Indianapolis Times, Volume 45, Number 238, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 February 1934 — Page 9

Second Section

It Seems to Me By Heywood Broun I HAVE been invited by the Hotel Association of New York city to comment upon labor conditions in that industry, and particularly upon the present strike. The invitation was not sent to me alone. You received one. I am referring to the lons twocolumn advertisement recently issued which was addressed “To the Public.” A* members of that vast and not overly exclusive organization any one of us has a right to reply. As a matter of fact, we hardly needed to wait for that

invitation, since under the present arrangement the hotel keepers nave been kind enough to make us partners in their business. We do not share in dividends or any kind of profit, but we have been allowed to take on the burden of paying a considerable proportion of the salary of many hotel workers. In the case of waiters, bellboys and doormen our contribution is much larger than that of the employers. The hotel code itself by its wage provisions indicates an admission of the fact that no waiter could possibly maintain himself except through the tips which the public is ex-

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Heywood Broun

pected to offer. The hotels do not pretend to pay a living wage in the dining room. Accordingly, the diner who leaves a quarter, half dollar or dollar beside his plate is relieving not only the necessity of the waiter, but giving this or that corporation a chance to make a showing. aaa My Own Contribution ONCE on a country foad the driver pointed out to me the private estate of a gentleman who is the lord over a chain of hostelries. I looked at the place with interest. By doing a quick sum in mental arithmetic I decided that I had just about shingled the gentleman's barns through my quarters. And since the members of the hotel-patronizing public are paying partners. I see no reason why we should be silent one^s—the recent decision of the Waldorf management to the contrary. Since we pay the waiters, we ought to have some say in deciding what sort of waiters we want. If we have a definite repugnance against strike breakers I think we should be allowed to say just that and act accordingly. Moreover. I am very muen worried that our partners—the hotel keepers—are not getting the best advice. cither legal or literary. Before issung another proclamation I wish they would find someone who knows the difference between “infer” and “imply,” and it might also be a good idea to consult somebody who has read Section 7A of the national recovery act all through. Mrs. Elinore M. Herrick of the New York regional labor board, might also take an afternoon off and get a smattering of the law. a a a Regan With a Fanfare THE hotel association began its letter to us with a statement of its unswerving devotion to the letter and spirit of NRA and then went on to depart utterly from the intent of the collective bargaining clause. Twice in its letter the hotel association referred to the Amalgamated Food Workers as being under “the misguided leadership oi outsiders.” It spoke In favorable terms of another labor organization called the Federation of Hotel and Restaurant Guilds. Now' let's see what the act says: “Employes shall have the right to organize and bargain collectively through representatives of their own choosing and shall be free from the interference, restraint or coercion of employers of labor or their agents in the designation of such representatives or in self-or-ganization or in other concerted activities for the purpose of collective bargaining or other mutual aid or protection.” And. again. “No employe and no one seeking employment shall be required as a condition of employment to join any company union or to refrain from joining, organizing or assisting a labor organization of his own choosing.” a a a The Language of the Lair NOW. if legal language is anything like plain, ordinary language that law says that no employer has a right to try to sway the choice of the workers In regard to the particular setup of organization they desire and the particular leadership they want to follow. The workers in any code have a right to go even to the ends of the earth to choose their spokesmen. “Misguided leadership of outsiders," say the hotel men in their proclamation. I assert that this is an attempt to deceive the public. I assert that it is very far "outside” the spirit of NRA. I would like very much to hear an official ruling as to whether it is not also outside the letter of the 18W. That probably would boil down to a definition of "coercion" and “interference." If I were a hotel worker and had not yet made up my mind what organization to join and I read a big advertisement of the employers condemning one group and applauding another I think I might just possibly get the idea that the bosses were trying to sway my judgment. It is. as you might say. a strong hint. Maybe even a judge would call that "interference.” Since Donald R. Richberg is general counsel - for the national recovery administration. I think he erred greatly in attending a dinner at a hotel where a strike is in progress. (Copyright. 1934. by The Timesl

Your Health -Ry 1)R. MORRIS FISHBEIX : i AN ailment about which you should be informed, particularly in the colder months, is acute infection of the car. which usually is preceded by head colds or tonsilitis. Such acute infections of the ear come frequently as complications of measles and scarlet fever. In most instances the infection passes from the bark of the nose to the internal car by way of the Eustachian tube. First symptom usually is pain in the ear and in some cases this is the only symptom. It must be remembered, however, that pains in the ear also are found in connection with presence of boils in the ear canal. Sometimes a pain in your ear may be associated with an unerupted wisdom tooth and inflammation of the joints of the jaw and severe tonsilitis or an infection of the sinuses around the nose. m a a THE doctor makes up his mind as to the presence of an acute infection of the ear by taking the temperature, which usually is high in these cases. However, special examination in such cases of acute infections of the ear are made by direct inspection of the eardrum, using a magnifying device and a light. This device is called an otoscope, meanmg a device for seeing the ear. a a a IN most cases, a physician called to such a case and making a diagnosis of severe infection within the ear will arrange to open the eardrum promptly. This not only relieves the pain, but also makes it less likely that the infection will spread to the mastoid. Sometimes the pain may be relieved in the early stages by dropping into the ear some warm eardrops, usually composed of glycerine with a very small per cent of phenol. Strength of this solution is. of course, to be determined by the doctor in charge of the case. Sometimes mere application of heat to the ear brings relief. If the condition spreads into the mastoid, mastoiditis develops and constitutes a much more serious condition than infection of the internal ear alone.

r ull Legged Wlr* Berlce of the InitH Pregg Ag>clattnn

Thl I' the thirtieth and eonelndin t article of The Timet series on the members of its editorial staff. aaa BY LOWELL B. NUSSBAUM Times Staff Writer "T WONDER what Mrs. McGoosey would like to read today.” A Almost daily, Norman E. Isaacs, news editor of The Times, may be heard mumbling this apparently inane remark. Mrs. McGoosey is a fictitious character, a mere figment of the imagination of Mr. Isaacs, but she plays an important part in preparation of The Times each day. She represents the reading public, the average citizen. And so, Norman, in an effort to keep in close touch with the likes and dislikes of the public, as every good newspaper man should, does a “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde,” figuratively transforming himself, for the nonce, into a Mrs McGoosey. During this period, he attempts to scan the huge volume of local and wire news flowing to his desk, from the reader’s standpoint, and thus determine which stories to play prominently in the paper.

ORMAN ISAACS was bom in Manchester, England. The little heir of the Isaacs family, accompanied by his parents, set sail for the North American continent three years later, landing in Canada, where he tarried a while. He attended Mount Royal School, in Montreal, w'here the journalistic bug first sank its deadly fangs in him. At the age of 10 he and a chum published a small typewritten “magazine.” Very proudly, the future news editor of The Times, and his coeditor, offered their brain child to the public. The price was 1 cent to read, or 2 cents to keep. The world was not yet ready for such an advanced publication, and the magazine succumbed with the first issue. Its death was attributed to poor (or rather lack of) circulation. Disgusted with our northern neighbors' lack of appreciation, ambitious Norman came to Indianapolis a few years later. He attended Manual Training high school, finishing his high school training at Shortridge. While in h.gh school, he resumed his journalistic endeavors, creating a virtual monopoly as school correspondent for all three newspapers. Incidentally, he made more money from his correspondence than he received in later years when he got his first regular newspaper job. For a time, after a brief and uninspiring college career, he . filled in his spare time driving a mechanically decrepit hearse for a south side undertaker. He lost this job when the hearse gears stuck in high, the accelerator sticking at the same time, and he led a cortege of startled mourners to the cemetery at a dizzy pace. aaa TOURING his career as a Manual student, and later, Norman participated extensively in athletics. It was during this period, according to the Isaacs historians on The Times staff, that he gained the joshing nickname. “One-Round Isaacs.” Dabbling a trifle in the gentle art of fisticuffs, he is said to have overestimated his prowess one day and to have permitted himself to be drawn into battle with a finished pugilist. The Lsaacs biographers gleefully relate that Norm lashed out with a vicious left jab. From then oil. it is alleged, only two blows were struck, one when his opponent struck Norm, and the other when Norman struck solid ground. After working on the now extinct Daily American, Mr. Isaacs went to work in the sports department of the Star, moving over to The Times sports department in 1926, where, under the capable tutelage of Eddie Ash,

Mrs. Roosevelt's Little Setter Opens White House Reception by Sniffing Disdainfully at Our Army and Navy ‘ Big-Wigs'

BY GEORGE ABELL Times Special Writer WASHINGTON. Feb. 13.—Winx, a little setter belonging to Mrs. Roosevelt, opened the formal White House reception in honor of the army and navy the other night by running out in the main hallway just as scarlet-coated musicians were about to play “Hail to the Chief." The little dog emerged from the private dining room a few' moments before 1,400 guests (mostly army and navy) were received by the Roosevelts.

He sniffed at the perfumed air, laden with epaulets and cologne, and gave a short “woof.” Then an aid grabbed him and thrust him out of the limelight. The scarlet-coated army band played “Hail to the Chief.” and the Rosevelts marched on to the stage. mam General douglas macARTHUR. chief of staff of the army, led the big parade, wearing all his medals and looking as brave as when he ordered his soldiers to rout the bonus army from Washington. The gallant general bowed to the Roosevelts, shook hands and then marched out of the doors—almost as quickly as a bullet is fired from a gun. He didn't saunter, he whizzed. He didn't pause for a glass of punch, a Napoleonesque tweak of the ear for a favorite grenadier, or a moment of courteous folderol. He came, he saw\ he left. “The general just went out,” said a White House aid, in answer to queries. “Like a candle?" asked some one. “No." retorted the aid. “Like a comet.” mam WHITE-GOATEED General Peyton March, former chief of staff, moved majestically among the throng of officers’ wives, occasionally stroking his whiskers with philosophic air. Ribbons and stars gleamed on his chest. A red and blue band encircled one shoulder. The Legion of Honor hung beside the Crown of Italy. “He must be dieting," remarked one Army matron to another. “I •never saw such hips." “He has no hips,” said the other, in decided tones, ft

The Indianapolis Times

‘WE MAKE YOUR NEWSPAPER’ Norman Isaacs —Office Biographer—ls Put on Spot Himself

INDIANAPOLIS, TUESDAY, FEBRUARY* 13, 1934

veteran sports editor, his talents were developed. Norman originated and popularized the now famous basketball column, “Off the Backboard.” Running a column provides the writer with lots of experience. For one thing, it taught Norman not to make rash bets. One year he picked Martinsville. A fan insisted Muncie had the basketball championship cinched. Backboard let himself be goaded into a freak wager, whereby the loser would trundle the winner around the circle in a wheelbarrow. Muncie won on Secrist’s throw in the last fifteen seconds. "And the dirty lug insisted on sitting on the wheelbarrow handles,” Norman recalls ruefully. aaa TTE had more luck in 1929 when he picked Frankfort to win, with the championship. Norman also dabbled around a bit in baseball. One of the pitchers developed on the south side claimed the fastest speed ball in town. He boasted no one could catch him bare-handed. Unable to pass a dare, Norman caught the speed artist barehanded for two painful innings in a game at Garfield park. And how that bird could toss ’em. Norman's hand looked like a tomato and felt like a colony of boils for two weeks. He has covered hundreds of boxing and wrestling matches, basketball, football, baseball and other games, later coaching Kirshbaum basketball teams. Early in his career, he was assigned to assist Ash in Speedway coverage. He gert what he calls a “lucky break,” scooping “the world,” and stayed on the job. He covered practice and qualification trials of the benzine buggies, and got to know all the racing stars, as well as the lesser satellites, mechanics and hangers-on at the 500-mile track. With Ash. Isaacs developed an almost infallible system of coverage that always keeps The Times out ahead on race day. Several years ago he left the sports department and went on the copy desk, where he made good, as usual, and after nine months was made acting news editor, when the former news editor left the paper temporarily. Later, he transferred to the city editor’s realm, covering federal building, city hall and courthouse, before going back to the copy desk as pink edition editor. About six months ago he was shifted to the post of assistant city editor, and, when Charles E. Carll Jr. was promoted to managing editor, Norman was advanced again to the news editor’s desk.

GENERAL MARCH met General 'William Horton, retired, plastered with nineteen medals —from the Order of St. Lazarus of Jerusalem to something that w T as a cross between the Golden Fleece and the Order of Chastity of Siam. "Well, General.” beamed Horton, enthusiastically seizing his hand. “Let me welcome you as one of us.” March looked puzzled, Did Horton mean “one of us who are wearing a lot of medals?" “I hear you've joined the Order of the Cincinnati,” continued Horton. “Oh, yes." admitted March. “They made me an honorary member.”. "That's splendid! Perfectly magnificent!” radiated Horton. He turned to a bystander. "Isn’t that grand? The general has been made a member of the Cincinnati.” "Really? I have never been to Cincinnati,” returned the stranger. ana MISS FRANCES PERKINS. secretary of labor, arrived on time <a rare occasion) and an aid marched her into the Red room. Then, she marched out again. Why? It was the wrong room. The cabinet always gathers in the small dining room but Miss Perkins has been late so often that she often arrives in the Red room at the right time. m m m GENERAL BILLY MITCHELL was there with his charming wife. He was in evening dress, wearing a row of miniature medals along his coat lapel. Mrs. Mitchell was in green-blue chiffon,

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Norman E. Isaacs, news editor of The Times, is not really scared, as this picture would indicate. It is rumored that John T. Hawkins, staff photographer, irked by Norman’s comments about him, plotted to do his worst.

WHILE shifting from one position to another, as the office’s handiest handy-man, Norman became acquainted with a young lady in Milwaukee and soon proposed immediate marriage. Norman visited the young lady one week-end, a week-end the prospective bride was leaving Milwaukee for Chicago, where her office had been transferred. Instead, she and Norm came through to Indianapolis. The bridegroom-to-be was covering the federal building at the time, and, not letting pleasure interfere with business, left details of the license to friends while he stayed at the federal building and produced a scoop, in the form of an interview with the then postmaster, who urged that postmasters be given the duty of dispensing liquor for the government. That was before repeal. It was at this time that Norman became the victim of a practical joke. Some of his friends concocted a fake wire story, with a Milwaukee dateline, announcing that a Milwaukee girl, the future Mrs. Isaacs, was the object of a search by police, her parents fearing she had been kidnaped by gangsters. It related that she started for Chicago but had not arrived there. By devious means, the jokers ran the story through a wire service teletype machine, and slipped it into The Times news copy. The news editor at that time, not recognizing the girl’s name, printed the story. It was caught, after running through one

sown with seed pearls and crystals. “Hello, Billy,” cried many old friends. They surrounded him, enthusiastically. But some of the army big-wigs gave Billy a deep frown.

SIDE GLANCES

fa s Sf --\j a.u.s.wT.o __ €> **34 BY NCA SCWVTCC. IWC.

®‘Mama, what was papa like before you made him over?" r

edition. That put a wet blanket on practical jokes at the office. aaa NORMAN is the hardest working member of the staff. He's always busy, or seems to be so. When there is no work piled up for him. which is seldom, he finds something to do and works at it as though he were “killing snakes.’ He is enormously energetic, and is not content to drop his work when he leaves the office, usually taking work home to occupy his spare hours. Gifted with keen observation and a retentive memory, except for numbers (he can't ever remember his own telephone number), he is the office's "walking encyclopedia.” An avid reader, he assimilates and retains an enormous quantity of information, which prompted the office catch-phrase: “Ask Isaacs, he knows.” There is nothing negative about Norman. When he states a fact, he states it so positively that he leaves no room for argument. Norman is brutally frank and sometimes injures feelings of others with his brusqueness and biting sarcasm. But if you look close, usually you can detect a twinkle in his eyes, belieing the “big bad wolf” mannerism he affects. He makes a fetish of being frank, and is as quick to admit an error made by himself, as to criticise another’s mistake. He is not an “idea thief,” and when some other member of the staff does something laudable or suggests a good idea, Norman always is careful to give credit

GENERAL ALFRED SMITH, spectacled and immaculate in khaki, twinkled at those around him. “Is he intelligent?” inquired a junior lieutenant of a neighbor. “Well, I don't know,” said his

By George Clark

where credit is due, and not in hushed tones, either. He can laugh at you, with you, Insult you, and in some way still make you like him. aaa AT home, when he isn’t working on office tasks which he has taken home, such as writing this series of biographies (all except his own), Norman is pretty certain to have his nose buried in a book. He loves good literature and particularly stories of a weird, fantastic nature, such as some of H. G. Wells’ novels. Not content with mere reading, he likes to turn out original novels and short stories which he stacks up in a trunk, without bothering to expose them to publishers’ rejection slips. Sport stories are among the best of the grist from his wellworn typewriter at home. He likes to play cards, particularly bridge, and is said to play a horrible game. Poker is not among his vices. There’s a reason. Once, while in Bloomington to cover an I. U. basketball game, he got in a fairly “big-time” poker game, playing stud. On one big pot, he glanced at his “hole” card, “saw” the ace of diamonds and dropped it nonchalantly. He continued to call, face up. Then, he bet the limit, elated when several opponents were “inveigled” into calling the bet. Slowly, and smiling tantalizingly he pulled out the “hole” card, and prepared to rake in the chips. Then, he swore off poker for life. The “hole” card, on closer /observation, proved to be the ace of hearts. THE END.

friend, “but he's in charge of military intelligence.” a a a A SSISTANT SECRETARY OF WAR WOODRING'S bald head gleamed in a corner of the state dining room, its owner apparently undisturbed by the government's investigation of irregularities in the awarding of army contracts. Mrs. Woodring, a lovely figure gowned in white satin trimmed with bugle beads and having a long train, clung, as always, to her husband’s arm. a a a MRS. ALICE LONGWORTH made her customary appearance at the reception. She is apparently “just one of the family,” and never misses a formal function. Wearing a diamond tiara and two diamond necklaces, Alice glittered for an hour, before breasting the tide of generals and admirals on her way to the private elevator.

MOVIE TIME SCHEDULE Apollo—" Carolina,” a story of the proud south, with Janet Gaynor and Lionel Barrymore. 11.42 a. m.. 1:41, 3:40, 5:39, 7:38 and 9:37 p. m. Circle —“Good Dame,” with Sylvia Sidney and Fredric March. 11:55 a. m., 1:50, 3:55, 6,8, 9:55 p. m. Indiana—“ Six of a Kind.” 12:09, 2:35, 5:21, 7:57 and 10:33 p. m. "Miss Fane's Baby Is Stolen,” 11:01 a. m., 1:37, 4:13, 6:49 and 9:25 p. m. Lyric—Stage show, 1, 3:44. 6:46 and 9:30 p. m. “The Last Roundup,” movie, 11:45 a. m., 2:29, 5:31, 8:15 and 10:50 p. m. Loew's Palace—Stage show, 1, 3:50, 6:40 and 9:30 p. m. "Eskimo,” movie, 11 a. m., 1:50, 4:40, 7:30 and 10 20 p. m.

Second Section

Entered *9 Second ClaM Matter at F’oatofTice. Indlanapoll*

Fair Enough By Westbrook Pegler AN interesting problem has been raised by tha swirl of ugly passion wnich took place in the pub at the WaldorNAstoria when a little group of serious thinkers attempted to make a demonotration on behalf of the striking waiters. A young man got up to deliver a speech of protest and was set upon quickly by the house detectives who combed his hair with their blackjacks. Another young man attempted to continue the speech and he, too, was given a brisk shoving-around

by the housemen. Great excitement ensued and the revolt of the pub-crawlers degenerated into a scene of disorder which Mr. Alexander Woollcctt described as a “swirl of ugly passion.” Now the point is made that the speech, being couched in Yale English and deliveied in good elocutionary style, was no more disorderly than the maudlin wh&oping which often issues from the customers in such pubs without drawing serious xeproof from the management. That certainly is true, and. although I did not happen to witness the revolt of the pubcrawlers, I have been not only

witness, but on certain occasions, party to moments of uproariousness in the pubs which, I am confident, were much more disorderly than the young man’s announcement that he and his friends were leaving this pub because they thought the waiters were getting a dirty deal. It is a little hard to grasp why they ever went into the Waldorf-Astoria in the first place, knowing that they were mad at the house and with pickets, wearing placards, walking up and down Park avenue, to remind them that this was one of the houses which they were mad at. But, having so iai forgotten themselves, it was O. K„ as I see it. for them to get up and leave and to state just why, although there may have been other people there who could imagine nothing of less consequence. aaa Justice Still Is Elusive rjUT in a balled up world, consistency and justice are elusive things, and I have just now seen some pictures in the paper of some ladies walking around the southern beaches with almost nothing on before and a little less than half of that behind, which pose a similar problem. These are nice ladies, no doubt, and any gent who would suggest the contrary would be not only no gent, but probably a casualty in the hospital at West Palm Beach. Nevertheless, I can insist that if these same ladies were to walk down Fifth avenue, New York, or State street, Chicago, or any such street some fair summer afternoon, attired as they are in the pictures, the law would grab hold of them, sling them into a cab, take them to the precinct house and charge them with disorderly conduct, causing a crowd to gather, immodest behavior and impairing the morals of adults. I often have wondered, also, sitting at tlie ringside watching the wrestlers perform their jovial make-believe, why it is that people become so incensed and call them big, hairy bums, and holler “boo,” merely because their program is a makebelieve. It would be otherwise if these artists were guilty of deception, but toe prizefight commissioners always compel them to avoid misrepresentation, and the word “contest” never appears in the advertising matter lest some gullible soul be misled and deprived of some tiny portion of his constitutional rights. ” These productions are exhibitions and as frankly make-believe as a play upon the stage, but citizens insult the wrestlers in loud and evil language who never would think of hollering “fake” when an actor shoots another with a blank cartridge and the other actor falls over dead. aaa What Might Happen T KNOW what would happen if, some time at a A show, I should get up and yell: •’Boo. Ernest Truex is rotten and George M. Cohan can act the spots off of him,” or “Ethel Barrymore sounds like a bullfrog: take her out, take her out.” The house man would come sailing down the aisle and tap me on the head with a chair and they would take me over to West Forty-seventh street and give me a whole page in the book. It just seems that usage and circumstances make all the difference there is, and people who get around to any extent gradually come to sense the distinction between seemly conduct and pubiin disorder under various conditions. That is why the house men saw disorder in a nice, grammatical speech, containing no -V'ear words, delivered by an educated young man in the Waldorf pub where another man might have been allowed to holler “Sweet Adeline,” a song which is the curse of drink in America, without so much as an admonition. I don’t think pub-crawlers are very consistent if it comes to that. At the time of the lynchings in San Jose, Cal., I read some bitter essays, composed by some of the most persistent frequenters of speakeasies which the era of prohibition produced in New York, pointing out that the mob obviously was composed of nothing but riff-raff because the young man who got up the gang admitted that he did his recruiting in the speakeasies of San Jose. iCoDvrieht. 1934. bv Unite and Feature Syndicate. Inc.)

Today's Science BY DAVID DIETZ —■■■ WHEN the cold winds blow from the north and nature blankets the ground with snow and the lakes and streams with ice, the familiar animal life of the summer season disappears. Only a few of the familiar birds remain in the north during the winter months. What happens to animal life in the winter? Austin H. Clark, the distinguished biologist of the Smithsonian institution undertakes to answer the question for us. Some of our birds, as the common robin, go only a short distance southward; into the southern states, where the winter is less severe than it is in their northern homes,” he says. “Others, like the swallows and the warblers, go farther, to central and northern South America and the West Indies. In the West Indies in the winter, in the heat and brilliant sunlight of the tropics and among the palms, bread-fruit, and many other equally unfamiliar plants, and along the white and glaring coral reefs, it is an interesting sight to see several of our familiar northern birds apparently just as much at home as they are with us. “For instance, our kingfisher is a well known and common bird in the West Indies and about the bushy hillsides and the gardens of those islands our redstart is not at all uncommon.” a a a ONLY a few mammals can migrate after the fashion of birds, Dr. Clark says. Some of the bats go south in winter, and in the early days the buffalo in the east withdrew from the northern portion of its range into the southern states. "Most of the mammals stay more or less at home in winter,” he says, "although they may wander widely in their search for food. Many of them, like the bears, the woodchucks, most of the wild mice, the common squirrels and some of the bats, when the autumn comes, find a suitable place, or make one, and therein pass the winter in that long sleep called hibernation. “During this period of hibernation the body temperature is lowered so that they exist with the least possible expenditure of energy. “In the same way the snakes and the box turtle find an appropriate place or burrow in the ground and sletp away the winter. “The pond turtles and frogs burrow in the mud in the shallow water along the shores of ponds or lakes or streams and spend the winter under a protective covering of ice.”

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Westbrook Pegler