
I smiled to myself. The man,
I felt, was just talking to hear
himself talk. He left. And I
called his office the following
day.
"Mr. Gil Wales there?" I
asked.
Gone to India
Sorry" was the reply, 'Mr.
Wales left for India this morn
Ing"
And so it was that, only a few
weeks ago, Mr.. Wales drifted
into my office. He hadn't
changed one iota. Said he had
lust returned from Paris and