Evening star., 1935-01-28
BY EDNA FERBER.

PENNINGTON, N. j., January 20
N.ANA.).-It Is considered chic to
go to the Hauptmann trial. Though
I myself am not chic and have never
been invited to an Elsa Maxwell party,
hope know what is being done. A
mink coat, one of those cossack hats,
the word "divine" in your vocabulary,
and there you are, II a woman,
equipped complete for day at Flem-
ington. It's as easy as that.
know because, stepping out Of the
motor car in front of the Union Hotel
on the snowy main street Of the lit
tie Jersey town, found all the Max
well party countersigns and pass
words were being cooed back and
forth. All the mink coats were say
ing to the savile row topcoats and
burgundy muffiers, Hello, darling!
How are you'll Isn't this divine! Isn't
it wonderful" ~. !,
Well, 1t was wonderful. 1t was won
derful. It was horrible and sickening
and depressing and wonderful, and 1t
made you want to resign as member
Of the human race and cable Hitler
saying, Well, Butch, you win.
Road Adventure In Self.
After the big snow the road between
New York and Flemington was an
adventure in itself. The countryside,
mile after mile, was dazzling, un-
sullied. Not since lived up in Apple
ton, Wis, had I seen the tree trunks
cast such deep blue shadows on the
white ground. Somehow, miraculous
ly, they had kept the road open with
snow plows and hundreds of men.
But its glassiness was such that it
looked as If 1t had been frosted by
hand and then, like almost everything
else in the world, wrapped in cello
phane. Every few miles we passed an
automobile or q truck overturned in
the ditch like beetle upside down,
its claws pointing futilely skyward.
The little town of Pennington at
noon looked like a frosted picture
post card gone mad. Mobs churning
the prim little court house steps.
Crowds milling in and out of the
quaint Union Hotel. A constant
stream pouring toward the lunch
room in the basement Of the church
just across from the court house.
Pennington townspeople. New Jersey
politicians. Actors. Theatrical pro-
ducers. Society. Reporters. Lawyers.
Novelists. Playwrights. Hello, dar-
ling! Isn't 1t divine! Have you had
lunch?
II some one Is to make money on
the Hauptmann trial it may as well
be the ladies Of the church. and it
most empflatically is. The church
lunch room is the swank place to eat
and don't make mistake. For the
duration of the Hauptmann trial that
church lunch room is the Algonquin.
the Colony Restaurant, the Rainbow
Room Of Pennington. Seventy five
cents and a very decent meai-clam
chowder, roast beef, boiled potatoes,
stewed tomatoes, coleslaw, apple pie
and coffee-with all the visiting
celebrities thrown in. Real apple pie,
too. Flaky, juicy, hot. .-'''-. i.
Served by Church Ladies.
You are served by the ladies of the
church, and no nonsense. Neat, dowdy,
no lipstick, no rouge; black dresses
with a collar of homemade tatting
fastened with round brooch. Did
you taste the pie? It's divine! Oh,
well, diet tomorrow. Darling, is that
Wilentz? Is that Reilly? Is that
Winchell? Is that stomach-turning?
The court room. Through the side
entrance, brushing past the tenders
of the faded green-gray car which
belongs to Bruno Hauptmann. You
fight for your seat to which your
newspaper card entities you, only to
be thrown out later. but you manage
to sneak in again for two-hour
session with Hauptmann in the wit
ness chair.
Court rooms are no novelty to me.
For four years-from '18 to '22-I
covered 8 O'Clock police court for
an afternoon metropolitan paper as
well as every big criminal story that
came into the courts Of the city. But
never have I seen a court room so
appalling as this one. High-ceilinged,
white-walled, it was no longer q court
room. It was shambles. It was the
1885 Pennington version Of the black
hole of Calcutta. Planned to accom-
modate perhaps q hundred, it vas
jammed with what seemed at least
thousand. Seated. standing. leaning
perched on window-sills. craning over
balcony rails, peering through door
ways.