Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 7 August 1937 — Page 10
RE [ER —
\ N \
- found mostly along the highway,
Sm
Vagabond
From Indiana — Ernie Pyle
Roadhouses Are Hotels in Alaska, And Guests Sleep in Dormitories; Winter Underwear Worn All Year.
AIRBANKS, Alaska, Aug. 7.—There are a few typically Alaskan things about which I feel it my duty at this juncture to force some information down your throat. For instance, roadhouses. Now in the
States a roadhouse is 2 dance hall and beer parlor out past the edge of town, where the sports go
on Saturday night. : But in Alaska a roadhouse is not that at wei ace where the traveler eats a Re all night. A sort of ‘primitive inn. Only big towns like Fairpanks and Anchorage have real hotels. All the little river villages, the mining camps, the wide places in the trails—they all have roadRO average roadhouse is a large log cabin. The dining room has one long table, around which from half a dozen to 20 persons cat at the same time. They put the grub on the table and you help yourself. The family sits around and talks with you while you're
eating.
Sleeping quarters vary. = have private rooms and twin beds.
Mr. Pyle
Some of the nicer places But these are
will see them.
Guests Sleep on Cots
The average Alaskan roadhou
in a sort of dormitory, all in the same room. When you RO to hed you feel
as if vou were back in college, except I don’t Tremember college bovs ever snoring like Alaskan sourdoughs. The food in Alaskan roadhouses is excellent, even though it is often cooked by a '98er who hasn't see the inside of a housewife's kitchen for 40 years. don’t stint on food. opener and he can turn And oddly enough. they d and supper as Midwestern farmers d dinner, just like New Yorkers.
se sleeps its guests
on't call their meals dinner
where the tourists |
with from four to 30 cots |
*
these tired |
They |
Just give an Alaskan a can- | out a meal fit for a King. |
o. but lunch and |
T've seen these roadhouses run all the way from a
ge down to a tiny oner a bear his last
atiful two-story hunting lod ey pry on a creek where you sleep unde rue with the old '98er who is whiling away days there in isolation. Meal prices in roadhouses run from $1 to $1.50. The price of a bed I have never seen Vary—
Business Is Surprising
You'd be surprised at the business some of these isolated roadhouses do. Take some river-bank Chu ter of huts over on the Kuskowim, where you'd thir
: ear, Yet nobody would show up more than once a yea ; ; eveni 2 airplane load of prospectors will have roomed In for dn tractor gang of
in for dinner. there’ll be a RAY Road Commission men on the way to build an airport somewhere, a couple of wandering hardwage salesmen from Seattle will have putt-putted ih on a gas-boat, and a stray local foot traveler or two —and right there you worth of business. Pacs—half the people in Alaska who do outdoor work wear pacs. Sometimes they're called shoe-pPacs. They're odd-looking things—the feet are of rubber, like a rubber boot; the uppers are of leather, come almost to your knees, and lace like a walking boot. Thev Tre waterproof all the way up. You have to wear them in the swampy interior, but they sure do drag you down if you walk in them all day. ; Everybody who works outside in Alaska wears winter underwear all summer. kans think it’s hot in summer Ww
have a cabin full and $50 |
$1 a night. |
That's the reason Alas- | hile I think its cold. |
Mrs. Roosevelt's Day
By Eleanor Roosevelt
Mother's Pilgrimage Wins Interest Of First Lady in Poor Italian Family.
HY: PARK. N. Y.. Friday—At the County League |
of Women Voters’ meeting yesterday, which
incident occurred which seemed to me very touching.
We arrived at 12 o'clock, each of us bearing some |
n toward the luncheon. ervone picked up a plate and filed past the DE Ta v Then each chose a
provisio served, table where food was set out. chair and sat down. I was talking with a elderly woman painfully
group of ladies when I saw an get out of a car and, he ane. walk up the short driveway and cit i pe steep hill to the house. I thought it remarkable that anyone so crippled should come to the meeting. The much-used car that had left her drove away. Mv hostess murmured an Italian name to me and the old lady was thrust into a chair in front of me. Holding my hand in both “of hers, she uttered a <tream of Italian words. I tried unsuccessfully to talk with her in English. But her face lit up when I spoke a few words in Ttalian. : Still thinking she had come solely for the meeting, I moved over to chat with another group and was quite surprised when she hobbled toward me, shook my hand, said something about her rheumatism, turned around and, with two others helping her, proceeded laboriously down the steps and the hill. No car was in sight. I inquired where she lived. They said her home was up a side road, about a mile away. I realized it would be agony for her to walk that distance, so I asked her to wait while I got my car. With some difficulty I helped her in and we started for her home. She talked rapidly in Italian and I gathered that <he lived with a son and his wife and several children; that hard as life was, it was easier than it had been, and she said a prayer for the President every night. That was why she had come to the meeting—just to tell me that she prayed for him!
When lunch was |
{ | |
The Indianapolis
Second Section
SATURDAY, AUGUST 7, 1937
(Third of a Series) By Gordon Turrentine
NEA Service Special Writer R AYMONDVILLE, Tex.,
Aug. T.—Bow-legged,
barrel-chested George Durham Jr., bossed the 120.000 wild brush-covered acres of El Sauz, most remote of the King ranch domains. “Young George” they called him, though he was 42 when sudden death struck him down at a cat-tle-branding a few weeks ago. It was the suddenness of this death, in the midst of the investigation into the Blanton disappearances, that set circulating among the nearby farms and ranches wild rumors of a shooting. But a heart attack was the cause, attending physicians indicated. George Durham was of the old mold in which King ranch managers preferably are cast, His father, manager before him, is still caustically agile at 80. A 45 always dangled from George's hip as though it belonged there, as it did. It was part of his everyday work clothes. When he rode, - a 30-30 rifle always slanted past the saddle horn. He spoke English as though he were about to break into Spanish, for Spanish is the language of the ranch. His niece teaches it (English is not taught) in the El Sauz school. »
ND to George Durham the warfare, always latent and often flaring feud-like, between the King ranch people and the small farmers and townspeople on the outside was a natural thing. He grew up in it. Others around these South Texas parts find nothing unnatural about the enmity of the two factions. They are familiar with
” u
Ni Gok, Mit. J. R. Roosevelt sna © ationded, wn | WIS cattle wars, a: old @s Texas;
with the blood-stained fights between cattlemen and sheepmen; with squatters run off at rifle
Group Hospitalizatio
>”
-
7 ONS —
A Nl
Real punchers are happy only in the saddle. This King ranch cowhand even fits leather to the hood of the car when he has to depend
on gasoline.
point, their pitiful little cabins burned by night riders. Feuds of other days may have been remote in origin and cause. In the present day there isn't much mystery about it. It was into the brush of El Sauz that Luther and John Blanton disappeared, arousing the hatred of the “outsiders” to new
high levels. »
» ”
HE million and a quarter acres of the great King holdings are fenced. The circumference builds into unaccounted miles. The fence riders are Mexicans, and they number hundreds. For one mile within that fence —in other words, a one-mile strip completely around the ranch—the land has been declared a state game preserve. In addition to the fence riders, the preserve is patrolled by game wardens, in the pay of the King ranch, but deputized by the State government. The heirs of Richard King, who laid the foundation for the empire in 1854, inherited the ranch. They have added vastly to its. original acreage. Tt is theirs, legally and morally. The King ranch is almost autonomous because its heldings encompass or dip into several counties and consequently the of-
N Subscribers
ficials of the county are employees of the ranch. They couldn't be anything else. No one lives on the King ranch who isn't an owner, an employee or a guest.
# ”
HE employees do everything they can to prevent poaching. Finding they could not take culprits caught in the act of
killing game on the ranch into a county seat outside the ranch and get convictions, the wardens take them to a county seat within the ranch. County lines aren’t marked and no one can prove exactly where the arrest occurred. Or, if the arrest should be in Willacy County, for instance, whose seat is a few miles from the ranch line and only a few acres of which dip into El Sauz, there are other measures. “I told the district attorney I never intended bringing in anyone caught on this ranch,” said George Durham, squaring his 204pound body. “I told him I intended whipping anyone I catch on the place without a permit— and I've caught a few. The farmers burn the grass off their land and let our fences cateh fire. They kill deer at night with lights and that's not only illegal anywhere,
”
In U.S. Now Total Nearly Million
‘By E.R. R.
Arrived at the house, on a very bad road, I found | four grown persons—two of them very old—and six |
children, one only a baby. The oldest boy attended
high school and was the pride of the family. Because | of four prizes won this year, he has the possibility of |
a scholarship. The family came from the Bronx, in New York
City, a year ago, off relief and accepted for resettie- |
ment. They are running a smail poultry farm. Their
great happiness is that the children are being edu- | cated, are healthier and now have enough to eat. In |
fact, the “living is good,” but the payments to the Government are hard to meet.
I chatted a while ana wondered if, in their place, I | could make payments either, with 10 mouths to feed. | I shall follow this family’s fortunes with interest from |
now on.
As I read in bed last night I came upon the fol- |
lowing: p ti 1X excitingly and they get bored. I put the book down and chuckled as I fell asleep.
Walter O'Keefe —
TALIN, the Russian happiness boy, wants every S faithful Red to spy on his comrades. Every Russian who doesn’t find out a little about his neighbors will find out everything about the firing squad. A Communist has his choice of being a stool pigeon or a clay pigeon. Any Russian who makes a five-year-plan for his own life is just a raving optimist. Over there you don't have to worry about social security in your age. ol wants to weed out the disloyal. He suspects that 50'or 60 million people don't like him, Americans are shocked by such a system of snooping, and yet most of us won't get into bed these nights without looking under it to see if there's an income
tax hiding there,
“The human race is divided into the prop- | ers and the propped. The propped have an easier | me, of course, but they do not live so deeply or so |
ASHINGTON, Aug. 7. — The first of numerous “group hospitalization” plans dates back to 1912. Recent phenomenal growth of the movement, however, owes its impetus to the depression, which focused attention upon the necessity of providing security. Of the 33 nonprofit, free-choice hospital service associations operating last April 1 in 18 states, all but six have been organized since 1931. Eight were organized in 1936, and eight since last Jan. 1.
Equally amazing has been the in- |
crease in their clientele. The American Hospital Association, which indorsed the nonprofit hospitalization plan in 1933, estimated that on April 1, 1936, hospital benefits were available to 300,000 subscribers. By April 1, 1937, this number had been increased more than three-fold.
Of the more than 900,000 potential | board in a ward or
| |
beneficiaries, nearly 200,000 were enrolled by individual hospitals, pri-vately-promoted or co-operative hospitalization plans operated by individual industries or labor unions. New clients flocked to the nonprofit, free-choice associations, most of which are regulated by state laws. On April 1, associations of this type had 750,745 clients, including 477.752 workers and 272,993 of their wives, children or cther dependents. The advantage of the “free-choice” associations is that a subscriber may choose his own hospital, the associa-
| tion paying the bills.
» » »
HARGES range from a minimum of $5 yearly up to $10, $12 or slightly more. Some associations collect fees annually, others monthly. Benefits vary, but generally provide for three weeks of hospitalization in a year, including bed and
Side Glances
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our tickets into the
Sa RRA
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jar—look!"
pickle
room, and all general hospital services including nursing and X-ray and laboratory examinations.
The plan operated by the Associated Hospital Service of New York City is typical. Subscribers pay $10 annually, for which, when taken ill, they get three weeks hospitalization
in a semiprivate room in any one
of 197 hospitals. Man and wife may be thus insured for $18 a year. On April 1, the New York association had 283,459 clients, and on Feb. 1, its “earned surplus” was $181,682, over and above the payments made to hospitals. Originally, cost of operation totaled about 21 per cent of earned subscriptions in New York. The figure now has dropped to 17 per cent. Excepting maternity cases, increased benefits are now being offered to subscribers
|and their dependents, in New York and elsewhere.
semiprivate
{ {
|
| eulosis, | diseases, | quarantined or
None of the “free-choice” plans includes payment for physicians’ services. The client must have his own doctor. Nor is hospitalization available under the terms of the
subscriptions for pulmonary tuber-
mental disorders, venereal diseases which must be ills which come
| within the provisions of workmen's | compensation laws.
|
OTAL enrollment in nonprofit free-choice hospital service as-
| sociations as of April 1, 1937, fol-
lows: Akron, O., 3707; Albany, N. Y.,
A WA Ne (A NW y..2 7 Ala b
* a Er " a Ah CER SE
Entered at Postoffice,
When the chuck wagon pulls in, it’s coffee and beans for the cowhands on the King ranch, ranging miles from the central ranch houses.
it's dirty sportsmanship. We've a game preserve and it costs a lot to keep it up. It’s the best game country in the United States. Why shouldn't we try to keep it that way?” ® 0» HE small farmers and ranchers around El Sauz have their side, too. They know the oldtime unwritten law of the deep Southwest—that the range is free for any man to ride upon. They have the old hatred of line fences that block the way of a man on a horse.
For years their country has been the happy hunting ground of every city dweller with a rifle and a shotgun, shooting anything, in season and out, with inadequate wardens to protect the game. Much of the wild life is gone, killed off or fled to the preserve within the King domain. The small ranchers live on a land almost barren of game, Just across a barbed wire fence in El Sauz they could shoot three deer in an hour. There are javelinas, turkey, duck and geese, quail and pheasant. They know that a few miles back in the brush lands within the fence is a big hunting lodge with Mexican servants and every modern convenience, They know that notables from Austin and New York and Washington-— even from abroad—hunt there,
| proud of the privilege.
| 8372; Ashland, Ky. 2532; Birming- | | ham. Ala., 10.108; Bluefield, W. Va., | 10.579; Buffalo, N. Y., 2047; Chapel
9783; Chicago, 6479; Cleveland, 50.234: Durham, N. C., 26,500; Easton, Pa., 6300; Geneva, N. Y, 960; Jamestown, N. Y., 238; Kingsport, Tenn., 6788; Newark, N. J, 20,277; New Haven, Conn. 1918; New Orleans, 39,676; New York City, 283,459: Norfolk, Va., 6439; Norwalk, Conn, 4637; Oakland, Cal, 2500; Peoria, Ill, 955; Richmond, Va, 2887; Rochester, N. Y., 64,144; Sacramento, Cal, 15,681; San Jose, Cal, 1107; St. Louis, 7013; St. Paul, Minn. 83,380; Syracuse, N. Y,, 10,796; Utica, N. Y., 1281; Washington, D. C., 35,000; Wilmington, Del. 7043. The association in Akron, Oakland, Richmond, St. Louis, Syracuse and Washington enroll employed persons only, making no provisions for hospitalization of members of their families. St. Louis and Syracuse already are arranging to broaden their coverage in the future. The eight associations organized since Jan. 1 are in Akron, Chicago, Buffalo, Jamestown, New Ha Oakland, Peoria and Utica.
|
1
But the natives can't.
» ”
HEY know that four miles
north of Kingsville stands the magnificent ranch headquar-
ters, Santa Gertrudis—but many of the small ranchers and farmers have never seen it. They have heard that it has fine tapestries and paintings, is noted for its hospitality, and that it has 30 bedrooms for guests. But they have only heard that. For the man who drives up the modern, paved, but private, high« way from Kingsville to Santa Gertrudis must have business there and a pass admitting him to the grounds. At the beginning of that paved highway is a small “guard house.” The curious are turned back there.
NEXT-<The law seeks to break up the King ranch, which more violent assailants have attacked in vain,
G. O. P. Oils Machinery for Off-Year Campaign
By Raymond Clapper ASHINGTON, Aug. 7.-—Re-publican National Committeewomen will meet here next week at the call of Republican Chairman John Hamilton to rejuvenate their organization, to consider a program of activity looking toward the Cone gressional elections, and possibly to elect a new director for women's works, This is the first outward move toward preparing the party machinery for the off-year campaign. It has been proposed that the party change its name. But one practical reason for continuing the Republican Party as such is that despite the fact that it was almost swept completely out of Washington, it still holds hundreds of state and local offices. In Kansas, for instance, Republicans have more seats in the Legislature than at any time since the Harding Administration. In legislatures, counties and townships of many states, Republicans have continued to be elected even during the darkest days of the New Deal. Men who were elected as Republicans in face of such difficulties do not want to change now,
” ” 8 URTHERMORE, Republican leaders have made a thorough
| Hill, N. C., 22,975; Charleston, W. Va. | study of state election laws and find
almost insuperable practical obstacles to changing the party name. It is written into law in some states where only the two old parties are given legal recognition. Any ate tempt by the Republicans to better their lot by changing their name would involve an endless amount of legislative wirepulling and no doubt would encounter much sabotage from Democrats. So, all in all, they would rather
try to live down the past under their |.
right name than fuss around trying to find a new trick name which probably wouldn't fool anybody anyway. The chief advantage in a change
lic with Mr. Roosevelt's a.m around him. Unless Mr. these rebellious Southern Senators out, which he is not going to do, they'll continue to be Democrats. In fact most of them consider theme selves better Democrats than Mr. Roosevelt and they'll try to throw
him out before they will leave the
party themselves. More practical Republicans know that they would be kidding themselves to build serious hopes upon Southern Democratic rebels. If the Republicans ever come back nation ally, it will be through the same combination which held them in power so long-—a coalition between the industrial East and the farm states.
DRIVE ME AT 60 M.BH. OVER. A SLIPPERY PAVEMENT!
—~—
fA AUTO CEMETERY
UNK yards are grayeyards for wrecked automobiles. Smashed beyond repair, they end their serve ice in huge masses of twisted iron,
would occur in the South, where it{proken glass and splintered wood.
might coax over some voters who are still fighting the Civil War. But even that is problematical. » ” ” OUHERN Democratic Senators stand up in Washington and defy Mr. Roosevelt, but when election time comes around, even Carter
The auto junk yard tells a story of inexcusable waste, not only in property value but in life and limb. The
cost of traffic accidents last year was
more than a billion and a half dollars. That's the price tag on just
one year of carelessness, indifference
and ignorance. A pretty heavy
Glass is anxious to appear in pulp ‘burden, don’t you think?
ond-Class Mat 4 dianapolls, pa
Roosevelt kicks
PAGE 9
Our Town
By Anton Scherrer Greeting Card Sales Expert Lives Pretty Much in the Future, and Sees Trend for Shorter Sentiments.
HAD to wait until Sunday to see Allan Raup, because that’s the only day he’s in town. He spends the rest of the week on the road selling greeting cards. Just now, he’s selling next year’s valentines and
Easter cards, He started selling them on June 1. I can tell you, too, what he plans to do after that, On Sept. 1, he’s going to start selling cards for next year’s Mother’s Day--Father’s Day, too, if there's any demand for them, After that on March 1next year, mind you--he's going to pack his eight grips and start out with the 1938 line of Christmas cards. Mr. Raup has been doing this for the last 10 years, or ever since he's been out of college. He really started before he got out of college, because the way things worked out, Mr. Raup was offered the job of selling greeting cards just a month before he was ready to graduate. He said to heck with a degree, and accepted the job, Then he got married, and the first summer after that, he went back to college—with his wife, of course. Sure, he got his degree. Shows the stuff a card salesman is made of. Next year's valentines, says Mr, Raup, are going to be prettier than ever, Cheaper, too, The top price for one with real lace will be somewhere around $1.50, retail. Some will have a real lace handkerchief hidden within their folds. It will be perfumed, too. Valens tines used to run as high as $5 apiece, says Mr. Raup, but times have changed since then, which is somes thing you probably know without my telling vou,
Calumet Buys $1.50 Varieties
The Calumet area is going to buy a lot of $1.50 valentines. It’s nothing for the men in Gary to buy as many as a half-dozen dollar numbers at one time. That's because of the foreign population. The more foreign the population, the more they run to sentie ment, says Mr. Raup. By the same token, the more metropolitan the town, the more they run to humor, For some reason, Mr. Raup puts Indianapolis in the metropolitan class, Sentiment is the big thing, though, when it comes to greeting cards—not only valentines, but every other kind of cards, says Mr. Raup. At present, the industry is tryingsto keep sentis ment from going over eight lines. Some cards, to be sure, get away with a sentiment in four lines, but it's hardly enough, says Mr, Raup.
Riley’s Verse Good Seller
For bereavements, James Whitcomb Riley's “Ale ways” is as good a seller today as the day it was put on the market. For Christmas cards the best sentie ment is still “A Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year.” Nobody has figured out a better way of saying it. By the way, stylish Christmas cards this year are going to be done in brown and gold. Mr. Raup’s line covers everything connected with life's secular and religious activities, including, of course, births, weddings, deaths, confinements, baptisms and even your stay in the hospital. Believe it or not, you can buy a card now congratulating somes body on the removal of his appendix. The “belated birthday” card was a stroke of genius, too. Fact is, the card industry covers everything except possibly the matter of divorces. You can’t get a divorce card. Not yet, anyway, but it isn’t as hopeless as you think. Mr, Raup has a card in his kit right now that is worded so skillfully that it just about cov= ers the situation. Anyway, he's ready to bet that the recipient will understand its sentiment,
/ ‘ A Woman's View By Mrs. Walter Ferguson
Life of Schoolteacher Humdrum? Bosh, Answers One Who Likes Work
HY do so many people profess to feel sorry for schoolteachers?” begins one of the liltingest letters this column has had in a long time. It was tonic for us. Maybe it will be tonic for you. Here goes: “I'm what is called an old-maid schoolteacher, and I wouldn't trade my job for all the business or domestic positions you could give me. I've taught children of all ages and conditions. Starting in the poverty-stricken sections of the deep South, through the wheat districts of the Middle West, to a swanky city high school, I am now rounding out my fifth year as assistant to a university dean, “I have three glorious vacation months, and even when I have to use them going to summer school, there's always the chance to spend them in some place I've never been before. Every morning is like the beginning of a new life, there are so many possibilities just around the corner, All this talk about humdrum school life seems bosh to me. The people who use the term haven't any imagination. “It’s my experience and firm belief that an intere ested teacher has more power upon a youngster than a bevy of parents—and some of the children we get have bevies of parents these days. If you could only see the eager, wistful, worshipful gazes. Among them, you always think, may be at least one potential genius. Starting out on these annual voyages of discovery for hidden gold in the young is actually more exciting than any journey Amelia Earhart could have dreamed about. And educa= tion itself--is there any phase of modern lite that so badly needs devotees to improve it? The possibilities for doing good in the teaching professions
Mr. Scherrer
are staggering. I hope I die in the harness.”
New Books Today
Public Library Presents—
AST summer a stirring and inspiring book ape peared on the best seller Mists as America read “Beyond Sing the Woods” by Trygve Gulbranssen, a young teacher in Norway. This summer the author has written the second and third parts of his trilogy, and published them together as THE WIND FROM THE MOUNTAINS (Putnam), In it is developed the story of the Norwegian family of over a century ago whose life was centered at Bjorndal far in the North country, Old Dag, the patriarch, is again the most moving and virile figure, and is beloved, feared, and finally deeply mourned by all the peasants in the countryside. His son, the sensitive Young Dag, grows in seriousness and strength, and Adelaide, who comes from a far distant city to be his bride, adds at first an alien point of view that soon becomes tempered by her surroundings and her deep love for the two men, It is a tragic story; but like its predecessor, the book is filled with poetic writing and with the strength of the great mountains, the peace of the deep forests, and the tenderness of fine characterizations which will live with the reader for many days.
” » Ld
ANE AMANDA EDWARDS settled her tamily in Chicago during the summer for a taste of meiroe politan life. Though Jane Amanda had to do the thinking for her family, she hadn’t bargained on take ing care of the mental processes, for the City Police Department as well This is exactly what she decided she must do after spending an evening in jail pondere ing the ineptitude of the police. A multiplicity of clues bothered her, and the police annoyed her by insisting on interfering in her solue tion of the case. In THE TINY DIAMOND (Doublee day) by Charlotte Murray Russell, published for the Crime Club, Inc, the police didn’t think of using a vac in cleaner and a beauty treatment, but Jane did,