Indianapolis Times, Volume 47, Number 280, Indianapolis, Marion County, 31 January 1936 — Page 15

It Seems to Me / NEVWOD BROUN TITASHINGTON, Jan. 31. ’ at the dinner of too many du Ponts was the chief concern of Congress recently. I believe an appropriation bill was up before the House, but up to the hour of adjournment It did not come into the discussion. The Representatives were concerned with “the state of the nation.” and under this license they went up and down some of , the most curious

alleys you ever saw. The debate got so desperately general that at one point Heywood Broun was mentioned. Unfavorably, I hasten to add. As fai as I'm concerned the Incident was somewhat tragic. The Broun debate was so short I didn’t get to hear it. For almost half a century I have had an ambition to hear myself denounced publicly, and when it happened I was at the other end of the building in the Senate press gallery. The Senators were discussing no comparably vital subject when a newspaper friend tapped me on the

*: ■ i

lleywood Broun

shoulder and said, “They are attacking you in the House.” B B B Just a Good Leg Man 'IT7TTHOUT stopping for hat, overcoat or flask I ’ * started down the long corridor at a dead run. Right at the start I bowled over two congressmen from New York and straight-armed a Representative from South Dakota. Then I was in the clear, Aside from a guide and a party of sightseers there was nobody else in Statuary Hall. I made my best time while passing Washington, Adams and Jefferson. By the time I reached Madison and Monroe I had become a little winded. 'There was a heavy fog as I passed Polk. Lincoln loomed up in the distance, and the sight of all the marble figures peering down at me brought courage and renewed vigor. It is quite true that the expression of most of them was quizzical. As I dashed into the press gallery of the House I expected to find pandemonium. Asa man who once wrote a friendly column about Maury Maverick I expected to see him waving his arms toward the offending congressman and shouting, “You lie in your teeth!” Instead of such a scene I found a member facing nn all but empty House and discussing the Townsend Plan. tt tt tt The House /s Calm r | ''HE newspaper correspondents were sitting it out and listening to Boh Allen's estimate of A1 Smith's speech. I interrupted to ask, "When did the excitement end on the floor?” “Excitement!” answered the assembled correspondents. “I was given to understand,” I explained, “that a bitter attack was made upon me from the floor of the House.” Everybody looked puzzled, and then one of them recalled the cause celebre. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Knutson, of Minnesota, did make some crack that Heywood Broun was a Socialist and couldn't be expected to like Al’s speech.” “But couldn’t you take it down in full?’ I demanded. Nobody had done so. What has become of the old-style reporter who used to go out and get all the facts and nothing but the facts on a big story? “Where can T get the exact quotes?” I persisted. “You can read them in the Congressional Record tomorrow,” I was informed. And so I stayed up all night in order to get the Home Edition. Nobody can denounce me without letting me in on it. (Copyright, 1936)

Problem of Jobless Grows More Vexing BY RAYMOND CLAPPER WASHINGTON, Jan, 31.—Volunteer worriers fear that Roosevelt is making the country communistic. This worrying would be much more to the point if it were directed at the failure to put the unemployed back to work, and at the dismal prospect that we are in serious danger of having some 10,000.000 unemployed with us indefinitely. We have just felt the impact of 3.500,000 war veterans demanding their bonus. What is the po-

tential dynamite in 10,000,000 American citizens condemned to permanent idleness? We have been assuming that recovery would solve the problem. That assumption is crumbling before our eyes. Within and without the Administration grave doubt exists that any probable amount of recovery will put this idle army back into private jobs. All of the billions thus far spent have done little except to keep the unemployed from starvation. The relief load is

as heavy as ever. Some in Congress expect that another $4,000,000,000 will be needed for the coming year. About half a million additional employable come of working age every year. New jobs opened up by recovery are offset by this yearly crop of new muscle. a a a THEN there is our old friend, technological unemployment. During a private discussion of unemployment here this week, Senator Guffey of Pennsylvania said the steel industry is spending millions of dollars installing labor-saving machinery. Take the new strip-sheet mills being erected around Pittsburgh. The old-type mill using hand labor needed a force of 375 men working around the clock. They could produce 60,000 tons a year. The new type mill needs only 126 men—one-third as many. It will produce as much in a month as the old-type mill in a year. This isn't a move to increase capacity. The industry has been operating at less than 50 per cent capacity. It never has operated at full capacity. Obviously the purpose of these improved installations is not to produce more steel but to use fewer men. ana The National Industrial Conference Beard says that if industrial activity readies the 1929 level again, it will absorb only about one-third of the unemployed. So where are we getting? a a a Nobody has a solution that strikes fire. The attitude now is largely one of hopelessness, of nursing the army of idle along hand to mouth while praying that something will turn up. It is an unpleasant prospect and there is general reluctance here to face the situation. Instead you find an increasing spirit of resignation. a a a ONE exception should be noted. Advocates of Federal 30-hour week legislation are steaming up again. Labor has renewed its clamor for it. One such measure, sponsored by Senator Blafck of Alabama. passed the Senate in the spring of 1933 and would have passed the House had not leaders smothered it until the Administration shoved in the late NIRA as a substitute. Rep. Connery of Massachusetts has a revised 30-hour bill pending in the House. It has been favorably reported out of committee. He expects shortly to seek Roosevelt's support for it. Senator OMahoney of Wyoming has a bill in the Senate proposing Federal incorporation of interstate business. Among other things, such control would reduce hours of work. The Senate Interstate Commerce Committee is about to hold hearings on the bdL

A the Prince of Walez, Edward VIII learned early that being heir to the throne was to be no bed of roses. His boyhood dream of a naval career was rudely interrupted after a few months as midshipman so his education might be completed at Oxford and in the army. Then the World War terminated his orderly training. In the fourth installment of “The Bachelor Prince Who Became King,” Biographer Frazier Hpnt tells how the Prince of Wales overcame objections to his joining the British forces in France. (Copyright, 1936, by Frazier Hunt. Published by arrangement with Harper Sc Bros.) 'p'HE world has never been told the full story of the great personal bravery shown by the Prince of Wales during the war days, or of the many times he escaped disaster only by the narrowest margin. On the third day after war was declared he won the right to fight. On Aug. 7 there appeared a single line in the official war bulletin: “The Prince of Wales has been commissioned a second lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards.” Under the August sun he drilled and sweated, to the orders of deep-throated old sergeants-major, and carried out the score and one precise duties of a young officer in training. One morning in the middle of September

word passed tnrough the barracks that orders had come to proceed to France. Eagerly the Prince scanned the list. His name was missing. He hurried to his colonel. The senior officer knew nothing except that his name had not been included. The Prince asked for a day’s leave, and, securing a car, bolted for the war office in London. B B B THE Prince demanded that he be allowed to see the great Lord Kitchener, Secretary of War. The young Prince, in the uniform of a second lieutenant, his eyes flashing with excitement and determination, clicked his heels and saluted. “Why can’t I go to France with my battalion, sir?” he stubbornly demanded. “What difference does it make if I get killed? I have four brothers. Any one of them is just as fit as I to fill my place.” The young officer was burning with anger and resentment. These men in the war office were doing their best to make a royal mollycoddle out of him. Kitchener rose slowly to his feet. “It isn’t a question of your being killed,” he answered in his deep voice. “If that were the only consideration I might think that I had no right to oppose you. But you might be taken prisoner. And we’ve got enough to fight about without that. ... Go back to your regiment and learn some more about soldiering.” B B B FOR the moment there was no higher court of appeal. But the Prince kept the road hot between the training camp and the war office and Buckingham Palace. Finally he at least partly won. He was to go, but as a staff officer and not as a platoon commander of a regiment in the line. ' He had only been in France a few weeks when one evening his absence from headquarters mess was noted. A hurry-up call was sent out to locate him. An hour or two later he was found. He had “borrowed” a dispatch rider’s motorcycle, wrecked it when he ran into a shell hole and was now happily ensconced in a dugout, playing cards with French poilus, smoking cigarets and taking a pull now and then at a French canteen of the sour red wine, the pinard, of the French ration. Already he was finding his way into the hearts of common men. B B B AT a bombing school the Prince had held on to his handgrenade a second too long, and it had burst dangerously near. “Enough of that, sir!” a crusty old sergeant barked. “Who wants to have a King with only one bloody arm?” Not so long ago the Prince visited a small private hospital. At each cot he stopped, shook hands with the Tommy and spoke words of sympathy and encouragement. After more than an hour he w r as led tow T ard the exit. Suddenly he turned to the head nurse: “I understand you had 36 patients here —but I’ve seen only 29.” , It was explained that the others were so hideously disfigured that he was not taken into their particular ward. “Is it for my sake or theirs that you’re not taking me there?” he asked quietly. “For yours, sir.” “Then I insist you show 7 me in,” the Prince demanded He was led into the room. At each bed he stopped long enough to thank the wounded veteran for the sacrifice he had made and to assure him that neither he nor England would ever forget what they had done. B B B WHEN he had finished he turned again to his guide. “But I’ve seen only six men. Where is the seventh?” The head nurse explained that no one was permitted to see him. Blind, maimed, hideously disfigured, he was kept alone in a

Clapper

Mill Leased Wire Service of 'he United Pres* Association

The BACHELOR PRINCE Who Became KING * * * B B B B B B BUM B B B Few in World Know of Edward's Narrow Escapes From Death BY FRAZIER HUNT

BENNY

: grocer —i p') taas ‘ass ? -XJj -fc' I —to 1 ; ‘ LLi " "ir- .

The Indianapolis Times

room from which he would never leave alive. “Please do not ask to see him, sir,” the nurse pleaded. “But I must see him,” the Prince insisted in a low tone. The head nurse turned and led the way into the darkened .little room, almost eloquent with its unutterable tragedy. The Prince walked firmiy to the bed. His face was white and his lips were drawn. In the dim light he looked down on what had once been a man, but was now' only a horrible and unforgettable wreck from the monstrous war. Tears came to his eyes Then impulsively he bent down and kissed the cheeks of the broken hero. B B B DURING the great battle of Loos, he left his car behind the front and started out to reconnoiter for himself. Shells were moaning and whistling overhead, searching far back for transport lines and munition dumps. In a short time the Prince started back to his car. It was no longer there. A high explosive shell had made a direct hit on it, and his old chauffeur, Private Green, wffio had been with him his two years at Oxford and had been his driver in the war, had been blown almost to bits. Deeply shocked, the Prince insisted on gathering up what few personal effects of his dead comrade he could find. He sent them back himself to Green’s people with a personal letter of condolence. In all the years that have followed he has always kept in touch with this family. Some months earlier he had had another close call. Near the front lines was a small stone building that had been partially destroyed by shell fire. On an inspection trip with General Wardrop, the Prince had turned into this partial shelter in order to use his field glasses unobserved.

WASHINGTON, Jan. 31. The Administration is becoming increasingly worried over the 6,000,000 bales of cotton which it has had hung around its neck. The surplus threatens to become a millstone which may drag down the entire aotton market. Tomorrow the 12-cent a pound load on two-thirds of this total becomes due, and it is a safe bet that no farmer who collected the 12 cents and deposited his cotton in a government warehouse as collateral is now going to the warehouse to repay his loan and haul away his *a,les. Reason is aiat cotton is now selling below what he would have to repay the government. The Commodity Credit Corp., Federal agency which lent the money, may extend the loan for another few months. But, this only postpones the day of reckoning when the Administration will have to decide how to get rid of the cotton. n tt tt Two Plans TWO plans for dumping the cotton have been discussed backstage. They are: 1. A proposal by Senator “Cotton Ed’’ Smith of South Carolina to market the cotton at the rate of 20,000 bales a week. 2. A plan by Secretary Wallace and Chester C. Davis, AAA administrator. to take over the cotton and sell it on the world market when the time is ripe. Between the backers of these two plans there is vigorous disagreement. Senator Smith's plan is opposed by the Agriculture Department. To sell 20.000 bales weekly, Mr. Wallace contends, would play directly into the hands of the big cotton brokers. Only four firms in the entire United States are big enough to handle that much cotton a week. Furthermore, it would depress the market, since if the market expected this amount of cotton to come up for sale, and the demand were less, a price sag would be inevitable.

• • • ••• 7 •' i ii r i nr'T'iftr'*' 111 IB 1 i- * * i if# " I v - Jiaggllrar

Home from the sea, the Prince takes the salute of a naval guard of honor as the Repulse docks at Portsmouth after one of his 30,-000-mile trips to Africa and the Argentine.

APPARENTLY an enemy observer had the little group of staff officers when they had ducked into the building. At once they began dropping shells on and around the old house. When the first one burst Gen. Wardrop shouted for the Prince to flatten himself on the floor. The Prince did not move quickly enough to suit the general. A third or fourth shell burst just as the general threw himself at the Prince and bearing him to

Washington Merry-Go-Round —BY DREW PEARSON and ROBERT S. ALLEN

On the other hand, Mr. Wallace and Mr. Davis believe they could sell between one and two million bales before next season (August) if they pick the right time for the sale instead of being required to sell each week. Only one thing, is agreed upon—that the cotton surplus held by the government must be got rid of as carefully, but as expeditiously as possible. tt tt tt Ladies of the Press THE most exclusive press conference in Washington is the one held in the White House each Monday morning at 11. It is with Mrs. Roosevelt and no newsmen are admitted—only newswomen. “Has your Christmas mail differed from last year?” “Will you accept the invitation to go to Texas?’’ “Are you buying some new chairs for the Red Room?” “Do you know the King of England?” These questions pop from a group of 40 newswomen sitting before the First Lady in the West Hall, second floor. Mrs. Roosevelt sits on a sofa, with her secretary, Mrs. Malvina Thompson Scheider, taking notes beside he:. The newswomen sit in a semicircle on chairs covered with slips of henna-and-white linen. The women gather for the conference on the first floor, after passing inspection by Head Usher Raymond D. Muir. The usher sends word to the First Lady that they are assembled. They mount the stairs and turn left to the end of the West Hall. Mrs. Roosevelt talks informally, rapidly. She will answer almost any question, barring only matters of state. Sometimes she asks that her comments be “off the record.” tt tt tt Housekeeping ONE recent conference was taken up with a tour of the new White House kitchen, under

FRIDAY, JANUARY 31, 1986

the floor lay squarely upon him until the shelling ceased. A week or two after his experience in the shell-tom cottage the Prince and a companion officer, while making their way to an observation post on a hill,-crossed a field under artillery fire. The high officers at the post were speculating on the danger the Prince was risking, when a heavy shell burst on the hillside and for the moment the Prince was out of sight. “Great God! It’s got him!” a colonel shouted. But a few moments later, when the smoke and muck had settled down, the Prince could be seen “legging it” for a recently captured German machine-gun pill box. BUB IN the spring of 1916 the Prince was sent off to Egypt and Sudan on a double mission. Ostensibly he was to make a report on the defenses of the Suez Canal, but of even more importance he was to bring his cheery smile and encouraging word to the Anzacs and Diggers, the Australian and New Zealand troops, who had recently been withdrawn from the ghastly failure of Gallipoli. No one could have passed through these tragic, yet in many ways magnificent, war years without coming out pretty much a fatalist. The Prince unquestionably became one. Lone shells, inexplainable bursts of machine-gun site, even single rifle snots, had a way of searching out someone man—a shell that “had his number on it.” In 1917 on the Somme a colonel whose battalion was taking over a particularly hot sector strode into a brigade headquarters. A young captain jumped to his feet and saluted. The colonel demanded to know the why and wherefore of this particular stretch of front. “Sorry, sir, but I’ve only joined the brigade and I know very little about it,” the junior officer answered. B B B THE colonel fairly barked his indignation. “Do you know to whom you’re speaking? I’m Colonel I’ve got to have this information at once. Where’s your general?” “He’s just gone out with the brigade major, sir.” The colonel became sarcastic. “And did they leave you all alone here to run this brigade?” “Yes, sir.” “Well, no wonder this bloody war has lasted three years.” Swearing and cursing the colonel stomped out of the headquarters to his car. His chauffeur waited until he was some miles away before he told the colonel that it was the Prince of Wales to whom he had been talking. And on a particularly wet, cold and altogether miserable day in the winter of the same year, a medical officer, fed up to his neck

guidance of the First Lady. Asked if she had cooked on the new stoves, she said: “I have watched the demonstrator, but it is not exactly a good place for me to try out.” On the question of buying new chairs for the Red Room, she said: “It is not a matter that you go about lightly. I would not think of buying anything that cost any money without getting approval. Even for things that are given, if they are to remain definitely in the White House, you have not only to get approval of the Fine Arts Commission, but you have to have an act of Congress.” Then she laughed when a newswoman queried: ‘‘Then is it likely to be declared unconstitutional?” Mrs. Roosevelt and her newswomen talk longer than the President and his newsmen. Average length is 40 minutes, about twice the length of the President’s. When they are talked out, Mrs. Roosevelt says, “Anything else? Any other questions? ... All right, good-by, ladies.” No refreshments are served, no cigarets smoked, there is no tarrying at the end. The women hurry out to write their stories before a 12 o’clock deadline. u a it Townsend Ciuh “nnOWNSEND CLUB No. 1” A presents an amazing appearance. Located in the city of El Cerrito, Cal., it is equipped not with lounges and reading rooms for old folk, but with dice tables, roulette wheels and “bird cages.” It is frequented not by oldsters, napping or chattering about pension chances, but by a fast crowd eager for a chance to “play.” Explanation of the paradox is that proprietors of gambling joints in order to escape police detection, masquerade under the banner of meek, God-fearing Dr. Townsend. (Copyright, 1936, by United Feature Syndicate. Inc.)

WWEm. M ESGByir * W * _ WSzWm I’ ft ? IS |pp \ J|| >, Jlllllljl IPIII® I t

A dinner coat is more to the new King's liking than soldierlytrappings, yet here duty forced him to don the uniform of the Welsh Guards.

with the war, sat in a leaky dugout, crouched over the tiny heat and bitter fumes that were generated from a coke-filled brazier. The gas curtain of his dugout was flung opeft and a young grenadier, with staff insignia on his lapel, stood in the doorway. The winter wind blew the papers from the medical officer’s improvised desk. The M. O. cursed. “Is the commanding officer here?” the young captain politely asked. “No, and for sake, drop that curtain and pick up those papers.” The junior officer did as he was told, and just as he was putting them on the table the battalion commander arrived. He shook hands with his visitor and then introduced him to the medico as the Prince of Wales. a a r T''HE free and easy comradeship of American officers and men was exactly to his liking. Any number of United States soliders who served and trained ■alongside the British still tell amusing stories of their encounters with the slender lad in the uniform of a British captain. One tale has it that an American colonel inspecting a United States area near the front, encountered a lone British officer on foot. “I’d like to ask just who you are and what you are doing here?” the colonel inquired rather sarcastically. “Well, I happen to be the Prince of Wales.” The colonel gave him what 15 years later would have been called the Bronx cheer. “Well, I happen to be the King of England, and I don’t believe you’re needed around here.” The young officer smiled and went on his way. A few nights later at a dance in an American Red Cross hut the colonel was formally introduced to the youthful captain. Naturally the colonel was slightly nonplussed, “Hello, Pop,” the Prince grinned, sticking out his hand. He had one up on the colonel. The Prince, 24, when the war ended, felt the same as did the humblest soldier. Something had entered his soul. Within him the fire of conflict had turned soft iron into steel. Neither he nor the millions of his comrades would ever be quite the same again. Tomorrow—Frazier Hunt meets his royal neighbor in Western Canada . . . discussing the world beer and cheese .. . the Prince becomes a London man-about-town . . . women in his life.

By J. Carver Pusey

Second Section

iCntered a* Second-Clan* Ma'ter at Pnntofflce. Indianapolis. Ind.

Fair Enough MROOKPEGIER LONDON, Jan. 31. —Following the funeral of King George there will naturally ensue a period of international political inventory, because it can hardly be doubted that the new King will have something to say about foreign policy. On the one hand it is always contended that the English cabinet and not the King controls this business, but on the other hand much is being made of the new King’s knowledge of geography obtained during his journeys about the world as the traveling drummer of

the British Empire. He has made two visits to the United States and is very well acquainted with the customs and temperament of the simple peasants of the polo and yachting set with whom he often sat down to a plain wholesome meal of caviar and champagne while studying the real American people around Syosset. L. I. He also knows Mr. Jack Curley, the wrestling promoter whose home he honored with an impromptu visit in the company of Georges Carpenticr at dawn one morning, on which occasion he also honored Mr. Cur-

ley's nightshirt by tearing off a couple of hours’ sleep in the same. The King has spent some time in Canada, where he is an absentee rancher, has visited Africa, South America, the Orient, Australia. India. Germany and the French Riviera. It is doubtful that he knows much about Russia except by hearsay, because Russia has been socially impossible ever since the revolutionaries, without provocation, rounded up a group of their ever-loving nobility and dropped them down a well, where they then dropped rocks on them. BBS Thinks Nazis Arc Nice THIS conduct on the part of the ingrate Russians will never be adequately deplored in England, because it appears that the nobles were always thinking of the welfare of their lower classes and used to send great numbers of them away to the winter resorts of Siberia and often ordered out their troops to pet them lovingly with the knout. He does know something of Germany, however, and there have been symptoms of a mutual crush between England and Germany for some time. As Prince of Wales the new King delivered a speech some months ago in which he sounded the proposition that the Germans were not half bad .people. This repudiated the vigorous old national conviction that the Germans were Huns and barbarians, as taught to all Britons, including the children as well as the child-minded. Since then British war veterans have visited Germany under royal encouragement. Der fuehrer was first to the wire with his telegram of sympathy when King George fell ill, thereby beating the French, who usually have theirs written out in advance, and he was in there first again hours ahead of the runner-up with his message of condolence after the sad demise of his majesty. B B B King Carol a Problem FRANCE is sallow and wan and rather ill-tem-pered at this time, whereas Germany is robust and gaining strength by the hour, and if you bear -in mind that international politicians are strictly realists in all matters you will iee how friendship and understanding might ripen into love between Germany and Britain under a King who murmured the first soft words. .There is also the vexatious case of King Carol of Rumania, the royal problem child, whose love life greatly displeased the late King of England. Carol divorced his wife and friend of the British royal family to play house informally with his dream girl, • whose paw runs a junkshop in Bucharest, and his late majesty. King George, omitted him from various festivities in London, including the jubilee parties of last summer. This injured Carol's pride, and when the time came to withhold oil from Italy recently for the eventual protection of Britain's interests in Africa and the East, Rumania sprung some very serious leaks.

Gen. Johnson Says—

NEW YORK, Jan. 31.—1 tis no disparagement of A1 Smith to say that he hasn’t been the most fortunate thing that ever happened to the Democratic Party. In 1924 the party had a real chance to win until it was split from crown to crotch by the bitter battle between A1 and McAdoo. In 1923 it centered on Al, w 7 ho frankly repudiated its prohibition plank and split away the South and the bigoted anti-Catholic areas. In 1932 he kept the party on tenterhooks until the eleventh hour, and then made one speech that hurt and another that helped. Now 1936 begins with the open threat of an outright bolt, and it is the greatest present danger to Democratic victory. Three fissures and almost a fourth out of four tries. There was justification every time and especially now. The New Deal wooed him before election, and treated him like smallpox immediately afterward and ever since. Asa Democrat with an outstanding liberal record, he had a right to bitter resentment when he saw the liberal platform to which he had finally given support disregarded in part. But here is the weakness of his assault: It wasn’t all disregarded. He treated NRA and AAA as platform violations. If they were, what did these words in the platform mean: “Substantial reduction in the hours of labor . . . revision 'of the anti-trust acts) for the better protection of labor and the small producer . . . expansion of the Federal program of necessary and useful construction . . . effective control of crop surpluses so that our farmers may have the full benefit of the domestic market . . ?” These words describe NRA and part of AAA. If they are sterile, so was the platform. Maybe Al has a better way to fulfill those promises. The weakness is that he didn’t say so. (Copyright, 1936. by United Feature Syndicate, Inc.).

Times Books

THERE have been proletarian novels without number in the last year or so, and the best of them seem to be written by authors who are trying to tell interesting stories rather than to grind a leftwing battle ax. For proof, I refer you to “In Dubious Battle,” fCovici-Friede; $2.50), anew novel by John Steinbeck. Here is a perfectly gorgeous novel about a bunch of Communists: but the author’s interest seems to lie in his characters as individual human beings, not as Communists: and because of this his story hits you with an impact like that from one of Joe Louis’ left hooks. He tells about two red agitators in California who go up to a remote valley to organize the migratory apple pickers. a a a THE bosses kindly make their job easy by cutting wages almost to the vanishing poin\ and a strike is called. You sense, from the beginning, that the strike is doomed. The cards are stacked, and the employers keep dealing themselves aces. All the men can hope for is to put up a good fight—and that they do. Now these Communists tire not furtive-faced Russians. They are as American as the battle of Bull Run, likable chaps, presented with a humorous sympathy which reveals their defects as well as their virtues. Altogether, “In Dubious Battle” is the best, most interesting novel of the embattled American proletariat that IJoave seen yet. tßy Bruce Cat ton).

T~J\ JL a

Westbrook Pegler