Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 14 June 1943 — Page 11

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SECOND SECTION

Hoosier Vagabond

(ons of a series on a 13,000-mile flight made before N . Tunisia isia fell.)

° SOMEWHERE IN AFRICA (By Wireless.) —We are apt to think of Saturday night as a peculiarly American institution. But like a lot of other things that we just assume belong to us, Saturday night is universal, It is the night to howl, the world over.

That holds just as true in the jungle as on Broadway. Everywhere in the ‘jungle the natives dance and drink and sing on Saturday night. So one Saturday night in Liberia we went across the river to see a village dance, The “music” was furnished by one Negro boy pounding on a knee-high Horny with his bare fingers, and by another whacking on an old 20-gallon oil can with two sticks. The dancers were about 10 Negro girls in long cotton-print dresses, half a dozen or so young men, and ‘a scattering of grinning, half-naked kids. As + far as I could ever see, the dance consisted of nothing more than hopping around in a big circle. To tell the truth, the dance was pretty tame. Gradually the American soldiers, as they do the world ‘over, decided they wanted a little more life in it. Ib was their wish and desire that the dancing girls take off their blouses. It was not an especially gqutlandish request, since the girls go around all week without any blouses. The Americans wanted to get the real jungle touch, you know, such as you see in Pictures.

The Yanks Are ‘Touched’

WELL, NEGOTIATIONS for the hoped-for strip tease were started through the houseboy who worked for the lieutenant with us. The houseboy left to put the matter before the chief. ~ Pretty soon a different Negro boy came back, stood directly in front of us, and made a speech. It was in pretty good English, fairly formal, and very flowery. He was, he said, speaking as an official representative of the chief, welcoming us to the village. The chief was proud to have us, sent his royal respects,

and hoped we were enjoying the dance. Anything the viilage had was ours. We were touched. It might well have been Sumner Welles welcoming the new ambassador from Brazil. We were ashamed we’d thought of anything

so crude as our strip-tease request. We abandoned |

the whole idea, and the lieutenant was just rising to deliver a courtly reply to the chief’s welcome, when the boy launched into the second half of his prepared address. And that, ladies and gentleman, was to the, effect that if we could scare up the nominal sum of six bucks dmong us, the chief would attend to the blouse business in a big way! The lieutenant was pretty sore over this, especially when it came out that the other soldiers had already forked over $4 for the same purpose. But it looked: like all or nothing, so we dug up $6.

The Girls Said No

AND THEN for an hour the dance went on, just as usual. Every 10 minutes or so the lieutenant would send word to the chief that we were still waiting and to hurry up. Finally after another half hour the lieutenant got

mad, and went in person to the chief. They palavered | }

a long time. When he came back he said the chief was practically in tears. The whole affair was off, and the chief had given our money back. The girls had refused to obey his command. They didn’t mind taking off their blouses, since they don’t wear any all week anyhow. That wasn't the trouble. They were just using it for an issue. The chief confessed to the lieutenant that his power over the village had been slipping for some weeks. Tonight was the showdown. He had been defied tonight, and he couldn't publicly lose face like that and keep his hold. He was finished. Poor chief. The whole thing was a confusing study in human psychology. As a dance, it wasn’t half as good as youd find in any Saturday-night cotton patch in our own South. But as a study in drawing-room neurotics Noel Coward himself couldn't have produced a better one, And as a final puzzle in our psychological drama, why are soldiers anxious to pay 10 bucks on Saturday night for the same thing they can stand around and look at all week for nothing? Don’t — me, I'm just a stranger here myself,

Inside Indianapolis By Lowell Nussbaum

ONE OF OUR agents writes: “It’s a shame what someone has done to poor little Cinderella. On the marquee of the Zaring theater today (June 9) is the title: ‘Cinderella Swigs It.’ The picture, however, is: ‘Cinderella Swings It’ Wonder if she swigs it irom one of the little slippers.” . . . Shucks, that’s nothing. Not long ago, some of the lights were out on the Sears, Roebuck service station sign, making it read: ‘Sears Vice Station.” . . . A reader phones in to complain bitterly about a big break in the pavement on 42d st. north of the fairgrounds. The hole, which is directly in front of the state police radio staJ tion, has been there for weeks y ? and weeks, damaging auto tires, = we're told. . . . Another reader reports seeing “Uncle” Louis Brandt, the contractor, having trouble with his Packard on Delaware st. He had hit a chuckhole on Massachusetts ave, causing some sort of damage to his motor that permitted all the oil to leak out, we were told. The irony of it is that “Uncle” Louis, as the former president of the board of works, used to be responsible for our city streets.

Oh That Chile!

ERNEST HEBERLEIN, 6220 E. 10th st., chief specialist in the U. S. N. R., read the profile on K. T. Brock June 5 and got to reminiscing. He writes: “Back in 1917 and 1918 I was an undersized and puny kid of 14 and 15. I worked as office boy at Link-Belt Co. Most of my lunches were eaten at Brock’s drug store which I think was one of the pioneer drug storegrills in Indianapolis. I will never forget the delicious chili or the juicy hot dogs I ate while listening

to the old squawky nickel-in-the-slot (pre-juke box) -

playing “Indianola,” sung by Billy Murray; “It's a Long Way to Berlin But We'll Get There,” by the American Quartet; “Long Boy,” sung by Bryon Harlan, and many other popular pieces of the days before Bonny Baker. Out of it all I still remember Brock’s chili. It was wonderful. Maroney, across the street, never could quite get the right flavor. What chilil Please, as a service to other “Inside” readers, will you please get Mr. Brock to take down his new silver hair and give us an accurate recipe for the chili that made him a hero in my youth? I have tried to duplicate:

England

SOMEWHERE IN ENGLAND, June 14 (By Wireless).—For three days I have been visiting the

American forces in England. It has been far from a complete tour of all the American stations over here, yet, by hedgehopping in a flying fortress part of the time, I saw enough to .make it clear that the American _forces in the European theater are digging in for a long stay. Public spdculation may be fixing an early end to the war ' ‘through an early all-out invasion of France and Germany, but I don’t get tha#Pfeeling here. The more people I talk with, and the more I see here, the more convinced I am that the American public would be wise to count on a sustained effort for another year at least in the European theater.

Hoosier Directs Operations

1 SPENT some time with the: army supply forces, through which an enormous volume of weapons, motorized equipment, repair parts, food and ‘clothing is distributed to the combat forces. At one gigantic supply depot there is an American-built railroad, with large switchyards, as well as a narrow-gauge train which runs around through the warehouses. The depot contains everything from watch springs to 155-millimeter guns.

My Day

HYDE PARK, Sunday.—I received three ambassadors, who represent the governments of some of our neighbors to the south, and their wives Friday afternoon in Washington. Then some friends came in for ten and for dinner. Yesterday, I came up to Hyde Park. The sun was shining, and for the first time, it was really tempting to swim in the pool and to lie in the sun. We did that for nearly an hour before lunch and then walked for an hour-and-a-half through the wood, each of us saying at intervals: “How wonderful it is to be in the country and how remote the strife of the world seems.” We visited the library before taking a guest, who Had come up for lunch, Pan in, At supper on the go down and listened

it in various other lunchrooms and drugstores, but they never quite get the right flavor.” Chief Heberlein, we tried. But, alas, the precious secret has been lost. Mt. Brock can’t remember how he made that chili.

Rooftop Duck Pond

SINCE CAPT. Richard Evans, now is in the army air corps, there’s some question whether Sears, Roebuck & Co. will have any ducks quacking around on the roof of their store this summer. In previous summers, Capt. Evans has raised mallards in the Sears “lake,” which is a part of the store’s air conditioning apparatus. At the end of each season, store employees ate the ducks. Maybe, now that Dick’s away, some ether duck fancier will sponsor the mallards this year. . Capt. Bill Jenner was home on leave over the week-end. He’s been transferred recently from Utah to Dayton, O.,, and came home for a bit of Indiana fishing. . . . Also home on leave is Lt. Jay O’Brien, The Times’ sports writer who is serving as assistant public relations officer at the Harlingen army gunnery school at Harlingen, Tex. . . . After waiting almost two hours to get waited on in a shoe store, one poor woman finally made her purchase, then discovered she had the wrong ration book and didn’t have a No. 17 coupon with her. Oh, unhappy day.

Around the Town

PATRONS OF SEVERAL downtown taverns have had their curiosity aroused by the mysterious actions of some army medical corps officers. The officers carried a big black bag-into the tavern, opened it, put a swab of cotton on a stick, carefully wiped the rim of some of the glasses on the bar, placed the cotton in a test tube, and departed. Just testing, that’s all. . . . What's the best all-round swimming stroke? We don’t know, but the Red Cross seems to prefer the breast stroke. That's the stroke they stress in their functional swimming courses, designed to teach prospective soldiers how to handle themselves in the water in an emergency—such as having a ship torpedoed out from under them. . . . It’s getting so that a license plate on the front of a car looks pretty conspicuous.

campaign. . . . The tin can salvage collection gets

under way again today. If you haven’t been saving

cans lately, why not start saving them again!

By Raymond Clapper

I saw an American tire factory at this depot, for rebuilding tires. I saw a machine shop that was almost a miniature automobile factory, with a conveyor system on which automobile motors are rebuilt. Several thousand officers and men operate this supply source for the American forces in the European theater. Most of them are former businessmen, railroaders, manufacturers and merchandisers. Railroad operations at the depot are directed by Maj. Homer J. Sandusky, who left his job with the New York Central at Indianapolis to run this base railroad, :

Guesses on War's End

DOPESTERS WILL be interested in the guesses as to the length of the war which were put down in a secret ballot by a group of American officers at dinner on one station. Of 14 who wrote down their guesses, nine guessed that Germany would be licked in the last quarter of next year. Five American correspondents were present. Three of them guessed the last quarter of next year, two the first

quarter,

There was nothing pessimistic about any of this. As I talked with many Americans, over here fighting this war, I felt that they were taking a view of the task ahead based on some idea of what the job called for and how it must be done. I don’t think we ought to kid ourselves at home any more than these forces over here should delude themselves.

By Eleanor Roosevelt

to the sleepy chirp of the birds, and I again thou of those we love—two off North Africa somewhere and one in the southwest Pacific. I think we prayed for the day when they might see the sun go down

with us without that constant sense of alertness,

which being near a fighting front requires.

I know for these men it will be hard to settle|§ down and relax and to find joy in the simple things

of life. That is something which those of us who are at home will have to remember. The gap between war and peace is a difficult one to bridge. Lafely, I have been reading with interest the efforts being made to find foster homes in New York city for children whose parents do not wish to give them up permanently, but who must be relieved of their care for a time because of some particular. difficulty which has arisen in the family. It is difficult to get good foster homes. It is far easier to adopt children, because then you know’ you are

By Ernie Pyle

VILLE D'AVRAY: WOOD PATH BORDERING THE POND

Jean Baptiste Corot

(Presented to the Museum by the Friends of Art, Inc.)

“I have heard a rightly “prominent dealer’ call this picture ‘The most (Not the seller, he was wistful in his All touches of ‘Papa Corot, the great Corot’ are here; one finds the lovely thin linears of the upward aspiring branches, the almost under-water swimming of shadow, beautiful placing and subjugation of the human figures, and all the other —BOOTH TARKINGTON.

important Corot in America. tribute). . . .

things that mean Corot.”

‘BOOTH TARKINGTON PORTRAIT

Louis Betts

(Presented to the Museum by the artist)

“Some of the sitter’s close friends say that it is not a true portrayal of Booth Tarkington. Riley's close friends said the same thing in 1903 about Sargent’s portrait of the Hoosier poet. Time will tell.” 4." —WILBUR.D. "PEAT

TIDYING UP Isabel Bishop

But there still are a lot of motorists who| haven't, turned in their front plates to the salvage| §

“Miss Bishop, a wmiddle-westerner by birth, has created what might be called the ‘Bishop Girl’; for women are almost exclu-

sively her specialty. These girls are painted

with sympathy and homely spontaneity, in a fashion which reveals a type.” —DONALD M. MATTISON

BETHLEHEM

Lauren Ford

“Like the painters of the past in Florence or Aix or Bruges, Miss Ford has placed the Biblical subject in ‘a contemporary setting and has interpreted the scene in terms “of life on the New England farm wear Bethlehem, Connecticut, where she lives and works. . . . It belongs to no ‘school’ and harbors no ‘ism. artist working apart, developing her own personal style to meet the requirements of

r what she has to say.”

: way, for instance,

GREY. HILLS Georgia O'Keeffe

the breathable air, the

0 UR TOWN

By ANTON THE THRILL of the WEEK

SCHERRER

N THIS UNCERTAIN WORLD where no two Martinis taste the same and men lose hope and change their beliefs overnight, it’s kind of comforting to run across somebody who knows what he likes and sticks to it. Even more comforting is to find nine such people. Which, almost immediately, brings me to the point of today’s piece, namely: That quite the nicest thing to come my way this week was Bulletin Vol. XXX No. 1, issued by the John Herron Art Institute.

The document is an illustrated record of the recently acquired pictures by the Museum—nine in number.

That’s only half of it. Accompanying the illustrations

are page-long opinions written by nine courageous Indianapolis citizens who, apparently, know not only what they like but why—a phenomenon I'm about to celebrate. ® ® ®

UTURE HISTORIANS will ponder this document and scratch their heads to explain an anomaly—the fantastic fact, for instance, that Indianapolis harbored a group of nine articulate citizens in 1943, the very year everybody else limited his opinions to two short words: “No comment.” I have no gift for judging works of art at first glance—the women can appraise fur and jewelry (on other women). Give me time, however, and I can think up things, too. The time has come to say them. Nowhere in the bulletin can I find an opinion of the nine pictures considered as a group. Nobody has pointed out their consistent beauty notwithstanding their breath-taking variety, and the amazing fact that they appear to have a common denominator in the sense that they get along so well together not only with each other, but with all the other pictures in the museum,

This c¢ongeniality or whatever it is the pictures have in common leads a layman like me to wonder how in the world a museum goes about the business of picking pictures. I have no inside information but I strongly suspect that, maybe, it depends on the museum that does the picking; whether, for instance, it’s a metropolitan museum or a provincial museum like ours. -

ITH THEIR VAST RESOURCES of wealth and space NV metropolitan museums can do a big job. They can buy any:-and everything. They can pick pictures— even awful ugly ones—to complete historical periods and, if the money holds out, illustrate the whole chronological sequence of what incorrigible optimists call “our civilizations” Certain circles designate it-as a “scholarly” approach which doesn’t necessarily mean that it makes the world any happier. As a matter of fact, more often than not this kind of approach is the very thing that accounts for the stuffiness of metropolitan museums.

Provincial museums can’t think of such things. limited resources they haven't the money to be stuffy. To tell

* the whole truth, they're reduced to the position of picking pictures

only for their beauty or, if that is too cryptic a word, for the joy they are able to impart. In the one case it's more or less an intellectual process; in the other, a more or less emotional one. Maybe you've suspected as much, For that reason it’s perfectly possible, I guess, to classify a metropolitan museum as a place of learning, leaving a provincial museum like ours the task of furnishing the natives with entertainment. For which I, for one, sing hallelujahs. -

With their’

(Presented t to the Museum by Mrs. J. W. Fesler)

“It is not an easy task to capture on canvas the face and the mood of a mountain, even granted Miss O'Keeffe’s consummate mastery of the technique of her art, or her serene, waiting watchfulness that makes her stand by quietly to let the mountain speak. scrutable, as starkly uningratiating as a Spanish peasant, ‘Grey Hills" offers you its message or withholds it.”

« « Unsmiling and ine

—CAROLINE MARMON FESLER

ROAD IN EARLY SPRING Charles Burchfield

“Charles Burchfield says of Americas ‘This is the land for me. His national consciousness is of the sort that was shared by artists like Bellows, Eakins, Homer, Luks and Sloan. . . . We are made forcibly aware of these sympathies in ‘Road wm Early Spring.” ” —ROBERT O. PARKS

GUIDE FISHING

Winslow Homer

“Winslow Homer is rapidly becoming one of America’s Old Masters. . . . “His simplicity of statement, his significant and beautiful use of pattern and his feeling for the fleeting mood remains essentially American.” —HENRIK MAYER

ROCKS, GRAY DAY

Charles S. Hopkinson

“Mr. Hopkinson has been inspired to paint innumerable water colors at different seasons and at all times of day, ranging from brilliant sunshine with glowing rosy reflected light to sombre silvery gray studies. The one which the Museum now - owns belogs to the latter group. . . . One is made to feel the force of nature by his treatment of rocks and sea.” —LUCY M. TAGGART

IN THE PARLOR Charles 5. Conner

It is the work of an

—BLANCHE STIL

“The little canvas brings a smile of appreciation to the faces of those who remember just such Indiana interiors of the eighties. the young woman but a likeness of the parlor in Founs tain City in which she is sitting . . . ready to re a vifi from the artist whom she afterward

It is not only a portrait of