Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 3 August 1948 — Page 9

tered to the kneecaps in diagrams, and I do not know a potentiometer from a capacitator, but home-constructed television is here in the simplified form’ and if a child can do it, I cana do it. x Lemme see. First you take a ground-lug from Package 0-115 and mount it with a self-tapping screw from Package 0-105 in the position shown on Diagram A (next to Package 0-306). Then you take the chassis skirt and offstudy the ganderdasher with the lugwasher and what's more, the yellow wire goes on terminal strip L, and the last onein isa gg. A coaxial cable is a groundJug in a dish of spaghetti. It says right here in construction stage 4, No, 2 on socket X-9 with That's what it says. How spaghetti got into this operation I don’t know, but that’s what the chart calls for, It is-a chart that with every one of the 30.000 unassembled television sets that have been sold by Transvision, Inc., of New Rochelle, N. Y., a firm which claims to have produced one-tenth of all the video contraptions that've been bought since the war, :

I Am Forced to Retract. ; MR. H.'D, SUESHOLTZ, the general manager, tells me that these sets have been assembled by children, aged 12, business executives, and housewives, I retract my earlier statement. I cannot do anything a.child can do. At least I cannot do anything a talented child can do. This is positively no reflection ‘on the beautiful lucidity of Transvision’s instructions. I was raised up in the old crystal-set era, when everybody was building his own radio, complete with earphones, and I was a bum in that league, too. I remember youthful companions who had difficulty making c-a-t come out “cat,” but who were getting station KDKA on wireless wonders of their own manufacture, utilizing nothing more complicated than = fay decadent thread-spools, bottle-tops and odd oas-0f baling wire. It was a Tulilng woftirce of bafflement how they did it, because I am still the lad who is utterly confounded by the del‘joate nuclear physical task of replacing a blown fuse. .

Happiness or Misery

EMPIRE POOL, LONDON, Aug. 3—If you've got a seat alongside this great bathtub, you will see both the happiest and the most magnificently miserable young humans in the world. Ann Curtis, a San Francisco eye popper, popped out of the water at the end of the pool like a break-out toaster. She had just won the 100meter free-style meet. Her face lit up like Rome burning, and the crowd cheered like Nero fiddled. It seemed to me that half the 7000 persons around the pool tried to pump Ann’s soggy hands. Like the veteran hero she is, she smiled and said: “Look at my hair. People wonder why swimmers can't use hairdressers.” Her dark blond locks hung down like a wet sweater. Slowly Ann mounted the wooden pedestal reserved for winners. She took the cheers like strong whisky. Then the crowd stood quiet while the band knocked off “The Star-Spangled Banper.” But as cruelly contrasting as a pig in an angora coat was the scene a few races later. A French girl had lost the race, lost it by enough to be finished with this Olympics. .

Loser Becomes Hysterical SHE WENT slightly nuts; she buried her head in the arms of a teammate; she cried slowly, sped up, sobbed. Then, crack!—she went completely hysterical and started to yell. Her whole body shook like a man with the D. T.'s. . She fell to the ground kicking. A French boy in swimming trunks picked her up. He slapped her across the face. No luck. Finally, she fainted and was carried off. ' : What was the audience doing all this time? They were cheering another winner. A Hungarian with a chest like an office safe, took a bow, then started for the dressing room. A blond jumped out of the box and skidded across the tiles to greet him, When he put her down, a few minutes later, the front of her pink dress was soaking wet. But she looked as if it had been worth the cléaning bill. A Spanish swimmer was so miffed by losing the contest, he started to.break up the locker room, beginning with the light bulbs. A few teammates grabbed him and took him to the pool.

Political S. A.

WASHINGTON, Aug. 3 — Gov.-Thomas E. Dewey has come to the right place for advice on whether to defuzz his upper lip. I know about the care and culture of mustaches and in particular whether. they have political sex appeal in the South. J. W. Lord of Mobile, Ala, who urged the governor to shave off the facade if he wanted any votes below the Mason and Dixon line, is a mere amateur by comparison. He never even had a mustache of his own. - 80 I suggest that Gov. Dewey quit staring into the bathroom mirror at his brush and take to heart some facts of mustache life: In the long, long ago, when I was 21 years old and taking my first newspaper job I was so round and rosy of face that I got .no respect from anybody, Also I blushed easily. When my associates discovered this, my life as a cub reporter was miserable, The only thing to do was to look older in a hurry. A mustache seemed to be the solution. Nightly I rubbed my lip with hair tonic and lanolin and eventually I obtained a magnificent mustache, which drooped 'at the ends like a Southern colonel’s in a whisky ad. Unfortunately it came out a shocking pink color. This caused great merriment - in the Chicago office of the United Press. I bided my time.

Color of a Raven's Wing UPON BEING transferred to Deitver, Colo., where I knew nobody, I bought from a snickering druggist a stick of mustache wax imported from Paris, France. It cost 65 cents, smelled like an explosion in a perfume factory, and was the color of a raven’s wing. I applied this to my mustache and I had no further troubles. No longer did I amuse people. I scared 'em. My mustache bristled at the ends, felt like a board when touched, and rubbed off black when I wiped my mouth.

Sparkling Dialogue

HOLLYWOOD, Aug. 3—The Screen Writers Guild, perpetuating those tired movie cliches, distributed a handbook of dialogue today guaranteed to get any censorable situation past the

censors. The compiler, James Gunn, said meeting typical situations with typical dialogue was the only way to get a script okayed. The men who do the okaying, he added, must never step outside their office. “The Johnston Office,” he illustrated, “will let you get blind drunk and murder your wife. But it won't let you sit down with her for a quiet snort before dinner.”

Whisky Is a Nasty Word

THE MOVIE production code says drinking mustn’t be emphasized. This means you shouldn't use nasty words like whisky and martini. Mr. Gunn's compendium in the screen writer magazine gave an author four acceptable answers to the question: “What'll you have?” “Nothing right now,” “Whatever you're having" “The usual,” or “Something that tastes good.” (For ingenues and Billie Burke.) You can, if you choosé, throw out both lines and just say “Here.”

'

Outfit Is Unfair to Adults , BUT I STRAY from the sermon. The ? pickable bone I have with Transvision, Inc. concerns the unbearable burden it has just strapped to sagging adult shoulders. The non-scientific grownup who has recently sweated out nuclear fission, with enormous damage to his prestige around the house, will surely burn no incense to Transvision, -

C. I have struggled through the cross tions about why is the sky blue, why is wet instead of dry, why is the heat hot cold, and why does ‘the airplane fly. I hav lamely through the wherefores of radar and why does the -hunder make a noise and the unpredictalile impact ~f green peaches on the juvenile stomach. But now, when the tiny tad raises his innocent eyes to ask Uncle Robert: “Why does the rectified voltage from the 6X5 tube hafta be added to the normal B-plus voltagé?” why, folks, I quit. My high inductive pulse stops, inducing a negative pulse at the start of the sawtooth, instigated, of course, by unduly high peaking. There is nothing to do but reach for the fireax, and Frankly. my only problem is who or w + ~ t. .

Ed Sovola, author of Inside Indianapolis, is

on vacation.

By Fred Sparks

An Englishman sitting next to me said: “Watch the next event-—you’ll see another kind of emotion.” ‘ On the schedule was a water polo battle between the United States and Belgium. Nobody was drowned but I don’t know why. If water polo isn’t the roughest, dirtiest, kneeingest sport in the world, then hand me my crochet needle, mother. The United States team is represented by the Los Angeles Athletic Club. Average height-—six feet. Average weight—190. The three Los Angeles cops on the team missed their billies. The game is similar to basketball, except it is played on water—Oops! Sorry, played under water.

Some Rough Tactics

TAKE A TYPICAL action. Kenny Beck, 31, one of the flatfoots, was trying to grab the ball A hulking Belgian put a hamlike hand on Kenny's bluecapped head and pushed it down-—hard. Kenny disappeared like a watch dropped in the sink. He released the ball wisely, rather than die and the Belgian grabbed it as it bobbed to the surface. : But Kenny reappeared, still breathing, before the hated enemy could take off down the water field. He tried industriously to remove the Belgian's arm and drive his elbow through his foe's ribs. Neither assault was successful, but the Belgian dropped the ball and fought back. The feud between Kenny and his Belgian lasted throughout the game, with both being repeatedly called on foul frolics. That neither man

is dead proves that water polo athletes are part;

seal and part Sherman tank.

One Belgian bully boy was badly bruised. A

strip of skin, as wide as your thumb, was scratched from one side of his face in the tussle, He stepped out of the pool, bleeding like fresh roast beef. After a few dabs with a towel he got back in the drink, a rather criminal look on his face. Bob Bray, also of Los Angeles, his mortal foe, prepared to renew the combat. . : Despite time out for mayhem, four goals were made—fortunately two on each side—ending the game nowhere but a sulking tie.

‘By Frederick C. Othman

Time passed, Gov. Dewey will be interested to learn, and I met a voter from the South. She was blue-eyed, beautiful, and fresh from Memphis, Tenn. I fell in"love with her. Little did I realize one of the chief stumbling blocks in my way was tie ruination by my mustache wax of her, napkins ‘every time she invited me to dinner. But, governor, did she quit inviting me? No sir. She stole my stick of wax and threw it away. My black mustache became pink again, but mare| subdued than before, and everything was fine until] one morning I awoke with a bad hangover. I staggered into the bath and with trembling} hand I began to shave. Before I realized the| enormity of my mistake; I had removed the left! side of my superb mustache. There was nothing left to do but shave off the other side, too. Governor, I am afraid it will be difficult for you to realize the horror of what I saw in ghe mirror. My lip looked long, and white, like something dug from under a rock. I forced myself to touch it with my fingers and it felt spongy.

Went Into Seclusion IT TOOK considerable courage to present myself before my favorite voter from Memphis. I thought she'd laugh. But no. She flinched, as though confronted suddenly by Bela Lugosi. You do not want that to happen to you, governor, in the South. % ' I went into seclusion and soon, by forced culture and sun lamps; I had another mustache. And so, Gov; Dewey, the Southern voter and I were married: That was a long time ago and we've lived happily ever since. The mustache, which played so prominent a part in this romantic tale, I still have. The pink is flecked with gray, but otherwise it is none the worse for wear. My advice to you, governor,.is to retain your decoration if you would gain friends in the South. Bleach it if- you will, or give it a henna rinse, but under no circumstances attack it with a razor. Better not wax it, either.,

i {

- - rr ————— eT

By Patricia Clary

An alcoholic, of course, can order anything. But it better be clear that he's going to suffer for

it. Most vice gets by if the writer throws in a line from the file showing that it’s really no fun at all, . Maybe the plot calls for the sinner to be rich, famous, admired and dining on champagne and caviar. In that case, said Mr. Gunn, there is only one basic classic to get you past the censors: “It never gave me a moment’s happiness.” For variation, “Do you call this happiness?” or, if the sinner is a lady, “Of course I'm happy. Sur I’m happy. Sob.”

A Way to Forgive Sex IN EXCEPTIONAL cases, Mr. Gunn advised, you can get permission to put the punishment in the tentative future. The pat phrase: “Somehow I know I'll have to pay for this.” “Sometimes I wish I could go back and find: the little girl with the pigtails.” | Any amount of sex will be forgiven, Mr. Gunn said, if toward the finish the heroine bats her eyelashes at the hero and says:

ashamed of.” “This of course,” Mr. Gunn said, “does apply to the whole picture.” ro,

te Ind

SECOND SECTION

DN eR hy KL ORR

Se ie

anapolis

TUESDAY, AUGUST 3, 1948

side The Big Wyandotte Ca

a [Photo Story by Vigtor Peterson)

YOUTH AND 50 MILLION YEARS—Miss Mary Sue Kinsey of Louisville, Ky., surveys the giant entrance into Big Wyandotte: Cave in southern Indiana near Corydon. Some 50 million years before Miss Kinsey was born a pre-historic river began to flow through what today is the cave. Gradually the softer limestone eroded and the river became extinct. It left a mammoth subterranean hole which has five distinct floor levels and 23 miles of ‘explored passageways.

WHOSE EYES HAVE SEEN—The unreality of the "Crater Room" fills the mind with wonderment at the mysterious way in which-nature works. In the millions of years since the cave was formed what manner of people have stood in awe before this sight: as they viewed it by flickering torch which cast a pall of smoke? Probably early men, certainly the Indians. Then came the white man, the first of whom was a Kentucky Boone befriended by a grateful Wyandotte he had nursed back to health. 2

MOUNTAIN IN A HOLE — Besides. having the largest underground room of any known cave in the world, Wyandotte also boasts | .the largest known underground mountain, "Monument Mountain" “I'm thankful we've donme- nothing to be rises to |75 towering feet while far above it is the dome-like ceiling not! Of the room in which it is housed. It is a quarter mile ‘in circum. | ference. Jo take this picture; the

camera. was set on Jime. Three

BY LAMPLIGHT ONLY — Gigantic Wyandotte, unlike its baby sister, Little Wyandotte, is not electrified. Tours are conducted with the aid of gasoline lanterns. but sightseers need not worm their way through such narrow openings as Guide Thomas Allebrandi does here. Mr. Allebrandi is one of the intrepid explorers whe spend most of their spare time trying to open up new vistas in the limestone honeycomb. In touring the cave, the spectator should let his imagination run rampant.

Only then can the ageless Institute havetidentified a

man. Later came the Indians, chiefly the Wyandottes, who left much evidence that they used the cave for housing and hiding. ~*~ n :

- CAREFREE CAVORT-

ING—Nature has worked too long and too patiently to permit the general public to romp over the formations. For picture purposes, however, Guide Rosemary Riely perches on the "Throne and Canopy’ ~ormation.

cave cast its greatest spell. Members of the Smithsoniar shoulder bone found in the cave as that of a pre-historic

LIKE A GLOWW Ff gasoline lanterns credte an eerie: in this time exposure. The pa ground to the’upper left where, they diss a turn. in the huge cave: Inspecting th cavern by lamplight gives the tourist a wonderland in much the same manner as seen. man. Brilliant in relief are formations near the ligh then the greying shadows creep into a blackness beyond all comparison. 3 ; ian

5 FU

“strips of magnesium ribbon were sat shite ‘on mountain while four flashbulbs were fired into

ap

This sight may have been viewed by William later became the: nation's president, when he ex the infancy of Indiana. He carved his name on th It is an awe-inspiring sight, 2E]