Early PRINTER
Accused of
MAGIC

LEGEND has it that Johann Fust—once
supposed to be the original Dr. Faustus—arrived
in Paris about 1464 with a number of Bibles
printed by the German firm of Fust and Schöffer.

Printing was yet unknown in Paris, so Fust
created a sensation by selling printed Bibles at
prices one-third those for hand written Bibles.

Investigation disclosed a large number of
Bibles in Fust's lodging and he was accused of
magic, chiefly on account of the uniformity of
the printed copies, compared with the hand
written ones known in France.

Had Fust's Bibles been printed on Kleerfect
—The Perfect Printing Paper—the evidence of
uniformity would have been overwhelmingly
against him.

In Kleerfect the qualities that printers have
always wanted have been combined in perfect
relationship and uniformity.

A smooth surface without glare and with
proper ink absorption, strength suited to high
speed presses, color that permits precise color
work, and an opacity more than sufficient to
prevent solids from showing through—not one
superior quality is achieved at the expense of
another in Kleerfect. In Kleerfect there is no
"two-sidedness." Wire marks are eliminated.
Both sides of the sheet are uniformly surfaced,
insuring the same printing qualities on the two

sides. And all achieved at a price no greater
than that of just printable paper.

Publishers, printers, and advertisers have in
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Kleerfect
AND U. S. PAT. OFF
THE PERFECT PRINTING PAPER
MANUFACTURED UNDER U.S. PAT. NO. 191998

This advertisement is NOT printed on Kleerfect

* If interested in learning more about this new paper—Kleerfect—just ask on your business stationery for the book, "The Printability of Certain Papers—and Why." Please write the Advertising Department, at our Chicago address.

KIMBERLY-CLARK CORPORATION • Established 1872 • NEENAH, WISCONSIN
CHICAGO • 8 South Michigan Avenue • NEW YORK • 122 East 42nd Street • LOS ANGELES • 510 West Sixth Street

TIME, September 11, 1933

TIME is published weekly by TIME, Inc., at 350 East 22nd Street, Chicago, Ill. Entered as second-class matter January 21, 1928, at the postoffice at Chicago, Ill., under the act of March 3rd, 1879. Subscription rates: One year, in the U. S. and Canada, $5; elsewhere, $7.

Volume XXII, Number 11

September 11, 1933

TIME

I

HOW'S YOUR BREATH TODAY

You can't be popular if your
breath is not agreeable.

How is your breath today? Is it agreeable—or an
offense to others?

The truth is, you *do not know*. You only hope
it's normal—but the chances are that it is other-
wise. Halitosis (unpleasant breath) may be caused
by so many conditions, which exist even in normal
mouths, that no one is immune from it.

Common causes are fer-
menting food particles on the
teeth or gums, decaying teeth,
leaky fillings, unwise eating
and drinking, and infections
of the mouth, nose, and throat.
But 90% of all cases are caused
by food fermentation.

Why take the risk of need-

lessly offending others when by the use of Listerine,
you can instantly make your breath wholesome and
agreeable? Simply rinse the mouth with it.

Listerine halts fermentation, decay, and infection,
the primary causes of odors, and then gets rid of
the odors themselves. The mouth feels clean,
refreshed, and invigorated.

Don't expect Listerine's quick, pleasant deo-
dorant effect from ordinary, bargain mouth washes
which are too weak to be effective or so harsh
they may be dangerous. Repeated tests have shown

that Listerine instantly over-
comes odors that ordinary
mouth washes cannot hide
in 12 hours. When you want
to be sure, use Listerine, the
safe antiseptic and quick de-
odorant.

Lambert Pharmacal Com-
pany, St. Louis, Missouri.

Make it right
WITH
LISTERINE

4

DODGE OWNERS SAVE

"SHOW-DOWN" PLAN BARES 7 PROVED ECONOMY ADVANTAGES IN THE BIG NEW DODGE SIX

OWNERS REPORT BIG SAVINGS—
MORE THAN $150 ON RUNNING
EXPENSES ALONE

"COSTS SO LITTLE TO RUN" SAY
OWNERS—AND FIRST COST IS
JUST A FEW DOLLARS MORE
THAN LOWEST-PRICED CARS

**AMAZING GASOLINE ECONOMY!**—Owners in different parts of the country tell us they get 18, 19 and 20 miles to the gallon of gas. One woman writes "I get 24 miles to the gallon." Dodge is built to save you money. Extra weight means extra pounds in the new Dodge Six! That gives you more brilliant performance, too.

**ANOTHER GAS SAVING!**—The arrow above points to a chromium alloy exhaust valve seat insert. This new discovery is used in all Dodge engines. It is a tremendously hard little ring forced into the engine block. Then the exhaust valves, instead of pounding down directly against the engine block, strike against these tough alloy rings that can't "pir" or "burn" bike ordinary engine block metal. Since valves fit better, it saves gas and improves compression. Also, carbon is checked by the smooth surface of these inserts, and valve grinding is postponed for 30,000 miles and more. It's just one more example of Dodge craftsmanship and fine engineering, ... saves you money and gives better and more satisfactory performance!

**VIBRATION TIRES THE NERVES!**—and constant-making shortens the life of the car.

**FLOATING POWER NULLIFIES VIBRATION!**—and lengthens the life of the Dodge Six.

**WON'T TIP-EVEN AT THIS ANGLE!**—Here's the big Dodge tearing along the rim of the test pit at an angle of nearly 45 degrees! But it won't tip! Its double-drop frame keeps it close to the ground—helps to give it a low center of gravity. You can take sharp curves with safety. And it's an X-bridge type frame—stronger than the ordinary type of frame construction—therefore safer.

"CAN'T BE BOTHERED WITH A CAR THAT'S NOT DEPENDABLE!" declares Babe Diddison, famous girl athlete, and Olympic Champion. "When I want to go somewhere, I want to go in a hurry. I don't want to be stopping for gas all the time, or because some little gnat or brea fixing. I've saved my Dodge some tough workouts all around the country—but it's built to work them! I can depend on it to carry me through with safety and security and surprisingly little expense."

5

OVER $150 ON UPKEEP
EXPENSE ALONE

**WHAT A BEAUTY FOR LOOKS!**—Even style experts rave over the smartness of this new Dodge Six. Such graceful, flowing body lines... such luxurious upholstery and fittings... such comfort at all speeds, with Patented Floating Power engine mountings! For just a few dollars more than the lowest-priced cars. Remember, too, that Dodge is a Six—you can't expect to save money with more cylinders!

**NO OIL FOR DODGE SPRINGS!**—Oilite discs are inserted in Dodge springs so they need oiling, and springs never need oiling. They are self-lubricating. They catch the bumps and jars. Dodge springs have metal covers, too... They keep out dust and dirt.

**SEE BRAKE ACTION FOR YOURSELF!**—If you want to see why hydraulic brakes are safer—safely this testing, a Dodge dealer's showroom. It shows why hydraulic brakes are安全, and why you don't have to spend money to keep them in adjustment.

**LISTEN! GEARS ARE QUIET!**—You can shift into every speed in a new Dodge Six—even reverse—and you won't hear any clash or grind. Now anyone—with a quick, simple twist of the wrist—can shift quietly, always, at any speed.

**SAVE MONEY ON OIL!**—An oil filter is usually a high-priced car feature. But you get it in the economical Dodge. It cuts down oil consumption—lengthens engine life—saves you money.

**ASK ABOUT THE NEW DODGE "SHOW-DOWN" PLAN**

It's the new way to judge car values—for yourself! Gives you facts instead of claims. Strips mechanical details of technical language and gives you the truth in plain English. And get the free "Show-Down" score card. Take it home with you. Learn about the 2 Dodge economy features that save you up to $150 in operating expenses alone. Prove to your own satisfaction that Dodge gives you the most for the money!

**HOW DODGE CAN TAKE IT!**—Dodge goes through dozens of terrific tests, not only to guarantee that it's a rugged car that can take any punishment, but to prove that it will stand up longer—won't need frequent repairs even with hard usage will be an economical car for you to own and drive.

DODGE "6" $595
And up, F. O. B. Factory, Detroit

WITH 115-INCH WHEELBASE
PATENTED FLOATING POWER

6

TIME

September 11, 1933

Edison

ANNOUNCES

A
STARTLING
NEW
AID FOR
BUSINESS
RECOVERY!

THE

Pro-technic
Ediphone

(After nine months' experience, the Busi-
ness World claims it the most popular
improvement in the history of dictation.)

NRA
The New Ediphone

In this year of the New Deal the new Pro-
technic Ediphone is making executives
more valuable to themselves, and to their
organizations! With this compact dictio-
tion aid beside them executives are ac-
complishing more—in less time, and with
less effort. They are making more con-
tacts. They are doing more business!

Since the start of 1933 the Pro-technic
Ediphone has gone into the offices of
business leaders in all parts of the world.
"Pre-tested"—it has proved itself.

This new Ediphone will surprise and
please you! its wiring is concealed. It's posi-
tively dust-proof. All parts are enclosed
for cleanliness and sanitation.

And the price is surprisingly low!

We shall be glad to demon-
strate this new instrument at
your desk, without obligation.
Telephone The Ediphone—your
city. Or mail coupon to—

Thomas a. Edison, inc.
ORANGE, NEW JERSEY

Edison Improvements
Found in the New
Pro-technic Ediphone

1. "Built-in" Construction! The Pro-
technic Ediphone is really new, in-
side and out. The mechanism has
been built into the stundy cabinet.

2. "Tailored in Steel!" The Pro-technic Ediphone is dust-proof, dirt-proof, fool-proof—entirely "tailored in steel."

3. "Balanced" Voice Writing! This
new Edison recording principle
guarantees perfect voice repro-
duction—makes dictating easier!

4. Dignified Design! Engineers, ex-
cutives and artists contributed to
the instrument's design. It will
grace any office.

5. Takes Up Minimum Space! The
Pro-technic Ediphone occupies
less floor space than any previ-
ous designs.

6. For Desk Use—If Desired. A
"Desk" Pro-technic is available
for those who prefer it.

it is my observation that the great majority of
mothers firmly believe that a child may be de-
formed before birth by a physical or mental
shock to the mother. I have heard this point
argued a great many times and heard of a
great many examples of a child was deformed
after the mother had received a severe physical
or mental shock during pregnancy. Possibly the
most exciting of these examples which have
come under my observation is the following which
I relate to you substantially as it occurred.
An expectant mother was living in a public
boarding house in a small town in the western
part of this state (North Carolina) several years
ago. Her room was on the second floor of the
house. There was only one bath on the second
door which was used by all those who occupied
that floor. One afternoon this woman went to
the bathroom to bathe. When she opened the
door she saw a naked man in the tub. Three
months later her baby was born without any
clothes on.

Charlotte, N. C.

→
→
→

Polo Handicapping

Sirs:

Will you kindly explain to a poor ignorant
cow-hand just how a polo handicaps works? If
it means that Tommy Hitchcock, for instance,
has to have ten goals he can count one.
I think I might be able to take him on next year.

G. W. HENDRICKS

San Francisco, Calif.

Polo handicaps are assigned to individu-
als by the U. S. Polo Association on a
careful but inexact comparative basis,
with ten goals the maximum, for ablest
players. In handicap polo, individual
handicaps are added and figured inversely
to arrive at team handicaps. Thus: Polist
Hitchcock's handicap of ten goals is added
to the handicaps of whatever three players
he teams with. The difference between
their total handicaps and the total of what-
ever team they play is taken as the weaker
team's handicap, the number of given
goals with which the weaker team enters
the game to the other team's zero.—Ed.

Scene of Death

Sirs:

Saw an interesting Paramount newset the
other evening. Shots of the recent Cuban mas-
sacre. Picture of Jimenez, of La Portitta,
laughing natives.

Next shot was that of a lieutenant of Jimenez, the second floor of his home, pleading for his life by theMirrer on the streets below. Two mobsters unheededly climbed up a ladder held in place by the throng, long knives in their hands.

The three of them struggled for a while, and
bended thekerided eyes of many San Franciscans,
accompanied by screams from a female person
of the audience, said lieutenant was stabbed
to death, amid roaring cheers from the Cuban mob.

Now, I personally thought all this was very
bad. I was a foreigner. . . . But I have
been under the impression that scenes of actual
deaths were taboo in the movies.

Would you know any more things I Never
Knew Till Now," please explain.

ROBERT E. COLMAN

The Hays Code for the cinema industry
does not apply to newsreels, contains no
restrictions on scenes of death. Such
scenes occur rarely not because they are
taboo but because newsreel men, however
they alert, rarely have the luck to photograph

Time & Shark

Sirs:

Doughty shark-bunters, we view disdainfully
the "exciting experience" of Mr. Holzman of
Cincinnati, who rents in these columns (TIME,
Aug. 21) how he was roused from his absorption
reel and forgot all else as he "found and finally
funded" a mere 1½¢-lb. bass. I happened to be
reading TIME, and Mr. Holzman's letter during

Kindly send me further information
about the new Pro-technic Ediphone.

Name:

Address:

T-9

Type of Business:

Title:

TIME

7

“I Received Your

"When I started my Investors Syndicate Thrift Plan I wondered if I could really lay by the required amount each year. But now, almost before I can realize it, I have received my Maturity Check," says Docia I. Patchett. "At no time have I found this Thrift Plan a hardship. I even kept it up one year when I was in the hospital, and I only regret that I didn't take out a larger certificate.

"A salary slips away so quickly that I believe
every one should have a definite Thrift Plan.
I myself am starting another and larger certifi-
cate right now."

Miss Patchett is but one of more than two
hundred thousand ambitious people who are
following Investors Syndicate Thrift Plans to
accumulate large sums of money from propor-
tionately small payments.

Wouldn't you enjoy receiving a check like hers...
CASH ... to carry out plans for travel, home
ownership, or what you choose? Determination
is one of the first requirements ... but Time
(which compounds earnings) is a profitable busi-
ness partner. You are invited to find out more
about this by mailing the coupon below.

Investors Syndicate Thrift Plans enable an individual or company to adopt a systematic plan for accumulating money over a period of years. The most common purposes of these plans are: Independence at 50, 35, or 60; Means and Leisure for Travel; Acquiring a Home; Business

Expansion or Reserve; Education of Children. The resources of Investors Syndicate now exceed $50,000,000. For 39 years in good times and bad, Investors Syndicate has maintained a perfect record of prompt payment of all maturities, loans, cash surrenders, and all obligations.

INVESTORS SYNDICATE

Founded 1894

Offices in 51 principal cities... representatives throughout United States and Canada

AFFILIATED COMPANIES: INVESTORS SYNDICATE TITLE & GUARANTY
COMPANY, NEW YORK • INVESTORS SYNDICATE, LTD., MONTREAL

Upon request (use coupon) Investors Syndicate will send complete information
to any person interested in Systematic Thrift.

Mail to Investors Syndicate, Dept. T39, Minneapolis, Minnesota, cr consult phone book for address of office in city.

I am interested in a plan whereby I may lay aside a small part of my income
for a specific purpose.

Name

Address

State

An actual photograph of Docia I. Patchett planning the trip she will take with money from her second Investors Syndicate Certificate. She has already received the cash from Certificate and payment from her home. Miss Patchett is Vice-Principal and Dean of Women at the Santa Rosa High School, Santa Rosa, California.

Helen Schults Brouser, na-
tionally known as "Iowa's
Bus Queen" practices this
by carrying Investors Syn-
dicate Certificates for bus-
iness reserve, and recoro-
ding the cash from Certificate and
payment for her son and
daughter. When Mrs. Brou-
er sold her bus line in 1930
she chose Investors Synd-
cate as a safe avenue for
investing her funds.

Young though she is, Ellen
Moore, chairing teacher
of Dallas, Texas, is already
in these columns (TIME)
through Investors Syn-
dicate Certificates. It
brings me a sense of securi-
tied, a mere 1½¢-lb. bass. I
happen to be reading
TIME, and Mr. Holzman's
letter during

["8", "TIME", "September 11, 1933", "NEW BURROUGHS MACHINES HANDLE", "INCREASED\nDEMAND FOR\nSTATISTICS\nAND\nFIGURES", "These new machines... new features... new developments are especially timely in view of the increased demand for more complete, more detailed, more accurate figures and statistics about your business. Burroughs can assist in bringing greater speed and greater simplicity to every kind of accounting and statistical work. Many of these new machines write several records in one operation; many machine operations are automatic; all are time-saving. Telephone the local Burroughs representative for complete information. Or write directly to Burroughs Adding Machine Co., Detroit, Mich.", "FOR COST AND\nPRODUCTION RECORDS", "Newly designed Burroughs machines—computing by high-speed direct multiplication—automatically accumulate multiple totals of hours, pieces, amounts. This greatly simplifies handling labor, material, and overhead figures, whether by job cost, standard cost, process cost, or any other plan.", "FOR SALES ANALYSES", "New Burroughs machines for analyzing sales by departments or commodities; by territories; by kind or size of containers or packages; with taxes, exemptions, deductions. Usually only one handling of the original record is required. Cost of sales computed quickly and easily.", "FOR PAYROLL, TIMEKEEPING\nAND LABOR STATISTICS", "New Burroughs machines compute earnings and, in one operation, prepare all records, including employees' earnings, payroll sheet, pay check or pay envelope. They automatically accumulate such labor statistics as hours, earnings, various deductions, and net pay for any desired period as a by-product.", "FOR GENERAL STATISTICS", "Newly designed Burroughs machines—with an especially high-speed computing mechanism—that calculate percentages, that pro-rate overhead and other expenses; that calculate cost per unit and provide other similar figures and statistics.", "a shark-bunt off Lewes, Del., when I was roused by a shout from one of our party: \"I got one!\" He was Herful Provenzano, who was presidential announcer for NBC out of Washington until he became assistant manager of its Washington stations, WRC and WMAL. Sure \"nuf\", he had one—a 100-lb. shark, measuring about 7 ft! It was the last of four caught by our party, which also included Harold Talburt, Scripps-Howard's 1931 Pulitzer Prize-winning cartoonist; Harry C. Butcher, Columbia Broadcasting System's Washington representative; Dr. E. R. Brooks, Washington pediatrician and Herbert L. Pettey, secretary. Federal Radio Commission. After the shark was properly played and fatigued, he was brought alongside, lashing, was gaffed and hoisted in—but not before his blood had splashed my Trize. We dubbed him Hitler, took him to a nearby lighthouse, hoisted him and photographed him, not bothering to photograph the three mere 100 pounders that Messrs. Butcher, Brooks and Pettey had also landed. (Talburt and I lost our chance to get any because the others had lost all our tackle to about a dozen whoppers they didn't land; but we got ours on a similar expedition the week before.) Now if you need further proof of this tale of piscatorial proves, here's Provenzano pictured with his shark; also a picture of that hero resting from his arduous labors reading my blood-stained copy of Trize.", "Washington, D. C.", "Black Pope", "Sirs:", "Under Education in Aug. 28 issue of TIME, you speak of every Jesuit College periodically getting a new president personally chosen in Rome by the \"Black Pope.\"", "Born and raised Roman Catholic, my Ignorance may seem refreshing, when (if I may) I ask you to please explain this Black Pope is?", "Looking forward to the answer and thanking you in advance.", "Mattoon, Ill.", "MARTIN CODEL", "The Superior General of the Society of Jesus (at present Polish Wlodimir Ledochowski) is often called the \"Black Pope\" because he wears a black habit and possesses powers which, in their limited way, resemble the Holy Father's. The General, like the head of any religious order, is elected by a Jesuit general congregation which rarely convenes for any other purpose. He has large spiritual and administrative authority, even to setting aside (but not altering) the Constitutions written by St. Ignatius Loyola and associates and adopted in 1558. The General lives in Rome, is advised by assistants from various parts of the World (at present only five). Should the General through age or infinity become incapable of governing the Jesuits, the general congregation may meet and appoint a vicar to act for him. At his death the General may appoint his own vicar, to serve until the congregation elects a full successor—Ed.", "TIME\nThe Weekly Newsietter", "(Sitz. U. S. Pat. O.)", "Editor: Henry R. Luce", "Managing Editor: John S. Martin.", "Associated Press: John Shaw Billings, Noel F. Bosch, John S. Martin, Walter L. Lassiter, Walter Lassiter, Walter Lassiter,

10

With these New Cars ...

PACKARD believes this message has a greater significance than the mere announcement of a new series of motor cars.

For in presenting its new 1934 motor cars, Packard is offering the fine car buyer a new yardstick—a new world's standard with which all fine car values can be measured.

And this year, more than ever, every dictate of sane spending suggests that you measure one fine car against another.

For the past three years have seen a revolution in motor car manufacturing. While some manufacturers, discouraged by the times, may have been content to mark time, others have seen the times as a challenge and have made superhuman efforts to improve their cars.

Which manufacturer has gone farthest?

Packard believes it is Packard! Throughout the depression, Packard concentrated its resources on the problem of making a fine car finer.

11

Packard gives the world a new Yardstick

Into three years, Packard crowded the automotive progress of ten.

This 1934 car is the greatest of the three great Packards produced during the depression—and that means the finest Packard ever built.

That is why Packard urges you to use the 1934 Packard as a yardstick with which to measure all values in the fine car field.

Ride first in a Packard. Then ride in all other fine cars. Discover what Packard can give you today

for your dollars. Then see if those dollars will buy equal value elsewhere.

Why not telephone your Packard dealer today and ask him to bring a new 1934 Packard to your home—the new Eight, the new Super-Eight, or the new Twelve.

Ride in it. Drive it. Compare it with every other fine car you have ever ridden in. Compare it with any other fine car America or Europe can offer you.

Then decide whether a car other than a Packard can ever satisfy you,

PACKARD 1934

THE YARDSTICK WITH WHICH TO MEASURE ALL FINE CAR VALUES

The Packard Eight... The Packard Super-Eight
The Packard Twelve

28

TIME

SCIENCE

"Boy!...take these
Bags to MR. HART'S
old room!"

MR. HART has been com-
ing back year after year,
like thousands of other
men who travel for busi-
ness. If there's a Knott
hotel in town — he heads right
for it. We know, and cater to,
his personal likes and dislikes
— and he appreciates our
service. The uniformly
low rates, and con-
venient locations are
another advantage.

ONE STANDARD — THE BEST

Please write for a credit card
valid in any of our hotels.

THE PITTSBURGER
Pittsburgh

THE DE WITT CLINTON

THE NEW WESTON

Madison Ave. & 50th St., N.Y.

THE WELLINGTON

Seventh Ave. & 55th St., N.Y.

UNDER KNOTT MANAGEMENT

IMPORTANT
AFTERTHOUGHT
FOR SHAVERS

Finish off with Williams
AQUA VELVA

Recipe for a real thrill! When
you lay down your razor . . .
splash on sparkling Aqua Velva.
Your face will say "thank you"
five times, because Aqua Velva

1. Feels great on your face!

2. Protects tiny micks and cuts.

3. Keeps the skin from getting too dry.

4. Lessens wind and sun burn.

5. Distinguishably improves the appearance.

FOR AFTER-SHAVING

Maxwell-Quantum Theory

So darkly complex, so fabulously remote
from the familiar things of human ex-
istence is science's probing into the funda-
mental secretae of the universe—of light,
electricity, gravity, matter—that the lan-
guage of physicists is becoming meta-
physical. Efforts to fit new discoveries to
demonstrable theory, or to perform the
converse, simply pile paradox on paradox.
While U. S. probers have been mostly
content to spin new riddles by unearth-
coming new facts in their laboratories, Euro-
pean physicists have tried more & more
of late, by sheer sweat of mind, to co-
ordinate, to reconcile, to reduce the areas
of conflict among observed phenomena.
Last week U. S. readers of the British scien-
tific journal *Nature* were apprised of an im-
portant reconciliation which Professor
Max Born, theoretical physicist of the
University of Göttingen, had achieved by
juggling mathematical symbols.

What Professor Born had done, it ap-
peared, was to revise the equations of
Scotland's brilliant James Clerk Maxwell
(1831-70) to accommodate the concepts
of modern quantum theory. Clothing elec-
trical phenomena in mathematical lan-
guage, Maxwell discovered electromagnetic
Algebra.

The new correlated electromagnetic
waves and light waves. But his equations
were based on the assumption that these
waves could represent any amount of
radiant energy, depending on conditions
at the source.

Along came Max Planck to knock this
assumption into a cocked hat with his dis-
covery of bundles and jumps. In 1900
Planck announced that radiant energy
could only be propagated in tiny, indi-
visible bundles which he called *quanta*.
Furthermore these bundles did not pro-
vide enough space continuously, but by
jumps. It was not long before experi-
menters were finding this lumpiness and
jerkiness everywhere. Albert Einstein
used it to explain photoelectric action.
Subatomic explorers found that atoms
had only a fixed number of orbits in which
their electrons might travel; that the elec-
trons jumped from one orbit to another
with emission or reception of energy ex-
actly equaling one or more quanta.

The little symbol ℏ representing a quantum began seriously to restrict the old easy mechanics. Nevertheless the work of reconciliation began. Denmark's Niels Bohr ingeniously yoked classical laws and quantum laws to predict the *probable* interstitial jumps of electrons. His famed Correspondence Principle was postulated in 1913, was later abandoned when it was found not to work for atoms having more than one electron.

Professor Born, long before last week,
published results of his wresting with
the problem of retaining Maxwellian
theory as a guide for what ought to hap-
pen under quantum conditions. But his
equations incorporated the quantum me-
chanics only as a special restriction on the
old laws, and they were such jungles of in-
tricacies that encyclopedias did not bother
to include them in discussions of his work.

A different point of departure led to

the solution presented last week. Max-
wellian theory took no notice of the size
of energy-radiating particles, handled them
as mathematical points. By 1925 suba-
tomic theory had reached such a stage
that electrons (which Maxwell did not
know existed) had to be considered as
waves as well as corpuscles—hence as ab-
stractions. Reduced to its simplest terms,
Professor Born's latest work elevates
them to the status of physical entities.
By introducing a symbol to represent the
electron's radius, by investing the electron
with the four Einsteinian dimensions of
time & space (which are handled sym-
metrically as four independent variables),
Professor Born has made the old theory
and the new lie down side by side in the
same equation.

As a result, stated Professor Born, the
positions and velocities of orbital elec-
trons may now both be calculated. The
Uncertainty Principle advanced six years
ago by Professor Werner Heisenberg held
that the position or velocity of a given
electron might be observed, never both.
It has been widely accepted by theorists
ever since, was reiterated last June by
Niels Bohr at the American Association
for the Advancement of Science meeting
in Chicago.*

Last week's announcement won instant
acclaim. One acclailer was Cambridge's
Paul Adrien Maurice Dirac who, now only
31, three years ago stellied his learned
compatriots by declaring that nuclear pro-
ambient electronic field. "A major ad-
vance!" cried Dr. Dirac.

Such great minds as Dr. Albert Einstein
and Sir Arthur Stanley Eddington have
long pondered the possibility of a Max-
well-quantum equation. Dr. Einstein
could have used it as part of his Unified
Field Theory co-ordinating the laws of
electromagnetism and light, which he
succeeded in expressing mathematically,
only to discard the expression when flaws
were detected. At first blush Professor
Born's feat of cerebral acrobatics seems
to hold the relevance of help to Dr. Ein-
stein in rebuilding the Unified Field
Theory, to which he expects to devote
the rest of his life.

Born 50 years ago in Breslau, Max Born
was the first son of Professor Gustav
Born, University of Breslau anatomy pro-
fessor famed for pioneer experiments in
grafting tapdoles, and of Margarette Kauff-
mann Born, sprig of a solidly established
family of industrial weavers. At Göttingen
he drank the intoxicating elixir distilled
by the distinguished mathematicians
Hilbert, Klein & Minkowski, was only 22
when Einstein's Relativity turned the uni-
tverse topsy-turvy. Four years later, a
teacher of theoretical physics, he was
plunging along the labyrinths opened up
by the master this mathematical treatises
include an exposition of Einstein's
principles,
but with many a nostalgic glance over his

*Professor Bohr's reiteration was in connection with his new theory of Complementarity—a dialectic doctrine of despair which holds that all phenomena have two aspects, like con venity and concavity of a sphere, and that both aspects cannot be true at the same time.

September 11, 1933

September 11, 1933

TIME

29

VALUES

THAT INSPIRE CONFIDENCE

IT IS SELDYN can be regarded so certainly a
good investment as that made in the purchase of a Lincoln. Over a
period of many years this motor car has continually inspired the
confidence of engineer and owner. With the mechanically inclined,
it is a confidence based upon actual knowledge of Lincoln's materials
and construction methods. With most owners, it is a confidence won
by satisfying comfort, by an enduring service completely responsive
to the will of the individual driver. Familiarity with the two 12-
cylinder Lineolns of today, whether of a technical or non-technical
nature, reveals the many reasons why they are considered unques-
tionably the greatest values ever offered by the Lincoln Motor Company.

THE LINCOLN

* Every Lincoln is built to the highest standards of mechanical excellence. Prices are the lowest in Lincoln history. The Lincoln V-12 with 145-inch wheelbase and the Lincoln V-12 with 136-inch wheelbase are available in a wide variety of distinctive body types, with full equipment, from $2700 to $7000 at Detroit.

September 11, 1933

TIME

31

A set of U. S. Heavy Service tires on one of our buses have given us 25,000 more miles than any set of tires we have ever used . . . We have operated over 700,000 miles with only nine punctures on the road.

● These tires were 7.50/20 U. S. Heavy Service Tires of Tempered Rubber used in a daily run of 395 miles over a very difficult, hilly route.

TEMPERED RUBBER

developed and used only by U. S., is tougher and longer lasting than any other tire rubber. It wears down more slowly, prolongs tire life and materially increases the tire's measure of safety. Look for the words TEMPERED RUBBER on the sidewall of the tire you buy; it pays to be sure.

United States Rubber Co.
WORLD'S LARGEST PRODUCER OF RUBBER

Only U.S.

builds TIRES of TEMPERED RUBBER
7% to 36% more mileage . . . no extra cost

MILESTONES

Married: William Thompson Dewart Jr., on the centenary of the New York Sun (see p. 24), of which he is secretary and his father editor-publisher; to Mrs. Catharine Ashbrook Smith, Wilmington, Del. socialite; in Alexandria Bay, N. Y.

Married: Ralph Isidori Straus, eldest son of President Percy Selden Straus of R. H. Macy & Co. (Manhattan department store), nephew of U. S. Ambassador to many European Isidori families; and tilda Bradford Day, Manhattan socialite; in Kidders-on-Cayuga Lake, N. Y.

Married: Mary Lilian Uppercu, daughter of Inglis M. Uppercu, Cadillac agent; and George Winthrop Haight, Manhattan lawyer; in Rumson, N. J.

Married: Eleanor Holm, 19, Olympic swimming champion, film actress; and one Arthur Jarrett, 26, radio singer; in Beverly Hills, Calif.

Married: Frank Clifford Wykoff, 24, onetime University of Southern California sprinter, joint holder of the world's 100-yd. dash record (9.5 sec.); and one Ethel Mae Richardson of Glendale, Calif.; in Glendale.

Married: Stephen ("Laddie") Sanford, 34, carpet tycoon, international poloist; and Film Actress Mary Duncan, 28, in Manhattan.

Re-elected: Nahum Sokoloff, president of the World Zionist Congress; at Prague, Czechoslovakia.

Died: Paul Charles L'Amoreaux, 47, president of Parmelee Transportation Co.; of angina pectoris; in Manhattan. An attorney, in 1922 he arranged the merger of Chicago's Checker, Yellow and Parmelee taxicab companies. Last year he became president of Parmelee, vigorously advocated municipal control of New York City's swarming caboons.

Died: Edward Phocion Howard, 56, founder & publisher of the New York Press (surf weekly); of heart disease; at Saratoga, N. Y. Famed for his loud clothes, handsome manners, easy generosity and lugubrious wit. Publisher Howard had been a Senate page, a New York World reporter, a financial editor, an oilman. In 1916 he bought a racing stable, made a habit of attending every important U. S. race meeting, traveling in style whether flat or flush. In 1924 he started the New York Press in which, among racing tips, form charts, track gossip and advertisements for "advisory bureaus," he frequently reiterated his motto: "All horse players must die broke." To friends he sardonically described his paper as "the tireside companion." A beneficiary of in-digent racing addicts, he once distributed $250 to a half-dozen impoverished ac-quaintances while descending eleven stories in an elevator. He carried thin gold-

headed canes, wore white spats, checkered waistcoats, spoke of money as "scratch." Suffering from the effects of a sporting banquet, he received a massage the night before he died from his longtime Negro cook-chauffeur-valet, Chicken Fry Ben Jones.

Died: Francis William ("Iron Major") Cavanaugh, 57, football coach at Fordham, Dartmouth, Boston College, Holy Cross for which he produced a potent team during his 30-odd years in the sport; of cerebral hemorrhage and pneumonia following an operation; on his chicken farm at Marshfield, Mass.

Died: Right Rev. Christian Schreiber, 61, first Catholic Bishop of Berlin since the Reformation, close friend of onetime Chancellor Heinrich Brüning; in Berlin. Hostile at first to Hitler, he changed his mind after the Papal Concordat with Germany, proclaimed: "Our Chancellor has been appointed by God."

Died: Warren A. Bechtel, 61, president of Six Companies, Inc. (syndicate of contracting companies building Boulder Dam, of which his W. A. Bechtel Co. is one); of an overdose of insulin (diabetes remedy); in Moscow, en route to inspect Dnieprostroyle Dam.

Died: Dr. Jan Herman van Roijen, 62, Dutch Minister to the U. S. since 1927; in The Hague, where he was on vacation.

Died: Right Rev. John Joseph Dunn, 63, Bishop Auxiliary and Vicar-General of the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of New York, right-hand man of Cardinal Hayes; of heart failure; in Manhattan.

Died: Georges Jean Claude Leygues, 74, onetime (1920-21) Premier of France, longtime (1917-18, 1921-33) Minister of Marine, known as the "father of the after-War French navy"; of apoplexy; in St. Cloud.

Died: Dr. Paul Van Dyke, 74, longtime (1898-1933) professor of Modern European History at Princeton, University, preacher, author (The Age of the Renaissance, Renaissance Portraits, Catherine de Medicis), brother of Princeton's late patriarchal Henry Van Dyke (Tram, April 12), whom he preceded on the Princeton faculty; at his summer home in Washington, Conn.

Died: Cecile de Wentworth, 80, U. S. bornjoir, resident in France since 1886; in poverty at the Municipal Hospital at Nice. For her portrait of Pope Leo XIII she was made a papal Marchesa; for many years she and the late famed Rosa Bonheur were the only women painters to hold the Legion of Honor cross; her work hangs in the Vatican Museum, Paris' Luxembourg, Manhattan's Metropolitan.

What killed the Canary?

"IT'S as plain as the pipe in your face," the wife insisted, and she was right. But no canary ever fainted from good tobacco smoke.

Husbands, let this be a lesson. Give that musty old briar "the bird." Pick yourself a good pipe . . . and a good, mild smoking tobacco. Specifically, try Sir Walter Raleigh's satisfying mixture of rare Kentucky Burleys kept fresh by gold foil. It has marched to the front in four years. And it has marched pipe smoking to the front of the house because of its fine fragrance and richness, which men and their wives so greatly admire. Any tobacco store will sell you this tobacco that will turn the saddest canary into a bluebird of happiness.

Brown & Williamson Tobacco Corporation
Louisville, Kentucky, Dept. T-39

Send for this

FREE

BOOKLET

It's 15¢—AND IT'S MILDER

["34", "TIME", "September 11, 1933", "## NOW\nsteel pen users\nhave their own\nFOUNTAIN PEN", "Now you can have a fountain pen with a point to match your pensmanship. Now you can have Esterbrook Re-New-Point Fountain Pen — equipped with any Re-New-Point you choose.", "The famous Esterbrook steel points have been reproduced in platinum-like, non-corrosive Daracrome Re-New-Points. They easily screw into the fountain pen holder. They can be replaced at will—unscrew the old, and screw in the new. They suit every writing need.", "Esterbrook Fountain Pens are priced from 31 up. Additional Re-New-Points 25¢. Hyphemation is free. Please contact us at Esterbrook, Camden, N.J. or Brown Bros., Ltd., Toronto, Canada.", "ESTERBROOK STEEL PEN MFG. COMPANY\n48 Cooper St., Camden, N.J.\nor Brown Bros. Ltd., Toronto, Canada", "### Esterbrook\nPENS", "Esterbrook Steel Pen Manufacturing Company\n48 Cooper St., Camden, N.J.\n1 cline 31 for Esterbrook Re-New-Point Fountain Pen — equipped with any Re-New-Point you choose in the fountain pen.", "Cline 31", "Business Fax", "High School or College", "Social Stud", "Name", "Address", "Dealer's Name and Address", "### BOUND COPIES\nCline 31\nVolume XXI Part Two, April 3 to June 26, 1953, $2.50 Postpaid\nTIME, 350 E. 22nd St., Chicago", "JOHNSON'S\nSINCE 1870\nFOOT SOAP\nAT ALL DRUGGISTS", "ACTS LIKE MAGIC ON SWOLLEN\nTIRED, ACHING, PERSPIRING FEET", "\"For five hours we followed and studied them, often very, very close, but never enough of any particular one to shoot. Believe me, it was a thrilling five hours! They look as big as the Grand Central Station, but there was a little calf about two feet high, playing around the old folks.", "\"At last a calf-less one presented a fine target, and I fired. Then started the most exciting and dangerous two minutes I have ever been through. My bullet hit the cow in the neck and broke the spinal cord. She went down, instantly killed. It sounded like a ton of bricks falling.", "\"Immediately the herd stamped and milled around in every direction, as they seemed to know where the danger was. But within two or three seconds a big bull picked us out and came for us like an express train.", "\"Can you imagine how we felt? As a matter of fact, we didn't have time to think. Mother had her movie camera going all the time, and was standing back of me. Well, the elephant came back and came, followed, by the herd. Klein was on the ground, and I knocked your mother down, too. We were lying flat on our backs in the thorns. Klein yelled to run. Pete shot again. Isaiah and a Somali guide had disappeared over the horizon.", "The shots sent the herd thundering off in another direction. The relieved Davisones dethroned themselves and Hunter Klein \"put two bullets into the bull's brain as he lay just 18 paces from where he had stood as we brought him down; and that was the end of that.\"", "### Rich Pets", "Last week in Boston, Union Trust Co. filed in Suffolk County Probate Court the fourth annual accounting of its stewardship of a client's estate. The estate of $5,160 was conservatively invested in Gas & Fuel, United Corp., National Dairy Products Corp. Income for last year was $352.79. Of this, $270.77 had been expended for the client's room, $1.60 for the client, last week summering in Wakefield, N. H., was a staid, elderly, non-swearing Mexican parrot, which five years ago was left a $5,000 trust fund by its late master, Frederick D. Allen of Brighton, Mass.", "The pet which officers once thought would have to pay the world's highest annual income tax, pays none. Tobey, last of a succession of 18 similarly-named French poodles, was not even mentioned in the will disposing of the late, eccentric Ella Virginia von Echtel Wendel's $40,000.000.000.000.000.0

36

TIME

PEOPLE

September 11, 1933

turned out to be a horse and inert melodrama. Plot: a philanthropist and onetime gambler takes an interest in the girl's painting, offers her a job. Audiences soon become aware of the philanthropist's real objectives: 1) get his three gunmen out of the Tombs, 2) to woe the girl, 3) to frame the boy for the men's jailbreak, 4) to disguise the fact that he is the sinister "Blight," the power behind the illicit drug traffic. To advance objective No. 1, he forces the young people's friend, a middle-aged keeper in the Tombs, to agree to smuggle guns to the three gunmen for a jailbreak. To advance objective No. 3, the keeper is to throw suspicion on the boy as having brought the guns when he comes to the Tombs with a Christmas necktie for his jailbird brother. The second act, laid in the Tombs, shows a jailbreak roughly based on the Tombs' 1926 break, the prisoners trying unsuccessfully to shoot their way out. Two characters, the boy's brother and a Mother Darragh, suspect that it was the keeper who framed the boy. The third act requires four lingering, sobbing scenes to expose the philanthropist as the villain and the Blight, make the remorse-ridden keeper agree, "All right, I'll jump" (from the roof), give the brother a gun with which to kill the Blight. Title line: "Life is a crucible and God's in his heaven."

NO BLADES
ever will touch his face

HIS FIRST SHAVE is a dry shave. Not as long as he lives will he cut his face, scrape it, nor injure him in any way as he shaves. Nature will never change his soft flexible skin into the calloused skin of a man who shaves with a blade. His beard will never grow unnaturally dark and stiff. THE MONEY HELL'SAVE. His Schick Dry Shaver will cost $15. He will never buy a single razor blade, a brush, shaving cream, nor after-shaving lotion. Neither will he ever sharpen his Dry Shaver. FOR TOUGH-EST, 1929, a Dry Shaver is as good for old shavers as for beginners. Blade-caloused skins grow soft and flexible under the gentler, but cleaner and close shaving of the Dry Shaver. FOR MOTHER AND DAUGHTERS, TOO. The Schick Dry Shaver is the gentlest way of removing hair from the legs and under the arms.

YOUR DEALER will give you a demonstration. If none near you, send $15 to us. ($17.50 in Canada.) Dry Shaver is guaranteed.

SCHICK
DRY SHAVER

Schick Dry Shaver, Inc., Stamford, Conn.
Pacific Coast — Schick Dry Shaver Distributors,
Reno, Nevada. Canadian Distributor—Schick Dry
Shaver, Ltd., Westmount, Quebec.

"Names make news." Last week these names made this news:

Out of the hospital near London's Buckingham Palace where she takes care of British officers stepped Sister Agnes Keyser, close friend of Britain's George & Mary who carries her own key to the royal gardens. At the hospital's gate, astonished Sister Agnes found not the travel-worn automobile in which she always rode, but a spic & span new one. She learned that His Majesty, motoring past the hospital, had noticed her old car, ordered for her a Daimler like his own, in the royal colors of maroon and scarlet.

In Manhattan after a European trip was talkative James Watson Gerard, 66, a Wartime Ambassador to Germany, who three years ago issued a famed list of 64 "real rulers of the U. S." He told newsmen: "That list is no longer significant. Things have changed. In that list I included no statesmen, not even former President Hoover, because the men I did include were too busy to hold public office, yet their influence determined who should hold such office. I could revise the list so that it included 59 leading industrialists, bankers, journalists, and so forth, today, but I could not call them the real rulers of the country. ... The President is ruling the country today, and nobody else is. ... Or, looking at it in another way, it could be increased so as to hold the names of the vast majority of voters in this country. They are ruling the country, are the only ruling class, through their elected representative, the President. But even in their special fields, the big bankers and industrialists of today are not the leaders they were in 1920. With the revolt of the voters has come a period of the stockholders. The day of secret bonuses and unreasonable salaries has gone forever. ... What has happened has most certainly been a good thing for the country. In fact, it has been a damn good thing!"

A British ship-breaking company paid $67,500 for the *Oscar II*, the "peace ship" chartered in 1915 by Henry Ford "to get the boys out of the trenches by Christians."

University of Southern California's President Rufus Bernhard von Kleinsimmler returned from a visit to ex-Kaiser Wilhelm II in Doorn, Holland, said that the ex-Kaiser urged all German-Americans to co-operate with President Roosevelt's recovery program.

In Washington, Frederick Adrian Delano, 70-year-old uncle of President Roosevelt, patented a "one-way window glass." Made of a "corrugated transparent material," Uncle Delano's invention so tortors light rays that it is opaque when looked at from one side, transparent from the other.

While motoring to Boston, where he is working for his father's Colonial-Beacon Oil Co., Winthrop Rockefeller, fourth son of John Davison Rockefeller Jr., ran

out of gasoline on a road near Hingham, Mass., had to be pushed.

Off to Petersham, Mass. went Federal Judge John Munro Woolsey of New York with a copy of James Joyce's famed Ulysses, long barred from the U. S. as "immoral and licentious." He will spend his vacation in a French telephone, banged it down on the pate of J. Demiteis. Summoned by frightened neighbors, police found her screaming: "I've just killed a man!" found J. Demiteis alive but dizzy.

In Hollywood, the wife of oldtime Film Actor Bryant Washburn, exasperated because he had brought a friend, one J. Demiteis, home with him early in the morning, picked up a French telephone, banned it down on the pate of J. Demiteis. Summoned by frightened neighbors, police found her screaming: "I've just killed a man!" found J. Demiteis alive but dizzy.

Claire Windsor, film actress, defending a $100,000 alienation of affections suit in Hollywood, admitted she had written the following in her first love-letter to Broker Alfred C. Read Jr.: "Darling, you have been gone only three hours. It seems strange to come up to my room and not call you to let you know I am here, and in a few minutes I will be eating alone."

In a Manhattan court Cartoonist Harry Conway ("Bud") Fisher (Mutt & Jeff) asked that his $400 weekly alimony payment to Aedita S. Fisher (onetime Countess de Beaumont) be cut to $100. He said that Depression had reduced the income from his comic strip from $52,000 per year to $26,000, forced him to sell his racing stable.

"To plant the cross of Jesus alongside the Blue Eagle of the NRA," Evangelist Aimee Semple McPherson Hutton signed a contract to appear in vaudeville on Broadway. Said she: "In debating with myself I found my flesh shrinking from the misunderstanding of motives which might be focused upon me, but when I consider what Christ would do were He here upon earth, there was no other answer than His own word: 'I come not to call the righteous but sinners to repentance.' It is not as an actress that I shall go before the footlights. My purpose will be to contact the non-churchgoers." Rejoice,alm for Evangelist Hutton's shrinking flesh: $1,000 per week.

Ill lay: Edward Grey, 1st Viscount Grey of Fallostan, 71, Britain's Wartime Foreign Secretary, gravely of heart in Christen Bank, Northumberland; California's Governor James Rolph Jr., of congestion of the lungs and high fever, in San Francisco; Betty Compton Walker, of colitis, in Evian-les-Bains, France; Actress Tallulah Bankhead, of acute abdominal trouble, in Manhattan; Valerie Marguerite Germonpors von Stroheim, third wife of Film Director Erich Oswald Hans Carl Maria von Nordenwall von Stroheim, of burns about the head and shoulders and seared lungs when a hair-drying machine in a beauty shop ignited, in Hollywood.

September 11, 1933

TIME

37

Ever put a cigarette to
the altitude test?

Ever smoked in a plane? In rarefied atmosphere? Then you've put cigarettes to the toughest test there is! ... Says the Eastern representative of a group of leading air lines: "Hostesses on many of our planes report that Spuds are very popular with the passengers." ... That tiny bit of menthol in Spuds keeps the tobacco tasting right, under all smoking conditions.

EASTERN AIR TRANSPORT 18. PASSENGER PLANE

20 FOR 15¢
125¢ IN CANADA

IN-THE-AIR OR ON-THE-GROUND...

Spud is always enjoyable, always comfortable. It used to be a "now-and-then" cigarette... a refreshing change. Now it's an established best-seller... rewarding steady devotees with real tobacco enjoyment... and capping it all with that delightful, cool, clean taste. Have you learned about mouth-happiness?

SPUD
MENTHOL-COOLED
CIGARETTES

THE AXTON-FISHER TOBACCO COMPANY, INCORPORATED, LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY

38

TIME

SPORT

and again Ken-L-Ration has proved to be the perfect and complete food for your dog.*

The protective vitamins A, B, D, and E,—the mineral salts—and the vital protein elements—were found in adequate amounts —in Ken-L-Ration.

These tests have shown that in canine nutrition the meat of the horse has a higher nutritive value than the most quality meat generally used.

That's why Chappels maintain the world's largest herd of healthy meat horses on more than 1,600,000 western acres.

And that's why you should insist upon Ken-L-Ration—the dog food ASSAYED in the cruciality of modern science. Sold by quality dealers everywhere.

FREE
for your
CANARY

VACUUM PACKED Bird-E-Ration. Prevents Insects. Contains "Early."

*This latest Ken-L-Ration assay was conducted by Dr. Laurens Harris, Chief of the Research Staff of Marine & Hopkins Biological Laboratories, one of the world's oldest and best research institutions.

CHAPPEL BROS. Inc.
94 Peoples Ave., Rockford, Ill.
Please send Bird-E-Ration sample to
Name
Street
City

State

Harmsworth Cup

There is always at least one serious mishap in the Harmsworth Cup races. It was almost a relief to the crowd of 35,000, in boats and grandstands on the banks of the St. Clair River near Marine City, Mich., when the mishap came so early last week. Just before the race three-ace E. Dodge decided to enter his three-year-old *Delphine V*, rebuilt for a speed of 85 m.p.h., to help Gar Wood's *Miss America X*, which has gone 124 m.p.h., defend the Cup against this year's British chal-lenger, Hubert Scott-Paine's *Miss Britain III*. Fifteen minutes before the start, which had been postponed for three hours because of rough water, the *Delphine V* sputtered out from her boat well, where mechanics had been trying to solder up leaks in her fuel lines. Two miles below the grandstands, she burst into flames. Her crew drove her ashore, stood by safe but helpless while *Delphine V* burned to the waterline.

First Race. Powered with one Napier Schneider Cup 1,375-h.p. engine, against the four 1,650-h.p. p. Packard motors in Gar Wood's 383-ft. *Miss America X*, the 243-ft. duralumin-hulled challenger was well known to be much slower, even if her maximum speed was 100 m.p.h., as reported. Her chance was to beat *Miss America X* on the turns, which Hubert Scott-Paine expected to make at full speed while *Miss America X* was laboriously slowing down and regaining speed. The water was smooth when the boats roared out across the start and for just that instant it looked as though Gar Wood might have a race on his hands. By the time *Miss America X* reached the second turn on the first seven-mile lap, the possibility had disappeared. *Miss Britain III*, almost a mile behind, was chugging along smoothly but a little pathetically, at 66 m.p.h., to *Miss America's* easy 80 mph. Gar Wood throttled his boat out to 85 for the next lap, 82 for the third, a bare 80 for the fourth. Rotund, red-haired Hubert Scott-Paine and his mechanic, Gordon Thomas, crouching in *Miss Britain's* small stream-lined cowl, got their motors warmer as the race went on, reached a maximum of almost 81 m.p.h. on the third lap. *Miss America X* was about two miles ahead at the finish.

Second Race. A stifling day and congested highways let only a skimply 150,000 car through to the second race, which turned out to be the most exciting of all Harmsworth Cup events. This time, his motors warmed up beforehand. Scott-Paine managed to get across the line first. At the first turn in the 7-mi. over, *Miss America X* swerved past him. Thereafter Gar Wood patiently tantalized Scott-Paine. *Miss Britain III*, leaping from the water every half mile, would inch up on *Miss America X*. *Miss America X* would spurt ahead, then relax. Neither boat broke records. *Miss America X* averaged 86.937 statute m.p.h., *Miss Britain III* 85.780. But Scott-Paine was only 22.33 seconds behind Gar Wood at the end and that was the nearest Gar Wood has let any contender approach him in the Harmsworth Cup races.

If he really expected to win the Harmsworth Cup Hubert Scott-Paine proved last week that he was a better loser than boat-driver. Said he, after the first race: "The best time of my life . . . the water was beautiful . . . my boat ran up to expectations. . . ." Unlike Kaye Don, whose *Miss England III* broke down last year in the Harmsworth races, Hubert Scott-Paine has no backer. Like Gar Wood, he builds his own boats, works on them with

Wide World

HUBERT Scott-Paine

*"Until I am spent out . . ."*

a staff of six mechanics with whom he shared quarters in Detroit last week. At 14, Hubert Scott-Paine ran away to sea. Before the War, in his early twenties, he became interested in airplanes, flew so successfully that he was jailed for "suicidal intent." Stranded in the South of France, he joined a circus, got 20 francs a bout for boxing with anyone who wanted to earn 63 by staying three days. At Englishman who had made friends with Scott-Paine, took him back to England, started him in airplane building. In the War, Hubert Scott-Paine became a director of Imperial Airways, to whose board he still belongs. In 1921 he helped build up British Supermarine Motor Co. He sank his whole fortune financing and building the plane that won the Schneider Cup from Italy in 1922, defended it successfully the next year. He happened into the motor-boat building industry when he and his wife, Brenda Scott-Paine, almost as good a boat-driver as her husband, were planning a trip to Africa on their power cruiser. He went to a boat-works to buy new parts for their power cruiser, became so much interested that he bought the boat-works, canceled his trip. His British Power Boat Co. makes most of Europe's fastest speed-boats, including the *Miss England* in which the late Sir Henry Segrege, a boat maker, died in 1929. He says he will keep after the Harmsworth Cup "until I am spent out . . . or take it home."

September 11, 1933

TIME

CHOOSE YOUR TRUCK CORRECTLY
—with the REO PERFORMANCE GAUGE

SAY—THAT BIG TRUCK TRAVELS
LIKE A PASSENGER CAR. WISH
THEY ALL KEPT OUT OF THE WAY
LIKE YOU DO!

THAT'S BECAUSE IT'S THE RIGHT
TRUCK FOR THIS JOB. THE BOSS
GOES BY THE REO TRUCK PER-
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NEVER MISSES!

F
A
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to pick the right truck
for the job is often responsible for
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With mathematical accuracy, this in-
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With such information available for the asking, why add another truck to your equipment without first finding out for yourself—instead of taking the word of an optimistic salesman—whether it is the one best suited for the job?

There are no claims or guesses involved when you apply the Reo Performance Gauge to a problem in transportation. Just facts—and you draw your own conclusions.

Would you like the Reo Slide-Rule
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52

TIME

mour & Co.'s main building in the Chicago stockyards, faces on one side the packing firm's general offices, on the other a cowlpen. The meeters were Armour & Co.'s stockholders.

President of Armour & Co. is T. G. Lee. Thirty-eight years ago as Thomas G. Lee he became a stenographer in Armour & Co.'s beef department under the late F. Edson White. Through the ranks he rose as one of Mr. White's protégés, in 1913 was sent for sales manager to Philadelphia, in 1921 to Manhattan, in 1926 was called back to Chicago as a vice president of the company. As he rose Mr. Lee became T. George Lee, following the fashion in non-mentality set by J. (for Jonathan) Ogden Armour and by F. (for Frank) Edson White who succeeded Mr. Armour to the presidency.

One morning in January 1931, F. Edson White plunged out of his bathroom window. The directors of Armour & Co. met to pick his successor. After a stormy session they named not. Philip D. Armour III, 37, who was first vice president, but Mr. Lee who was 52, had served in nearly every department of the business. Another change followed: T. George Lee became simply T. G. Lee and took up a tough job. He did more than stare down his nose at subordinates and demand what he liked to, "You're all wet." In his first report to stockholders he had to report a $2,068,000 operating deficit, but he went in for economy. For 1932 with sales manager to T. George Lee, 37, was great as the year before, he was able to show $9,255,000 in operating income.

A $9,000,000 operating profit is handsome but it is wholly inadequate for Armour & Co. In the post-War slump when J. Ogden Armour lost his fortune, Armour & Co. took a terrific beating, emerged from

Acme

THOMAS GEORGE LEE
"Booo" mingled with "Moooo."

reorganization with a debt of $144,000,000. Its funded debt is still $91,000,000. T. G. Lee could do this simple bit of arithmetic: add to $6,000,000 (interest charges), $4,000,000 (guaranteed divi-

dends on the preferred stock of its subsidiary, Armour & Co. of Delaware) and $7,000,000 or $5,000,000 (for depreciation on one share) makes over $17,000,000 that Armour & Co. must earn before it will have any profits to pay dividends on its own preferred and common stock. Adding the fact that some $10,000,000 of unpaid dividends have accumulated since 1931 on Armour & Co.'s preferred stock, Mr. Lee was conscious that save by a reorganization there was small prospect of any Amour dividends for a long time

So two months ago he proposed to his stockholders a reorganization to allow assets to be written down. Noce depreciation is possible.

Two things happened to spoil his plan: 1) A new law went into effect in Illinois giving minority stockholders the right in case of a reorganization to demand a fair appraisal of their stock and to be paid the amount thereof in cash. 2) Three groups of stockholders cropped up to object that the terms of the reorganization were unfair.

First to organize was a Stockholders' Protective Committee headed by Charles F. Tuttle of Manhattan which circularized stockholders objecting that the preferred stockholders had not received the full amount of their stock, and made a study of the claims on the company's income proposed by the committee and to demand a fair compensation, that common stockholders were to be deprived of their proper equity in the company, that the plan was "unfair" and that it would not allay the stockholders' unequivalent and ununited demand for a fair compensation. Chase Ullman of St. Louis got together another group of dissenting stockholders. Finally a third group, a Stockholders' Advisory Committee headed by Charles F. Tuttle of Manhattan, and William Morgan Butler of Boston, got into action. More noisy than the others they carried their fight to the Press, asked embarrassing questions: Had Albert Henry Wiggin, Samuel McRoberts and Arthur Reynolds each been paid $100,000 a year as voting trustees for Armour's stock? Had the management manipulated the price of Armour stock? Had not the management tried to deceive stockholders about the reason for the reorganization? Ought stockholders not to have been told that they could demand cash for their shares? How could the company justify having used its employees throughout the country to get proxies from stockholders?

When the date for a stockholders meeting arrived it was adjourned. Last week when the meeting was held the outcome was already settled. Mr. Lee had announced that although the management held proxies for 65% of the stock (66½% were needed to authorize the reorganization) to 10% for the opposition, so many stockholders had announced their intention of demanding cash that the plan could not be satisfactorily carried through.

Mr. Lee got to his feet in the gymnasium with a large Blue: Eagle hanging up a sign that he was trapped for order with a water glass. Three hundred assisted

*The terms: $72,000 shares of $100 old preferred stock to be replaced by 4,392,000 shares of new common; 2,000,000 shares of common A plus rights to buy 333,000 shares of new common B to be replaced by 1,000,000 shares of new common B; 1,000,000 shares of old common B to be replaced by 1,000,000 shares of new common plus rights to buy 2,000,000 shares of new common at $12.50.*

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September 11, 1933

September 11, 1933

TIME

53

Concerning Life on the Planet Mars
With a Few Comments About This One

Just before he died, the great astronomer Lowell, who spent his life in the study of the planet Mars, sat one evening with a group of friends and told the following story:

As a young astronomer he had read one day that a certain great scientific body had offered twenty-five thousand francs for the first person who established proof that there was life on our near neighbor, the planet Mars. His imagination was touched; and more because of the dare than because of the reward, young Lowell set to work.

His task took twenty-five years. Among other things he had to make a study of human eyes. He found that there were eyes with short rods and eyes with long rods. The eyes with long rods could see distance more surely. He tested those eyes for months at a time on distant telegraph wires before he brought them to the telescope.

But surely, very surely as the years went by he established in the mind of the astronomical world the fact that the planet did slowly change color when it passed its equator every two years, and the season of its spring time came on; for Mars revolves around the sun every two years, instead of one. Gradually he established the fact that this change in the color of Mars, spreading slowly from the equator toward the poles was the same change that takes place in the color of our earth when our spring comes. In other words, there was vegetation on Mars, and vegetation is life.

More years passed and the young Lowell, no longer young, found himself in Europe and thought himself to collect the old time reward. But the sages of that great scientific group looked at him curiously

"Mars," they said, "Life on Mars? Why, we know all about that. We've known all about that for years."

A rather long story for a rather short point.

*****

Within the past ten years America has been making social and economic changes on the face of this earth of far greater importance than Lowell's discovery of the changes on the face of Mars.

It is not important that True Story Magazine with its tremendous mass-earning circulation as a background for its study, was able, and was the first to put the meaning of these changes into words and to make America conscious of what they were.

A short time ago, you had your President formulating his plan for the National Recovery Act. The basis of that plan was that Labor should have more wages and shorter hours. The purpose of that plan was to provide this great mass market with still greater buying power.

In one of the very first of these True Story pages it may interest you to remember that we said,

"America's Greatest Discovery is that Labor must have the leisure and the money to buy all the things that it helps to make."

"That America has come upon a period of mass production. That if you have mass production you must have mass consumption. That we have arrived at a time in the world history when Labor has become a controlling market and is no longer to be considered as a commodity."

*****

The repetition of these records is not important to you now any more than Lowell's appearance before that scientific body was important to them. Nor, will it be any more disappointing to us than it was to Lowell if you have forgotten their origin.

The important thing is, How are we going to interpret this National Recovery Act?

And here True Story Magazine can help once more. It can help by directing your approach toward this great wage-earning market with which we have been so closely associated for so many years.

We told you in one of these pages several years ago that the cultural and educational standard of America's great wage-earning mass has risen so rapidly that it was mentally conditioned to absorb all of the new things that America's mass production was turning out. Please let this sink in: You couldn't do with the peasant class of Europe what you can do with the wage-earning mass of America.

*****

Now, through the innumerable letters and manuscripts that cross our editorial desks, we are able to say once more that this method of securing National Recovery is already working; that it had begun to work long before the President's proclamation was ever issued; and that it will continue to work, if the employers of America will immediately back up this new activity with their re-employment on the one hand and their selling plans on the other.

The reasons for this have to do with the speed at which the wage-earning masses are spending and can spend whenever the payroll starts; to the intelligence of that spending, and to their widespread acceptance of what you are setting out to do.

The come-back already is almost entirely in the mass field. We know this by our letters and manuscripts. We know it by our rapidly increasing news stand sales (for most of True Story sells from month to month on the news stands, and the wage-earner's family does not buy True Story Magazine when he is out of a job). And we finally know it by the mass production charts in many of your own great factories

Automobile sales, for example, have gone up right straight through the summer when they should have gone down. But almost entirely amongst the low priced cars where your wage-earning mass consumption is absorbing the output. True Story Magazine has been the sponsor of that mass market for many years. It never fails in producing mass results.

["54", "TIME", "## Service in the Heart of the Industrial East", "LARGEST groupings of Associated Gas and Electric properties are in New York, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey, the heart of the industrial East.", "Associated industrial customers include the great shoe and clothing industries of New York; the textile trades of Eastern Pennsylvania; the", "steel mills and machine shops of Western Pennsylvania.", "Industrial users of Associated electric, gas, and other services number 23,520 out of a total of 1,404,800 customers. They are divided among 285 different industries, and are located in 26 States and Canada.", "Associated Gas & Electric System", "61 Broadway", "New York", "INCORPORATED", "INVESTORS", "Investment dealers in principal cities, or The Parker Corporation, will gladly furnish detailed prospectus of the Capital Stock Trust Certificates for shares of Incorporated Investors, meeting the requirements of the Federal Securities Act of 1933.", "The Parker Corporation", "GENERAL DISTRIBUTORS", "60 State Street", "Boston, Massachusetts", "September 11, 1933", "stockholders seated on folding funeral chairs looked up at him. There was no business to transact, but he made a little speech: \"Certain criticisms of your company's management have appeared in newspaper advertisements. . . . I believe stockholders are entitled to know the facts. . . . I propose to send, as soon as possible, a full statement to all stockholders of the company giving an answer to the criticisms. . . .\"", "While he spoke a cow in the cowpen outside went, \"Moo, moo, moo! O O O O O O O O O O

["58", "TIME", "September 11, 1933", "CHEVIOT SUITS FOR FALL", "Brooks Brothers' travelling representatives are now starting their Fall visits to 45 cities all over the United States, in addition to many of the well-known preparatory schools and colleges. Their first showings will be most comprehensive—including hats, shirts, neckties, shoes, separate jackets and odd trousers, as well as Fall overcoats and suits made in our own workrooms. There are several different suit models in a variety of fine materials—notably Scottish cheviots, which are equally famous for tailoring and for wearing qualities.", "If you will write to our New York store, we shall be glad to send you a copy of the current itinerary.", "Brooks Brothers\nCLOTHING\nHats, Shoes", "Men's Furnishings, Hats, Shoes", "NEW YORK • BOSTON", "MADISON AVE. COR. FORTY-FOURTH ST. · NEW YORK", "NEWBURY COR. BERKELEY STREET · BOSTON", "NUMBER ONE WALL STREET · NEW YORK", "* young U. S. writers. Gertrude Stein and Sherwood Anderson are very funny on the subject of Hemingway. . . . Hemingway had been formed by the two of them and they were both a little proud and a little ashamed of the work of their minds. They admitted that Hemingway was yel-low, he said. Gertrude Stein insisted, just like the flat-boat men on the Mississippi river as described by Mark Twain . . . he looks like a modern and he smells of the museums. But what a story that of the real Hem, and one he should tell himself but alas he never will. After all, as he himself once murmured, there is the career, the career . . . Gertrude Stein once told him: \"Hemingway, after all you are 90%. Rotarian. Can't you, he said, make it 80%. No, said she regretfully. I can't.\" Of Ezra Pound his criticism is even more excellent, excellent if you were a village ex-plainer, ex-", "The Writer. Alice B. Toklas tells who and—to a certain extent—what Gertrude Stein is. But it will leave pedestrian readers still puzzling their heads over why this obviously shrewd and salty old lady, whose sentences may seem rather primer-like but are just as licid as a prime, should have gathered such a lurid reputation as mur-deress of the King's English. Such read-ers should remember that in Alice B. Tok-las Authorees Stein is on her best behavior. If they are sufficiently chivalrous to look up some of her wilder work, this is the kind of thing they may find:", "A PATRIOTIC LEADING", "Verse I", "Indeed indeed", "Can you see,", "The stars", "And regularly the precious treasure.", "What do we love without measure.", "We know.", "Verse II", "We suspect the second man.", "Verse III", "We are worthy of everything that\nhappens", "You mean weddings.", "Naturally I mean weddings.", "Verse IV", "And then we are,", "Hail to the nation.", "Verse V", "Do you think we believe it.", "Verse VI", "It is that or bust.", "Verse VII", "We cannot bust.", "Verse VIII", "Thank you.", "Verse IX", "Thank you so much.", "What can the plain reader make of all this? If he is in a good humor he will doubtless laugh, but at what? Sober-sided Critic Edmond Wilson gives as his opinion that: \"Miss Stein is trying to superinduce a state of mind in which the idea of the nation will seem silly, in which we shall be conscious of ourselves as crea-tures who do not lend themselves to that conception.\" Still puzzled, the plain reader dips into another Stein volume (Tender", "September 11, 1933", "TIME", "59", "Buttons), to his astonishment brings up these:", "\"Red Roses. A cool red rose and a pink cut pink, a collapse and a sold hole, a little less hot.", "\"A Sound. Elephant beaten with candy and little pops and chews all bolts and reckless rats, this is this.", "\"Custard. Custard is this. It has aches, aches when. Not to be. Not to be nar-rowly. This makes a whole little hill.", "\"It is better than a little thing that has mellow real mellow. It is better than lakes whole lakes, it is better than seeing.", "\"Chicken. As a dirty word, ala a dirty third, ala a dirty bird.\"", "Some readers laugh, some are annoyed; some snort with disgust or indignation. Gertrude Stein, writer for posterity (\"I write for myself and strangers\") does not mind. Says she slyly: \"My sentences do get under their skin. . . .\"", "“Sentences not only words but sentences and always sentences have been Gertrude Stein's life passers-by. The only teacher she acknowledges is her poodle. Basket. \"The rhythm of his water drinking made her recognize the difference between sentences and paragraphs, that paragraphs are emotional and that sentences are not.\"", "Critical consensus, while it writes off Gertrude Stein's less comprehensible utter-ings as a public loss, grants that she has been a private gain to more intelligible writers, and that her influence on contemporary literature has been vicariously potent. Serious critics take her seriously, even when they cannot understand what she is doing. It is curious to look up some of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we pic-ture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early work, we are still aware of her presence in the background of contemporary literature—and we picture her as the great pyramidal Buddha of Jo Davidson's, Wilson's, \"Most of us balk at her soporific rigmaroles, her echolalic incantations, her half-witted-sounding catalogs of numbers; most of us read her less & less. Yet, remembering especially her early

60

IT TAKES
HEALTHY NERVES
TO FLY THE MAIL
AT NIGHT

● **ABOVE**—A. M. WILKINS, air-mail pilot for Transcontinental and Western Air, Inc., has flown the night air mail over 150,000 miles. It takes healthy nerves to hang up a record like that!

● **RIGHT**—AT THE END of his night run A. M. Wilkins joins a fellow pilot, W. Niedernhofer, at Newark Airport, the Eastern Terminal of TWA, for a chat and a smoke. "Camels never ruffle or jangle my nerves," Wilkins says.

● **EVER NOTICE** HOW airplane passengers smoke at each stop? Camels never get on your nerves, no matter how much you smoke, and there's more real enjoyment in their costlier tobaccos.

**IT IS** MORE FUN TO KNOW

Camels are made from finer, MORE EXPENSIVE tobaccos than any other popular brand. They are milder, richer in flavor. They never tire your taste or get on your nerves.

A
MATCHLESS
BLEND

STEADY SMOKERS
TURN TO CAMELS

A. M. WILKINS, air-mail ace, says: "It's a steady grind, all right, living up to our tradition that the mail must go through! That's why I smoke Camels. And I smoke plenty! Camels never ruffle or jangle my nerves, and I like their mild, rich flavor."

Steady smokers turn to Camels because the costlier tobaccos in Camels never get on the nerves ... never tire the taste. *Your* taste and *your* nerves will confirm this. Start smoking Camels today!

Copyright, 1933,
R. J. Reynolds Tobacco Company

Camel's
Costlier Tobaccos

NEVER GET ON YOUR NERVES
NEVER TIRE YOUR TASTE

CONTEMPO

Volume III. Number 12

October 25, 1933, Chapel Hill, N. C.

Ten Cents a Copy

Speaking of Excitement

By SAMUEL PUTNAM

Jules Romains' Men of Good Will (Knopf, $2.50) has been described by its American publisher as, probably, "the most exciting work of fiction published in France during the past year." This, I am quite sure, is not true. By all odds, the most exciting piece of French fiction of the past twelve months—perhaps as exciting, in the exact sense of the word, as any ever published in French, and one of the outstanding novels of the decade, anywhere—is Céline's tremendously young and tremendously tumultuous Au bout de la Nuit, which I understand some lucky American house is bringing out soon in English. But that is another story, of which I shall have more to say later.

No. Let us begin by getting our values right. Excitement is not, precisely, Romains' quality. Nor is it, as a rule, a characteristic of the export article, the one chosen for transition into another language. This is especially true of the American choice. (The French at the moment are the most pioneering of all in this regard.) It usually takes ten years, and more often twenty, for the English-reading public to hear of an important European writer. We get them only when they are swathed in the graveclothes of success. The importation of Señor Ortega y Gassett's distinguished muddlements is a recent case in point. Such an author is "exciting" for the reason that he hands us back our own platitudinous native thoughts; whereas if we wanted real excitement from contemporary Spain, for example, we would turn, not to the university don, but to the fighting, acting thinker of the peninsula, E. Giminez Caballero—but he would be too foreign!

I am not saying that this is true, quite, of Romains. But it comes perilously near to being. The father of *Unanimisme* is by now sufficiently respectable—which is to say, sufficiently successful—to render him palatable, e.g., to the stodgy British taste (does he, as a matter of fact, come to us by way of London?). This, however, is not what I understand by excitement. Always astonishing versatile and almost unbelievably industrious, Romains burst forth a season or two ago as a farceur, and is now by way of being the theatrical pet of Paris. He had, in 1931 I believe it was, three—possibly four—plays in performance at leading theatres. His books sell. He is accepted. He is a success. In this sense, he is "exciting."

(Continued on page three)

The Plain Edition of Gertrude Stein

By LINDLEY WILLIAMS HUBBELL

Lucy Church Amiably. By Gertrude Stein. *Before the Flowers of Friendship Faded Friendship Faded.* By Gertrude Stein. *How to Write.* By Gertrude Stein. 1931. *Operas and Plays.* By Gertrude Stein. 1932.

These four books are the first of the Plain Edition which is to publish "all the work not yet printed of Gertrude Stein." Until this year the public has steadfastly refused to read Miss Stein, preferring to deride her at a safe distance; but during recent months the tide has turned with a vengeance, and it is apparent that the reading public, having thoroughly digested the works of her followers and imitators, are turning their attention, at long last, to the far more impressive original. And so to review these four books of hers, which a year ago would have been a defensive and a forensic task, is now, quite simply, a pleasure.

Lucy Church Amiably is a novel without narrative. Those who are distressed by this will do well to consider the description which the author has placed upon the title page. It is, she says, "A novel of romantic beauty and nature and which looks like an engraving." Now of a painter we ask only that he paint. Some apples on a plate are enough, if he knows his business. We do not ask for implications or connotations; and we turn with relief from the picture of a comely youth receiving his diploma, painted over the auditorium of the City College of New York, to

(Continued on page four)

I Come Not to Bury
Hemingway

By HENRY HART

The inevitable human necessity to smash the idol that has been worshipped first appeared against Mr. Hemingway upon the publication of his *Death in the Afternoon* (Scribners, $3.50).

As always, of course, the indictment of him had nothing to do with that book. It was simply that his time had come, he had served his purpose, the novelty he supplied had become familiar, there was a new need, and everybody had a kink in the back of his neck from looking up so long.

All of this being so, one thing inevitably follows, getting even with the object of the late adulation.

This emotion is universal. Nothing can

(Continued on page two)

By SAMUEL D. SCHMALHAUSEN

If Gertrude Stein is a genius, then I'm a Checko-Slovakian. But if I'm a genius, then Gertrude Stein is a Schizophrenic. This is the lyrical prelude to my delirical analysis.

The psychopathologist used to speak of dementia praecox. Under psychoanalytic re-education he now more acutely speaks of schizophrenia. And what shall we understand by these barbarous terms? Only this and nothing more: that amount of intellectual and emotional deterioration which stamps a mind as *psychotic*; suffering from regression to simpler levels of thought and feeling, infantile in its logic, confused in its reports on reality, linguistically muddled and incoherent, psychologically out of touch with the world of mature social and intellectual realities as *experienced* by the mind not broken by a psychosis.

Behold these enlightening utterances:

"So as to get the branch there without the man being dead in London ...

Downhill, letterdrop, let her drop, below the level; I'm below my own level; revèlles, which I translate 'to rise' ...

Remove buggy ride till dawn ...

White smoke whirling around fast; the bigness and rapidity scare me, overcome me, like the big female dog. The dog was white too. It's like my own self; I'm white outside, but not inside. Maybe that's why I fear hypocrisy."

That is *not* by Gertrude Stein. It is far too coherent and sane: in fact, it represents only the *incipient* stage in schizophrenic deterioration. The more advanced state of regression, manifesting itself in what the clinicians picturesquely and accurately call a "word-salad," is exemplified in the following utterances:

"It is very necessary to be held by Fanny. Now all this is still sentences. Paragraphs are still why you were selfish.

Shell fish are what they eat. This is neither a paragraph nor a sentence.

How are our received. That is a question which they make. Now think of a sentence. All these are parts. One man makes four children. He is not taught without care.

This sentence comes to the same place as all they said.

Now what is the difference between a sentence and I mean.

The difference is a sentence is that they will wish women."

This demented grotesquerie is by Gertrude Stein. It contains the various pathologic mechanisms in familiar use among the extreme cases of dementia praecox: echolalia, neologism, incoherence, grammatical idiocy, slang association, *word-salad*, detachment from human and social reality.

(Continued on page four)

["6", "## Books on Review", "Two bows to a newly discovered literary influence-Flush, Elizabeth Barrett Browning's cocker spaniel, who, having inspired the writing of several letters, a poem and a two, and a Miss Woolf, is now assigned his historical place by no less a worthy than Virginia Woolf, and by an obviously less worthy Flora Merrill in two separately undertaken biographies. Miss Woolf's (Chase Court, $2), is the October choice of *The Book of the Month*, and redeems it itself slightly by treating the subject in relation to its mitres, as well as by its excellent prose. Miss Merrill's is called *Flush* (Wimpoole Street and Broadway (McGride, $1.50), and can't possibly be meant for adult consumption, though its appearance at the same time as Miss Woolf's will probably cause it to fall into the wrong hands, and is effectively illustrated-at least to this much touched-by-the-picturesque reviewer, who stands before you as an honest to god lover of dogs, at not, al as, of literature.", "Miss Merrill, who has lived for thirty years, has been a hitherto unemphasized but now a well established author, told with great vitality and not without humor.\n\nMr. Darlington's *Dangerous Age* (Double Day, Doran, $2), is Isla Glenn's new novel. It tells the story of a man of forty-five, who had settled in his predetermined pattern of existence (bachelorthood or banking), when lo! the Oriental! Mr. Darlington goes to Manila in search of his errant brother, and the name he has acquired is the most mysterious of the Pacific waters being to inculminate itself and by the time he is in Manila for about a week he begins to lose that certainty which made him regard the inhabitants of the Philippines as the last of the last. Unfortunately, possibly because of the colorful people it concerns itself with. Miss Thomas spent many years in her little mountain town and did not know the distances he had to cover in order to take down in short hand the proceedings of the various courts in the circuit of her particular hills. The book is a little too ferocious for the reader, but it is a book which, if not a book which is necessary to read, is effectively illustrated-at least to this much touched-by-the-picturesque reviewer, who stands before you as an honest to god lover of dogs, at not, al as, of literature.", "finally go off on a flight that is obvious-ly toward the unattainable. And whether Mr. Stuart's strained and strange subject matter, which seems to confine his writing, will some day depart from him and give his already failible fullness.", "Liam O'Flaherty, on the other hand, at-tempts in his new book, *The Martyr*, (Mac-millan, $2), to portray with robust characters and incidents the spirit behind the Irish civil wars. Although the writing is not always O'Flaherty's successfully portrays the character of the Stater and the Republican and the stand each took at the time. The central figures move within their clearly defined orbit, to the tune of reckless gun fights, or intense spiritual problems. IrishESHans, former hired soldiers, women who subscribe to the revolutionary cause as an emotional out-lout, all from the background for this story of incident, struggle for the subject and a love of Ireland, told with great vitality and not without humor.", "Mr. Darlington's *Dangerous Age* (Double- day Doran, $2), is Isla Glenn's new novel. It tells the story of a man of forty-five, who had settled in his predetermined pattern of existence (bachelorthood or banking), when lo! the Oriental! Mr. Darlington goes to Manila in search of his errant brother, and the name he has acquired is the most mysterious of the Pacific waters being to inculminate itself and by the time he is in Manila for about a week he begins to lose that certainty which made him regard the inhabitants of the Philippines as the last of the last. Unfortunately, possibly because of the colorful people it concerns itself with. Miss Thomas spent many years in her little mountain town and did not know the distances he had to cover in order to take down in short hand the proceedings of the various courts in the circuit of her particular hills. The book is a little too ferocious for the reader, but it is a book which, if not a book which is necessary to read, is effectively illustrated-at least to this much touched-by-the-picturesque reviewer, who stands before you as an honest to god lover of dogs, at not, al as, of literature.", "## Now Available", "### *Four Lives*", "By GERTRUDE STEIN", "This remarkable book has had a curious history. Readers who have baf-fered with the two novels, *Stuart's myticist here* is aimed at a serious attempt to truly understand the man and the woman, and is aimed against the mystic interpretation of *The Tres-pis-Woman* (Dutton, $2), the name of the first Levee Miss. Miss Thomas because of the distances had to cover in order to take down in short hand the proceedings of the various courts in the circuit of her particular hills. The book is a little too ferocious for the reader, but it is a book which, if not a book which is necessary to read, is effectively illustrated-at least to this much touched-by-the-picturesque reviewer, who stands before you as an honest to god lover of dogs, at not, al as, of literature.", "### *The Modern Library*", "20 East 57th Street\nNew York : New York", "discovery that he is hopelessly attracted to him his sister's. John Steinbeck's second novel-*To a God Unknown* ($2), uses the mystic symbol of man's love for woman, and the symbol of the soil, Joseph, Josephine, and the sun. The characters are homomexuals, but they are characters whose likenesses to each other are definitely produced by their proximity to the tritances and sophistries of New York or Paris, and of no other city... The authors do not mean job of communicating the confusion of mind which characterizes the two principals in the book and then of connecting this confusion with the implicit confusion of their personalities. It is almost impossible to see what the characters are heading toward.", "The incidents and accidents of the story, fraught with insignificance as they are, also build up the impression of the muddled men- sion of mind of the two heroes. Their con- ventionation, while it varies from esotericisms to incident, it varies from the most extremely materialistic language, is always spoken with a peculiar pettality which marks the feminine charac- teristics of the men more than anything else in the book.", "Once Again in *Chicago*, (King, $2), a novel about forty years ago is a story based on an incident. Forty years ago she had gone to the Columbia Exposition at Chicago and met him. They were parted accidentally. Each went his own way, married, had children, etc. In 1930, Miss Thomas went to the World Fair at Chicago and meets him again-same spot, telepathic accident. They see the Fair together-they decide to marry. They stay at a hotel together, and then meet again. Unfortunately, she goes back to her own home-without him. He hardly tries to stop her. They still have their memories.", "The characters and situations in the first novel of Charles Henri Ford and Parker", "## Living Authors", "A BOOK OF BIOGRAPHIES", "The stories behind the books and their authors. Read the intimate lives of forty of the most interesting modern authors for a thousand new delights and wonders in your reading. With 400 portraits. $5.00 at your bookseller.", "H. W. Wilson Co.,\n950 University Ave., N. Y.", "### WINDSOR PAMPHLETS NO. 1", "#### On The Threshold", "by\n**Alexander Godin**", "A sensitive, skillfully told story of an Ukrainian immigrant girl's awakening. Alexander Godin, one of the best young short story writers of today, gives this story unusual authenticity, having spent his childhood and youth under similar surroundings.", "Limited to 115 Signed Copies\nat Fifty Cents", "Windsor Quarterly Publications\nHartland Four Corners, Vermont", "CONTEMPO: A Review of Books and Personalities", "7", "## BARGAIN BOOKS", "ALL BOOKS IN MINT CONDITION", "WILLIAM CARLOS FRIEDMAN's *The Tem- ers* First Edition of Dr. Williams' first book", "CUMMINGS' *Eimi* (Covici-Friede, 1933)\nLimited Autographed Edition $3.00\nEZRA POUND's *Selected Poems* (London, 1933) Edited with a 20 page introduction by T. S. Eliot", "I. BANEL'S *Red Cavalry* (Knopf) 75c\nLOLA RUDGE'S *Red Flag* (Viking Press, 1927) 50c\nROBERT NATHAN'S *Youth Groves Old* (McBride, 1922) First Edition 75c\nLOUISE BOGAN'S *Body of This Death* (McBride, 1923) First Edition 50c", "STEPHEN SPENDERS' *Poems* (London, 1933)\nW. H. AUDEN's *The Orators* (London, 1932) First Edition\nCULTURAL RESEARCHERS' *The World Fair* (London, 1932) First Edition\nATHAN CAPE, 1930) Introduction by Robert Graves. This is not the cheap Traveller's library edition 1.25c", "JOYCE'S *Chamber Music* (London, 1932) 1.00c\nJOYCE'S *Pomes Penyeach* (London, 1933) First English Edition 35c\nJOYCE'S *Anna Plura Pleraselle*, (London, 1932)\nJOYCE'S *Haworth Childrens Everywhere* (London, 1931) 1.25c", "JOYCE'S *Two Tales of Sham and Shaun* (London, 1932) First Cheap Edition 1.25c\nComplete Prefaces of George Conant Shaw, London, 1933, First Edition 1.25c", "T. S. ELIOT's *Poems, 1909-1925* (London, 1925) 1.25c\nHENRY H. RICHARDSON's *Ultima Thule* (Norton, 1929) 1.00c\nEUGENE O'NEILL'S *Selected Poems* (London, 1931) 1.25c\n*Transition No. 22* (The latest issue) 75c\nD. H. LAWRENCE's *Studies in Classic American Literature* (London, 1933) 1.25c", "PAUL ROSENFELD's *Men Seen* (Dial, $2.50c)\nKARL KAUTKIN'S *Labour Revolution*, (Dial, $2.50c)\nMAX WEBER'S *Cubit Poems* (London, 1914, Limited to fifty copies for $2.00)", "STEPHEN VINCENT BENET'S *Free Men and Women* (London, 1915) First Cheap Edition of *The Tres-pis-Woman* (Dutton, $2), the name of the first Levee Miss. Miss Thomas because of the distances had to cover in order to take down in short hand the proceedings of the various courts in the circuit of her particular hills. The book is a little too ferocious for the reader, but it is a book which, if not a book which is necessary to read, is effectively illustrated-at least to this much touched-by-the-picturesque reviewer, who stands before you as an honest to god lover of dogs, at not, al as, of literature.", "JOSEPH GORDON MACLEOD'S *The Eclipse* (London, 1930) First Book 1.00c\nT. S. ELIOT's *Sweeney Agomite* (London, 1933) Eliot's latest book of poems. First Edition 75c", "HORACE GREGORY's *Chelsea's Evening House* (Covici-Friede, $2) $1.00\nPARRICO COLUM'S *Old Pastures* (Mac-millan, $10, Limited to 200 signed copies) $2.50", "EZRA POUND's *Exile*, No. 2 and 25c each\nJAMES ELROY FLECKER's *The Bridge of Fire* 50c\nSTUART GILBERT'S *James Joyce's Uper- set* (London, 1933) $2.50\nEZRA POUND's A. B. C. of Economics (London, 1933) First Edition $1.00\nJULES ROMANIS'S *Men of Good Will*, (Knopf, 1933) First Edition $3.50\nHELEN'S *DEATH OF THE Provincetown, A Story of the Theatre* (Farrar & Rinehart, 1931) 1.150", "FAULKNER'S *Light In August* (Smith & Kline, 1933) First Edition 1.25c", "ARCHIBALD MACLEISH'S *Conqu一体t Limited* and First English Edition 1.25c", "C. D. DAY LEWIS's *The Magnetic Moun- tain*, Limited, to 100 signed copies 1.250", "C. D. DAY LEWIS's *The Magnetic Moun- tain*, London, 1933 3.00c\nC. D. DAY LEWIS's *From Feathers to a Iron*, (London, 1932) 1.25c", "C. D. DAY LEWIS's *From Feathers to a Iron*, (London, 1932) 1.25c\nC. D. DAY LEWIS's *First Cheap Poem*, London, 1928 1.25c", "C. D. DAY LEWIS's *The Magnetic Moun- tain*, London, 1933 1.25c\nROBERT NATHAN'S *The Orchid*, 1931 1.00c", "ROBERT NATHAN'S *There's Another Heven*, 1929 1.00c\nHOUSTON PETERSON's *Melody of Chaos* (Longmans, Green, $2.50) 1.25c", "ALL BOOKS POSTPAID", "### The Intimate Bookshop", "Chapel Hill, North Carolina", "Tyler, *The Young and Evil* (Obelisk, Paris, $2), are undoubtedly authentic but whether or not they are representative of a particular type of modern world here are too far removed (geography, history, economics, etc.) from the characters are homomexuals, but that they are characters whose likenesses to each other are definitely produced by their proximity to the tritances and sophistries of New York or Paris, and of no other city... The authors do not mean job of communicating the confusion of mind which characterizes the two principals in the book and then of connecting this confusion with the implicit confusion of their personalities. It is almost impossible to see what the characters are heading toward. The incidents and accidents of the story, fraught with insignificance as they are, also build up the impression of the muddled men- sion of mind of the two heroes. Their con- ventionation, while it varies from esotericisms to incident, it varies from the most extremely materialistic language, is always spoken with a peculiar pettality which marks the feminine charac- teristics of the men more than anything else in the book.", "Robert Geanner writes a novel short story about the new generation. He breaks down (Farrar Rinehart, $2). Much of the material is obviously the result of personal observation but unfortunately is poorly woven into a book that is built around Lewis-Hope-Afrain-a cure, bloated, Sioux and his struggle with the old and the newbert American culture. Of the latter the author leaves an impression of unredeeming vulnens.", "## film art", "A New Beautifully Illustrated Quarterly Devoted to the Advance-Guard Cinema", "An Exclusive Magazine-Unbiased-Commercial For All Interested in Cinematic Art", {"bbox": [1228, 708, 1

8

Carl Van Vechten
150 W 55 St.

## SPEAKING OF EXCITEMENT

(Continued from page three)

together upon the same spot of earth, with
the prospect of being able to look back
upon it." (Somewhat college-boyish.)

The emphasis, it may be seen is upon the
social group, and upon unanimity in the
etymological sense:

"If you see a group forming in a city street, go toward it and lend it your body ... Gently penetrate the mass, interrogate the individuals, find out why it is a group. Speak then words that will excite it to come alive; do what you can to increase the feeling of mutual consent; arouse the fury or the pity of men. And think the group."

The italics of the last sentence are mine; for it is this "thinking the group" that is the thing with the Unanimists. If the group, if unanimity do not exist, they are to be created; and the group is even, to a certain extent, to be apotheized. "We, poor beings, shall teach groups to become gods, by informing them of what passes through us from their consciousness." Such a view, in its intensity, borders upon the religious (or the Marxian); and there is in Romains no little of apostolic and proselytizing fervor. He is a good deal the preacher and a good deal the schoolmaster; for, an agrégé of the university, he is, or was until recently, a teacher by profession; he once organized a course in poetic technique at the Vieux-Colombier, and he is the joint author with Georges Chénivière of a treatise on verification.

The essence of the Romains attitude is
spiritual rape. This is brought out in the
*To the Crowd*. For Unanimism, after all,
is not a humanitarian creed: "You must
have either the consent or the submission
of other men," which conceivably could lead
to Fascism, Hitlerism, or what have you.
Romains, the proselytizer and the peda-
gogue still, first creates his godhead and
then imposes it upon the group, the crowd.
The doctrine—his "word" Romains would
rather call it—is more than a little mysti-
cal; but this nebulosity, the hint of some-
thing grandiosely human and all-embra-
cing, may go to account for its prestige
and for the comparatively wide influence it
has had. In America, it has attracted so
fine a spirit as Waldo Frank, but he is the
only one among us so affected to my knowl-
edge.

As for Romains the artist, Rémy de
Gourmont once remarked: "I feel that his
method would be more palatable, if he were
to apply it in a less strict and visible fash-
ion." This is open to discussion, and has
been discussed. There is no doubt that Ro-
mains is at times highly adroit in conceal-
ing his method, in his transitions from the
individual to the group or social motive;
and there is equally no doubt that at times
he bungles it, as who might not? For me,
there are certain things always to be re-
membered in Romains, his *Charge des Auto-
bus*, for instance, and the sparkling hilar-
ity of *Les Copains*. But on the whole, I
find him, like most preachers, excited rather
than exciting.

## Vardis Fisher's In Tragic Life

They Mean What They Say, Whether
For or Against

Achieves success with cumulative power....Mr. Fisher demands consideration as a serious and original American novelist who is blazing his own trail. NEW YORK TIMES.

One of the finest American novels of
recent years. HOWARD WOLF IN THE AK-
RON BEACON-JOURNAL.

It is literature, not glamor, not sentimentality, not melodrama. And it is one of the great books of the American frontier. PHILADELPHIA RECORD.

One of the greatest books published in
1932, and one of the finest novels we have
read in the English language. EVANSTON
NEWS-INDEX.

A classic worthy of the vastness and
strength of this great West. ROCKY
MOUNTAIN NEWS, DENVER.

A fine, well-written novel... It would be worth something to American writing to have him (the author) become widely known. NEW YORK WORLD-TELEGRAM.

As a picture of a section of American
life the novel would be by that alone signi-
ficant; but in the minute building of the
character set against that background, *In
Tragic Life* finds greater depth and mean-
ing. PROVIDENCE (R. I.) JOURNAL.

Built with a grand, ferocious power that
carries it close to greatness... One realizes
that beside it most of the pioneer stories
we call 'epic' are only rather long books
full of posturings and clamor. NEW YORK
HERALD-TRIBUNE.

An exceptional novel. Mr. Fisher has
written strikingly of a great subject...
ranks with the best work of our young
writers. THE BOOKMAN.

Holds the attention, fascinates, and has
one under its spell until the end. MINNEA-
POLIS STAR.

One of contemporary literature's few
really important contributions. It dang-
erously approaches greatness... significant
and astounding. LOS ANGELES INDEPEND-
ENT.

Sticks to the crude and cruel realities
of pioneer life... this story is singularly
unoriginal...overwritten... should not have
been published. NEW YORK EVENING POST.

Since Mr. Fisher can write as power-
fully as he does, it is a pity that he should
narrow the circle of his readers by pre-
senting obscenity and brutality in such
utter rankness that it offends, not only
the canons of good taste, but the common
decency of civilized people. THE SPOKES-
MAN REVIEW.

Sex life of the growing young people
in such a community is set forth with a
freedom that will bring a doubt as to
whether any such community ever existed
in the pioneer life of America... At times
it verges on the obscene, nearer approach
being guarded by the expression, 'cannot
be printed here.' Possibly the same pro-
hibition could well apply to the whole book.
HIGH POINT (N. C.) ENTERPRISE.

The book is not committed to purity of
thought, desire and action, rather in por-
traying strength in cruel, brutal forceful-
ness that almost entirely overcomes any
wholesome, naturally clean purpose... at
the ripe period of seventy when retrospec-
tion comes upon his (the author's) vision,
will his thoughts mellow to the extent of
a self censure of the wantonly cruel writ-
ings of his youth? BLACKFOOT (IDAHO)
DAILY BULLETIN (near the scene of the
story).

To Mr. Fisher a spade is a spade, he sees
no reason for calling it otherwise in defer-
ence to sensitive ears. The story is one of
cumulative horror. SALT LAKE CITY TRI-
BUNE.

Here is a brutal book. When this re-
viewer was half way through it he want-
ed to shake Mr. Fisher's hand. When he
had finished it he wanted to shake Mr.
Fisher...(for he) wound up by turning
the last half of his book into a novelized
version of *What a Young Boy Ought to
Know.* BALTIMORE EVENING SUN.

When Fisher tells about the agonies of
adolescence he tells about it with all the
bluntness of a medical report. SAN DIEGO
SUN.

To readers of
CONTEMPO

¶ Are you missing one of the truly
great experiences in the new Ameri-
can Literature?

¶ This is Vardis Fisher's starkly
beautiful chronicle of a boy's life to
18 years, in the Snake River Valley
of Idaho.

¶ Of it, Robert Cantwell writes in
*The New Outlook*: "This book is gain-
ing a sort of subterranean reputation
among the people who watch for
emerging talents."

¶Sterling North writes in the Chicago
*Daily News*: "Here is a book and an
author that seem destined to be widely
discussed in the next decade." Price
$2.50, all bookshops. DOUBLEDAY,
DORAN.

IN TRAGIC LIFE
By Vardis Fisher

JUST PUBLISHED

WE
ARE THE
LIVING

Stories by
ERSKINE
CALDWELL
author of
God's Little Acre

Viking Press, New York, $2.00
Limited Edition of 250 Copies at $5.00

THIS CLIPPING FROM
HARTFORD, CONN.
COURANT

NOV 2 2 1933

## Literary Topics

By E. N. C.

The havoc that may be wrought through what would seem the slightest of typographical errors—the transposition of a single word, a single letter or a single numeral—is beyond all calculation. Commenting, in last week's Literary Topics, the impression made upon the reading public of the day by the central figure in Anthony Trollope's novel, "He Knew He Was Right," I noted—or intended to note—parenternally, that it was the reading public of 1869, but the cruel types turned this date into 1896. Incidentally, Trollope died in 1882. While this was an exasperating misprint, it none the less served to bear out the cheerful theory that all misfortunes have their compensations, for it opened up a new suggestion for me in the consideration of the enormous change which has taken place since the late Sixties in the feeling of the man in the street regarding such a case as that of Trollope's Louis Trevelyan, the victim of a nonromantic obsession. Enormous as this change unquestionably is, I believe that the change would have been found to be, if the character of Louis Trevelyan had appeared in a book published in the mid-nineties, as the Literary Topics misprint it made seem that "He Knew He Was Right" was published, very nearly as great as it is at this immediate moment. In other words,—to employ the most frequently heard phrase now in use—I feel that the change in public sentiment in such matters had started and gathered a tremendous momentum even so long ago as the mid-nineties, and that the contrast between such sentiment in 1869 and 1896 was immeasurably deeper and more radical than such contrast between the mid-Nineties and our own day. This is, however, entirely a personal opinion and may be all wrong.

A monthly magazine called "Story" has lately emerged into the limelight, a magazine made up entirely of short stories, and acclaimed by its editors, and also by a number of enthusiastic readers and critics, as an extremely important periodical. It is claimed for the stories appearing in "Story" that they represent the fine flower of contemporary fiction in the field of the short story; so, it was consoling to me to find my own judgment of "Story" shared by a brilliant woman, a full generation my junior, that judgment being that most of the work in "Story" fell below the standard of the average college magazine, and that crudeness and immaturity were the distinguishing marks of its general output, this crudeness and immaturity being camouflaged by an atmosphere of precocious knowingness. It is however, to be noted to the credit of the contributors to "Story" that the work of every lesser light tops that of the grand slam of the current (November) issue of the magazine, Miss Gertrude Stein herself. There follows here a brief excerpt from Miss Stein's "little story of the breakup of a literary clique," printed in "Story" under the title of "Left to Right:" "He was seeing Frederick Harvard and Frederick Harvard called him Arthur but that was nothing everybody called Arthur Arthur but Arthur was calling Frederick Harvard Frederic, and that was because Frederick Harvard was going to be writing something that Arthur would be coming to find interesting." Miss Stein, it is noted by

the editors of "Story," is "critically considered one of the major present-day influences in modern literature." No other writer in "Story" descends to any such depths of impudent absurdity as this. Just a year ago there appeared in the Christmas number of the London Graphic, a story entitled "London Night's Entertainment," the author being Miss Margaret Sharp. I have never seen any comment on this story, but it is, in my opinion, as clever a piece of work in its special field as you are likely to come upon in any year's grist of short stories," a brief, swift, concentrated bit of drama, the night-scene set with a Rembrandt-suggesting evocation of darkness and light, at a coffee-stall in a London street. A murder, committed in the immediate neighborhood the night before, is under discussion between the keeper of the coffee-stall and a variegated group of night-birds, and in the

final paragraph, the murderer, who has been an active participant in the gossip, is arrested. That is all there is to it, and the editors of "Story" would, I feel sure, despise Miss Sharp's Christmas tale; from my own humble, personal point of view, this should count as at least a negative point in its favor. The new English Christmas Annuals have just arrived, and, as those of last year give place to them, I am cutting out Miss Sharp's "London Night's Entertainment," and pasting it in the spare leaves of my treasured copy of "The Supernatural Omnibus," edited with one of his erudite and delightful introductions, by the ghost-loving Provost of Eton College, Mr. Montague Jam.s. Not, let me add, that there is so much as a hint of the supernatural in Miss Sharp's forthright story, but that I have already filled the blank pages in both volumes of Miss Dorothy Sayer's "Omnibus of Crime."

THIS CLIPPING FROM
LITTLE ROCK, ARK.
GAZETTE

NOV 19 1933

Of late we have read a lot about a magazine called Story, so much, in fact, that it now comes to our address regularly, bringing us what is purported to be the best in short story writing. Having perused the last several issues, it is only natural that we should be interested in 'A Story Anthology,' a volume containing 33 short stories which appeared in the magazine while it was being published in Europe. In the case of this particular book we do not want to point out any significant effect which may be felt. Perhaps it were

better if we sketched a brief history of the magazine, Story, leaving the reader to judge for himself whether or not the magazine or the anthology will have any far-reaching importance. A few years ago only one magazine was available to the writers of the truly artistic short story, The Smart Set; when other magazines, bound by certain editorial policies, refused stories by such writers as Fitzgerald and Peter Neagoe, these writers usually found reception from the editors of the Smart Set. Eventually even this magazine was lost to certain types of stories, leaving artistic writing in a state of loss and folding up many an author. Then, in Paris, Transition was started, providing a medium for a time for originality. When this second magazine was closed to short stories, Whit Burnett and Martha Foley, two Vienna newspaper correspondents, decided to get out a magazine of their own, one which would be open to any type of story which could be called artistic. The first few issues were put out on a mimeograph machines; the magazine was so well received that the editors removed their efforts to Palma, in Mallorca, where they were able to put the magazine in print. After finding success in Europe the offices were removed to New York. The editors of Story say that they do not judge manuscripts by pattern, but choose them instead on merit—whether the stories have been well written, whether or not they have the quality to move a reader, whether or not they have the correct point of view, etc. It is impossible for us to tell you the kind of yarns which are to be found in this magazine; some of them are entirely understandable while others (we recall one by Gertrude Stein) are crammed with such a lot of art, as it is termed, that they go completely over our proletarian heads. Therein lies our reason for failing to point out possible significance of "A Story Anthology." The collection stands out sharply in comparison with other anthologies for the reason that it lists the names of a number of writers who heretofore have been unable to lay any claim to fame; it also is something of an oddity by reason of the fact that all the stories presented were culled from the pages of the magazine's European

years. There is one thing of which a reader may be sure; everything he reads in this book will have been marked "distinguished." Such authors as Theodore Pratt, Erskin Caldwell, James Stern, Kay Boyle, Manuel Komroff, Laurence Vail, Whit Burnett and William March are represented, along with a host of others. We could not feel that any of the stories were unusually outstanding, although most of them owned a quality of deftness in craftsmanship. If we were to express an opinion, we probably should hazard the remark that an anthology from Story would meet with a wider reception after the magazine itself has become more generally known in this country. But of course, everything must have a beginning. The book was published by the Vanguard Press.

THE AMERICAN SPEC

GERTRUDE STEIN

by SHERWOOD ANDERSON

AN article about Gertrude Stein, by B. F. Skinner, appeared in the January *Atlantic*. Hers is automatic writing. That was the conclusion. A pretty good case was made for the conclusion, but if you think the same result can be accomplished by anyone trying automatic writing, try it. If you happen to be a person of real talent, with a feeling for words, word relationships, word color, you may get something that will surprise and please you. Otherwise you will get pure drivel. It comes to the same thing with all writing—all write as well as they can—what is there comes out.

Color sense is something you must be born with. The painter seeks color and, as any good painter knows, there is form in color. A half hour with nature will prove it to you. Go to a hilltop on any day when the light is waning. There is a valley spread out before you. As the light changes, forms also change. The form of the Spring hill covered with trees is not the same as the form of the same hill, the trees splashed with color in the Fall.

Go into the woods now and begin picking up tiny bits of color. There are broken bits of tree bark, tiny stones, pieces of leaf. Hold these in your cupped hand. Let the light in slowly. See how amazingly the forms change as the light changes the color.

This matter of writing, the use of words in writing, is an odd affair. How much Miss Stein has taught all of us. Let's admit, at the beginning, that there is a confusion here. Words are used to convey thought, but there is for the proseman, as for the poet, such a thing as pure and beautiful prose. At least this may be said for the arts of painting and music: the layman approaches these arts with a humbleness not in him when he approaches prose writing. We prosemen have both the handicap and glory of using man's speech as tools, and I have often heard sentences on the street that glow like jewels. There are critics, in this country, and I presume in all countries, who spend their lives writing about writing and who can never, by any chance, know anything about it. You can't be blamed if you are born color-blind.

When it comes to that, the same thing can be said about a good many writers.

Musicians and painters often have this attitude toward writing and in particular toward prosemen. A man like Hemingway writes a sentence. The man can make sentences. He is one of the few American writers who can.

With the publication of "The Making of Americans," coming February 8, and the New York production of "Four Saints in Three Acts," set for February 20, the rumors grow more persistent that Gertrude Stein will visit America some time this month.

To be sure, there is something else to writing. Writers also deal with thoughts, impulses in themselves, and other men. It is possible to have a very fine mind, fine impulses, great earnestness, profoundly affect a civilization even, while writing miserably.

A musician, a composer, walking with me, spoke of his art and of my own. He said he envied me. We were standing on a bridge. "There is water flowing under the bridge," he said. "How very simple. You want your reader to know about the water. You say, 'The water runs under the bridge.' There you are."

It is simple, isn't it? A good many books are written in that spirit. As though we writers did not work always for the unnameable overtone—to be got by word color if you please. A few so-called great writers have written without ever touching it. Melville had it, and Borrow—Turgenev superlatively. These are your great writers—writer's writers. They would all have appreciated what Stein has been doing.

This nonsense about automatic writing. All good writing is, in a sense, automatic. It is and it isn't. When I am really writing, not doing as I am doing now, thinking the words out as I go, making an argument, but am really writing, it is always half automatic. There is something stored within that flows out. When you drive an automobile you are not necessarily, at the moment, thinking automobile.

As I write, I am outside the world of reality. Here is a confusion many minds seem unable to get past. The world of art, of any art, is never the real world. The world of the novel, of the story, is not the world of reality. There is a world outside of reality being created. The object is not to be true to the world of reality but to the world outside reality. You want color—word color—that brings vitality also into that world.

In this world, when it is successfully created, everything counts. Word is laid against word as carefully and always instinctively as any painter would lay one color against another. Have you got it? You have or you haven't. Thinking, consciousness, will not do it. To a good many people all I am saying here will be nonsense. You have been told that Rembrandt was a great painter. Do you know why? A painter should know. You may say what you please to me about the personal character of Mr. George Moore. You may like the man, his mind or his character, or you may not, but if you tell me he was not a very great writer, in a way, for example, that a thousand Thomas Hardys could never be, then I am sure you know nothing of writing.

Stein is great because she is a releaser of talent. She is a path-finder. She has been a great, a tremendous influence among writers because she has dared, in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding, to try to awaken in all of us who write a new feeling for words. She has done it.

"Take the word outside so-called 'sense' for the time if you please," she has said. "Let the word-man in you come forth, dance for a time." For example, it is true of me, as I know it must be of any man who loves writing, that I have at times great difficulty in making the escape out of reality, so-called, into what is the great reality.

It is necessary for the writer to go out and come in by the path of words. The word sense has to be brought back. Color

lies in the word, form in the color. There have been ages when all painting was dull and drab. Whistler was a bad painter. He had no color. If you please, he had too much mind, or what he thought was mind. It took a Cézanne to bring color back. "Oh," they cried, "but he has no form. He cannot draw, etc." Hang the Cézanne in your room. The form will come into it. Go from the painting of Madame Cézanne to Whistler's Mother. Now see where the form is, where the drawing.

"The trouble with Stein is that she doesn't make sense."

"Whose sense?"

Wait. Stein is a revolutionist. If we ever get again a world that knows what pure writing is, the sense and form in Stein's work will come through. She also will stand as a restorer of "the word."

Meso, "mimicking man's antics and grimaces, Grandville's animals show the desires, appetites and lusts which are mankind's brutish inheritance."

Grandville got into politics as an ardent republican and joined the staff of Charivari which lampooned and caricatured the opposition. Thackeray was delighted with Charivari and its satire. That was in 1832. In 1836 under the urging of Thackeray a band of artists many of whom had lived in Paris started Punch, or the London Charivari, very different in politics from the Punch we know.

Why go on with the summing up? London got to know the work of Grandville of the Paris Charivari; Tenniel was on Punch and when Lewis Carroll came with his delicious reveries and curious creatures using human words and strange queens and gardeners and white knights, the model or inspiration was there to his hand.

There are many parallel illustrations in the book and the three reproduced on this page are proof that Tenniel knew Grandville's work. There is no suspicion even of plagiarism and in the learned, intelligent yet easy-flowing narrative that accompanies the pictures. The Judge can only decide, Snark or no Snark, that she has proved her point.

A portmanteau postscript. You remember the preface to "The Hunting of the Snark" where Lewis Carroll points the pistol at Justice Shallow's head and asks: "Under which King Bezonian? Speak or die?" and Justice Shallow replies in the first portmanteau word "Richliam," combining the best features of Richard and of William. Supposing we pointed a pistol at Carroll's head and asked "Under which artist?" he would no doubt reply Granniel, and so no doubt would Tenniel.

It was the opinion of Richard Sunne that Gertrude Stein borrowed from Lewis Carroll and in proof he pointed to the words of the Duchess:

"Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that which you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise."

Well, why not? Artists have always been borrowing from one another. There is a story told of Constable and Delacroix. In 1821 Constable had painted "The Hay Wain" and "The Bridge." He was not even an Academician at the time and the paintings lay covered with dust in his studio for three years. Then along came a French collector named Nodier, who offered $1,000 for the pair and exhibited them at the annual salon in the Louvre, Paris. At that time Delacroix, a young man but considered the greatest painter in France, had finished his "Massacre of Scio" and brought it along to the exhibition. He was so moved at the sight of what Constable had done that he took his own canvas away and in three or four days entirely repainted it and a new style or manner in French landscape painting had begun.

In a very lovely book Arrow Editions presents Mlle. Marguerite Mespoulet's " Creators of Wonderland" (§3.) Mlle. Mespoulet, who is on the faculty of Columbia University, has made the discovery that that curious Gilbert and Sullivan pair, Tenniel and Lewis Carroll, would never have given us the Wonderland drawings of Alice and the Looking Glass had it not been for the gay caricatures and animal pictures of J. J. Grandville of Nancy. Thackeray knew them well and no doubt they were on view in many of the printshops in London. Mlle. Mespoulet's approach to the whole thing is delightful. Arrow Editions is to be congratulated on a book that no lover of Alice can miss and the author is to be congratulated on the skill and sympathy with which she tells her story. Like nearly all worthwhile discoveries hers was accidental. She was doing research work on certain aspects of Rimbaud's poetry when she came upon the work of Grandville and being a lover of Alice and of Tenniel she was thrilled. There is glory enough in the book for both artists.

To sum up the book—and in doing so I hope I shall not be like the Snark:

But the Judge said he never had summed up before:

So the Snark undertook it instead

And summed it so well that it seemed to be more

Than the witnesses ever had said.

After a brief sketch of Tenniel and the early days of Punch, Mlle. Mespoulet takes you to the Paris of young Thackeray, who, like George Moore went to paint and remained to write, though he always retained "delight in the pencil." France, weakened after her wars, was the playground of the rich milords from across the Channel and soon the French bloods who had succeeded in keeping some money began to imitate the gentlemen-sportsmen and to dress in the English fashion. We know the picture of that era of good feeling. The Latin Quarter was gay with artists and models.

Now some years before Thackeray's arrival there came to Paris a young man from Nancy named Jean-Ignace-Isidore Gerard, to work as a miniaturist in the studio of his fellow-townsman, Mansion.

Young Gerard was a good draughtsman and sketched and caricatured everything about him, flowers, animals, and his fellow men. Then he turned his hand to lithography and brought out an album of colored lithographs called "Les Metamorphoses du Jour." He signed his work "J. J. Grandville." "Playing the fool in human garb," says Mlle. Mespoulet.

Page Eight

PANORAMA

April 1934

# A STEIN ON THE TABLE

## Being A Literary Autopsy, With Some Sentences Made (And Passed) Upon The Maker of "The Making of Americans", "Four Saints In Three Acts" and Other Gertrusions -- With Some Disrespectful Animadversions Upon Certain Otherwise Estimable Critics, As Well As A Lubricous Finale

By ISAAC GOLDBERG

WHAT MISS GERTRUDE STEIN REQUIRES AS AN AUTHOR IS NOT SO MUCH A TREATMENT OF ORTHODOX CRITICISM AS A LITERARY AUTOPSY. THE MANNER IN WHICH, during the past few months, she has been ballyhooed, by her friends, into the position of a best-seller, does not attest so much to the intelligence of the American public as to the fondness of that public for literary scandal and snobbery. (Miss Stein is undoubtedly a remarkable personality; her salon in the Rue de Fleuris is undoubtedly a rendezvous of the arts and sciences. She is not, however, simply not, a writer, and her work has grown steadily worse since the artificial simplicity of the *Three Lives*. Simplicity may be just as affected as the most intricate artificiality; when it reaches the stage of *The Making of Americans* it becomes a putrefaction of the linguistic process. As for the later productions of this Muse, notably *Four Saints in Three Acts* (I deal with it as a libretto for an opera, not as the performance now visible and audible in New York City) it is so much literary rubbish, into which, by error, now and then a phrase has crept that may actually possess meaning.

Contrast with these effusions the pseudo-Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas, in which Miss Stein, using her friend as a very transparent mask, proclaims herself a rare genius, who alone knows how to write English in these degenerate days. Not so strangely, when Miss Stein writes about herself, and chants hallelujahs and hosannas-in-the-highest to her own majesty, she writes a very understandable English. Not a fine English, by any means. But a very understandable lingo. She wants to be clearly understood when she writes that she is a genius. No verbigeration, or echolalia, or glossolalia, or logorrhea, — no re-iteration as of a phonograph record whose needle has been caught in a refractory groove. — no infantile toying

with one's own excreta. Is it not a suspicious circumstance, this clarity of the autobiography, as contrasted with the preposterous obfuscation of the more characteristic Steinian documents?

When Sherwood Anderson endorsed, in the Preface to *Geography and Plays* what he so delicately called Miss Stein's word-slinging, he continued nevertheless to write as he always had written; Carl Van Vechten, whose foreword to *Four Saints* I refuse to understand, also continues to write as one who wishes to be comprehended; Bernard Fay, preparing for Americans a much-condensed edition of *The Making of Americans*, spills over and reveals marked signs of contamination by La Maestra. Here is a book that, in the original, ran to one thousand mortal pages of philological anguish. A masterpiece — of patience, accumulation, and gibberish. And Mr. Fay has edited it down to less than half its size, which is still thousands upon thousands of words too long. And edited it with such prefatorial reverence that he must have arisen from his task with housemaid's knee caused by this prolonged Augean genuflection.

It is easy to dismiss this whole business (to me, beneath the perfumes, it has a smell of garbage) with light-hearted kidding. That is one way, and usually it is an excellent way. At the moment, it is not the way I feel about it. Not when a Gertrude Stein contaminates such critical intelligences as Van Vechten, Anderson, Bernard Fay and their esoteric fellows. It has been whispered about that, as they are all good friends of Gertrude (see the *Autobiography*) they are rolling the log around. Rather than this, I would believe that they are simply mistaken in their enthusiasm. Since when, in the entire history of literature, my friends, has such fantastic nonsense received such solemn ratification? Such specious indorsement? Be-

cause the words of conventional opera are rarely heard or very imperfectly understood, therefore words meaning nothing, that *are* heard, are to be accepted. Why bother with words at all? Why not the frankly meaningless syllables of the forgotten German babler, Adolf Blümner? If words need mean nothing, the next obvious step is to have the music mean nothing. Then the critics need mean nothing — but, la, they have got me there. They started in that way.

Beneath the precise aesthetics that accepts Miss Stein is a desire to escape intelligibility. It is a symptom of weakness, of inability to cope with the demands of a world in the throes — like Gertrude's own language — of dissolution. In her farrago, jazz and its spirit, crossing the border-line of sanity is reduced to absurdity, just as Joyce, advancing (?) beyond *Ulysses*, has begun to follow a more complicated path to disintegration. Funny, how Miss Stein reaches it through corruption of simplicity, and Joyce

reaches it through corruption of complexity. Extremes meet.

If you wish me to weep, said Horace, you must first weep yourself. La Stein seems to have proved that the best way to hypnotize others is first to hypnotize yourself. The fact that her coteries contain distinguished names should serve only to increase one's stupefaction rather than one's respect for her work or for their judgment. What a farce! Once a few people, pretending to understand her, read her. Now, thousands read her without any pretence to understanding, — make a virtue, in fact, of her unintelligibility and their own unintelligence. Great is the power of reputation. It maketh one patiently to lie down in the green pastures with a book of Gertrude's underneath the bough, to read word after word after word after word — Gertrude and Bernard Fay call it "making sentences" and I call it cloaca maxima — recognizing separate verbal entities but wondering what in unholy hell it all adds up to, discussing it in their "literary groups", trying (if only to maintain their faith in the critics) to convince themselves that it means something too deep for them to grasp, and not letting themselves believe for a moment that this *might* be mountebankery or mystification or muck or mummery or madness, on somebody's part.

Perhaps Gertrude Stein can "make sentences"; in her characteristic writings she simply does not.

That she may, as revealed by her autobiography, be infinitely swell-headed, infinitely charming, infinitely infinite, in fact, does not concern me. I am concerned with the implications — hers as well as that of some of her exponents — that the burden of proof lies upon her detractors, of which I have always been

one, rather than upon herself and her adherents. Her present relative popularity is not the final recognition of a neglected genius. It is the result of a good piece of advertising, which one may admire as much as one pleases as *business*, but which, as a matter of culture and taste is to be deeply deplored. It will, ultimately, serve nobody and nothing except somebody's purse. As a literary phenomenon, despite all statements to the contrary, Gertrude Stein's influence has been nil. She has been a social influence in the literary careers of certain young Americans; that is all.

The final irony is this: an expatriate American, writing a language all but hermetic, poles removed from the common people and from their problems and interests, addicted to snobbery (the *Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas* is one of the most snobbish documents printed in this century, and perhaps in any other), suddenly is catapulted into the democracy of popularity. And she loves it.

I believe that Ludwig Lewisohn, in his *Expression in America*, has a sage observation about this lady. What, behind all this babbling, this use of language to conceal meaning, this barrage of words, this endless involution of a willed chaos, — *what is she hiding?* From us, from herself?

Gertrude Stein — I speak of her in her capacity as an author, not as an individual who has had the good fortune and the personality to attract such loyalty — is a genius of nonsense. Some day the full story will be told, to the confusion of many, no doubt. Some day, too, those many will pick up *The Making of Americans*, the text of *Four Saints*, back numbers of *transition, Geography and Plays*, and through the throes of their katzenjammer they will ask themselves, “Good Lord! Is this the gal I slept with last night? I *must*-a been drunk!”

ELEVEN—Spectator—APRIL

Edwin

GERTRUDE STEIN

by SHERWOOD ANDERSON

Color sense is something you must be born with. The painter seeks color and, as any good painter knows, there is form in color. A half hour with nature will prove it to you. Go to a hilltop on any day when the light is waning. There is a valley spread out before you. As the light changes, forms also change. The form of the spring hill covered with trees is not the same as the form of the same hill, the trees splashed with color in the Fall.

It is simple, isn't it? A good many books are written in that spirit. As though we writers did not work always for the un-work will come through. She also will stand as a restorer of namable overtone—to be got by word color if you please. A few "the word."

As I write, I am outside the world of reality. Here is a confusion many minds seem unable to get past. The world of art, of any art, is never the real world. The world of the novel of the story is not the world of reality. There is a world outside of reality being created. The object is not to be true to the world of reality but to the world outside reality. You want color—word color—that brings vitality also into that world.

In this world, when it is successfully created, everything counts. Word is laid against word as carefully and always instinctively as any painter would lay one color against another. Have you got it? You have or you haven't. Thinking, consciousness, will not do it. To a good many people all I am saying here will be nonsense. You have been told that Rembrandt was a great painter. Do you know why? A painter should know. You may say what you please to me about the personal character of Mr. George Moore. You may like the man, his mind or his character, or you may not, but if you tell me he was not a very great writer, in a way for example that a thousand Thomas Hardys could never be, then I am sure you know nothing of writing.

(Stein is great because she is a releaser of talent. She is a path-finder. She has been a great, a tremendous influence among writers because she has dared, in the face of ridicule and misunderstanding, to try to awaken in all of us who write a new feeling for words. She has done it.)

It is necessary for the writer to go out and come in by the path of words. The word sense has to be brought back. Color lies in the word, form in the color. There have been ages when all painting was dull and drab. Whistler was a bad painter. He had no color. If you please he had too much mind, or what he thought was mind. It took a Cézanne to bring color back. "Oh," they cried, "But he has no form. He cannot draw, etc." Hang the Cézanne in your room. The form will come into it. Go from the Cézanne in your room. The form will come into it, where the form is, where the drawing.

"Whose sense?"

Wait./Stein is a revolutionist. If we ever get again a world

that knows what pure writing is, the sense and form in Stein's spirit. As though we writers did not work always for the un-work will come through. She also will stand as a restorer of namable overtone—to be got by word color if you please. A few "the word."

PROFILE—THE MAGAZINE OF PHILADELPHIA

# TEA WITH GERTRUDE STEIN

by VIRGINIA HICKOK

I WAS ushered into the atelier by Alice B. Toklas, who said laughingly:

"We have no chairs. Gertrude Stein never sits down. You'll have to stand. It is Gertrude Stein's way."

This I accepted without surprise. I had read *Tender Buttons*.

"Gertrude Stein is taking a bath," said Alice B. Toklas. "Gertrude Stein takes baths."

I accepted this also, wondering if Gertrude Stein stands up in the bathtub.

"Gertrude Stein will be here in a minute," continued Alice B. Toklas. "I must go now and see that Gertrude Stein gets buttoned up all right. Gertrude Stein knows nothing whatever about buttons."

I agreed heartily. Alice B. Toklas disappeared for a few

moments, during which interval I examined the walls of the atelier. I observed that the titles of the pictures near me were:

NUDE ASCENDING AN ESCALATOR
NUDES AT PLAY
PORTRAIT OF GERTRUDE STEIN
TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY
IN SOUTHERN FRANCE WITH
GERTRUDE STEIN.

They were all exactly alike, hung at different angles. But by this time Alice B. Toklas had returned, bringing in tow a startling apparition clad in gunny sacking and carpet slippers.

"I," said the apparition, "am Gertrude Stein."

I began the speech I had memorized two days before, but this was disregarded entirely.

"Have you little manhole covers in your home?" inquired Gertrude

Stein, thus apparently opening the conversation.

I replied in the negative. There was really nothing else to do. Gertrude Stein looked at Alice B. Toklas, who shrugged her shoulders. I felt unnecessary. I had no manhole covers in my home.

"Little chickens are dirty birds, dirty words, dirty thirds," continued Gertrude Stein.

Somewhat encouraged, I agreed.

"Elephants are sad. Custard is kind to elephants."

"And Luckies are kind to your throat," I laughed.

Gertrude Stein raised her eyebrows . . . quite an accomplishment . . . and stared at me coldly. I bit my tongue and made a mental note to look up elephants. Maybe they like custard.

"Fishes," Gertrude Stein continued, picking up her thread of thought from God knows where, "Fishes are alone with little bolts all haggard. This makes a world's fair from me to you I wonder."

I said I did too.

"Gertrude Stein," interrupted Alice B. Toklas, "we must take that trip to Russia before another war breaks out."

I brightened. Here was something I could talk about.

"About Stalin," I said eagerly, "Do you think . . ."

"War," murmured Gertrude Stein, "war, war, war, far, bar, par, car, Tsar, war."

I dropped, dejected. My feet hurt and there was no place to sit down. It was one of Gertrude Stein's little ways, bays, trays, days . . . here! I caught myself up sharply. I had come to interview Gertrude Stein, and I must leave as I came, of sound body and mind.

"Miss Stein," I inquired in a determined tone, "What is your real opinion of Hemingway?"

"Hemingway," said Gertrude Stein, her brows furrowed in

*Continued on page 25*

Tender Buttons

GERTRUDE STEIN is "pleasantly pleased," she wrote to a literary friend a week or so ago, that she is coming over here to lecture. So we guess she's really coming. In fact, she's already written her lectures, she said in her letter, on the following subjects: Plays, Pictures, What Is English Literature, The Gradual Making of Making of Americans, Portraits and Repetitions, and Grammar and Poetry. They are all, she says, about herself. In case you're interested, we have learned a few things about her that she may not tell in her lectures.

Miss Stein gets up every morning about ten and drinks some coffee, against her will. She's always been nervous about becoming nervous and she thought coffee would make her nervous, but her doctor prescribed it. Miss Toklas, her companion, gets up at six and starts dusting and fussing around. Once she broke a fine piece of Venetian glass and cried. Miss Stein laughed

and said "Hell, oh hell, hell, objects are made to be consumed like cakes, books, people." Every morning Miss Toklas bathes and combs their French poodle, Basket, and brushes its teeth. It has its own toothbrush.

Miss Stein has an outsize bathtub that was especially made for her. A staircase had to be taken out to install it. After her bath she puts on a huge wool bathrobe and writes for a while, but she prefers to write outdoors, after she gets dressed. Especially in the Ain country, because there are rocks and cows there. Miss Stein likes to look at rocks and cows in the intervals of her writing. The two ladies drive around in their Ford till they come to a good spot. Then Miss Stein gets out and sits on a campstool with pencil and pad, and Miss Toklas fearlessly switches a cow into her line of vision. If the cow doesn't seem to fit in with Miss Stein's mood, the ladies get into the car and drive on to another cow. When the great lady has an inspiration, she writes quickly, for about fifteen minutes. But often she just sits there, looking at cows and not turning a wheel.

Miss Stein always drives, and Miss Toklas rides in the back seat, squealing and jumping, for they say that Miss Stein is the worst driver in the history

of automotive engineering. She takes corners fast, doesn't put out her hand, drives on the wrong side of the street, pays no more attention to traffic signals or intersections than she does to punctuation marks, and never honks. Now and then Alice will lean over from the back seat and honk. They haven't had any bad accidents. One writer who visited her had a fake wire sent to him from Paris calling him back, because he was afraid he'd be killed in the Ford.

Miss Stein spends much of her time quarrelling with friends—always about literature or painting. The quarrels are passionate ones, involving everybody, taking hours to get under way, lasting for years (like the one with Hemingway). Nobody remembers after a couple of months exactly what the quarrels are about. The maid at the Stein house in Paris has to be told every day who will be *persona grata* at tea—it all depends on the quarrel of the night before. Gertrude sits up late, talking, arguing, and laughing; she has a rich, deep, and warming laugh. Afterward she wakes up Alice, who goes to bed early, and they go over the talk of the whole day. Miss Stein has a photographic memory for conversation.

The lady wears astonishing clothes: sandals, woollen stockings fit for a football-player, a man's plush fedora hat perched high on her head, rough tweed suits over odd embroidered waistcoats and peasant tunics. She also wears extraordinary blue- and white striped knickers for underdrawers. This came out when she lost them once at a concert given by Virgil Thomson at the Hotel Majestic. She just stepped out of them somehow and left them lying there on the floor. She thought it was very funny and laughed loudly.

APPEAL TO GERTRUDE

Gertrude—there's a good old scout!
What's it what's it all about?
Hear a tortured hemisphere
Begging you to make it clear.
Drop a clue or slip a hint
Touching on the what-you-print,
What-you-print and what-there's-in't.

Abdicate the rôle of sibyl,
At your secret let us nibble.
Pray divulge, reveal, disclose
In communicable prose
Why a rose a rose a rose.

Are you willfully obscure?
Are you puerile or mature?
We are anything but sure.

Are you spoofing or profound?
Is there sense within the sound?
Will you properly expound?

Is your highly Orphic text
Meant for this world or the next?
We concede we are perplexed.

Is it genius, is it sham?
Parlor game or cryptogram?
Will you answer kindly, Ma'am?

Are you hollow or a mine?
One remembers Shakespeare's line:
"Sermons lie concealed in Stein."

Gertrude answers, slightly bored:
"Gertrude is her own reward."

—MELVILLE CANE

newyorker
14 31 34

BOOKS and THINGS

By LEWIS GANNETT

GERTRUDE STEIN is a jolly, bright-eyed,
wholly natural, likeable, laughing human be-
ing; I met her and liked her—and Alice B.
Toklas—at Random House’s party for her last week.
She insisted so amiably, so without pose, so convinc-
ingly, that her prose really makes sense to any one
who can read with his ears as well as his eyes, that
I tried very hard to make sense of her “Portraits and
Prayers” (Random House, $2.50). I regret to report
complete failure.

The Mystery of Gertrude Stein

Here are strings of words titled Cezanne, Matisse,
Picasso, Bernard Fay, Sitwell Edith Sitwell, Mabel
Dodge at the Villa Curonia, A Valentine to Sherwood
Anderson, Jo Davidson, He and They Hemingway,
Carl Van Vechten, etc.; and I almost believe that
to Miss Stein and the initiates they have some kind
of communicable meaning. To the lay reader they
will be as utterly meaningless (or as laughable, ac-
cording to the lay reader's temperament) as the text
of "Four Saints in Three Acts," which, without the
music and stage settings and direction, was a big,
fat zero.

Why Miss Stein does it I do not know. I had
believed her a poseur. I met her and lost that sim-
ple key to character. In the "Atlantic Monthly"
last January B. F. Skinner exhumed an article Miss
Stein wrote in 1896 for "The Psychological Review"
on automatic writing, and deduced that Miss Stein
had returned to automatic writing without being
quite aware of what she was doing. That explana-
tion also seemed more plausible before meeting Miss
Stein than after; for she is extraordinarily aware of
herself, her interlocutors, and everything that goes
on about her.

She Can Write When She Wants To

Miss Stein talks well and sensibly in perfectly un-
derstandable language. She can write vigorous, com-
unicable English, as "The Autobiography of Alice
B. Toklas" proved. She can do more than that: She
writes a vigorous, emphatic prose which is her own;
one or two of the portraits in "Portraits and Prayers"
use the same personal yet communicated rhythms.
The eccentricities, for instance, of her prose about
Juan Gris have a meaning:

"He (Juan Gris) used to dwell upon the lack of
trust and comradeship in Spanish life. Each one is
a general or does not fight and if he does not fight
each one is a general. No one that is no Spaniard
can help any one because no one no Spaniard can
help any one. And this being so and it is so Juan
Gris was a brother and a comrade to every one be-
ing one as no one ever had been one."

But sample this opening passage of the Portrait of
Virgil Thompson: "Yes ally. As ally. Yes ally yes
as ally. A very easy failure takes place. Yes ally.
As ally. As ally yes a very easy failure takes place.
Very good. Very easy failure takes place. Yes very
easy failure takes place. When with a sentence of
intended they were he was neighbors by a beam."
Pooh!

I wish Gertrude Stein would do a little public
laughing at herself. She laughs well. But she went
off from the Random House tea with Carl Van
Vechten, who talks and writes about her wierdest
prose in tones of religious awe. Can it really be that
she, too, takes it all seriously?

GERTRUDE STEIN, PROPHET.

GERTRUDE STEIN comes to America
a mortal of rare importance, under-
standable best to those who can step out
of the literary conventions as easily as
Miss Stein steps out of her Paris home for
a walk around the neighborhood.

It is possible that Gertrude Stein, living
on alien soil, far from Yankee inhibitions
and being fundamentally not fantastic but
as solid and real as a ditchdigger or a child
weaving dreams and rhythms in her fancy,
has contributed to a super-literature, which,
she says, is for the great-grandchildren.

Rhythm, repetition and realism—these
has she impressed upon Anderson, Hecht,
Hemingway and others. Miss Stein has
shown that something of the same sort of
effect which lighting, color, stage artistry
and music have done for the drama and
opera is yet to be done in writing by im-
pressionistic word sounds suggesting ideas
and feelings too subtle and fleeting to be
expressed in ordinary language.

Many a mortal has, even in childhood, in
a half-waking or dreamy moment, spun
meaningless words into rhythms and mean-
ings as real as a spider's web is real to the
spider that spins and means to use it. It
is this kind of illusory background and in-
terweaving of thought and feeling which
creeps powerfully all through, for example,
Gertrude Stein's "Four Saints in Three
Acts."

Man has found only part of his writing
wings. Gertrude Stein is seeking to pen-
trate the scribbler's stratosphere.

The native's return

Dear *Vanity Fair*,

It will be nice seeing you again,
because undoubtedly we will see you,
if we come and we are coming, indeed
we are coming on the *Champlain*, sail-
ing October 17th and it is getting
very near. I know I will like it but I
am a little scared. And, moreover, you
never sent me a copy of *Vanity Fair*,
nor have any of my friends, assuming
that you did. Please do, it is not yet
too late, and I would like to see it.
*Vanity Fair* was, after all, pretty well
my first. Always, GERTRUDE STEIN.
Paris, Oct. 5th

By the time this appears in print,
Miss Stein will have set foot safely
on her native soil but we feel bound
to assert, in print, that we did send
her copy of the Sept. issue.—EDITORS,

N

Book Marks
for Today

THERE seems to be no end to
the stories about Gertrude
Stein. A. A. Van Duym, of the
Doubleday, Doran shops, recalls
that when he was working for the
American Library in Paris in 1922
he often had the privilege of wait-
ing on Miss Stein. At the time
she sported a little knitted cap,
invariably wore sandals and ar-
rived in a small car out of which
her generous proportions slightly
bulged.

"Strangest of all," says Mr. Van
Duym, "and a mystery to be solved
by Stein devotees, she always re-
served ahead of time the forth-
coming novels of Howard Bell
Wright, Oliver Curwood and Rex
Beach. Whether this was to get
close to the real 'soul' of the
American people or merely to get
books intended for the consump-
tion of Alice or some other mem-
ber of her household I cannot tell.
However, it seemed noteworthy,
even at the time when her repu-
tation was more solidly based on
superb collection of Matisses and
as a sponsor of the up and com-
ing Ernest Hemingway."

Recent Books I Have Liked

GERTRUDE STEIN: *The Daring Young Man on the Flying Trapeze*, by William Saroyan, which I read the first couple of days in New York; the last book of Frank Stockton, *The Captain's Toll Gate*, which I read just before leaving France; and my own *Portraits and Prayers*, that has just come out. These three are really and truly the three books that I have enjoyed the most in 1934.

HORACE GREGORY: *Poems*, by W. H. Auden; *Dostoevsky*, by A. Yarmolinsky; *A Tearless Glass*, by Louis Grudin.

FRANK SULLIVAN: *Rabble in Arms*, by Kenneth Roberts; *Sherman, Fighting Prophet*, by Lloyd Lewis; *Appointment in Samarra*, by John O'Hara.

HENRY F. PRINGLE: *Goodbye, Mr. Chips*, by James Hilton; *John Hay*, by Tyler Dennett; *Security Speculation*, by John T. Flynn.

MALCOLM COWLEY: *Experiment in Autobiography*, by H. G. Wells; *The Land of Plenty*, by Robert Cantwell; *Poems*, by Stephen Spender.

RUTH BENEDICT: *Man's Fate*, by Andre Malraux; *Journey to the End of the Night*, by Louis-Ferdinand Celine; *Rumour of Heaven*, by Beatrix Lehmann.

220 WEST 19th ST., NEW YORK
Tel. CHelsea 3-8860

THIS CLIPPING FROM
SANTA BARBARA, CAL.
PRESS

JUN 25 1933

Ideal Writing

G. K. CHESTERTON, in his book of essays, "All I Survey," says that the whole business of literature is to "set out seriously to describe the indescribable." He speaks somewhat harshly of James Joyce and Gertrude Stein, because he feels that they have purposely clouded their writings so that they are not really understandable. It is his belief that the enlargement of the poet's power of expression or of the public's ability to appreciate does not come from producing or reading what is complicated by externals rather than by complexity of thought or inner emotion.

Chesterton says the ideal condition is that the poet or other writer should put his meaning more and more into the language of the people, and that the people should enjoy more and more of the meaning which is in his mind. Where thought is now so often unfinished, it should be completed and made a unit of many related ideas, instead of a series of apparently incoherent thoughts jumbled together into verses or prose sentences.

The function of the writer is to communicate to the imagination of the reader the findings of his own imaginative thought. When there is a conscious attempt to be obtuse, to clutter up the finished picture with unnatural figures and to make each paragraph the supposed expression of psychological discovery, the author has failed. And why? Because he has made it too difficult to know what he is trying to bring to the understanding of the reader.

THIS CLIPPING FROM
GLENS FALLS, N. Y.
POST STAR

JUL 8-1933

ALL OF US

(By MARSHALL MASLIN)

THE BROWSER

THESE ARE the slack times in the publishing business. . . . The Browser's favorite authors have written their latest book and their next one is in the hands of the publishers. . . . The autumn catalogues aren't out. The blurp departments of the book houses are sending paragraphs about how well their books are doing and where their authors are spending the summer. . . . And the Browser is, he admits, just a bit bored. . . . And besides, perhaps because there's a new baby in his family and a baby is more interesting than a book. The way he eats and his gurgles and grunts and how much he sleeps and how strong he is already—"Look at him, he can hold up his head!"—and the grip of his hands and do you really think he'll be better-looking after a while?—all these make the most exciting book seem tame (to members of the family of course, of course, of course.)

Gertrude Atherton talked last week to a writer's club in Berkeley, Cal., and she made some remarks about writers marrying. She said it was all right for men writers to marry because men are helpless creatures who must have someone around to do things for them and help them to live, but that a husband for a women writer is just so much clutter. . . . A woman ought to marry once to know what at least one marriage is like, but after she found out she should leave him. . . . After a while she said her feet hurt her; so she sat down. . . . A great woman, in many ways, that Gertrude Atherton. Says what she thinks, thinks what she says. . . . To the Browser, at least, the second number of The American Review is as stuffy as the first. . . . It has articles on English Political Thought, The Unemployed, Milton's "Lycidas" (25 pages long) and The Restoration of Property. Also an exceedingly dogmatic editorial on the Revival of Monarchy by Editor Seward Collins. . . . Please pardon the Browser for finding it somewhat pathetic. He glories in his prejudices.

Carl Glasscock was in. He wrote "The Big Bonanza," "Gold in Them Hills" and "Lucky Baldwin" (Bobb-Merrill) and is now at work on a book about the California Mother Lode. He says that the sale of his "Big Bonanza" was twice as large during the last six months as during the previous half year; that book deserves its popularity. . . . Gertrude Stein is writing her life for the Atlantic Monthly in quite intelligible English, but as you read her you have a terrible feeling that she will drop off any moment into such sentences as Gertrude is a stein. Stein is a stone. Stein is what you drink beer out of. No beer for little girls. Isn't a Gertrude something little girls wear? Gertrude Stein was a little girl. All little girls aren't Gertrude Stein.

But Gertrude doesn't go steinish once. . . . When Mable Dodge Luhan was a little girl her father and mother didn't like each other. When the mother was away he raised a big flag; when she came back, pulled it down to half-mast. (See her "Intimate Memories"). . . . Why doesn't Rosamond Lehmann write some more books like "Dusty Answer" and "Invitation to the Waltz"? But if she wrote more frequently she wouldn't be Rosamond Lehmann, and that would be a pity, and she wouldn't be such a favorite of

THE BROWSER.

ST. PAUL, MINN.

DISPATCH

JUL 4 - 1933

KAY BOYLE ADDED
TO LIST OF THOSE
BORN IN ST. PAUL

Woman Rapidly Rising in Fiction
World, Sends Short Biography;
Forced to Take Up Pen When Fam-
ily's Fortune Fades.

By James Gray.

THE WAR of the towns over the right to be re-
corded as birthplace of a celebrity is always a
diverting little spectacle. It matters very little,
if at all, that Shakespeare was born at Stratford-
on-Avon. What matters significantly was that he
later lived in London, came intimately in contact
with the court and expressed in his plays the essen-
tial quality of the national spirit of his time.

Still it is impossible not to be especially interested
in the lively persons that one's city has fathered.
When I lately heard it reported that Kay Boyle
who is becoming increasingly important as a writer
of fiction had been born in St. Paul, I immediately
became the busy little runner-to-earth of facts.
Meyer Hiler, another former resident of St. Paul,
or, a recent visit vouch for the truth of the report.
Now from Paris and from Miss Boyle herself she
sends me a racy, short biography in which she says
that she was "born in Minnesota, the City of St.
Paul on the 19th of February, 1903."

I shall not interrupt the flow of her eloquence
further, for she is able to tell about herself better
than any one else. This is what she has in part
to say:

"Paternal grandfather, Jesse Peyton Boyle, was a lawyer and the founder of the West Publishing Co. in St. Paul.

"Traveled widely in Europe as a child, but dur-
ing the war the family fortunes were practically
wiped out and my father went into partnership in
the garage business in Cincinnati. For two years
I attended the Cincinnati Conservatory of Music
and the Ohio Mechanics' Institute, majoring in ar-
chitecture. Eventually we were reduced to living
in the garage and I worked there as a telephone
operator."

Mother Took Interest
in Radical Politics.

"BY THIS TIME" (Miss Boyle is still speaking for herself) "I had written a novel about my mother who was taking an active interest in radical politics and pacifism. She ran for the school board on the Farmer-Labor ticket in 1919. The novel dealt largely with conditions of organized labor in Cincinnati. Labor meetings were held in the garage at night, and mother would read aloud Gertrude Stein's 'Tender Buttons', explain Brancusi's sculpture, show the workers copies of Steiglitz' 'Camera Work' or read my own harrowing, 'Working Girl's Prayer' or 'Arise, Ye Women' to the bewildered men.

"When I was 18 I married a French student of engineering at the University of Cincinnati, and we worked in New York for a year together. I was

associate editor of 'Broom' and attended Columbia
University night courses.

"In 1922 we came to France on borrowed money to visit my husband's family. After six months (with the family described in 'Plagued by the Nightingale') my husband procured a position in Le Havre at the salary of 400 francs a month. We supplemented this small amount by raising vegetables and taking them into the wholesale market to sell during two years' time. This part of my life is written of in 'Gentlemen, I Address You Privately' which will appear in New York in October with Smith and Haas."

Health Goes to Pieces;
Forced to Go South.

"IN THE SEVERE climate and hard work of Le Havre, my health went to pieces and I was forced to go to the south of France. 'Plagued by the Nightingale' was then published in Ernest Walsh's 'This Quarter' . . . .

"For a year or so I made my living in one way or another and in Paris lived with the Layang Muda of Sarawak and wrote her memoirs which appeared in London with John Lane in 1929. But I grew impatient with this life of gigolos and run down royalty and decided to join Raymond Duncan's colony which seemed to me an active healthy place. . . . It was not long before I discovered that every one there was in the same circumstances: There because they had not the money to get away; there, lazy, disgruntled, and snarling and attacking one another. Because I was more presentable than the majority of the others, I was given the shops in Paris to take care of, so that the idea of a simple non-commercial existence was completely blasted. . . . I escaped from the colony on Christmas morning, 1928, after almost a year with the Duncans.

"I then got a job on the Paris New York Herald; then with Bettina Bedwell on the Paris Chicago Tribune where I worked a year . . . In 1932 . . . Lawrence Vail and I were married in Nice."

Documents Full
of Self-reliance.

I THINK I could not have found a more ap-
propriate occasion than Independence day for print-
ing a document so full of self-reliance. I catch
glimpses of Miss Boyle marching through the vari-
ous phases of her extraordinary life, militant and
unafraid. It is a rather magnificent sight and I am
extremely grateful to her for supplying so complete
a background for the understanding of her work.

It is clear from what she tells that the auto-
biographical character of her writing is strong.
That accounts in part for its personal quality; for
the fact that it arrests the attention very much
as the spoken word does in the mouth of a pas-
sionately earnest person.

But, of course, Miss Boyle has not been content
merely with recording bit by bit the facts of her
own life. Her novels and her stories are extremely
interesting from the technical point of view. They
show a careful control and direction of the mate-
rial not toward the end of reaching a moral con-
clusion, of course, but simply toward the full
evocation of a particular quality of life.

Her short stories are among the most interest-
ing that are appearing today in the magazines be-
cause they deliberately set limits to the development
of the material and preserve on paper only that
part of an episode that is brilliantly alive.

So, if you wish, you may list Kay Boyle among
the writers this community has bred. Put her not
far from the top of a roster that includes Charles
Flandrau, Scott Fitzgerald, Grace Flandrau. They
all continue, happily, to be important figures.

THIS CLIPPING FROM
CLINTON, IA.
HERALD

JUL 8 1933

ALL of US

By Marshall Maslin

These are the slack times in the publishing busi-
ness. . . . The Browser's favorite authors have writ-
ten their latest book and their next one is in the
hands of the publishers. . . . The
autumn catalogs aren't out. The
blurb departments of the book
houses are sending paragraphs
about how well their books are do-
ing and where their authors are
spending the summer. . . . And the
Browser is, he admits, just a bit
bored. . . . And besides, perhaps
because there's a new baby in his
family and a baby is more interest-
ing than a book. The way he eats
and his gurgies and grunts and how
much he sleeps and how strong he
is already—"Look at him, he can
hold up his head!"—and the grip of
his hands and do you really think he'll be better look-
ing after a while?—all these make the most exciting
book seem tame (to members of the family of course,
of course, of course).

Gertrude Atherton talked last week to a writer's club in Berkeley, Calif., and she made some remarks about writers marrying. She said it was all right for men writers to marry because men are helpless creatures who must have someone around to do things for them and help them to live, but that a husband for a woman writer is just so much clutter. . . . A woman ought to marry once to know what at least one marriage is like, but after she found out she should leave him. . . . After a while she said her feet hurt her; so she sat down. . . . A great woman, in many ways, that Gertrude Atherton. Says what she thinks, thinks what she says. . . . To the Browser, at least, the second number of The American Review is as stuffy as the first. . . . It has articles on English Political Thought, The Unemployed, Milton's "Lycidas" (25 pages long) and The Restoration of Property. Also an exceedingly dogmatic editorial on the Revival of Monarchy by Editor Seward Collins. . . . Please pardon the Browser for finding it somewhat pathetic. He glories in his prejudices.

Carl Glassock was in. . . . He wrote "The Big Bo-
nanza," "Gold in Them Hills" and "Lucky Baldwin"
(Bobbs-Merrill) and is now at work on a book about
the California Mother Lode. He says that the sale of
his "Big Bonanza" was twice as large during the last
six months as during the previous half year; that book
deserves its popularity. . . . Gertrude Stein is writ-
ing her life for the Atlantic Monthly in quite intel-
ligible English, but as you read her you have a terrible
feeling that she will drop off any moment into such
sentences as Gertrude is a stein. Stein is a stone.
Stein is what you drink beer out of. No beer for little
girls. Isn't a Gertrude something little girls wear?
Gertrude Stein was a little girl. All little girls aren't
Gertrude Stein.

But Gertrude doesn't go steinish once. . . . When Mabel Dodge Luhan was a little girl her father and mother didn't like each other. When the mother was away he raised a big flag; when she came back, pulled it down to half-mast. (See her "Intimate Memories"). . . . Why doesn't Rosamond Lehmann write some more books like "Dusty Answer" and "Invitation to the Waltz"? But if she wrote more frequently she wouldn't be Rosamond Lehmann, and that would be a pity, and she wouldn't be such a favorite of

THE BROWSER.

DAYTON, OHIO
JOURNAL

NOV 3 - 1933

ALL OF US
BY MARSHALL MASLIN

That fliply serious New Yorker thinks it
might be a good idea if publishers owned
authors just as the owners of baseball clubs
own their players . . . Pay 'em so much a
month. Feed 'em when they're hungry. Give
'em more money only when their contracts
run out. And so and so on . . . Silly idea,
but the Browser remembers what an awful
squawk that publisher made last year when
Charles Morgan of "The Fountain" slipped
his leash and decided to change publishers.
He wept his bitter-salt tears all over paid ad-
vertisements and it was more funny than
pathetic . . . Robinson Jeffers changed pub-
lishers this year, but the Browser has heard
no yelps of anguish from his former pub-
lishers.

Authors must be a great trial to their
publishers sometimes. The Browser met a
publisher once who said: "May the good Lord
deliver me from the authors who try to help
the sale of their books, who haunt book-
stores and ask too many questions about
how their books are going and offer to stand
at a counter some day and autograph copies."

He was quite sad. His idea seemed to be
that a man who writes a book ought to go
to Greenland just before it is published, and
there may be something in that thought.

The Browser is inclined to be on the side of the publishers. It must be a most uncertain and ticklish business. . . . Last night the Browser heard half a dozen university professors discussing Gertrude Stein and what her writing meant. No agreement. They didn't know.

Some reviewers criticize Gertrude Stein's
book, call the writing bad, sheer at it. The
Browser doesn't agree. He thinks she wrote
it precisely, surely, with a fine talent for
adjusting her manner to her material, and
he thinks the world lost some excellent
writing when Miss Stein decided to be a
force in literature, instead of a creating
force all by herself.

Aren't We All?

SIR: Concerning book reviews.
The English language.

Is Gertrude Stein insane, or is she the only one of us of all of us of us all who is sane sane not insane? Is she is she is she or am I am I am I?

New York City.

WILLIAM FLOYD.

it a life of its own, special and individual as is all experience, yet so deeply grasped that it makes intelligible and beautiful through some varying form the fundamentals on birth, life and death that all human beings hold in common.

"Lamb in His Bosom" is such a book. We cannot return to the time in which it is laid, the half century preceding the Civil War. Many of us will not see its setting, the flat pine reaches of southern Georgia, running toward the swamps and the sea; in any case, a stranger's glance at remote cabins would disclose little of what Mrs. Miller has learned of people among whom she always has lived. Yet this quiet tale of families who lived out their lives within a few miles stretch of woods and corduroy roads permits no stopping until its end is reached.

The story starts with the marriage of Lonzo Smith and Cean Carver and their ride by oxcart to the new log cabin in the clearing six miles from Cean's childhood home. It carries Cean from a slim child, "shy-mouthed, swift-fingered" helper to her mother, to the woman that Lonzo made of her. "Cean Smith was shut-mouthed instead of shy-mouthed, and swifter of finger than was Cean Carver. She would slap the jaws of a child that did not mind her; she would make up her mind in the flick of an eyelash, and stick to it for the rest of her life." On the

From the jacket design of "Lamb in His Bosom"

# Gertrude Stein, Experimenter With Words

*Continued from page one*

and she herself had played the harp at the Bavarian court. She was very amusing and had some strange friends, both English and French. She was a sculptress and she made a typical German sculpture of little Roger, the concierge's boy. She made three heads of him, one laughing, one crying and one sticking out his tongue, all three together on one pedestal. She sold this piece to the royal museum at Potsdam. The concierge during the war often wept at the thought of her Roger being there, sculptured, in the museum at Potsdam. She invented clothes that could be worn inside out and taken to pieces and be made long or short and she showed these to everybody with great pride. She had as an instructor in painting a weird-looking Frenchman, one who looked ex-

actly like the pictures of Huckleberry Finn's father. She explained that she employed him out of charity, he had won a gold medal at the salon in his youth and after that had had no success. She also said that she never employed a servant of the servant class. She said that decayed gentlewomen were more appetizing and more efficient and she always had some widow of some army officer or functionary sewing or posing for her. She had an Austrian maid for a while who cooked perfectly delicious Austrian pastry, but she did not keep her long. She was in short very amusing and she and Gertrude Stein used to talk to each other in the court. She always wanted to know what Gertrude Stein thought of everybody who came in and out. She wanted to know if she came to her conclusions by deduction, observation, imagination or analysis. She was amusing and then she disappeared and nobody thought anything about her until the war came and then everybody wondered if after all there had been something sinister about this German woman's life in Paris.

There is, I think, no use in quoting amusing anecdotes or bits of gossip from the book. These are things which any one can put on paper when he comes to write his autobiography, whether he has ever written a word before or not. In the "Autobiography of Miss Alice B. Toklas," there are plenty of them, amusing, revealing, impressive and human, but more important than the material itself is the peculiar vividness of the writing which embellishes it. I might give a catalogue of all the persons of whom Gertrude Stein writes—Picasso, Picabia, Matisse, Juan Gris, Braque, Jean Cocteau,

chaos and want in cities and on farms has given an added appeal to three fine first novels which have dealt with the self-suffering family life of earlier American times: "South Moon Under," "As the Earth Turns" and now "Lamb in His Bosom." Apart from that special contrast, however, "Lamb in His Bosom" is a book which will continue to be read and loved.

Mabel Dodge, Mildred Aldrich, Bertrand Russell, Ernest Hemingway, Carl Van Vechten, Sherwood Anderson, Sylvia Beach, Madame de Clermont, Tonnerre, Natalie Barney. I might go on for a page or two making a catalogue. She has known a great many people of prominence and importance in our time. Trust me when I say that the material is fascinating and that the writing is even more so.

Even before publication the book has had a great success. It will undoubtedly have a much greater one. Gertrude Stein has always wanted to write for a large public. Being caviar never interested her, and now it appears that her desire is to be achieved. Popular recognition in France has preceded that of the reading public in her own language. It is both interesting and important that with this book the intelligent reading public will be able to discern the source of an influence which hitherto has gone almost unrecognized, an influence which has filtered down through writer after writer until it might be said with a great deal of truth that it has set aside American writing (and by that I mean words and sentences) from all others in this century. Today one can pick up a book and by the writing of a page tell whether it is written by an American or an Englishman. It seems to me that one powerful influence, emanating from 27 rue de Fleurus, is largely responsible.

The "Autobiography of Miss Alice Toklas" is a fascinating book. It historical event in American writing as in the history of modern a

## BOOKS

Edited by IRITA VAN DOREN

<table><tr><td>THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF ALICE B. TOKLAS. Reviewed by Louis Bromfield</td><td>1</td></tr><tr><td>LAMB IN HIS BOSOM, by Caroline Miller. Reviewed by Mary Ross</td><td>2</td></tr><tr><td>GERMANY ENTERS THE THIRD REICH, by Calvin B. Hoover. Reviewed by Michael Williams</td><td>3</td></tr><tr><td>DARK HAZARD, by W. R. Burnett. Reviewed by Fred T. Marsh</td><td>3</td></tr><tr><td>THE GOLD FALCON. Anonymous. Reviewed by Eda Lou Walton</td><td>4</td></tr><tr><td>BLUEGRASS HOUSES AND THEIR TRADITIONS, by Elizabeth M. Simpson. Reviewed by Jacqueline Embry</td><td>4</td></tr></table>

THIS CLIPPING FROM
New York Herald-Tribune

SEP 27 1933

Ring Lardner

How great was Ring Lardner? He is dead at
the tragically early age of forty-eight. Kipling
who fathered O. Henry and a whole school of
story-tellers, is still alive. It was about ten years
ago that the knowing began to perceive that
Lardner was not merely a buffoon, not merely
an expert on American slang, but a great artist.
And the literary researchers and tea-tasters
began their arguments as to whence he stemmed
and what had influenced him and to what sig-
nificant school he belonged. All this was so much
flummery to Lardner, who was no more deceived
by himself than by the pretensions of a cheap
Broadway song writer.

He came into life, it must have been, very
nearly an adult. He had little schooling, and he
didn't need it, for he was, even as a young man
far ahead of the professors. Before he died he
had read everything—even Gertrude Stein and the
"tendenz" magazines in which the White Hope
of literature were doing their stuff. He was never
fooled. And there was no trace of affection in
the man. Always, back of his saturnine, sad
owlish face, there was the look that said ne was
wise to himself. Now that he is gone, the
prophets of literature will be dissecting him.
Some, who ought to know better, will be saying
that he was merely a bitter man. To hazard a
guess at the grab-bag of immortality, why not
say that he, and not the upstage expatriates and
snooty poseurs, was as much responsible as any
one for the sound artistic form and the healthy
realism which is the mark of the best that has
been written since the war? The boys and girls
who today are writing the best stuff were not,
during their formative years, under the influence
of any strange cult. They were reading, instead,
Lardner's "You Know Me Al." O. Henry's imi-
tators have written incredible trash; some of
Lardner's have not done so well, but the crop
is infinitely better.

He was, first of all, a good workman. It may
sound strange to those who thought of him only
as a 'funny man, but he was a precisionist. He
wanted the exact word. In his later years, with
the patience of a friendly school teacher, he would
criticize headlines and inept phrases in the sports
columns of newspapers. He had another quality,
too, which is not exactly fashionable at the mo-
ment. He was the foe of the double meaning, the
sly wink; and in his whole life he never wrote
a line to which even the most prudish censor
could object. He would no more have written a
harsh Anglo-Saxon four-letter epithet than he
would have violated any of his canons of literary
form.

He wrote of swinish, shallow bores. As a young
man he saw the baseball dugouts, the cheap
hotel rooms, the low "ginmills," and he picked up,
with patience and amazing expertness, their
smells and their talk. And he understood them
from the first. He knew the American even better
than Mark Twain did, and always his ear was
attuned to the nuances of the American speech.
There were, for example, the characters who spoke
it "len'th" and "stren'th."

His sort of humor was cruel and sometimes it
had under it a savage pessimism. But it was
true. Did Lardner despise the whole human race?
This accusation worried him, because he did not
believe it was so. All men who knew him were
fond of him. He had cronies, and before his
illness knew many people, but he seemed always
to regard them with a sad and pitying gaze. Yet
he could take part in horseplay, in macabre jokes.
Last year some one asked him what he regarded
as the ten most beautitul words. His list: Gan-
grene, flit, scram, mange, wretch, smoot, guzzle.
McNaboe, blute (a smoker who doesn't inhale).
crene (a man who inhales but doesn't smoke). The
story had it that at Albany, when Tammany's
Senator McNaboe was shown the list, he retired
to his room to weep.

The greatest American short-story writer up to
now? Perhaps. Certainly, in the years that fol-
low his death, he will be regarded with increasing
respect as a remarkably gifted man, a genuine
artist of wide and powerful influence.

220 WEST 19th ST., NEW YORK
Tel. Chelsea 8860

THIS CLIPPING FROM
NEW REPUBLIC

SEP 6 - 1933

AMERICANS ABROAD: An Anthology, edited by Peter Neagoe,
The Hague: The Servire Press, 486 pages, $2.50.

Mr. Neagoe has put together an anthology which may well be
the last of its kind, for the spotlight is moving away from that
corner of the post-war stage where young men practised writing
for writing's sake. Pound, Joyce, Eliot and Stein dropped the
barriers of formality and the runners were off. Many of the names
from the expatriate magazines are here, Their work ranges from
the plain sobriety of James T. Farrell to the loose excitement of
Lawrence Vail and the late Harry Crosby. In the middle ground,
the best stories are by John Cournos, the editor Peter Neagoe,
Wambly Bald, Emanuel Carnevali. There is a story in the
difficult prose of Djuna Barnes, and for once a Hemingway story
that falls flat. There are two poems by E. E. Cummings in his
regular style, tense couplets by Emily Holmes Coleman, fragments
of the little-seen and strangely touching language of Ernest Walsh.
Difficulty, escape, tenseness and strain run from cover to cover.

printed Bibles at
written Bibles.
the number of
was accused of
uniformity of
with the hand

From the Collec-
tion of
Carl
Van Vechten

on Kleerfect
the evidence of
unhonorably would have been overwhelmingly
against him.

Kleerfect
REG U S. PAT OFF
THE PERFECT PRINTING PAPER
MANUFACTURED UNDER U.S. PAT. NO. 1915093

* If interested in learning more about this new paper—Kleerfect—just ask on your business stationery for the book, “The Printability of Certain Papers—and Why.” Please write the Advertising Department, at our Chicago address.

TIME, September 11, 1933

TIME is published weekly by TIME, Inc., at 350 East 22nd Street, Chicago, Ill. Entered as second-class matter January 21, 1928, at the postoffice at Chicago, Ill., under the act of March 3rd, 1879. Subscription rates: One year, in the U. S. and possessions, Cuba, Mexico, South America, $5; Canada, $8; elsewhere, $7.

Volume XXII, Number 11

New York Herald-Tribune

SEP 27 1933

BOOKS and THINGS

By LEWIS GANNETT

IRINA SKARIATINA, born Russian aristocrat, formerly the Countess Keller, crossed the Soviet Russian border last winter and smelled freshly baked bread.

Black Bread, Pro and Con

"Black bread, it's black bread, Vic," she whispered ecstatically to her husband, an American naval officer. "and took several deep breaths to fill my lungs with the familiar lovely odor." She tells the story in "First to Go Back," (Bobs, Merrill), her account of her return to the land whence she had escaped as from a prison in 1922.)

"One of the advantages of black bread is that it doesn't show the dirt," says Carveth Wells, American globe-trotter and author of a curious book entitled "Kapoot, The Narrative of a Journey from Leningrad to Mount Ararat in Search of Noah's Ark" (McBride). He disliked the odor, the looks, the complex constitution of Russian black bread as he disliked everything else in Russia, including caviar ("(filthy fish food)", and he says so with vigor and vulgarity. Four things in Russia really dented his Yankee skin—the bad state of the toilets, Lenin's tomb, the Kremlin treasure, and the peasant dolls of the Caucasus. He stayed in Russia a month, had never been there before, spoke no Russian, and traveled with a moving-picture operator and an interpreter.

An Aristocrat Returns

Irina Skariatina, as readers of "A World Can End" will recall, knew the old Russia well. When she visited the Smolny Institute in Leningrad last winter, it was for the fourth time. The first time it was the Institute of Noble Maidens, and she, an aristocrat, was visiting a fellow-aristocrat. The second time, in 1920, she went there to beg a Bolshevik official to release her mother from jail (he refused, and chased her out of his office). The third time, in 1922, she went there with the American relief worker who helped arrange her escape from Russia. The fourth time she went as an American tourist. The Bolsheviks knew that she was an ex-countess, but they had read her books, concluded that she was no counter-revolutionary, and let her in. She obtained her visa through an American banker who did business with Russia.

So Irina Skariatina, now Mrs. Victor F. Blakeslee, wandered about Russia without an interpreter, speaking to everyone she met; and she earried with her a host of memories that give depth to her picture. Carveth Wells was impressed with the violence of opinion of his Soviet guides, with the long breadlines at the stores, with the bedbugs, with the inefficiency of Intourist, with the prison atmosphere. To Mrs. Blakeslee it seemed that people talked more freely than in the old days, that Intourist was marvelous, that insects were remarkably scarce, the breadlines comparatively short, and that the young Bolsheviks were much more tolerant of other opinions and other religions than they had been in 1922. She had standards of comparison.

What Is Changed in Russia?

What struck her first, as it impresses and puzzles many travelers to Russia, was the curious difference of the crowds. At first one cannot make it out; then it dawns on one that there are no "Sunday clothes," no creased trousers. "There seemed to be no class distinction where clothes were concerned," says Mrs. Blakeslee. "All except the soldiers and sailors looked equally shabby and poor. No one seemed overfed and no one undernourished, and all were hurrying, eager

and excited."

She saw the picture of her own great-grandfather, Prince Paskevitch, in the old czar's palace in Tsarskoe-Selo; she saw the prisons with remembering eyes; she visited her old childhood nurse in Leningrad and worshipped in the old church. She stopped in the midst of traffic in Moscow, where once the Shrine of the Iberian Virgin had been, to offer a silent prayer; and in Tiflis she visited the museum in the home of her great-grandson, the poet Griboyedov. At Yalta on the Black Sea her heart was full of memories of days when her family had lived in what is now a Worker's Home. And yet she liked it.

Kharkov impressed her more even than Moscow and Leningrad, that busy industrial city where whole new suburbs had grown up since she left a broken-down country; it was hard for her to believe that Russian architects had designed, and Russian workers built, of Russian materials, the fourteen-story building of the State Palace of Industry. Carveth Wells would have compared it, to its disfavor, with the Empire State Building; Mrs. Blakeslee compared it with the Russia she knew as a child, and was thrilled.

Carveth Wells tells how, when he and his fellow-passengers crossed the Russian border into Finland, they dismounted and, turning back toward Russia, put their thumbs to their noses...As Irina Skariatina crossed into Poland, her eyes filled with tears.

"Imagine anyone being sad to leave that God-forsaken land," said a German fellow-traveler.

"Don't you understand?" she asked. "It's my country, and I'm leaving my land, my people behind."

"We'll come back again," said her American husband.

It pays to know something about a country before writing a book about it. "Kapoot" is brash and ignorant. "First to Go Back" is unaffected, informed and informing, and very human.

Ring Lardner and the American Hell

It is not for his use of the American language that Ring Lardner will be best remembered, I think, though he used it with rare accuracy. Nor is it for his humor; he grew out of his sporting-page humor stage into a cold hate unmatched in the bitter pages of any of the young literati.

He pictured a peculiar kind of American hell, as Ludwig Lewisohn wrote in "Expression in America"—"a hell of relentless dullness and cold cruelty in which the victims of that dreadful dullness are degraded by being utterly inured to it, in which both the perpetrators and the victims of cruelty deceive themselves and each other by using the vocabulary of American sporting page optimism and Fundamentalist 'folksiness' and Forty-second Street magniloquence.... These bitter and brutal stories belong not only to literature but to the history of civilization."

That's true. Some day the literati will cease talking about the influence of Gertrude Stein on Ernest Hemingway, and the cosmic sources of Erskine Caldwell's writing, and will discover that Ring Lardner, in his lonely conviviality, founded a literary school.

Out Today

Fiction: "The Ladies," by Stanley Hopkins (Harper); "Argonaut," Honore Morrow (Morrow); "Solid Citizen," by McCready Huston (McBride); "Lost Horizon," by James Hilton (Morrow) and "The Gun with the Waiting Notch," by Stone Cody (Morrow).

"Beauty Looks After Herself," essays by Eric Gill (Sheed and Ward); "The English Way," studies in English sanctity from St. Bede to Newman by fourteen authors, edited by Maisie Ward (Sheed and Ward); "Haytian Directory," a commercial handbook of Hayti and its tariffs, by Andre Fils-Aime (Haytian Consulate, New York); "A Handbook of N. R. A.," laws, regulations and codes approved to September 1, with Supplement to December 31 to be sent to buyers (Federal Codes) and "Your Longsuffering Stomach," by Arthur F. Kraetzer (McBride).

THIS CLIPPING FROM

N. Y. Herald-Tribune

OCT 22 1933

# The Reader's Guide

Conducted by MAY LAMBERTON BECKER

Questions on the choice of books should be addressed to Mrs. Becker, care of BOOKS, 230 West Forty-first Street. All letters will be answered, but as only a small proportion can be answered in print, a stamped envelope should be inclosed.

M. P. W., Seaford, Del., was the first—and by no means the last—to ask me how to get something written by Gertrude Stein as well as "The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas" (Harcourt).

It will save much letter writing to print it very loud and clear that the easiest book to get is "Three Lives," which has just been reprinted in the Modern Library; it was published first by the Grafton Press in 1909, then by Lane, then by Boni Brothers. This is also the book most likely to induce a sympathetic attitude to her methods in general, on the part of an outsider; it is possible a beginner might rebound with some violence from contact, say, with "Tender Buttons: Objects, Food, Rooms," which was published by Claire Marie, New York, 1914. For the record, here are the titles of her other published books, as nearly a full list as I can at present make it:

"Geography and Plays" (Four Seas); "Making of Americans" (Boni)—this was a limited edition at $12.50; "Useful Knowledge" (Payson and Clarke, New York; Lane, London); "Matisse, Picasso, and Gertrude Stein: With Two Shortest Stories" (Plain Edition, 27 rue de Flerus, Paris, $2.50, 1933); "How to Write

(Plain Edition); "Lucy Church (Plain Edition); "Acquaintance With Description" (Seizen Press, Casa Salerosa, Deya, Mallorca, Spain; ten-and-six); "Before the Flowers of Friendship Faded, Friendship Faded" (Plain Edition); "As a Wife Has a Cow: A Love Story Orné de Lithographies par James Gris (Editions de la Galerie Simon, Paris); "Composition as Explanation by Stein" (Hogarth Essays, Second Series; Leonard and Virginia Woolf, London), and "An Elucidation by Gertrude Stein," printed in transition, Paris, April, 1927.

hours loll here all summer rife Ex-
pect-lushstat, GET is less necessary
because of absence of tight blank
faces. European maturity seems of
the in-touch-with-youth-pulseripe-
sort."

From this the reader can make his
own translation. I personally gather
from this that it is not so hard to
make a living in France as in Amer-
ica. Something which I do not agree
is correct. The only way I can see
that Mr Gillespie and other expatri-
ates are able to live in France is on
money they receive from the land they
have left, or the money they earn by
selling their writings (produced in
France) in their homeland. So the
real question of Get doesn't enter into
the matter. As a matter of fact the
life of the average writer in France is
a desperate one. However, it is not
my place to comment unduly. The
next selection is from an essay enti-
tled: "A Musical Ecstasy on the work
of Stravinski";

"to emph-remind that the German

Psyche has never exot-purloined its
music constructik condition maybe en-
titling Teut-bloods to such occasional
Absolute Disccludes. That makes three
of us—mine an Ear-HAF VIEW
FRUCT-SPANDARRIVE' etcetetc.

Lovers of music, particularly of the
classical, no doubt will receive a mes-
sage from this. It should be particu-
larly noted that I have followed care-
fully the capitalization and punctua-
tion.

Here next I give the greater por-
tion of a piece entitled "A LOVE EPI-
SODE"

"She Howsaynay — Sweetmoist —
Momodelaying clouds away libido—see
percepscient Homagcomplish Open
Beauty's Lovecommitting Holynve Hu-
manUS Grandeur EERie Voke Bloom
Reason Push."

When not in Paris Mr Gillespie
dwells on the Riviera in the ancient
hil town of Oagnes. To a recent gath-
ering of writers, painters and com-
posers who dwell in the place, al
which Linky was to deliver some of

his latest work, that charmingly mar-
riageable lady, Peggy Joyce, was in-
vited. She drove up in her Hispano
Suiza. After stepping out of the car
she took her purse from out of her
bag and handed it to the chauffeur
with the remark: "Look after this,
Arthur, I am going to a party of ar-
tists."

On this occasion Mr Gillespie read
these haunting lines, which, though no
title was announced, it was later
learned were his biting comment
aimed at an unfaithful mistress who
had deserted him:

"I had thought your fatty type extinct
You who with
squeak heartiness

Laugh glowingly the writhings of
others

hap-delicately snared in falsehood.
To youse social rodents

truth circumstance

"always a gripe-relish acefetidity ant-har
mor plate to breath trinct-scoriate one's
felo clates in public and awk squirms.

As his voice died away upon the
last line, that of the marriageable
Peggy rose high and clear: "If he
wants to talk about me I wish he
would say it so I could understand."

Oh, irony of ironies.

ABRAHAM LINCOLN GILLESPIE

Belongs to New School of Writers of English.