Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 8 November 1948 — Page 11

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Inside Indianapolis

OUTSIDE OF BEING quite prejudiced about all things that pertain to Purdue University, former Boilermakers are almost like anyone else. That's right. ; That point was driven home recently at a showing of football pictures in the Rainbow Room of .the Severin Hotel. The Purdue Association of InAianapolis sponsored this evening of half tears :and half cheers. (Movies were shown of the Michigan game, a 40-0 Purdue disaster and Iowa game, a 20-13 Purdue win.) Going into the enemy camp didn't ‘bother me too much. A day never dawned that an IU man feared a PU man, singly or in groups of not more ‘than 35. That particular evening it sort.of appealed to me to see Michigan stomping Purdue. Sort of a preview of what Indiana is going to do on Nov. 20. For a good 30 minutes I stood around the Rainbow Room for something to happen. A sharp-

- docking fellow introduced himself as Henry Stram, - assistant backfield coach and the operator of the

movie machine. Mr. Stram didn't look the type that would go to Purdue, I thought, without favor or bias.

Y<u Can Bluff Way Only So Far

BEFORE THE Purdue coach could ask any embarrassing questions after I introduced myself, ‘two rather lively alumni made their entry. A man can bluff his way only so far, you know. “I don’t think very many people want to see the Michigan game,” the older man remarked looking at the empty chairs. “Where's Frank Moorman?” asked his companion. Mr. Stram introduced Walter Krull, 05, of 3705 E. Washington St. and Karl E, Vogelgesang, #20, chief engineer for the State Highway Commission. I was still safe with those two oldtimers. Five more of the ‘old faithful” type took seats. “They were: Tom Seward, ‘26, Franklin; John Camardy, ’35, Lafayette; Herman (Butch) List,

‘GREAT TEAM'—Purdue alumni get ready ' Yo start! the Michigan game movies. Former | Boilermakers (left to right) Henry Stram, back- | field coach, Walter Krull and Karl Vogelsgang, | get together to start the projector. Big job.

Pity Poor GOP

NEW YORK, Nov. 8—One notable thing has been accomplished by Harry's upset victory—it now is possible to feel sorry for a Republican, again, without being accused of either fascism lor being in thrall to Wall Street.

I have always stoutly maintained that Republicans were human, just like you and me, and should be treated accordingly. Cut them, they bleed; tickle them, they burst into tears. They have appetites and pay taxes and some even may igo to Heaven when they die—although there are people who will argue that one with you.

‘ Me, I feel sorry for Republicans. I feel espe'elally sorry for Mr. Dewey, who is a cinch to spend ‘the rest of his life alternately kicking himself in ithe pants and dodging bad gags about the man ‘who almost made it. I am sure Mrs. D. would never throw any irecriminations at him, in one of those uxorious differences in the nest, but can you imagine what ‘a savage cutting tool an av@rage, angry wife could make of the two words “Mister President”? Oooh. ‘I shudder,

Visions of Sugarplums

THE REASON I feel sorry for Republicans is ‘they've been out of the money, so.long, and here they finally get a chance to get back in the barrel. They were like children long fenced off from | Christmas, told at last that Santa was coming, for true, ang he was gonna bring ’em a doll anna bicycle anna sled anna bellyache from the ice cream anna pony , . . 3 1 While visions ‘of long-delayed sugarplums 'danced through ‘their heads, they stood around ‘and gloated. The old bum with the beard was goin. to slide down the chimney and everybody: "would have everythihg, at long last.. fe Boom. Short bulletin from 8. Clau® “So sorry. Chimney too small. Regret must leave everything ,at Harry's house. See me again in four years— and meantime, you might remodel the chimney.” Ouch. fi Last summer, at the conventions, you could geel the sparkling Republican confidence; you could “smell the Democratic odor of defeat as far away as Wilmington, Del.

ERE EAI mo —

+ - By Ed Sovola

*22, Knightstown; J. 8. (Cinch) Gamble, ‘12, West Lafayette and F. 8. Howard, '33, Lebanon. “Pretty sad,” I commented with tongue in cheek to Mr. Stram, “when the association can’t have a better turnout than this. No wonder we're having such a tough time on the gridiron, There's no fight in us Boilermakers.” Wrong thing to say. Two couples arrived, Mr. and Mrs, Oscar Herbst and future Boilermaker Tommy, 22 months, and Mr. and Mrs. Dan Morse. There were a few more scattered calls for Frank Moorman before Mr, Stram “thought” it was time to start. Only 40 minutes late. . Henry Steeg, '24, explained that Frank Moorman never missed a showing of football movies. Mr. Krull said Frank was a great booster of the association. Another “buddy” said Frank probably was better off not coming to see the Michigan pictures. _ “Not Frank. He's not that kind of a guy.” Yeh, yeh. “We'll start the show if everyone is ready,” announced the backfield coach. “Lights out, please.” It was just like a bunch of engineers from Purdue. . Nothing happened in the darkness. The lights went on again. Some brilliant engineer (there were 27) deduced that there was something wrong with the plug. “Is there a double E in the house?” Not a person answered. (Double E means an electrical engineering student and I understand they're capable of. fixing a plug in their senior year.)

A loyal alumnus jiggled the plug until the pro-

jector snapped. to life and there was Michigan scoring a touchdown. It seemed to this observer that the entire showing consisted of Michigan either punching over a TD or kicking off to Purdue. I must give Mr. Stram credit for saying, “We got aslot of work on our kickoff return that afternoon.” Shows good sportsmanship, Shows there was a lot of kickoffs, which there were, too. The Rainbow Room during the Michigan pietures had about as much noise in it as you'd find in an old ladies’ home at 2 a. m. The Iowa game, ah, there was a different story. Purdue 20, Towa 13.

‘We Played Pretty Sharp Ball’

“THE COACHES thought we played pretty sharp ball in the Iowa game,” observed Mr, Stram. In the darkness you could hear: “Look at him go. LOOK at him GO!” “Wow, boy, man wasn't that a run?’ “Isn't that Bob DeMoss a terrific passer?” “Terrific, is right.” “I knew we had a better ball club than that.” Nuts. (My silent comment.) . That’s an alumni association for you. Ah, but, they have fun, I guess. I'm glad IU alumni are different. We never blow our own horns on the play. If we have a lousy team we say so. We don’t pull punches. It's no secret IU has a great ball team this year and is going to beat Purdue. Loren Hodges, '28, president of the association, invited each and everyone to come back. “Frank Moorman should be here next time,” he added. Chester Durango, 44 (me) may have to go back to enemy terrtiory to see this fabulous Frank Moorman. Especially when they show the IU-Purdue movies. That should be good.

By Robert C. Ruark

The Reps preened themselves and strutted like pigeons with a crop full of emeralds. The Dems slunk around in corners and looked woeful. No man among ’em expected anything but sure defeat, and plans for party rehabilitation already were being drawn. The Republicans, conversely, were already talking about how to spend the money. &

The Meek Inherit

THE GOOD BOOK says that pride goeth before a fall, but in this case it didn't goeth. It fattened and grew and swelled until the boys romanced themselves into believing they had it hogtied. The only man on both sides who put any stock in the claim that the meek would inherit was old Harry himself, and he knocked off his meekness to become a roaring lion. Wound up with all the rich, smart kids over in the corner, writing “I will not count my chickens before they are hatched” 5000 times on the slate, while Harry picked up all the marbles. During the famine season for the GOP—FDR's sway—you expected 'em to get murdered every four years, and wasted no sympathy when the ax fell. But they had been playing President with such pathetic eagerness since the last conventions, they were so blandly cocky about poor old Harry and the decadent donkey, that I'm downright sorry for ’em now.

That's right, Republicans. Have a good cry

The Indianapolis Times

and youll feel better. -

And remember that al Go... = Meht is tgn-|8

.pered with good. You have now become the sympathetic underdog, and whén anybody flings fruit at, you, Mr, Truman. willu>e properly indignant. Even 1 can bé publicly grieved "about poor old! Tommy without being condemned as a black| ceactionary. ’ Remember that Jack Dempsey achieved his first greatness in defeat. And four years isn't such a long time, children. If you're real good, maybe Santa will come again—but this time you better ‘wait until you hear the thumping on the hearth before you ridicule the other kids.

What a Week

| —————————— — WASHINGTON, Nov. 8—1I don't suppose Washington ever went through such a week as '1ast week, or chewed so much aspirin, or lost so much sleep. The disconnected days followed one | another like this: MONDAY: Many a government big-shot quietly puts out his lines for another job. Many an- | other gets ready to sell his house. Many a Republican measures many a federal mahogany desk for size. And many a newspaper reporter, includ'ing one whose name I hate to mention, writes his farewell piece to President Truman.

TUESDAY: The capital spends this day biting"

i its fingernails. Its denizens cannot vote. The Re- | publicans rent a whole floor of the biggest hotel | for a victory party and fill it with television sets, | pretty girls, and packages of confetti. The Demoerats announce glumly that their headquarters | are not open to the public, but that any newsman { who cares to drop around is welcome. | ' Correspondents, including the nameless one, write their second-day items about the new tenant {in the White House and send ’em out on a hold- | for-release basis. The first returns indicate that | Mr. Truman is ahead. At 11 p. m: Mr. Dewey's 4 campaign manager announces that his man is a

i cinch to win. Mr. Truman stays ahead,

!Party on Other Side

t WEDNESDAY: Mr. Truman still ahead. The Dewey celebration turns into a wake; nobody | dances at Republican headquarters; nobody is | there. Mr. Truman keeps gaining. The Democrats open up their offices for a little whing-ding of a | party. All over town they break out yictory champagne. The ‘newsmen can’t believe it. The one I wish could remain anonymous paces | the floor and worries and listens to the returns ! and the more he hears the more confused he { becomes. Mr. Truman isn’t quite as far ahead as . he'd been; Mr. Dewey still has a chance. Should that story be released? Or should another be 1 : v

—————y , Sra

By Frederick C. Othman

written? ‘The reporter with the red mustache zulps another cup of. coffee.

Wednesday still, but dawn is breaking: The|#

Republicans are too broken-hearted to weep; the Democrats too weak from excitement to cheer. Mr Truman obviously is elected, but nobody concedes. The worry wart worries a little more, gets out a wire killing his previous yarn and pounds out another about how he’s boiling himself a crow. Wearily he crawls in to bed, but he does not: sleep. This is fortunate. | “This you, Othman?” says a photographer for the Washington Daily News on the phone. “I'm on my way out with a crow. I'm going to take a picture of you eating it.” He does.

Now It's ‘I Told You So’

THURSDAY: The locals, who had no idea, either, that Truman would win, hurriedly get out the bunting for a parade welcoming President Truman back home. An amazing number of people say, I told you so. And Rep. J. Parnell Thomas, the same one who upbraid 1 dozens of citizens for refusing on constitutional grounds to testify before his UnAmerican Activities Committee, appears before the grand jury. He refuses to testify, on constitutional grounds and I don’t suppose there is any better indication of the new day than this. FRIDAY: The President does come home and rides down Pennsylvania Ave. waving his gray| fedora to the multitudes. Officialdom is so enthusiastic that it estimates 1,000,000 people, or more than live in the entire district, line the route. SATURDAY: Everybody recovers from the hangover, except the reporter who boiled the crow. He is inundated by mail from Democrats who say he's stupid, and worse. A few sympathize. Still fewer say they, too, thought Mr. Dewey would win. . 5 w

a me -——— uy

SECOND SECTION MONDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1948 PAGE 11

Here's Your Red Feather Fund— How It's Raised And How It’s Used

i CA 5 3 =

_ ATTENTION — The Boy Scouts were standing in formation at Camp Chank-

tun-un-gi last summer when a photographer captured this freckled lad with the

GOT A MINUTE?—Miss Della Lawson (left) pauses in her. work at.Kingan & Co. while co-worker Miss Marion Murley explains that easy payments can be made to the Community Chest Fund. Miss Murley is one of 11,000 yelicitors striving to. raise a total of $1,504,772 by ov. |5.

upswept hat brim and his campmates. The Community Fund contributed $65,000 to the Boy Scouts last year, while the boys themselves raised $90,422 through selfhelp for a grand total of $155422 in the Boy Scout budget.

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CONCENTRATION — Artists, they say, become wrapped up in their work, and nine serious finger-pginters at the Indianapolis Boys Club Association, 1400 English Ave., are no exception as they give their all under the appreciative eye of a staff worker. The Community Chest last, year contributed all but $4020 of the $35.586 needed to keep this non-restrictive, non-selective club open for all boys.

IT WON'T PINCH — Shoe salesman Leonard I. Knoll (left) takes time out at Wm. H. Block Co. department store while. floor supervisor John P. Hill, Community Chest solicitor, explains how Mr. Knoll can best contribute to the fund without upsetting his weekly budget. : :

EXPECTATION — These blond youngsters eagerly wait to welcome the visiting nurse as she comes to see their mother, who is ill. The Visiting Nurse Association . is. a national institution. Last year the budget for Marion County was $100,000, of which the Community Chest contributed $57.000. The balance was made up in fees obtained from those who could afford to” pay: most of the people assisted

HOW MUCH? — Engine inspector F. R. Gilliam (left) rests his hammer against a huge locomotive in the New York Central roundhouse while F. H. Winget, roundhouse foreman, prepares to answer the $64 question. "You're the judge," he says. "Give what you can to the Red Feather,

* A ig a — — could not afford it. oa PAPI ET ccs : - —— _ —— - Sw oe pda . - $ ;