The Indianapolis times. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1922-1965, 1933-04-18

and found the planes of war vint-
age, makeshift for the job in hand
and not the sort I would care to
fly in, either as passenger or
pilot.
But I'm bound for Rio now-I'm
on the air road to Rio-and 1 like
flying this mighty ship between
the gaunt, brown peaks that rise
from the coast after our brief
stop at Victoria. A storm comes
over the hill and drenches and
losses us. Lightning flashes just
out of our reach.
The sky is black as an asphalt
stew, but, typically Latin, the
mood changes and soon we watch
in a golden sea giant rays swim
ming with the flight of slow-mov-
ing birds.
we touch the shore again. Now
look at the salt watts, the razor
edged peak ahead, the veritable
pyramid of slid stone with the sea
beating at its scrawny feet. We
turn a rocky headland and before
us lies one Of the worlds most
magnificent views-the harbor of
Rio de Janeiro.
CUGAR LOAF mountain guards
~ the southern side of the land
locked bays narrow entrance. It's
crest rears LOO feet. A fortress
crowns it, and sightseeing car
crawls laboriously upward. Behind
on higher peak, statue of
Christ, said to be the largest in
the world, blesses the bay.
Far off on the horizon stand
the Organ mountains, their five
Fingers of God extending toward
heaven as a final touch to the
sublime scene. Our commodore's
hull Kisses as we touch the harbor
currentS-that's the only harsh
note in the magic harmony.
Rio, Paris of the Western
Hemisphere" Rio, city of two mil
lion, with it's sidewalk cafes, it's
languorous beauty and its buoyant
gayety-place to spend week, a
month, a year. I have only a
night. But 1 shall not waste it on
sleep.
In the half dawn, almost before
we are aware of it, Bert Sours and
his co-pilot, Bob Davis, are lift
ing us out of the city. Lights
twinkle up at us like a million
flreflies through the spotty fog.
Mountain peaks are islands in the
sea of clouds.
NTE stop this morning at
w Santos, coffee town and
port for Sac Paulo, center of revo-
lutionS. We see the fort guard
ing the approach to Sac Paulo
where the rebels once held fed
eral gunboat at bay for weeks.
And at Paranagua we also
pause for Henry Shea to take
command of the ship as Bert
Sours prepares to return on the
northbound plane.
A weather-beat giant with a
ruddy face is Pilot Shea. And a
smart captain, too, as I am soon
to discover. I'd noticed before
our takeoff he had folded all
newspapers into compact wads
such as newsboys heave fendish-
ly from the sidewalk in the gen.
eral direction of your porch.
We are now sweeping low over
PatoS Lagoons western shore
bound for Buenos Aires on the
tenth day of my trip.
MOT far ahead lazily rests a
~ tiny village. AS we approach
every boy and dog in the place as
if by. signal comes dashing and
barking up the beach to meet us.
Out Of the corner of my eye, as
We flash over them, 1 see two
small objects go hurting from
the plane. They are the folded
newspapers tossed from the aft
hatch by the steward. I had wit
messed Shea's Special Rural Free
Delivery. an institution in this
part of the world.
Its worth a couple of dimes a
week for papers to know that if
ever do have to sit down in this
country I'll get a warm welcome
and all the volunteer ground crew
I need" he says with a practical
smile.
And a curious minor racket in
these villages has grown out Of
Sheas r. F. D. The boys who re-
trieve the papers are hired by some
leading citizen of the town.
But the employer of the fleetest
lad not only gets the first crack at