The Coolidge examiner., 1934-08-10

Prepared BY National Geographic Society.
Washington. ~ C.-WNU Service.
a I DAWN comes the clang and
/ ~ peal OF countless bells. The
L n din Is startling In It's unex-
pectedness. 1t sounds like a battle
call--or an alarm that GuadalaJara
Is burning
Hurriedly you get up and go out
on the hotel balcony.
"All these churches" says voice
at your elbow. "and every bell with
a different tone" II is the man
from the room next TO yours. a
I Spanish friend from the sugar plan
tatlons, In pajamas and straw san
dals.
Il first came here more than
forty years ago. from Spain" he
adds. I'VE made the last stretch
10 a four-mil stagecoach on leather
springs. after a night battle with
bandits. We got in just at dawn,
with these same bells ringing.
Nothing here has changed much
the same people. habits. churches,
and bells. Even the bats are still
here Read at night, and your
light draws the moths; turn out the
light, and the bats Fly In to eat the
moths. But they don't eat their
wings-next morning moth wings
are all over your floor"
In the street below now black
gar5ed women. their heads covered.
are walking quietly to mass-wom-
on OF all classes, peon and aristo-
crat. but hardly any men. Rattling
heavily. a water cart turns the cor
ner. sprinkllng the streets and
raising that ammonia smell OF old
adobe towns where humans and
beasts have long crowded the alb
sorbent soil too closely. You meet
that same smell, mixed with the
scent OF roasting coffee, when at
early morning men wet the dusty
streets OF Alden or Baghdad.
"Ice," Bread - Morning pa
peri All voices of the awakening
city as truly as cackles. crows
grunts. and squeals are the alarm
clocks OF the farmer. Before the
doorway halts an old man on a
mule. carrying two big cans. a
sleepy girl. with a clay Jar. comes
out and buys some milk And the
man rides on. calling his singsong
Teche. leche," milk. milk, In de-
spairing wall. more like a cry Of
pain than an invitation to buy.
Turkeys for Sale.
Now a country boy In a ragged
straw hat comes driving flock of
turkeys. He carries long stick,
with a whip-llke piece OF string on
one end. for flicking any errant tur-
key on the neck. He urges them on
by kissing sounds, his tongue
against his upper teeth. In the IA
mlliar Indian warning. They mar
ket thousands OF turkeys oil foot
here. as In parts OF Texas, the in
quisitiye, shapely birds marching
with quick, graceful strides. necks
Jerking sharply with each step. One
strutting gobbler, with pendent red
wattles long as a prophets beard,
ruffled his bronze plumage and
dragged his wings.
BY the time you dress, clap your
hands for coffee, and read a Mex
lean paper still damp and smelling
OF fresh ink. all Guadalajara is
swarming. Tramcars are crowded;
so are busses.
Bobbed-haired senoritas, In
bright organdie, silk hose. and high
heels, chatter and giggle their
cheerful way to work in stores.
beauty and curio shops, at switch
boards or typewriters. Many are
pure AndalusIan types with blue
eyes and blond hair, small shapely
hands and feet. The ease and JOY
with which man may look upon
womankind in Guadalajara are pro
verbal. "In all Mexico. no others
are so fair"
surely st. Peter must have
opened the gates of heaven to let
down such beautiful damsel,"
Mexicans say when maid of pull
chritude IS passing.
Along with the crowd, ogling the
girls. come sleek young bank clerks,
bookkeepers In the brewery. the
factories. motorcar and other agen-
cies, spick and span in fannels Of
Hollywood cut, carrying sticks.
smoking pungent native cigarettes.
The sidewalks of Guadalajara
Walk them at this hour and you
see the city eye-high and close up.
Workmen idly dig up the pave
ments, as always; traffic police in
white gloves blow whistles and
wave cars to stop. And they do
stop for one dispute with an alert
Guadalajara traffic cop and the big
Jail yawns for you. On an open
space soldiers are drilling and
women wait before the colossal
prison to get In at visiting hours.
They built the jail big enough to