The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-03-02

doesn't open for another month. That means that it was not nearly as far toward completion when I saw it as is the western show. So, to that extent, compari- sons are unjust to New York.
 But it does seem to me that the two fairs express the two cornmu- mites. New York's is more showy, more commercial, more stupen- dous, more international, infinite ly more expensive, prepared to handle many more people.
 The fair at Treasure Island is much more a work of art, more- unified, more esthetic; there is less of the obviously commercial advertising and marketing in the picture.
 I believe that the personalities of the heads of the two exposi- tions are essentially appropriate. Grover Whalen is often called a typical New Yorker, though none of us seems to know just what that means. He is a bit on the snowman side, rather inclined to step forward for the applause and the blast of entrance fanfare.
 Leland Cutler of San Francis co is, as I have said before, modest quiet individual, ad- vancing only far enough into the scene to push his great city and its project ahead of him. He is as characteristically a Westerner as MT. Whalen is New Yorker.
 There is this difference, I've no- ticed, between successful men who are called typical New Workers and those who do big things in the rest of the United States. The big man of New York is apt to dramatize himself, probably be- cause he knows his city is already somewhat over-dramatized. The American leader in other commu- mites is likely to think in terms of his city or state, rather than of his own personal glory.
 Nobody seems to be working himself to death for the glory of New York, but many in New York wear themselves out fighting for a place in the spotlight. In that other America, of which San Francisco is typical, community leaders feel their responsibility to their community, and its interest takes precedence over personal prominence.
 Possibly this explains, in some measure, the difference between Mir. Whalen and MT. Cutler; the difference between the two expo sitions, indeed, the difference be- tween New York and San Fran cisco. Anyway, it is the idea which has most impressed itself upon me during this western trip. I made it the theme of a talk at Treasure Island. Because MT. Cut Ter was present, and I have a natural distaste for the custom of heaping fulsome praise upon peo- pie at banquets, leavened the cake a bit by saying that MT. Whalen would win over MT. Cut Ter in a beauty contest. Some of my colleagues took exception to even this mild concession, and, on second thought, I believe they are right.
 San Francisco must be one of the best towns for the telegraph companies. When you have any, thing to say to your neighbor, such as How about lunch today?" you send a telegram. My box at the Fairmont hotel has been stuffed with telegrams almost ev- cry time have visited the desk. The gracious hospitality of the citizens is expressed in the num- Der of these messages that offer courtesies, meals, use of cars, and entertainment.
 Telephone service is, so far as I can judge, equal to that in any other city. There's probably local tradition behind habitual use of the telegraph for talking around town. Or maybe they have live wires behind the telegraph wires in this town.
 One of the most persistent sight-seers at the fair is Miss Vonnelle Reppetto, nine years old. Her father, Vergil Reppetto, edi- tor of the Cleveland Press, takes her all over the grounds and to all the sights, because her mother is kept indoors by a cold. Little Miss Reppetto misses school work in Cleveland, but her parents and teachers agree that this is the best of schooling.
 The small children in San Fran cisco's Chinatown are among the most charming youngsters I've seen. They go about the streets, often two and two, hold ing holds for security, often car- rying packages. The tiniest of them, appearing to be not more than five, are unafraid of crowds and traffic. They are clean, neat ly dressed, with chubby faces and wistful eyes. I saw two such babies stop to pet and comfort a lost dog, bigger than themselves who was trembling with fright on a busy corner.
 Copyright, 1889 McNaught
 Syndicate)