Indianapolis Times, Volume 42, Number 68, Indianapolis, Marion County, 29 July 1930 — Page 9

TOLY 29,1930.

‘Policing ’ of Humans Bad Thing to Do BY MARTHA LEE. This idea of "policing'’ the actions, thoughts and doings of human beings is the bunk. It breaks up more marriages than any other two causes. It splits up friendships that might, if left to their own natural growths, end in romances and finally marriage. It estranges children from their parents. Wives who hound every step their husbands take and pursue to the bitter end every thought he manifests, are very apt to find themselves with no husband to hound and pursue. Husbands who insist upon an itemized account of every minute of their wives’ days will not have to itemize long. Trust Is Necessary Mothers and fathers who attempt to live their children’s lives for them by restricting and forbidding and rebuking constantly will have t. ose children only until they can mite a living for themselves. Husbands or wives who continuously are questioning their mates about things are saying in so many words that they do not trust them any farther than they can throw a grand piano. And trust, being one of the important materials from which a stable foundation of marriage is built, is a most important item. It’s lack presupposes the structure never is to be very firm. Mothers and fathers who “police” their children, especially during their years of growing into men and women, are committing a double crime. They are evidencing to those children that they do not trust them. They also are stunting the growth of their own natural judgment and intuitiveness and appreciable sense of right and wrong. No Proving Ground Mothers and fathers have all the years of childhood in which to instill into their children what is right, and what is wrong, what is good and what is bad. They give them standards of values by which io judge things. They give them a set of lessons in how to manage situations and how to make the most out of life. Then when the fledglings are ready to fly. the parents put their feet down and refuse to let the youngsters take the air. Not only that, but they do not even comoensate bv providing a proving ground for them to try out their new knowledge. It’s awfully unfair. And the result is the kids probably try their wings when every one else is asleep. Dear Mis* Lee—T am 17 vears old and ft Junior in hifth school. When I was 16. mv mother was willing for me to have occasional date* with the boys in achool. Mv father ob tec ted strenuously, however. I did not want to disobey him so I stayed home. The more I stayed at home, the mo” he wanted me to. He did not want me to have any dates until I was 18. Now that I’m 17. I am having • Jew dates anvwav. hut he savs nlen mean* a ouarrel every time I (to out. He Tu,t wam* me to be old fashioned and stay at home. He never will take Blare himself. That is whv I think he is unfair, and I co auainst his will. What shall 1 do? Oo whether he want* me to or not? I always treat mv father kindly and look after all his business affairs since mv older sisters are not at home. . •> t. Whv do vou think he Is this wav • * s ft because he has no confidence in A ™ e? It’s just another case of parents not wanting their children to get past the stage where they wear swaddling clothes. Your older sisters have fled the nest, and he's bourid and determined to ignore the fact that you are growing up. He’s going to keep you a little girl as long as he can. Afraid of Losing Her Your father does not forbid you having dates because he does not trust you. Having dates to him means that you are old enough to be thinking about boys, and that soon you will be old enough to be thinking of getting married, and he's just trying to put off that day. If he wants you at home, why not arrange with your mother to have a party of your friends in occasionally? Let him see for himself that you of the younger generation can have a good time just staying at home, if the elders give you a chance. Perhaps, after a few of these gatherings, he may get over his idea that you are being lured away from him. UNION NAMES OFFICERS Central Labor Group Installation Will Be Held Aug. 11. Officers of the Central Labor Union will be installed at a meeting in Plumbers’ hall, Aug. 11. The officers of the union were re-elected without opposition at a meeting Monday night. They are William E. Holmes, bridge and structural iron workers’ union, president; Robert C. Fox, pi imbers’ union, vice-president; James L. Kinney, plumbers’ union, financial secretary; Emil Salsbury, journeymen stone cutters' union, recording secretary; John E. Smith, stagehands’ unicn, organizer; Earl Sche finer, garment workers’ union statistician, and Bert Persell, postal clerks' union, srrgeant-at-arms. PRACTICE FOR SHOOT Policemen Hold Elimination Trials for Pistol Contest. Elimination trials were being held today at a pistol range west of the swimming pool in Broad Ripple park by city police officers for the police pistol shoot Aug. 5 and 6. Patrolmen Arch Ball. Barrett Ball, Richard Pressley and Sergeant Harry Smith will catain teams for the shoot at the police and firemen's picnic. CITY LOANED $750,000 Six Banks Combi.;e to Meet Needs Until Tax Money Receipt. Six local banks combined to loan the city $750,000 on a short time basis until tax money is received after failure of any bank to bid on the temporary loan Monday. The .me group made a similar loan last year. The interest rate will be 44 per cent. French War on Tribesmen Bw t'nitfd Pre** RABAT. Morocco. July 29. French troops continued their pacification of tribesmen in the neighborhood of the Ouled Zorah oasis In the Tafllalat region today despite the counter-actions of the ferocious chieftain, Belkacem Ben bdi.

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LENGTHENED LINE THROUGH SHIRRED TUNIC AND CASCADING REVERS If you are looking for a dress with slenderizing fines, you’ll find it in style No. 743. Every detail has been carried out to give the wearer height. The bodice has shirred shoulders, giving a decorative effect, thus detracting from width. At same time it provides necessary fulness across the bust. The jabot collar is especially slimming, falling in soft ripples and terminating at the left side with bow sash. The skirt has a tightened effect at the hem. The shirring and fulness of the tunic skirt at the right side give impression of vertical line. This slenderizing model comes in sizes 16, 18. 20 years, 36, 38, 40, 42, 44 and 46 inches bust. It is navy blue crepe de chine, so appropriate for general wear. It makes an excellent maternity dress. Pattern price 15 cents in stamps or coin (coin is preferred). Wrap coin carefully. We suggest ihat when you send for this pattern, you inclose 10 cents additional for a copy of our large Fashion Magazine. Galveston Women Die B.u Times Special GALVESTON, Ind., July 29—Two aged women residents here are dead. They are Mrs. Emma Richards, 52, wife of Ora Richards, and Mrs. William H. Pogue, 68.

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(Continued From Page 1) world to duck it,” he said. ‘l'll bet Ziggy's already written to d?ar little Anne and she'll be expecting to | hear from you.” He added that the ; next time he saw Dolores Del Rio I he would tell her somethin- to give her a laugh. a tt tt C 1 OLLIER saw them all. He wrote a daily column on Hollywood for an impressively long list of papers, and spent most of his work- ; mg hours around the studios or in- | terviewing stars in their homes. Like Rorimer, he had known Ziggy Young in newspaper work in New York, but he and Rorimer had become acquainted only on the latter’s arrival in Hollywood. It had been a telegram from Young that had sent him down to meet Rorimer’s train, and then, at Ziggy’s request, to attempt a practical joke. Dan Rorimer got his clubs from the closet and announced he was ready to play golf, but Collier said, "Not so fast. You can’t throw Ziggy down. The old boy would do as much for you. He’s got a heart as big as—” “As big as a bird seed,” said Rorimer. "Anyway, Danny my boy. you can’t throw Ziggy down. What’s Miss Winter’s address?” "Some place on Romaine street.” "Let me see that letter. I,m going to call up information and see if she has a phone listed.” He busied himself at the telephone and, after getting information, announced that there was no numoer. "Got a privately listed telephone, I suppose,” said Rorimer a little bitterly. "Big stuff! Every extra girl in Hollywood has one.” He observed that it hadn’t taken Anne Winter long to learn the ropes and that it would mean extra trouble to drive out to her address to look her up. "Send a telegram,” said Collier. "Tell her to cail you up and leave her phone number.” "All right. And I’ll send Ziggy Young a telegram, too.” They went downstairs. At the telegraph desk Rorimer wrote a message for Anne Winter, explaining that he was a friend of Ziggy Young’s and would like her to get in touch with him at the Roosevelt. To Ziggy Young he wrote: "Am looking up Miss Winter stop I hope you get murdered in a speakeasy.” Then he and Collier, two slim, well-molded young men in golf togs, proceeded to their game. It was half past six or later when Rorimer got back to the hotel. There was a message for him at the desk when he asked for his key. Miss Winter had called in and had left her telephone number, Gladstone 5855. Upstairs, changing clothes again, Dan gave the matter some thought. He was still indignant at Ziggy Young’s habit of taking everything for granted and he didn't relish the idea of chaperoning some moviestruck girl around Hollywood. Why in thunder did people come to Hollywood, anyway, if the didn’t have a job lined up? They only added to an already aggravated unemployment problem. a a a HE certainly wouldn’t have '.ome out here, he told himself, as he kicked off his shoes, if he hadn’t been given a contract. And he hadn’t asked for his job, either. If he had, he probably wouldn’t have got it. It had been a case of Continental Pictures liking a couple of his published stories and buying one and taking an option on the other. And then the executive at their New York office had talked about the opportunities for dialog writers. And then the contract. Ziggy Young had called him a lucky dog and Rorimer supposed he was. He grinned in recollection

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of the-party he had thrown for some of his newspaper friends. His farewell party. To a man they wished him well,'but not one would admit it. They made dire prophecies; they predicted he would be back in New York before summer, with a pair of smoked glasses and a tin cup. And j they had sort of poured him on to 1 the train . . . Oh, well, it was a good party. His mind went back to Anne Winter. The slip of paper bearing her message lay on the little stand beside his bed. Paul Collier had said, in parting: “Don’t forget to call Miss Winter. And if she has a girl friend, I’m out of town.” / Collier had said he was going to Long Beach. Rorimer picked up the slip of paper and read jt again. He thought: "I don’t have to call her up—not tonight, anyway.” Still, he had committed himself to Ziggy Young, and he had nothing to do tonight. He rang for some ginger ale and finished dressing. It was warm. Feb. 15 and just like summer. Probably snowing in New York, he | thought. He hoped Ziggy Young ! was knee deep in slush, covering a i fire or something. ! When the bellboy came Rorimer filled a glass, drank it and picked up the telephone. “Gladstone 5855,” he said. Waiting for the connection, he reminded himself that he never did have any luck on blind dates. Just a big sap, he thought, and fervently cursed Ziggy Young again. "Hello,” he said, “is this Miss Anne Winter?” It was. "This is Dan Rorimer—Ziggy Young's friend. You got my telegram, I see.” Miss Winter said she had and that it was kind of him to take the trouble. She added that it was nice to hear from one of Ziggy Young’s friends. a a a HER voice was pleasing. Rorimer was altogether unprepared to find It so. Nice and low, and he had expected a strident sound, full of freckles and long legs. It had poise. It made him think that its owner knew exactly what to do with it. For an awkward moment he paused. Then he said, “Well, how do you like Hollywood?” And thought immediately that it sounded very silly. “I’m in love with what I’ve seen of it,” said Miss Winter. “You see, I’ve had a rather bad cold and have had to stay in. I’m not,” she hastened to add, “blaming it on your climate. I caught it on the train coming out.” Rorimer laughed. “I’m not a Californian,” he said, “I'm a stranger here too.” “Oh, really? That encourages me.” Rorimer said he felt a little courage himself and glanced toward the tray on the writing desk. “Are you

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busy this evening?” he ventured. She was not. “That’s fine,’- Rorimer said. “If you haven't eaten, perhaps you’d like to dine with me. If you’re at all like me, you’re not crazy about eating alone.” “I think that would be lovely,” said Miss Winter. “I was just I about to go out to' dinner when you called.” “It’s a date then,” said Rorimer, “And later maybe we can dance—unless you think your cold ” “Oh, I’m entirely over it now. And I’d like to, very much.” Rorimer said he would be over as soon as she was ready. “We needn’t dress unless you want to.” “Then I’ll be ready when you arrive.” He hung up the receiver feeling decidedly better. He even felt friendly once more toward Ziggy Young. Standing before his dresser mirror he gave a final careful adjustment to his tie and with military brushes did a little unnecessary work on his hair. It was brown hair, rather wavy and of a slightly coarse texture that, once combed, required little attention. But Rorimer brushed it anyway—straight back above the ears—and glanced critically at the part. A tanned reflection looked back at him from the glass, strongmouthed, firm of chin and blue of eye. A not impleasing face, especially with regard to the eyes which had little laughter wrinkles at the sides and were intense in their blueness. Rorimer’s watch showed a quarter after seven. He slipped on his coat and selected a fresh handkerchief and stood tall and straight before the glass while he put on the hat that he wore only at night. His days since coming to southern California were bareheaded ones. A block away from the hotel was the garage where he kept his car, a sturdy roadster of low price but sporty lines. The evening, he reflected, climbing in behind the wheel, might turn out rather well after all. A girl with a voice like Anne Winter’s, he told himself, would have to possess more than ordinary charm or else the whole world was wrong. He hummed a few bars from tfie theme song of anew picture as he drove. a a a HE brought his car to a stop presently in front of a small apartment building and found, after looking at the letter boxes in the vestibule, that Miss Anne Winter lived in No. 2. A door opened half way down the ground floor corridor in answer to his ring and the “blind date” came advancing to meet him. She said “Hello, Mr. Rorimer,” in a nice comradely manner. “You see I was ready.” Dan, feeling her warm handclasp and noting the brilliant perfection of teeth revealed by her smiling lips, vow-ed that he would send Ziggy Young a couple of the finest Vies on Hollywood boulevard.

His “How do you do. Miss Win- | ter?” sounded stiffly formal to him and entirely inadequate. Holding j the street door open for her to pass I through ahead of him, he murmured something about hoping he hadn’t kept her waiting too long for dinner. “Os course not,” she assured him. ’"You got out here sc quickly you ; must have flown.” Rorimer said, “Well, here’s my airplane—hop in.” "Are you a good pilot?” she asked. "Perfectly trustworthy as long as my mind is on my work,” he assured j her, and was rewarded by the pleasant sound of her low-pitched laugh I which told him that none of the implications of his remark had escaped her. “Now then,” Rorimer said, climbing in beside her, “where away? Any choice in the matter of eating place;?” She told him she preferred to leave the choice to him. “I really haven't been around much —honestly. You don’t know what a conscientious invalid I have been. I’ve obeyed the doctor's orders absolutely —in bed every night by 9 for a whole week....But I mustn't bore you, talking about a cold in the head. Anyway, I’m feeling gorgeous now.” Rorimer resisted a temptation to tell her that she looked the same way. Her eyes, dark and wide and vivid, shone brightly in the gloom of the car and her hair, he suspected, must be coal black beneath the tight-fitting, helmet-shaped hat. He said, "Have you been to the Brown Derby?” “Just once —for lunch.” “Let me see, now. Would you like to go to the Blossom room at the Roosevelt? That’s a good place to eat and dance, but it’s a little early. I’ll tell you; let’s have dinner at the Brown Derby and then go to the Blossom room to dance.” She nodded her head vigorously. i‘Check!” "We’re taking off. Stand by for a loop,” he said, and swung the car around in the street in a tight arc. a a a SOME minutes later, as they were being shown to a table in the restaurant, Rorimer heard someone call, “Hello, Dan,” and he turned to see a young woman waving to him from one of the tables along the wall. Rorimer said, “Hello, Johnny,” and saluted, and when he helped Anne Winter with her coat he informed her: “That’s Johnny Riddle. He's a free-lance press agent. And the girl with him is Olivia Marden.” “I saw her as we came in,” Anne Winter said. “I’ve heard a lot about her, of course. I think she’s just lovely. I’m tempted to turn and stare.” “Lot’s of people do,” Rorimer said. “I’ll have to tell you about Johnny later. He's quite a boy. You see, he has a bunch of movie stars for clients—Olivia Marden is one—and he falls in love with every one in turn. . . . Shall I order for you?” She nodded. “I’d love to have you. It’s so comforting to have someone do it for you.” “It's a gift,” said Rorimer, laughing. “I merely choose what I want myself and then double the order.” Nevertheless, she noted, he studied the menu with considerable care and turned now and then to ask a question of the waiter. When he had finished and offered her a cigaret, which she declined

with a murmured “No, thanks —not before meals.” she leaned across the table toward him- and said: “And now you’ll have to tell me all about yourself.” Rorimer smiled, and his nose exuded thin streams of smoke. "All?” he said. "Well, all you discreetly can.” "Well, I’ll give you a tabloid version. Bom in Knoxville, Term. Went to school at Vanderbilt. Worked on a paper in Nashville, and another one in Detroit. Went to New York and worked on a couple of more j there. Met Ziggy Young on the j Herald-Tribune and roomed with j him for a while. When I went over to the Telegram we split up, Ziggy having night hours and I working days. Not so good for sleeping, if you know what I mean.” She nodded and smiled. Rorimer continued: "Wrote a short story while I was on the Telegram, based on a murder story I covered. Much to my surprise, it was accepted. Wrote another one about a certain high-hat prizefighter and that was accepted. ‘Then I got a swelled head and listened too attentively to my literary agent, who advised me to give up newspaper work and devote my time to fiction. ... In a little less than a year I wrote twelve short stories and a play. Two of the stories were accepted. The play still is kicking around Broadway, and by this time must have been turned down by every producer in New York.” a a a HE stopped. "Still interested?” She nodded eagerly. "All right, if you insist. Two out of twelve is not so good—especially at the prices I got.” He smiled wryly at some recollection as he explained that more than once during his year of free-lancing he had regretted divorcing himself from a weekly pay roll. Pride, he said, was the only thing that had kept him from going back to ask for his old newspaper jobpride and the good-natured razzing his old associates would have given him. "They -used to call me O. Henry and ask me if I was eating regularly. I always did,” he said, studying the cigaret in his fingers, "but toward the last I was going without lunch and trying to kid myself that three meals a day was too much. "Then Miss Hunt—my agentsold one of my stories to Continental Pictures.” He stopped abruptly and extinguished his cigaret at sight of their waiter returning. Anne Winter watched him attentively. She was a good listener. S'ne rested her elbows on the table, supporting her chin in her hands. She leaned back now as the waiter placed dishes before them, but said, when he had departed again: “You haven't finished. I can’t eat until I hear the rest.” There was, Rorimer -said, little else to tell. Someone at Continental had thought he liked Rorimer’s stuff well enough to offer him a contract. “Someone without much judgment. . . . And that’s the end of the story.” His deprecating way of telling it gave Anne "Vinter the impression that he was not too fond of talking about himself. She said gravely, “I’m sure that’s not the end; it’s just the beginning for you.” “You’re very kind,” Rorimer said, “but now that I’m here they don’t

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know viiat to do with me.” Ho added that he fueed he was lucky. “In fact,” he said, eyeing her with laughing but bold intentness, I know I'm lucky.” She laughed delightedly, a pleasing low ripple of sound, but ducked her head in pretended confusion. Rorimer liked the way her long lashes swept ner cheeks when her eyes lowered. "Have they made a picture yet from your story?” she asked. "What is the name of it?” Rorimer oaid that production was about to start. “Grim Holiday,” ho said, was his story. "But Lord knows what they'll call it when they’re through with it.” He spoke with a shade of resentment. Anne Winter, watching him, thought she saw rebellion in his eyes and in the set of his lean jaw. (To Be Continued)

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