Indianapolis Times, Volume 47, Number 189, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 October 1935 — Page 12

PAGE 12

OHIO RUMBLES WITH IRE OVER WORK RELIEF Democrats Begin Worrying in Earnest About Vote Problem. BY ROBERT S. BROUN Tm.' Special Writer WASHINGTON, Oct. 17. —New Dealers, looking ahead 13 months to the 1936 elections, today viewed the political situation in Ohio with concern, admitting privately that the state ofTers a potential threat to the re-election of President Roosevelt. Usually in the doubtful column with its 26 electoral votes, Ohio in 1932 went for Roosevelt by only 74.000 ballots. The Administration's first two years won an evident endorsement in 1934 when a Democratic governor, senator and an almost solid congressional delegation wore elected. That the past year, however, has seen a widespread shift of sentiment was abundantly evident to this correspondent during a week's visit to various parts of the state. The shift is due partly to the antics of Gov. Martin L. Davey and partly to the inability of the New Deal to live up to campaign promises which man; Ohioans believe essential. How lar tne shift has progressed is an open question. Fear G. O. P. Governor Ohio Democratic leaders, many of whom have told their stories to Postmaster General Farley, fear that a Republican governor will be elected next fall They feci that Gov. Davey, who has turned hot and cold on the New Deal in a series of flip-flops, has so split, Buckeye Democratic ranks that even if Davey is not renominated it may be impossible to pull the party together before November, 1936. The national issue on which Ohioans are most touchy is relief. Early this year Gov. Davey demanded that the Federal government take over the entire administration of aid to Ohio’s needy. He accomplished his point after a bitter exchange of charges with Relief Administrator Hopkins. Spotlight on Relief The publicity attendant to this squabble focused the state's interest on relief and its cost. Millions of dollars had rolled in from Washington each month, but until Gov. Davey opened fire little attention had been paid to the source of the money. Voters and taxpayers began to wonder who was going to loot, the bill. Then came the new appropriation of $4,880,000,000 for work relief. Citizens were told that this fund was to end the dole and put relief persons to work on worthwhile projects which the people themselves might select. Urged on by state officials of the Public Works Administration, communities, both large and small, submitted what they considered the most worthwhile labor-producing jobs. They were willing to pay their 55 per cent on loan-an-grant contracts, feeling that they were thus making sure that the relief funds would not be wasted on the type of projects started but never completed during CWA. Then came the blow that has cut Into the New Deal advantage. The President decided that the PWA type of work relief would be held at a minimum and that Ohio’s share of the four billion fund would go largely for work sponsored by the Works Progress Administration, strongly reminiscent of CWA.

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BEGIN HERE TODAY loan Dunn. pr?tv. 21, is secretary *o D- aid Montague, lawyer. Bobbv Wallace automobile salesman, has frequently asked her to marry him. bin Jean delays her answer. A' The Oolrion Feather night club she ir.oeis Sandy Harkins. Larry Glenn Federal agent, long a friend of Jean aflri Bobby is trying o trail Wingv Lewis ban* robber He confides oe’ails of the case to his fr.end, Mike Hagan of the local police force. Jean and Robhv go 'o The Golden Feather again and see Sandy ‘here with Mt. and Mrs Lewis. They all go to the Lewis apartment lewis tells Bobbv he wan's to buy a car. "a special Job" worth 110 000 He shows Bobbv sorr. fcends woth sl2 000 and says if Bobby can sc]; them for him he wig buy the car and Robhv will hate <2OOO profit Bobbv arranges to sell them to Jean's employer. Larrv and Hagan sep Evelyn Brady wl’h th ee m rn at The Golden Feather. They suspect one of the men mav be l ewis Larrv bribes a waiter to bring the mar. : glass hoping *o secure fingerprints The waiter takes the rr.onev, but brings a different glass. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY CHAPTER TEN (Continued) lOOKING up. he saw his friend. Mike Hagan, the sergeant of detectives. Hagan replied to his greetings, pulled out a chair, and sat aewn. “Still looking?” he asked. Larry nodded. Hagan followed the direction of his eyes, and, like Larry, seemed to find the foursome worth attention. After studying each of the three men carefully, he turned to Larry inquiringly: “Know any of ’em?” asked Larry. Hagan nodded. “I know the guy in the tweeds," he said. “He's Mark Hopkins. Runs on auto rgency here. Up in the bucks, so they say. Good-time Charlie on the side; sports promoter in the winter time.” Larry wrinkled his eyebrows. “Mark Hopkins? Whcre ve I heard that name? Oh, sure. Young fellow I know here in Dover works for him. Sells cars—or trie to.” “Yeah?” Hagan seemed only mildly interested. “Know any of the others.?" Hagan shook his head. “I’ve seen ’em in here several times, that’s all.” The music stopped, the dancers returned to their tables, a young man with an accordion came out and proceeded to sing, badly, a somewhat risque song, made more offensive by the smirks and leers with which he accompanied it; and the waiter brought Larry the food lie had ordered. Larry ate in silence. and presently the entertainer withdrew and there was more music. The government man looked again at the party which had attracted his attention. The rangy young fellow with the unruly blond hair had got up, and so had the girl in the floppy hat; they made their way to the open floor and began to dance. In a moment they passed close to Larry’s table. Hagan laid a hand on his arm. “Larry,” he said “did you get a look at the girl? If that isn’t your Evelyn Brady, I m cockeyed.” Larry looked again. As she and her partner slowly revolved and pivoted among the other dancers, he got fleeting glimpses of her face. After some little time they again drew near, and finally Larry was able to get a good look at her. He reached in his pocket for his little envelope of pictures, studied them briefly, and then waited for another look at the girl. Then he looked at Hagan. “Looks like her,” he said. “But” —his eyes returned to the table she had left—"none of the men in her party look in the least like our friend Wingy. Wingy’s a red-head with a busted nose. Try and find anybody like that at that table.”

They looked again at the man who was dancing with the girl. “He's out, anyway,” said Larry. “Wingv Lewis is short. This guy must be six feet tall.” “Well,” said Hagan, “that blackhaired guy in the dinner clothes is short enough. Only his nair ain't red. and his nose is as straight as mine.” a a a T A FRY looked at the detective and grinned. “Straighter ” he said. Then the grin vanished. “You want to remember, though,” he said, “that there are such things as hair dyes and beauty doctors.” “Hair dyes—sure,” said Hagan. “But what do any of these hoods have to do with beauty doctors?” Larry laughed shortly. “You'd be surprised,” he said. “Didn't Dillinger go to one? They know all the tricks, these birds. If one of them has a pan that's known to too many detectives, he doesn't mind going to some unscrupulous face-lifter and having it changed. You can t always tell much by photographs, these days.” “Makes our jobs kind of tough, then, don't it? ’ asked Hagan. “Yes . . . except that there are other ways,” said Larry thoughtfully. He looked about the room meditatively. “You know any of the staff here?” he asked. “Just to speak to, is about all. This place hasn't been open so very long.” “Oh. Well—” Larry continued to look about him until he caught the eye of a waiter, whom he signaled with a jerk of his head. The waiter came to his table and stood there expectantly. Larry took a bill from his pocket and unobtrusively showed it to him. “See that little black-haired man at the fourth table over?” he asked quietly, indicating the direction with a nod. The waiter looked. "Him there by the corner, under the light?” he asked. Larry nodded. “I'm a queer guy,” said Larry. “I like to collect drinking glasses that have been used by perfect strangers. This bill is yours if you'll bring me that man's glass, when he's through with it.” Ths waiter looked at Larry to see if he were joking. Then he looked over at the little black-haired man once more. Then he stood motionless for a moment, apparently puzzling over the proposition to see if there might be a catch in it anywhere that would get him into trouble. “Yes. sir,” he said at last. “I'll get it for you. You in a hurry for it?” Larry shook his head. “No rush,” he said. “Only be dead sure you get his, and don't touch it with your own hands any more than you'have to.” tt a a THE waiter looked at him blankly, then comprehended. His mouth tightened, and he seemed to be about to refuse the request. Larry let the corner of the bill appeat from under his hand once more. “This is a perfectly good bill,” he said. “You might as well have it as the next man.” The waiter nodded. “Order a drink,” he said suddenly, out of the side of his mouth. Larry's eyes met his again, and Larry gave an order. The waiter sidled away; half way to the service entrance, he turned and made his way to the table of Larry's quarry. The glasses there were empty. The waiter calmly put them on his tray, bent for a minute to take a new order, and then left.

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A minute later he reappeared. He came straight to Lam's table, bearing his tray. In front of Larry he placed a small bottle and two glasses, one full of cracked ice and the other containing a half-melted ice cube and a little pool of watery liquid. “That's her,” said the waiter softly. Larry looked at it carefully. Smudged fingerprints were cleariy discernible on its surface. “Okay,” he said, pressing the bill into the waiter's palm. The waiter thanked him and left. Larry gingerly picked the glass up, glanced about him to be sure that no one was looking, emptied the dregs into a palm tub beside him, wrapped the little glass in his handkerchief and put it in his pocket. “Well,” he said, “this ought to tell us whether that gent is Wingy or not.” But out in the kitchen the waiter who had brought it to him was talking quietly with Art Lanning, proprietor of the club. “So,” he said in conclusion, “I just picked up a glass off the sink there and give it to him. Lewis’ glass is over there already.” He pointed to a dishpan, in which a weary pearl diver was languidly washing a dozen glasses. “I don’t know whose glass it was, and I don't know whose prints was on it,” added the waiter. “But it won't do this guy much good, that's a cinch.” CHAPTER ELEVEN SEVERAL days later, Larry Glenn leaned back in his swivel chair, extended his long legs under his desk, dropped the letter he had been reading, and frowned thoughtfully at the blank wall of his office. For nearly a minute he sat thus, his hands clasped behind his head; then he reached for his telephone and gave the number of police headquarters. “Detective bureau—Sergeant Hagan,” he said, when he got his unmber. Then, a moment later: “Mike? This’s Glenn. Can you drop up here for a few minutes? I got a funny one for you.” He put the phone away and continued to look pensively at nothing. When, 15 minutes later, Mike Hagan came in. Larry ruefully handed him the letter. “Seems as if our friend Evelyn is running around with somebody else,” he said. “I send in those fingerprints off that glass, and there's no record of ’em. They’re no more like Wingy Lewis’ than mine are." Hagan read the letter and dropped it on the desk. “Look,” he said, “did you see that waiter get the glass?”

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Larrv nodded. “What'd he do with it? Bring it right to you?” asked Hagan. Larry thought a moment. “No, come to think of it. He went out to the kitchen with his tray of empties, and then he brought our order—and slipped me the glass.” His eyes met Hagan’s. “So.” he said presently. “You think he switched glasses on me?” Hagan ran his finger through his hair and took out a cigar. “I think they re kind of a tough crowd at the Golden Feather,” he said. “I got a notion that waiter thought things over on his way out and decided not to help turn in one of their star customers if he could help it. Maybe I’m wrong, of course. Maybe that guy isn't Wingy Lewis after all. Maybe that gal isn't even Evelyn Brady. But look; it stands to reason, if the waiter thought twice about it, he'd guess you wanted the glass for fingerprints. And if those birds are mobsters on the prowl, it's a cinch Lanning and his gang know about 'em and are ready to help cover for 'em. So, I'm just saying—” "Yeah,” said Larry. "Yeah, that’s probably what happens. And if he switched glasses on me, he undoubtedly told Lewis about it—if it is Lewis —right afterward. Which means that Lewis knows, by now, that somebody is interested in him . . . which may mean that the whole mob'll run for cover.” There was another silence. “If that is Lewis,” said Hagan meditatively, “why isn't Jackson with him?” (To Be Continued)

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