Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 17 June 1938 — Page 13
Vagabond
From Indiana = Ernie Pyle
Skeptical Ernie Finds That There Has Been No Exaggeration About The Midnight Daylight of Alaska.
Editor's Note—Ernie Pyle, after three years of traveling, is taking a vacation. Hence we are taking this opportunity to reprint some of his readers’ favorite columns, as indicated in their letters to him and to the editor.
AIRBANKS,
Alaska, June 17.—Now for |
a little dissertation on how it feels to have |
The subject could be covsaving “It feels mighty
daylight all night.
ered by simply
funny,” but I suppose the boss wouldn't con- |
sider that worth a day's pay, so we must |
elaborate. I had always been skeptical about daylight business.
this all-night
any. But as usual, I was wrong.
We are having actual daylight |
all night long now. True, it isn't as light at midnight as it is at noon. But it's like real daylight, all right. You could stand out in the open at midnight tonight,
I didn't think I'd ever really see |
anywhere on |
the whole mainland of Alaska, and |
read a newspaper with ease The light would be about like it is in the Midwest a half hour after unset. Or cloudy day. Several comdown the on deck during the of th igh I took pictures at 1 o'clock was sorry I hadn't waited light was so much better by then. 11:30 p. m,,
on a very times on Yukon I weakest light
the boat
ing HAR
ight daylight at 12:30 a. m.. and brilliant again by 1 a. m. The best way I can describe it is to say that during the “darkest” hour of the night vou can see just as far as you can in daytime, but at a distance the detail is not as sharp.
a fairly
was up and |
sunshine |
If you are in the house—for instance my room, |
which has only one window and is floor, and has other buildings across you can't see to read a newspaper. almost do it, and it enough everything in the room The hotel here has working at my
on
But you can
joke on me.
the first
a good typewriter
the wall switch. But there weren't
any
the ground | the alley—then |
for you to see | I was |
night, and about | 10:30 the daylight was getting weak so I snapped on
Now on the boat coming down the Yukon the elec-
tricity was turned off all day the same thing here but just and kept it off all night too Next evening I was talking with a hi in the same hotel, and happened to mention not havlights. And he said “Why, I've got lights in
mn y YY he lact nicht tn ny room < nem Iast nigni, too
so I supposed they did went a little farther
an)
So I asked the hotel clerk if it was just old Alaskan custom to turn off the lights in summer, or what. He said “My goodness no, theyre never turned off. The ju t too.”
He investigated, and found a Alarm Clocks Set for Bedtime
The
1 3 3 1 “4 113 $ 2 Alaska’s midnight ligl ld be to h
an
ice is in the davtime
fuse blown out
way to get the full astonishment out of
ave your-
self blindfolded in § le, and not take the blinds off
it would really shock you
upon it. traveling north-
little later used have
seeing darkness
ittle earlier—yon
vd dav after dav come a
F and st 1 are
inally meet and you
light upsets your sleeping lan’ I can sleep all 1 is I monkey around
this in the sumt when I and don't
t people cou of it. Well
t the point
sleep
ne to bed States I'm an eight-hour-sleep man eight hours I people's heads 1 tl weeks I haven't he ight, and seem to tl t sleepy in the day up here that in the summer to go to bed by, instead
ince ite guess Its true,
people set their alarm clocks
of to get up by
My Diary
By Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt
iend staving
An Adventure Sought in an Empty |
Fails
WW 2SHiNGTON Thursday.—I walked ‘Bb White House this
window. The beauty
Pullman Car into my morning and
of the old
room at looked out magnolia tree mad
gasp The blossoms are at
their very best and thev are perfectly beautiful, bigger than any magnolia blossoms I know anywhere else, A ee and big. I always think of the
the older one shelters the
small tree stands next to the ola t the blossoms on that are just as two as being like brothers, the young one is grow-
vounger one temporarily, but on when the
ng up straight and tall, ready to carry olde: one goes Mrs. Somerville and had an amusing experience on the train yesterday. 12d ade no reservation and had so many bags that I wanted a seat in the Pullman, but there were no seats to be had. A vei) kind gentleman dashed up and offered his stateroom, but I was not planning to take anybody else's accommodations. The rather worried conductor finally seats in a dead-end Pullman. He left us we had just settled ourselves comfortably, when we were discovered by a brakeman who was walking through from the rear of the train. He gave us one look and remarked, “Don’t you ladies know you may be cut off at Harmon?
Fails to Meet Son for Dinner didn't know and so, with great to find out and be absolutely sure, adding that he'd “hate to see us left there by mistake” We looked for an adventure in Harmon, but everything went quite smoothly and we landed safely in the Grand Central Station. My real adventure came when I tyjed to find my son, Franklin Jr., who was supposed to dine with me. A series of difficulties kept him from dinner, but we finally did go to see “The Two Bouquets” together and enjoyed it very much. There are some charming scenes and the costumes add enormously to the action of the play. The (wo plays I've seen this week cannot be considered anything but light entertainment, but both are well suited to a summer evening. This morning I went to the 4-H Club encampment and was impressed by the handcraft work which was being taught and also by the quality of the vouth to be found in this group. I take my hat off to young America always, but, at the moment, I am deeply impressed by young America from the rural communities.
offered us
We said we courtesy, he offered
Bob Burns Says—
OLLYWOOD, June 17.—I'll bet I've heard at least
a dozen actresses complain that none of the |
folks from their home town ever bothered to look ‘em up hEcause the folks don't know what name to look for, when they come out here Not long ago, when I started to register af a New vork hotel, I found an actress right ahead of me at the desk. When the clerk asked her to sigh the register, she says, “I declare I don't know what name to sign—shall I sign my film, stage, pen, husband's or
maiden name?” (Copyright, 1938)
to Materialize. |
there and |
I've jest about decided that the main reason is |
The Ind
Ge
ianapolis Times
Second Section
FRIDAY, JUNE 17, 1938
Entered as Second-Class Matter Indianapolis, Ind.
at Postoffice,
PAGE 13
A Roosevelt's June Wedding
President's Youngest Son to Graduate and Marry Anne Clark Tomorrow
By NEA Service OSTON, June 17.— Handsome college boy meets attractive society girl at a dance. They waltz a few times, then sit out a few numbers. John talks and Anne listens. Then Anne talks and John listens. Click! That, reduced to its simplest terms, is the “inside story” of the beginning of the romance of Anne Lindsay Clark and John Aspinwall Roosevelt—a romance that tomorrow will take another of the President's sons by marriage into the ranks of those ‘‘economic rovalists” who have been lambasted through White
House microphones. With the wedding a day away, New England socialites are basking in the reflected glamecur which surrounds the romance of the President's youngest son and the blond-haired Boston blueblood whose marriage will be the most important Eastern social event since the Delaware wedding of Franklin Roosevelt Jr. and the former Ethel du Pont. This dance was three years ago. John was then freshman at Harvard and Anne a lovely Junior Leaguer. After that, other Harvard dances, Boston social affairs and the smart night clubs of The Hub often saw them together. The other guests observed how well they danced together, how they seemed to revel in each other's company. Rumors began to flv concerning a wedding. Last summer John and a party of friends toured Europe and upon his return in September, Anne journeyed to Hyde Park, N. Y., to welcome him back. The President and Mrs. Roosevelt took the occasion to announce the engagement of their son to Anne Lindsay Clark, of Boston. Smiling elder-brother James told the world, “The family is very pleased The society gossips now predicted a wedding in the near future. But Mrs. F. Haven Clark, Anne's mother, put a stop to all that by telling reporters, “they will not be married until after he graduates.” =» = 5
so it will be. Tomorrow
AD - John will spend the morn-
the last examination at Harvard When he finishes, he will go immediately to Miss Clark's summer home at Nahant, and change into his wedding clothes. Then the party will proceed to beautiful Nahant Union Church. At high noon, the wedding will take place. Anne Clark is one woman who can keep a secret. When her engagement was announced in September, she showed her close friends a ring that would have made a princess proud. John had given it to her some time before, but in all those weeks she had refrained from saying one word about it. The same restraint izes her dress, She uses very little makeup, chiefly because she doesn't need it Her healthy coloring comes from swimming, tennis and horseback riding. She is proficient in all of them. Like her husband-to-be, Anne loves sailing. 5 n » HE bride-to-be is slightly over five feet tall. She attended the Greenwood School in Baltimore and the Winsor School in Boston. She has been active in charitable work fcr numerous organizations, including the Greater Boston Community Fund and the American Red Cross. Following the ceremony in
ing taking
character-
the
| tleman would not
over by the enemy?
small, vine-covered Nahant Union Church, the newlyweds will leave for a six-week honeymoon. The newlyweds will spend a few days at the White House with the President and Mrs. Roosevelt, and a few more in Mrs. Clark's home
at Nahant. Then they will move into a beautiful colonial house which is now being built for them on a site overlooking the sea. From then on it will be Mr. and Mrs. John Aspinwall Roosevelt, at home.
Heard in Congress— Rep. Maverick (D. Tex.)—This
| appropriation of $46,000,000 (for sea-
coast defenses) will make the coast safe, and this means the coast all
| the way from Portland, Me, around | to California.
Rep. Casey (D, Mass,)—The genhave anv serious objections to having Maine taken (Laughter.)
Rep. Maverick — Well, they might
| get a foothold, and we have to keep (Laughter. |
it as a matter of form.
HII
John Roosevelt and Anne Lindsay Clark
p
| | |
| The century-old, vine-covered Nahant Union Church is {o be the scene of the wedding of the President's youngest son to Anne Clark. The wedding march will be played on an old-fashioned pump organ.
SA
Times-Acme Photo,
The Rev. Endicott Peabody of Groton, Mass, will officiate at the marriage.
Side Glances—By
Clark
\
Frank Owen
"Can't you tell us anything about this young
6-17
man - except that
he is a jitter bug?"
| Jasper—By
§, Copr. 1938 by United Feature Syudicate, Ine.
"I can't figure it out—unless when Mama taught us 16 bs kind: to | animals she overdid itl" gid
¥
TEST YOUR KNOWLEDGE
1—In which river are the famous Whirlpool Rapids? 2—What horse won the Preakness, recently run at Pimlico, Md.? 3—What is the astronomical name for the radiating surface of the sun? 4 Of what state is Baton Rouge the capital? 5—What is the name for a metal bolt that connects two plates of metal? 8—1Is Princeton University coeducational? T—How many gills are in a gallon? 8—What is a closed shop? ” ” 2 Answers
1—Niagara. 2—Dauber. 3—Photosphere. 4—Iouisiana. 5—Rivet. 6—It is for men only. T—Thirty-two. 8—One which is under contract with a trade union to employ only union labor.
8 8 5 ASK THE TIMES Inclose a 3-cent stamp for
hen addressiig any of fact or information 1 Times
Our Town
By Anton Scherrer
Mr. Klefker's Problem Is to Find Why Newspaper Sales Drop on the Day Teachers Cash Their Checks.
Y restless search for people who mind
their own business took me to see Henry Klefker, the 70-year-old man who sells newspapers in front of the Indiana Trust Build ing. He's one of the fixtures of the place. It was six years ago, says Mr. Klefker, that he set up shop in front of the bank. His entire equipment consisted of a chair and a bag of papers. At first nobody paid any attention to him, and that's
the way things went until the following winter. One morning, however, when the thermometer was down around zero and Mr. Klefker's nose was running like everything, Fred Dickson, the president, came out and invited Mr. Klefker to come in and get warm. He told
| him to make himself at home, and
ever since that day, the Indiana
| Trust people have gone out of their
way to emulate their president. For pp, example, they've given him a locker in the basement for his stock and lunch. Permission, too, to eat in the basement with some of the best bankers in Indianapolis. And not long ago, they gave him a private key to unlock the door to the locker room. That's probably the nicest thing they ever did—showed their confidence in him, says Mr. Klefker.
It turns out, too, that the people in the upper floors of the Indiana Trust Building feel the same way about Mr. Klefker. Men like Clyde Carter for instance, and Frank Symmes, J. G. McNutt, Boyd Templeton, K. W. Hadley and Kurt Vonnegut give him all their business. Of course, that's just a sample of the class he serves. There are a lot more, because Mr. Klefker sells around a hundred papers a day, Poe Jay he sold 650. That was the day Dillinger was illed.
Rain Wrecks the Best Headlines
Mr. Klefker observes that his sales depend altogether on what is in the paper. If the headlines are good, up go the sales, provided, of course, it isn't a rainy day. A rainy day can wreck the best headlines, says Mr. Klefker. Worse than rainy days, however, are the days when the schoolteachers cash their pay checks at the Indiana Trust. That happens twice a
Scherrer
{| month, and for some reason, everybody passes him
on those days, says Mr. Klefker, Even the lodgers on the upper floors of the Indiana Trust go without reading papers when the teachers show up. Mr. Klefker doesn’t know why, unless, maybe, it's they don't want to come down and fight their way through the crowds to buy a paper. Mr. Klefker thinks something ought to be done about it. Everything else in this country is getting fixed up, he says.
About three years ago, Mr. Klefker thought he was going to make a killing, but nothing came of it. At that time, a gentleman came to him and ordered 1800 copies of a certain newspaper. Mr. Klefker went to the newspaper people and laid down the money for that many copies. The newspaper people said they couldn't oblige him, and offered him a couple of hundred copies instead. Mr. Klefker said it had to be 1800 or nothing. Mr. Klefker talked like that because he knew that his client was a candidate in a popu-
larity contest and needed 1800 votes to come out on
top. It was a bitter pill to swallow, not only for himself but his client as well, says Mr. Klefker,
Jane Jordan—
Quiet Persistence Will Gain More Than Fussing, Jane Advises Girl.
EAR JANE JORDAN-—I am a girl of 16 but I have all the responsibility of the house. My mother died when I was 5. Four years ago I started living with my father and brother. I keep house for
them and try to do all I can to make them happy, but my trying doesn't seem to do any good. My father is very prejudiced against dancing and playing cards and almost everything else that most young people like to do. I love to dance and play cards and go to shows but I have to do it against his will or fuss with him all the time. My friends think that he should give me the privileges of an older person because of my responsi= bilities. What should I do? HOPING.
Answer—It is very difficult to deal with a prejudiced mind. If you are to accomplish anything at all, you must first learn self-control and patience. There is quite a difference between taking a firm, immovable stand and fussing to no purpose. Fussing only sets you against each other and accomplishes nothing, but quiet persistence slowly wears away resistence. I know because I have children and I've had it used on me.
Granted that there is some right on your sida, and I believe there is, you can win out by taking a firm but kind stand on choosing your own recreations. I take it that you wish simply fo dance and play games and be as merry as a 16-year-old girl should.
Simply point out to your father that you have worked hard for him and now have a right to play hard for yourself. Quietly take a legitimate and reasonable amount of time for yourself and if he storms, let him storm without the slightest wavering of your purpose. No doubt it will be a continuous fight, but it will be a winning fight if your purpose is flexible enough,
o » td
EAR JANE JORDAN--I am a 16-year-old girl and a high school sophomore. I am in love with a boy of 18. Mother doesn’t object to our marrying now but I want to graduate from high school first. Since this boy loves me as I have told you he does, do you think he will wait until I finish high school? WONDERING PAL.
Answer—If he doesn’t wait he isn't worth having. Children want everything here and now but mature people wait when it is advisable to wait. There is such a thing as doing the right thing at the wrong time. This is what you will be doing if you marry before you finish high school. JANE JORDAN.
Put your problems in a letter to Jane Jordan, who will answer vour questions in this column daily.
New Books Today
Public Library Presents—
FF the shore of Nantucket lay Isle Haven with its little village, in summer infested by visitors, but later quiet and self-centered except for a few “all-year-rounders” who for various reasons made ib their home. The Islanders with their down-East talk and their “buttoned up” humor had always held themselves aloof from this small group of sophisti« cates until one of them was murdered. Then it be« came a matter of local pride to apprehend the killer. Wilbur Daniel Steele, past master of short story telling, has a gripping narrative of this murder, its background, its execution, and its results in SOUND OF ROWLOCKS (Harper).
The body of Beal Coward, the most dissipated of the crowd, was found by his lovely wife and his neurotic brother at a shooting lodge, and the sound of a boat being rowed away in the distance was unmis~ takably heard by the discoverers. In spite, however, of the set-up of the story, which includes three “bodies,” many suspects, several chapters of evidence, and a final solution of the crime, this book is not merely a detective story. By virtue of the author's adroit. characterizations and dramatic prose it attains the status of a novel.
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