The Waterbury Democrat., 1939-02-20

''s willing, but the days are short I got my original training as an artful dod- ger while dodging my dentist, Dr. Jagendorf. He used to try to pin me down to dates, and I'd always say yes. That's real weakness, I reckon. Then leave Q secretary to wiggle me out of the conn mitment shameful lack of backbone Next time I'm go- ing to be 8 man and say, "No, Doc, I've decided to let the teeth go till they fall out and I haven't time to broadcast or write stories, either, because, who'll do the day-by-daying?"
 So, I've said yes about a trip to California, and now it's time to go, and where's that stack of columns I was going to have written in advance when the time came? Maybe I can delay the start few days :. but alas for the sluggard! No matter when the time comes, the stack of advance columns won't be there, here nor anywhere -. At Southbridge, Mass, George McNitt and Bill Stewart, patient fellows, will be tearing their laair while I'm air. mailing or wiring copy from the Far West for them to set up in type and send out to the news papers. Yet I've heard that re- form is possible, even late in life.
 A half day with c. D. Batchlor, editorial cartoonist of the New York Daily News, is a pleasant recreation. Since we both come from Kansas, he called me by my first name the day I met him in New York, and everybody calls him Batch. He doesn't particularly like the Clarence that the 0. stands for.
 I can't see anything wrong with Clarence as a name. My old friend, Clarence Darrow did rath- CT well by it. The name originally meant "illustrious," and Clarence Day, of New York, was just that. Despite lifelong suffering from arthritis, he wrote Life With Father" and other humorous books to make the world laugh with him.
 But fun-pokers often get hold of A good name and make 1t dis tasteful to men who bear 1t. Harold, for instance. I don't think Harold Ross, of the New Yorker, feels at all bad about his name, but many Harolds do. Harold De Becker, the actor, lives along nicely with his first name.
 Some smart-aleck started making fun of Elmer few years ago, and then Sinclair Lewis wrote Elmer Gantry." Now it's difficult to find a man who'll admit his name is Elmer. Still, there's nothing wrong with it. Elmer Rice, playwright and producer, author of Street Scene" hasn't felt like changing his name.
 Well, Batch won't change his name, either but he'd just as lief be called Batch. He is 8 good- looking, quiet young man. Got his start on the Kansas City Star, came to New York, and almost immediately clicked in big time. He lives in Manhattan, has a country home in Connecticut, gets to work early every morning. Many of his cartoons have been widely copied.
 When I met him the other day, Batchelor was just breaking away from an editorial conference with his chief, Joseph Medill Patterson, on a ramp at Grand Central Ter minal. Every morning there's a conference. Batch generally has four or five ideas for cartoons by nine a. m. He goes over them with Col. Patterson, and a decision is reached.
 Patterson is a notoriously hard worker. He lives in Ossining, up the Hudson, does great deal Of driving about the country for recreation and thinking purposes. He takes a commuter train to and from his offlce five days a week.
 Patterson is credited with 8 great many eccentricities. and stories about his odd ways are al- ways being printed somewhere Close associates, however, say these stories are mostly fiction. Patterson enjoys reading them, and never thinks of denying them.
 Slang styles and modes in wo- mems hats ebb and flow. All win ter I've been hearing, from the collegians, "Ya say you do?" with a sadly rising infection, in answer to almost any casual statement. They said it exactly that way, and with the same meaninglessness in the days when "Twenty-three for you!" and "Skiddoo!" were the very smartest items in the slangery. And that was when they used to wear linen clusters for motoring.
 Copyright, 1889, McNaught
 Syndicate) ...