Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 227, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 January 1934 — Page 9

Second Section

It Seems to Me By Heywood Broun I WANT to quote part of a paragraph from Rexford G. Tugwell's book. The Industrial Discipline." Mr Tugwell, if you have forgotten, is Assistant Secretary of Agriculture. But the though which he suggests goes beyond the province of that department. Indeed, it seems to me to strike at the fundamental issue upon which the whole world is dividing into opposing camps. “No good can come of ancestor worship,” writes

Mr. Tugwell. "It is like historic homesickness of other kinds—it tunes the affections to a halfimaginary past and persuades us toward return. We can not ever go back, of course: but neither can we. apparently, find a cure for nostalgic references. Perhaps the only chance for cure is the substitution of pre-occupa-tion with the future for all this contemplative leaning above the past. And the approach to this lies through a clearer apprehension of what the future may be like. It will be as easy for day dreaming to concern itself with a bright mechanical world as with a vaguely ruralistic one. The affections of men and

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women might conceivably reach forward rather than backward." * * a A Choice in Brands of Jam IN this choice between tomorrow and yesterday it seems to me that every living creature should, out of his own self-interest Join the forward reachers. The pest does not belong to us. The future may. We can not play a part at Concord Bridge, at Bunker Hill or Lexington and yet each one of us may stand at Armageddon and battle for the Lord. Indeed, our choice is simply this: Are we to be cosmic kibitzers or activists. Man does not have to see himself as Lincoln or Lenin to feel that in some small way he may affect the days to come. But no matter what your wisdom or your stature you can not reach back to pat the shoulder of Washington or nudge Jefferson's elbow. Os course, it may be said in reply that w r e know the past, while the future is shrouded in doubt. That is hardly an argument likely to sway any man who ever shoved his whole stack in before the fifth card was dealt. But. in additfbn, it is a statement not wholly true. First of all, do we really know the past? You may read or hear a speech in which the orator of the evening says that we have no need of new-fangled notions and that we should all go back to Jefferson and Hamilton. And if he happens to be an effective speaker the crowd may pobsibly roar approval of these statements. But do they make very much sense? Is it actually true that the methods which availed early agricultural America will suffice for our present highly industrialized civilization? And I would say even beyond this that many who grow sentimental and nostalgic about the America of our forefathers have very slight knowledge of what they are talking about. * U H The Regular Blue Plate Curriculum ITAKE it that you and I have had the usual conventional grounding in American history. We do not know the sound, the sigh, the touch or feel or smell of early America. The nature of life here during Washington s first administration is shrouded in just as much doubt as our perplexity as to what the next ten or fifty years may bring. Who is competent to say that if he had lived in the days of the American Revolution he might not have said, “This is a crackbrained scheme and I’ll have none of it." Until I know much more of the trivialities of life under Madison and Adams and Monroe I have no intention of going around and saying that I'm pining for early days of the nineteenth century. And, of course, even if I did happen to pine, small good it would do me. a a m A Dream Walks Forward IT will be wiser. I am sure, to day dream about what the future may be like. It will be, quite possibly, less Utopian than many of us wish. We may not live to see the finish and watch the red board go up to indicate that the result is official. The layer of odds is a realist and he will offer long prices against your hope or mine—straight and place and show. But at least you will have some chance for your wager. The books are closed on races already run. Nor do I think it is altogether a tragic thing that we can't go back. I knew a man who came from Limerick to New York when he was 4 years old. Always he said that once before he died he wanted to go back to Erin. He wanted to feel the old sod once again beneath his feet. And he was happy and wept when the sad songs of his land were sung late in the evening. But he made a mistake late in life. He went back. Ireland was not the Ireland of his dream. How could it be? Do not dream of the turned page. White spaces lie ahead where he who runs may write. (Copyright, 1934. by The Times*

Your Health BY DR. MORRIS FISHBEIN

THANKS to co-operation of social organizations, persons who have lost the use of some limb or joint, due to accident or disease, now are being placed in occupations that suit them best, that do not call upon use of the crippled limb or joint, and that still enable the partially incapacitated to earn a living. , . The Shriners. the Rotarians, the Kiwanis Clubs, the National Rehabilitation Association, and many special organizations in many cities are doing their utmost to help the crippled, realizing that rehabilitation of such persons will save vast sums to the state for their care. The new work found for such people also restores the individual respect of many an invalid for himself and saves him from the depressing mental condition into which invalids sometimes fall. m m m MUCH of modern surgery is planned primarily to restore complete working function to tissues that have been injured or damaged by diseases or accident. It thus becomes a part of a complete process called rehabilitation. To rehabilitate a man who has a temporary incapacity, it first is necessary to bring about recovery of any damaged tissue. Then a study is made of the condition to prevent a similar occurrence in other persons. Various physical methods are helpful in reconstruction and rehabilitation. At the same time it may be possible to devolp for the patient anew occupation for which his physical condition does not handicap him. mam THE entire process of rehabilitation is a long one. involving not only the work of the surgeon, but also of the industrial efficiency expert, the social worker, the occupational therapist, the physical therapy technician, and similar assistants. A fine example of the kind of condition that is concerned here is the joint that has become stiff after a dislocation or a fracture or some similar injury. In some cases, in which it is not possible to secure a return of complete motion to the joint, it becomes necessary to get the motion up to the maximum by application of heat; masage. and manipulation and then to fit the person concerned to a job in which the stiff shoulder or elbow or other joint is not a •erious handicap.

Full Lee<l Wire Service of tbe United Press Association

ThU is the nineteenth of The Indianapolis Time)' popular series on the members of fti editorial staff. Today's article tells about Russell O. Berg, Times' staff cartoonist. man BY NOKMAN E. ISAACS Times News Editor RUSSELL O. BERG strides down the street each morning on his way to Tie Times office in deep reverie. Mr. Berg does his thinking while he’s taking his morning constitutional and should some brazen passerby let loose with one of those piercing whistles to attract some friend, yp comes Mr. Berg's head with a jerk. < Mr. Berg is almost a young Puritan, but his thoughts at that precious moment are far from Puritanical. For people who whistle on the street are Mr. Berg's pet peeve—his only one, in fact. Russell Berg at one time expected to become a minister, but instead, has drifted to the other extreme. He has become a newspaper cartoonist, and now he strives for effect in his cartoons on The Times’ editorial page instead of driving home his point from the pulpit. Russell Berg is a charming young man who somehow doesn’t fit into a newspaper office. Newspaper offices are sort of rough-and-ready spots, with that “esprit de corps" which makes every newcomer feel at home, but Russell Berg doesn't strike you as any rough-and-ready

type of person. He's a quiet, serious, level-head-ed young fellow who puts his agile pencil to work as soon as he sits down at his desk and keeps at it until he's through. Right in the middle of the office, he nevertheless seems a person set apart as he draws on. For once Russell has an idea, nothing short of an earthquake could disturb him. ana HOW does Russell draw his cartoons? Here’s how: He may get his idea walking down the street in the morning, but it may be one of those vague ideas without definite formation. So when Russell sits down in the morning, he sketches on plain copy paper in pencil several variations of his cartoon-to-be. Completed, he sometimes has as many as six or seven variations of the same cartoon on copy paper. Then into the office of Talcott Powell, editor of The Times, he goes. Together, Mr. Powell and Mr. Berg study each sketch carefully. When they have made their selection, Russell sets to work in earnest. First, in blue pencil, he outlines his cartoon on Glarco board. Blue does not print, but allows him to get his cartoon well mapped out before he starts the final stage. The blue-penciled stage finished, Russell draws his cartoon with a special type of black pencil right over the blue outline. Finished, he surveys it critically, inclining his head from side to side, as cartoonists are prone. to do. He adds a touch here, a touch here, a touch there. Done, he lets there. Done, he lets his pride and joy rest on his board while he ponders over a suitable title. Oftentimes he will sit for an hour, weighing different titles. Done, at last, he turns his cartoon in. Such is the life of a cartoonist. a a a RUSSELL BERG was born in Hamilton county, Indiana, in 1901. According to his parents, he started drawing pictures at the age of 3 or 4, usually stretched out flat on the kitchen floor. For

The Theatrical World City’s Symphony Does Well With Beethoven BY WALTER D. HICKMAN

MUSIC lovers in this city have a preference for the music of Beethoven and their desire to hear the “Symphony No. 5, C Minor" accounted for a large attendance at the Murat last night for the Indianapolis symphony orchestra concert. Os the nine symphonies that Beethoven wrote, the fifth seems to be the favorite with the majority of music lovers.

The splendid way in which Ferdinand Schaefer conducted this difficult symphony and the intelligent response of the members of the orchestra clearly show the forward strides the symphony is making. It was in the third movement that Mr. Schaefer excelled. It probably was the best all round response in the various sections that the orchestra has given this season. As usual. Mr. Schaefer conducted without a score. Both the conductor and the orchestra seemed to be at home in the four movements of this symphony. The first half of the program was free of any orchestral fireworks. It consisted of quiet charm, instead of loud and stirring climaxes. Three of Mendelssohn’s numbers from "Midsummer Night's Dream'’ were the outstanding events in the first half of the program. The Scherzo, which was played in this Mendelssohn group, was the highlight of the program as far as the playing was concerned. The first vialin section, as well as the double basses, showed up in splendid form during the Beethoven symphony. The program last night listed Ignace Strasfogel as assistant conductor. Last night the conductor requested members of the audience to suggest numbers to be played at the April concert, which will be a request program. urn* In City Theaters Indianapolis theaters today offer: “Varieties” on the stage and “Beloved” on the screen at the Lyric; Ted Dfcwis on the stage and "Sons of the Desert” on the screen at the Palace; “Long Lost Father” at the Indiana; “Four Frightened People” at the Circle; "She Done Him Wrong” at the Apollo, and burlesque at the Mutual and Colonial. JOINS HACKLEMAN FIRM H. Weir Cook Becomes Associate. President Reveals. Ward H. Hackleman, president of Ward H. Hackleman and Associates, today announced appointment of H. Weir Cook as an associate member of the firm. The company's offices are located at 300 Continental building.

The Indianapolis Times

‘WE MAKE YOUR NEWSPAPER’

Russell Berg—A Cartoonist From the Days of Woodboxes

INDIANAPOLIS, WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 31, 1934

some unknown 'reason, he found distinct pleasure in drawing on wood and as a result the woodbox behind the stove was usually decorated. He went to school in the country near Noblesville and admits that he made very good grades which declined somewhat as he reached the higher classes. He preferred to decorate pages rather than to read them, and among his memoirs is a contract which he filled out at the age of 11, to send to a correspondence school in cartooning. The course cost $25 and so the contract never was £ent. Russell went to high school in Noblesville, where he had a splendid art teacher who taught him that trouser legs and coat sleeves have wrinkles in them and do not look like stiff stove pipes. The Chautauqua came to Noblesville and Pitt Parker, “chalk talker,” was on the program. He was most of the program for Russell, who got the “bug” badly, and when he graduated from high school he spent his summers on Chautauqua and his winters in school or doing lyceum work. The schools, by the way, were Butler, the Herron Art school, a lyceum school in Boston, the Cleveland Art school and Wittenberg college. tt tt tt RUSSELL did a lot of traveling. He was “tent man” on one of the Chautauqua circuits and he helped the “talent” set up their stage scenery. One night, he let a lamp fall on Mrs. Barnaby’s head. She protested rather vigorously, Russell remembers. All this time, Russell was getting better and his “chalk talks" were getting to be quite popular. While at the Lyceum school in Boston, he did a lot of entertaining and he recalls that on one of those programs he cleared the munificent sum of 60 cents. His intake, however, was usually much more and one night he gave a “chalk talk”'in the Y. M. C. A. in the famous old fishing town of Gloucester. One of the “Y” boys

COLLEGE GETS $50,000 Bowdoin, Maine School, Bequeathed Sum by Attorney. By United Press SANTA BARBARA, Cal., Jan. 31. —A $50,000 bequest to Bowdoin (Me.) college was contained today in the will of the late E. S. Pillsbury, wealthy retired San Francisco attorney, filed for probate. The estate was valued in excess of $1,000,000. Mr. Pillsbury. Maine native, came to the west coast at the Civil war’s end. He died at his home here last week.

SIDE GLANCES

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Here’s Russell O. Berg, Times staff cartoonist, right in the middle of one of his cartoons for The Times editorial page. -

was showing Russell what a fine building they had. They entered a dark room and just as the boy turned on the lights, Russell stepped off into about three feet of water. “I learned then,” says Russell, “that this was the room that contained the swimming pool. It was a cold night and you can imagine my pleasure at riding back to Boston, wet from the waist down. I can feel that blizzard yet!” Russell married Miss Helen Lutz of Tipton on July 1, 1928, the last year he did. Chautauqua work. July 1 was on a Sunday. Saturday he was in Grantsville, W. Va., and to get to Tipton he rode out of Grantsville Saturday night to an impassable place in the road. He walked a mile and a half through

URGES STERILIZATION TO END CRIME RULE Criminals Would Dread It Worse Than Chair, Says Official. By United Press OKLAHOMA CITY, Okla., Jan. 31.—Emasculation of all dangerous criminals as a means of stamping out crimes of violence was proposed today by Dr. G. N. Bilby, Oklahoma state health director. Hardened criminals should be rendered completely sexless, said Dr. Bilby. A leading advocate of the Oklahoma sterilization law for habitual criminals and incurable insane, Dr. Bilby said that stern methods are needed if the criminal element is to be wiped out. Dr. Bilby said that no attention should be paid “sob-sisters sure to cry out.” He stressed the psychological effect of such a program. “The criminal would fear such an operation even more than the electric chair,” he said. Collapses From Acute Hunger Supffering from hunger, Charles' Wirick. 31, of 2351 Adams street, is in city hospital today. He staggered into Engine House 21, Olney and Raymond streets, yesterday afternoon, and collapsed.

By George Clark

the mud and another auto took him to Parkersburg, and thence by train to Tipton. That is love! a a a RUSSELL, back in Indiana, went to work for an engraving firm, but the work palled on him. His cartoons attracted the attention of Times’ officials and he joined the staff two years ago, serving one stretch as lodge page editor. Russell contends he was a stark, staring failure as a lodge editor. “Why, I never belonged to a lodge in my life,” he protests. Back to his cartooning, Russell is happy. Seme of his colleagues declare that he has more cartoonideas than any other six men. His choice virtue is originality. Although he draws right-handed,

Capital Capers Milky Way—A la Olson Minnesota Governor Is ‘on the Wagon,’ Mixes His Whisky With Cream at Capital. BY GEORGE ABELL Times Special Writer WASHINGTON, Jan. 31.—-Tall, husky Floyd Olson, Governor of Minnesota, arrived in town on personal business conducted with the public works administration. Registering at the Powhatan hotel, the jovial Minnesotan sent out telephone greetings to a number of friends. “Hello! Hello!” he announced. “I’m in town. Drop around and see me.” The friends responded promptly, rapping at the door of the Olson suite in about ten minutes.

As they entered, they were surprised to note red-headed Governor Olson pouring a pint bottle of milk into a big tumbler. “Yep,” he replied in answer to queries. “I'm on the water wagon.” He then added a liberal supply of whisky to the milk. “It tastes better that way,” ex-* plained. Over his tumbler of milkwhisky, jolly Governor Olson, blue eyes sparkling, enthused about the cows and pigs and crops of the supreme state of Minnesota. u n Governor olson always is at home in the capital. He has many friends and comes to Washington as often as he can. Last summer, His Excellency of Minnesota came here on some mission. At a dinner which he attended, he was placed beside a vivacious widow. Conversation sparkled as brightly as Governor Olson’s Scandinavian eyes. “I’m a Colonial Dame,” admitted the widow, pressed for information about herself. Olson and his aid were apparently impresed. Since the party was ending early, the widow said to the Governor: “Why don’t you and your aid come around to my house in Georgetown for a highball?” Nothing loath, Olson consented. He and his aid motored to Georgetown, sought for the home of the attractive widow. Finally they located an old colonial residence. The place was dark and the shutters were closed. Governor Olson rang the bell and used the old brass knocker on the door. Only silence rewarded their efforts. “Let’s try pebbles,” suggested the Governor. 4 He and his aid then threw pebbles against an upstairs window. Finally, a head—done up in curl papers—was poked from the window “What do you want?” demanded a furious voice. The aid plucked Governor Olson’s sleeve. “Come away, Governor,” he said. “This colonial dame may pack a musket.” ? j

his thoughts swing slightly to the left and he is an ardent supporter of President Roosevelt's progressive policies. Although he spends much time reading, he still finds time for entertaining and many Indianapolis clubs have found him a pleasant and instructive “chalk talker.” He is a fluent talker, although he does little of it in the office, and regarded as a “swell guy,” he makes himself-fit into the scheme of things by reminding the boys every so often that he still thinks RoUin Kirby, of the New York World-Telegram (whose cartoons also appear in The Times), is the world’s greatest cartoonist. We think so, too. Here’s to you, Russell. May you some day be in Rollin Kirby’s shoes! Next: Fashion-Plate Hedges.

A BROKEN window pane and an adventurous bird caused the dispatch of a cable to Breckinridge Long, American ambassador to Italy, and some amusement to the envoy’s friends. The bird flew through the broken glass in Mr. Long’s mansion on Sixteenth street, and set off a burglar alarm. Acquaintances of Ambassador Long in nearby houses were amazed to see police surrounding the Long residence. Several minutes later, they emerged with a dead bird. “A bird in your house is apparently worth a lot of time from the police department,” a humorously inclined friend cabled the ambassador.

RECOVER STOLEN CAB AFTER WILD CHASE Alleged Thieves Said to Be Rival Company Drivers. Following a chase through the west and south sides of the city early today, a taxicab stolen from Raymond Plummer, 32, of 528 South East street, was recovered at the High School and Rockville roads. Mr. Plummer reported to police that while he was in a restaurant # 4000 West Washington street, he his cab being driven away. He gave chase in another car. Raymond Bess, 27, of 324 South New Jersey street, and Fred Wess, 19, of 635 North Pine street, were arrested and charged with vehicle taking. They are said to be drivers for a rival cab company. FUNERAL RITES FOR DISPOSAL PLANT HEAD Floyd E. Baber to Be Buried in Moores ville. Last rites for Floyd E. Baber, 37, i of 1125 North Bancroft street, superintendent of the Indianapolis sanitary district garbage disposal plant, were to be held at 2 today in the Wallace Street Presbyterian church. The Rev. Ray Mueller was to conduct the services. Burial was to be Mooresville. Mr. Baber died Monday

Second Section

Entered as Second-Class Matter at PostofMce, Indianapolis

Fair Enough By a Westbrook Pegler I HAVE been in. or through. Baltimore at least on# hundred times in the past dozen years and. notwithstanding Henry L. Mencken, a brow, who, by a curious prank of false-modesty, calls himself merely “newspaper man.” and Johns Hopkins hospital, a medical court of last resort. I am always conscious, first of all, about this city, that it w f as the home of a sickly, brave, Cafe-Au-Lait Negro named Joe Gans, whom I never witnessed in the flesh. I recall, too, that it was the date-line from which the American

language derived the native, compound verb to bring-home-the-bacon. Baltimore is a strange, clackwater sort of city where a man needn’t earn much to live and isn't likely to earn much more than just a bare living. In Baltimore, as fa Philadelphia, the the rich get richer, or hold their ground, and the poor get used to it. There are not many people in Baltimore whose incomes, even in the best of times, invade the zone between $5,000 and $25.000 a year and I never could understand why any man or woman. belonging to the great majority, who had any gumption and no inescapable entangle-

ments, would let the sun go down on him or her, in Baltimore. It may be unfair to judge a town by such an indication, but nevertheless, I think it is indicative that in Baltimore you will find ads in the papers offering as little as $2 a week for a maid of all work in a household where there are kids to wash for and generally do for and a furnace to stoke and ashes to carry out to the curb. a a a Gans and That Famous Telegram NEVER me to toss out a suggestion which would provoke letters, because I make it a point to answer all such in the course of time, and that run# into worry and work. But I wonder if there are not many others who, like me, think of Baltimore only to be reminded of Joe Gans, the Negro lightweight fighter, who was known as the old master, and of the telegram which his mother sent to him when he was about to fight the snarling, unchivalrous, Danish immigrant boy, Oscar Matthew <Bat.tjing) Nelson, at Goldfield, Nev. The telegram Tread, “Bring home the bacon, Joe," and the message w r as entered into the language as good, if not elegant, Americanese. I would be reminded next of the old Baltimore Orioles, a ball club composed of non-Baltimoreans, such as John McGraw of Olean, N. Y„ and Hughie Jennings of Scranton and Kid Gleason and Willie Keeler of wheresoever, but not, to the best of my recollection, of Baltimore. Then I would be put in mind, as the train dived into the tunnel and the coal-smoke seeped through the coupling-curtains and seams of the train, that Baltimore was the first home and the professional kindergarten of another famous man who became so enormous in the records of his time that a friend of mine, wishing to praise Franklin D. Roosexelt the other day, remarked, “I think he is the greatest American since Babe Ruth.” Baltimore might suggest, also, the name of Lefty Grove and that of Jimmy Foxx, but they were not locals. You are not a New Yorker if you come from Utica, nor a Baltimore boy if you come from the Cumberlands as Lefty did or from the eastern shore where Jimmy Foxx was haltered. a a tt Even Mencken Might Forget BALTIMORE is called the city of monuments or the monumental city, or some such, because it seems that an accurate census would show a greater population of rigid historical figures, some of them quite obscure, sitting on cast-iron horses and waving cast-iron sabers, than of living, breathing, eating drinking citizens. But nowhere in the city on any of my visits, although I have glared and peered and ogled many a noble pile of metal and stone, have I seen a monument to the one Baltimorean who means “Baltimore” to me. He was an oyster-shucker, so r used to re-a, and he was sick to death of consum ion t v uay that he suffered a white man to insuk # thousand times and still fought him as a chivalrous sportsman and cut him to hash by fair and courteous methods until the white man went primitive and hit him low. I saw the moving pictures of the fight in Goldfield, and, as early as that, I must have had a sense that I was witness to the reflection of an episode for history to take a little note of. I remember that fight picture yet. Baltimore is the place where the two kids come through the train singing, “Telly-grams, telly-grams to all points,” one in the Western Union khaki, the other in the Postal blue. The place where people come for treatments and operations at the great Johns Hopkins hospital, which I couldn’t find my way to without asking, although I know by some instinct how to get to the horse park and the football stadium. Baltimore, where Mr. Mencken, revising his history and catalog of American words and phrases, might overlook the telegram which Joe Gams got from his mother that day. (CoDvrlKht. 1934. bv Unite and Feature Syndicate. Inc.)

Today's Science ===== BY DAVID DIETZ

THE eventual discovery of "biochemical atoms"— that is, atoms of life—ls predicted by Professor Edgar J. Witzemann of the University of Wisconsin. He points out that the astronomer finds the solar system organized into a system of planets, revolving around the sun. The physicist finds the atoms of matter organized on a similar scheme, with each atom possessing a central nucleus around which electrons revolve just as the planets revolve around the sun. These electrons are fundamental particles of electricity. We find a series of graduations in the universe, therefore. At the start, we have the electrons which have been called the “atoms of electricity”; these, in their turn, compose the atoms of matter. The atoms of matter compose what might be called the “atoms of the universe,” the stars, the sun and the planets We have, therefore, an ascending scale of organization from the electron to the mighty star. Living creatures are no exception to the rule of organization. The fundamental unit of the living organism is the cell. All organisms, both plants and animals, are composed of the microscopic units called cells. mum THE study of cells reveals that they possess a complex organization of their own. Most living things, both plants and animals, began life as a fertilized egg cell. By a process of division the cell multiplies as it grows, becoming two, then four, then finally billions. Each cell reveals a definite structure. Within the cell, there is a denser spot known as the nucleus. Within the nucleus is a network of fibrous material known as the chromatin network. During the process of cell division, this network breaks up into little rods called chromosomes. Each chromosome splits lengthwise in two so that when the cell has become two cells, each one has exactly half of the original chromatin material. The chromatin material is composed of smaller divisions known as genes. The work of Morgan at Columbia and other experimenters has shown that the genes are the carriers of heredity. Professor Witzemann feels, however, that the gap between the atoms of matter and the details of cell structure is too large. He believes that to explain the behavior of the cell’s parts, we must look for intermediate organizations. These would be the atoms, the atoms of life.

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Westbrook Pegler