Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 May 1951 — Page 21

y 13, 1051 ' rent

d War II vet ced with barbed~ he machine guns rhead fire ¢4 ground. . mbat dominates 8, a8 far as pospatrol and asight, move with sometimes y" firing blanks. roblem, supportthunders ahead. nce found one aining program. een crowded in not get enough oning for the . Gen. Collins he problem, with itioner in the bayonet assault

mics ncer Wis., May 12 announcer Bill

technique was

1 own home and {s little daughter. :d the child to the family meal. 1, the youngster closest thing to » voice: es to us through Almighty God.” |

ost |

———————

BLE TERMS

ed to the g People

keeping”

K CHAIR 4.85

| | | { | | |

‘ EE

cream,”

Inside Indianapolis

By Ed Sovola

I'M GOING to catch it when I get home today. My mother won't. stand for any foolishness on Mother's Day or any day. It’s going to take a lot of fancy talking to explain why I couldn't make it to Hammond Friday night or yesterday morning. “What kind of a visit do you call this? The idea, coming home for only a few hours.. Are you hungry? Do you have to gO back tonight? Yau'vedost some

I»

weight ‘since the last time you (RT >

were home.” Ma wil! go on like that for five minutes. She. will try to look stompin’ mad. If you didn’t know her, you would think you're not welcome. > 0 o t ONE GLANCE from the front room, the talking room, into the kitchen tells you somebody's been working, And it wasn’t the hired help. We don’t have hired help at. our house. Ma's the boss. .- > “Did you make some potato salad?” Same ol’ routine.. And I can’ always tell when the time is

3 5 0 En

* ripe to haul out thé soft soap.

“Just don’t you worry about potato salad. If you wanted something special for today, why didn't you get home Friday? I made a little,” she will add. Yeh, little. The yellow bowl will be full. It holds about a peck of potatoes. Z “I'm trying to tell you that I had to attend the ‘Little 500° bicycle race in Bloomington. Did you read my letter? I couldn't get out of it.” That last statement gives her a chance to clinch the argument.’ My ears are supposed to be pinned back by then. v Gad, how many times I've heard this: have to be and go everyplace but home. they have the race without you?”

“® & .b

AREN'T mothers wonderful?” I think the kid that loses his mother early in life loses half of his own. It's unfortunate that we take mothers for granted a lot of times. Every man ought to have a memory about his mother that brings a tear of joy to his eye. Something special. Since we're sort of letting our hair down, I'd

“You Couldn't

A Kiss for All Mothers; Aren’t They Wonderful?

like to tell you about an incident that I'll never forget. It will show you what my Ma's like. This happened in the spring of 1932. My Dad had been kjlled in an automobile accident in the fall of '31, We were pretty flat. When the steel mills quit running, a lot of people quit eating regular. Anyway, we didn't have a quarter for an, indoor ball. I wanted one. A sundry, store had them for a quarter. My mother got the bright idea that we should have a ball. She also thought that it was time for me to make a contribution to the kids who played inthe empty lot. ; “Let's make an indoor ball,” she said. - “> .d OH i WE HAD FUN making that ball. I helped her cut thin strips of rags. We tied them together and wound the stuff into a tight ball For the cover she used heavy canvas. In about an hour I had, what I thought, was a fine ball. A special ball. . The. whole gang was in the lot when I yelled ~ the news abput the néw ball. It was thrown to them. Kids can be cruel. They laughed and said the ball wasn’t any good. One of the bigger boys threw it down the: alley. I couldn't see straight for the anger that was boiling within me. My mother heard the whole story. She didn’t say much. What was there to say? We sat in the kitchen for a long time. I remember the weight of her arm around my shoulders. -, Finally she asked if I wanted to play catch fh the back yard. She couldn't catch very well. That didn’t matter. It wasn't long before I completely forgot about the reception’ the boys gave me. Whether my mother did, I don’t know. What a pal. “db ' WHILE we're at it, on this Mother's Day, I might add it's tragic that some mothers mess up their homes and never fully experience the joy of having three or four kids grow up before their eyes. Also, I don't think much of a son and daughter who use the term “My old lady.” Somehow, I don’t care what the circumstances are, it sounds disrespectful. It makes me feel uncomfortable to heéar it. A big hug and kiss to all mothers. Maybe a flower and a gift. Anything. Just don’t forget her today.

It Happened Last Night sctress’ Heavy Eating

By Earl Wilson

NEW YORK, May 12—Nanette Fabray loused up my dinner real good the other night. Nan's a champion dinner-ruiner. Never get caught at the same dinner with her. “I wonder,” said Nanette wistfully the minute we sat down at Al & Dicks, “what I. can eat that's real fattening?” “Fattening!” I said. Like everybody else around B'way, I “watch my diet.” And Esther Williams, Faye Emerson, Vivian Blaine and other glamorpusses have been kind enough to say I look real purty. . “Isn't it awful?” chattered this villainess Nanette. “When I'd like a nice salad, I say, ‘Oh, instead of that I've got to eat a big plate of spaghetti and meat balls, dog- . : gone it!" ” cis ho SH “IT MUST be tough” I growled. So did my stomach. “I have to eat everything in sight,” Nanette said, “then wash it down with a glass of

"No chocolate cake with" thick gooey icing?” I grumbled. “Just -a couple of pieces— that's along about my eighth course,” admitted the hoyden. Nanette's sort of a freak. A beautiful freak. A classmate of Lana Turner at Hollywood High, she doesn't quite have Lana's cushiony roundness. Nan expected to lose 10 pounds rehearsing for ‘‘Make A Wish,” in which she's so good. She lost 15. 0S “I'M TRYING to get that 5 pounds back,” she said. She told the waiter: “Some marinated herring. A good thick soup. Better have some of that fish course too. Lots of mashed potatoes with the beef . . . A girl's got to eat something.” Look how it's ruined her. In 10 B'way shows since 1941, she’s missed only 16 performances—probably an endurance record for B'way. She's so dainty that when they want cheescake pictures of her, they draw her blouse together at the back with a clothespin. In “Make a Wish,” she does look real provocative—because her skirts are short, and show her legs. “All girls don’t have to show their legs to look sexy,” she said. But I left. I'd had all of Nanette Fabray I could take. She was starting her dessert and was still hungry. It looked like it was going to be two pieces of chocolate graham cracker pie... o Sd» > THE MIDNIGHT EARL—The current story— probably untrue—is that Herbert Hoover, asked his opinion of Sen. Taft, replied: ‘“He has the most brilliant mind in Congress until he makes it up.” Tommy Manville and Allen Curtis’ wife, Betty Dodero, threaten marriage.

Miss Fabray

Americana By Robert C. Ruark

MIAMI, Fla. May 12—The state of Florida,

to which I have just fled in order to escape the slings: and arrows of oratory from\our statesmen in Washington, has always fascinated me as a site of magnificent legislation. It concerns itself not so much with the grander scheme such as world-destruction, but grinds out intimate laws to make liv- = ing simpler. We note from Tallahassee, the capital, that many wondrous things have transpired recently, There is, for Instance, a motion afoot to make the patent medicine, Hadacol, subject to tax and control “just like any other alcoholic beverage.” Hadacol, as you probably know by now, is touted as.

LN INIA 1

Ponce De Leon was seeking when he fared forth to find the fountain of youth. It blandly proclaims a forecast of “new life” for the user, and also states mildly that if you use it you will “feel better.” ® o THIS MEETS the snide suspicion that a heady draft of ‘Hadacol is somewhat the equivalent of taking a small shot of tigermilk to ward off the tniasmas of daily strife—or so says Rep. Lisle Smith of ‘Polk County. Rep. Smith says he ‘‘understands that the product contains 12 per cent alcohol and should be taxed just like any other alcoholic beverage.” No action has been taken yet, but when last seen, several hundred liquor dealers were headed for Louisiana, to seek the Florida franchise from Hadacol’s inventor. There has been a bill to protect grocers from fraud, undoubtedly at the hands of Yankee transients, and a more important piece of legislation designed to stamp out the Ku Klux Klan. A new law makes ‘‘the wearing of masks by any person over 16 years of age jn public places illegal,” which indicates that either the klansmen have to ‘start earlier in life or else take wp the use

being something -like-the- fabled elixir which on last winter.

Starts Earl Growling

Doris Duke and ex-husband Rubirosa may remarry. aS A AH

GOOD RUMOR MAN-—One of the new Big Name Gals (married) has a secret romance with a West Coaster. But we won't tell. . . . Milton Berle's buying his mother a Florida home, with a swimming pool for him. . .. The booing of Hedda Hopper while she was m. c.ing the ANTA show is deplored by this columnist. (It might happen to me!) It started because everybody was tired from a long show. She exited gracefully. . . . Hatcheck girl Doris DuPuis is the new hit singer at the Jicky . . . Paul & Grace Hartman canceled their Cotillion Room booking because of their split. Milton Berle all but man-handled Gov. Dewey at the TV & Radio “Michael” awards put on by Harold Crossman, and Dewey made friends by laughing. He told Berle he'd use him next trip. (80 there's gonna be one?) Fred Waring, an award winner, said, “It took me 34 years to get an award and took Gov. Dewey 20 years to get a

sense of humor.” Groucho Marx's crack: “Old “commeédians never die. They get signed by NBC.”

“ os

ERNEST HEMINGWAY DENIES anybody “is writing’ the horrid story of my life. There are too many people involved in my life, including myself. I'm tying up everything so they can’t stench up the joint with my life for as long as legally possible after my death.”

SOS

EARL’'S PEARLS . . . Barbara Ashley says a typical B'wayite’'s a chap who when he can’t pay his hotel bill, moves out—into a better hotel. Ee

"s" "s"

WISH I'D SAID THAT: “The guy who designed Alcatraz sure created one hell of a stir’— Bill Quidort. : * oS b TODAY'S BEST LAUGH: Nowadays when you read the papers, according to Irving Heller, you feel like saying, “Stop the world! I want to get off.” $e » H ALL OVER: Florence Chaldwick’ll try to swim the Channel again this summer . . . the other way . Gilda Gray's at the Savoy-Plaza pressing her case against Universal, charging its Rita Hayworth pie, “Gilda,” was a swipe of her life . . . Bitter irony: Two of Jimmy Doolittle’s heroic Tokyo Raiders celebrated the ninth anniversary of that famous raid back in Tokyo, resting up from flying in the Korea campaign ... Charles Simonelli was upped by Universal to eastern ad and publicity mgr. > 4

B'WAY BULLETINS: Beverly Paterno introduced John Oberon at La Vie as her fiance. ... Joan Sayers of “My Sister Eileen” fame, now married and social, may do an. acting comeback —in TV. . .. Woo, woo, Madison Sq. Garden's thinking of a gals’ soft ball league. . . . Derby Winner Conn McCreary—up against it ‘three weeks ago—says now, “I think I'll stay around. I may be able to pick up a little work.” . . . He and his pal Fred P. Finkelhoffe, the producer and playwright, have both hit the jackpot this year. That's Earl, brother.

Florida Legislation Fascinating to Bob

of theatrical masks and festival disguises, which are exempt. Go » ‘e THERE IS considerable emphasis in gambling. The good governor has just signed a bill allowing lawsuits by anybody who has lost money gambling illegally. The guy who takes a fall from a bookie or a crap table may sue for twice his losses—if he can find the bookie or the stickman—and half the loot goes to the state. This is interesting, indeed, since Gov. Fuller Warren {is under fire for a variety of alleged sins against the commonwealth, including forgetting to list some $400,000 of campaign income, a hunk of which stemmed from a gentleman whose interest in gambling is less than casual. The governor has also been criticized sharply for allowing his office to be perverted as assistant in the musclein on a bookie syndicate, and’ for reinstating a suspect sheriff who was fired when the heat went

® & & HOWEVER, a compensatory bill to -legalizé bingo is now before the legislature.” The worth of a year in a Florida jail has just been formally decided by law. It is $500. Some judge rather absentmindedly sentenced a bad check passer to jail for two years, forgetting that the penalty in Florida is only a year. The rubberplaster artist served two years before it was discovered that the state owed him a year. ‘A special bill was introduced to award him damages of $15,000 but the frugal legislature decided his time was worth only 500 skins, or a little over $40 a month. He was not charged, however, for the free board and lodging he received. Every time you ride down a sizable stretch of road you come upon a busted bridge or a tornup section of road. The warning sign bears a touching postscript. “Bridge under repair,” it will say, or “road under construction.” Then it says: “A sign of progress under Gov. Fuller Warren.” But the people who clamor for Gov. Wrren’s impeachment are .of the mind that progress can be carried too far, even in such an advanced state as Florida. i! i

- a v * Ow Ty

” . Qi hw *

The Indianapolis

5 .o- « i

““=-ACRO

i SUNDAY, MAY 13, 1951

CHAPTER ONE NCE in a while you find yourself in an odd situation. You get into it by degrees and in the most natural way but, when you are right in the midst of it, you are suddenly astonished and ask yourself how in the world it

- all came about. ; . If, for example, you put to sea on a wooden raft with :

a parrot and five companions, it is inevitable that sooner or later you will

wake up one morning out at sea, perhaps a little better rested than ordinarily, and begin to think about it. On one such morning I sat writing in a dew-drenched logbook: . “~May 17. Norwegian Independence Day. Heavy sea. Fair wind. I am cook today .and found seven flying fish on deck, one squid on the can roof, and one unknown fish in Torstein’'s sleeping bag....” . Here the pencil stopped, and the same thought interjected itself: This is really a. queer seventeenth of May — indeed, taken all round, a most peculiar existence. How did it all begin? » sn o IF I TURNED left, I had an unimpeded view of a vast blue sea with hissing waves, rolling by close at hand in an endless pursuit of an ever retreating horizon. If I turned right, I saw the inside of a shadowy cabin in which a bearded individual was lying on his back reading Goethe with his bare .toes carefully dug into the latticework in the low bamboo roof of the crazy little cabin that was our common home. ' “Bengt,” I said, pushing away

| the green parrott that wanted | to perch on the logbook, “can

you tell me how we came to be

| doing this?”

Goethe sank down under the red-gold beard. “You know best yourself. It was your idea, but I think it's grand.” He moved his toes three bars up and went on reading Goethe unperturbed. Outside the cabin three other fellows were working in the roasting sun on the bamboo deck. They were halfnaked, brown-skinned and

bearded, with stripes of salt

down their backs and looking as if they had never done anything else than float wooden rafts westward across the Pacific. : 2 2 s ERIK came crawling in through the opening with his sextant and a pile of papers. “Ninety-eight degrees 46

| minutes west by 8 degrees 2 | minutes south—a good day’s

run since yesterday, chaps!” He took my pencil and drew a tiny circle on a.chart which hung on the bamboo wall—a tiny circle at the end of a chain of 19 circles that curved across from the port of Callao on the coast of Peru. Herman, Knut and Torstein too came eagerly crowding in to see the new little circle that placed us a good 40 sea miles nearer the South Sea islands than the last in the chain. “Do you see, boys?” said Herman proudly. “That means we're 850 sea miles from the coast of Peru.” “And we've

got another

Sky Gazers—

Pupils Ta

By CARL HENN

3500 to go to get to the nearest islands,” Knut added cautiously. “And to be quite precise,” sald Torstein, “we're 15,000 feet above the bottom of the sea and a few fathoms below the moon.” 8 2 » PERHAPS the whole thing had begun the winter before, in the office of a New York museum. Or perhaps it had already begun 10 years earlier, on a little island in the Marquesas group in the middle of the Pacific. Maybe we would land on the same island now, unless the northeast wind sent us farther south in the direction of Tahiti and the Tuamotu group. The island was called Fatu Hiva; there was no land between it and us where we lay drifting, but nevertheless it was thousands of sea miles away. I saw the narrow Ouia Valley, where it opened out toward the sea, and remembered so well how we sat there on the lonely beach and looked out over this same endless sea, evening after evening. I was accompanied by my wife then, not by bearded pirates as now. We were collecting all kinds of live creatures, and images and other relics of a dead culture. ” ” s

I REMEMBERED very well one particular evening. The civilized world seemed incomprehensively remote and unreal. We had lived on the island for nearly a year, the only white people there; we had of our own will forsaken the good things

of civilization along with its’

evils. We lived in a hut we had built for ourselves, on piles under the palms down by the shore, and ate what the tropical woods and. the Pacific had to offer us. On that particular evening we sat, as so often before, down on the-beach-in-the moonlight, with the gea in front of us. 2 “It's queer,” sald my wife, “but there are never breakers like this on the other side of the island.”

“No,” said I, “but this is the windward side; there's always a sea running on this side.”

We kept on sitting there and admiring the sea which, it seemed, was loath to give up demonstrating that here it came rolling in from eastward, eastward, eastward. It was the eternal east wind, the trade wind, which had disturbed the sea’s surface, dug it up, and rolled it forward, up over the eastern horizon and over here to the islands. Here the unbroken advance of the sea was finally shattered against cliffs and reefs, while the east wind simply rose above coast and woods and mountains and continued westward unhindered, from island to island, toward the sunset. So had the ocean swells and the lofty clouds above them

ONE CLASS a day, pupils in Room 205 at Washington High School spend ¢onsiderable time looking out the

windows.

Their teacher, Mrs. Mildred Ross, encourages the

practice.

Part of her job as instructor of the only meteorology

class taught in an Indiana high school is to make sure

that each pupil can recognize the 10 basic cloud formations. “It isn't too easy,’ said Mrs. Ross. “Sometimes, clouds can be deceiving, especially when they're directly overhead. But my boys and girls are learning what

| each type of cloud looks like,

how it's formed, its composition and relative height and what kind of weather comes along with it.” ” n 2

THE AMATEUR weathermen in Room 205 have a lot of fun in meteorology class.

When they enter the room at 10:15 a. m., they can predict the weather ahead for Indian-

apolls by reading VATOUS“in="“"""Now, I enjoy teaching these | struments.

There's a mercurial barometer .for measuring atmospheric pressure, and a barograph which keeps the atmospheric pressure recorded on a constant chart. There's a model anemometer which indicates wind action,

And, in a shuttered box outside one window, a dry-bulb thermometer and a wet-bulb thermometer sit side by side. The dry-bulb variety displays regular temperature, while the other one shows the evaporatidn point, or humidity, of the atmosphere. In addition, taught by Mrs. Ross to read weather maps, plot high and low fronts and otherwise take part in mysterious rites which seem to have no real connection

the pupils are.

with the rain that. spoils the picnic. ” = » THE UNIQUE class began six years ago when a General

Science course was split into two one-semester parts. In the fall, Earth Science. In the spring, Meteorology. Mrs. Ross has been the first and only teacher for the weather course.

“I'd always been interested in weather,” Mrs. Ross explained. “I used to read about it all the time, and study the skies and cloud formations.

“When I found out I might get to teach meteorology here, I went to the University of Chicago for one summer, then took some extension work from Indiana University in meteorology and climatology.

youngsters about the forces of nature.” . » ” o MRS. ROSS has found some difficulty in selecting books and other equipment for the class, because most of the material is produced for college use. Currently, her pupils are using a textbook that she describes as “a little difficult, but not too much.” Ingenuity helps. When instruction on cloud formations began, Mrs. Ross brought great wads of cotton batting to the classroom and showed her pupils how to manufacture cloud models. : It works, too, even when the clouds grow dark and ominous. Simply use ink, said Mrs. Ross, to blacken the models. There's only one thing lacking to complete the picture.

{

THE

Tiki was the name of the first great chief on Tahiti. He was regarded by the inhabitants as their divine ancestor, and stone

statues like this of the South American honor-on many of the Polynesian islands.

rolled up over the same eastern horizon since the morning of time. The first natives who reached these islands knew well enough that this was so, and so did the present islanders. The long-range ocean birds kept to the eastward on their daily fishing trips to be able to return with the eastern wind at night when the belly was full and the wings tired. Even trees and flowers were wholly dependent on the rain produced by the eastern winds, and all the vegetation grew accordingly. And we knew by ourselves, 8s we sat there, that far, far low tHat eastern horizon, where the clouds came up, lay

WEATHERWOMAN — Mrs. Mildred |. Ross uses a globe in teaching meteorology at Washington High Solos

Unfortunately, the school budget has never been large

enough to allow a purchase of silver for cloud linings. Until this spring, the course . was preferred by boys, many of whom were genuinely interested. At least one each year so far has gone on to university instruction in meteorology. Latest idea is for prospective draftees to take the course in hopes of ‘becoming meteorologists in service,

Four girls joined the class

. this year and managed to fit in

without disrupting the routine at all. Mrs. Ross is happy to see others of her sex sharing her interest.

the open coast of South America. There was nothing but 4000 miles of open sea between. We gazed at the driving clouds and the heaving moonlit sea, and we listened to an old man who squatted halfnaked before us and stared down into the dying glow from a little smoldering fire. ” # #w “TIKI,” the old ‘man said quietly, “he was both god and chief. It was Tiki who brought my ancestors to these islands where we live now. Before that we lived in a big country beyond the sea.” He poked the coals with a stick to keep them from going out. The old man sat thinking.

TEMPERATURE—Students Donna Pa

check the class: thermometer.

type were erected to his

% 1 y

roe Sn

” kK 3 # : 4

The six “mombers of the KON-TIKI expedition. Left to right: Knut Haugland, Bengt Danielsson, Thor Heyerdahl (the author), Erik Hesselberg, Torstein Raaby and

Herman Watzinger.

. He lived for ancient times and was firmly fettered to them, He worshiped his forefathers and their deeds in an unbroken line "back to the time of the gods. And he looked forward to being reunited with them. Old Tei Tetua was the sole survivor of all the extinct tribes on the east coast of Fatu Hiva., How old he was he did not know, but his wrinkled dark - brown, leathery skin looked as if it had been dried in sun and wind for a hundred years. He was one of the few _on these islands who still remembered and believed in his father's and his grandfather's legendary stories of the great Polynesian chief-god Tiki, son of the sun. ; When we crept to bed that night in our little pile hut, old Tei Tetua’s stories of Tiki and the islanders’ old home beyond the sea continued to haunt my brain, accompanied by the muffled roar of the surf in the distance. It sounded like a voice from far-off times, which, _ it seemed, had something it wanted to tell, out there in the night. I could not sleep. It was as though time no longer existed, and Tiki and his seafarers were just landing in the surf on the beach below. A thought suddenly struck me and I sald to my wife: “Have you noticed that the huge stone figures of Tiki in the jungle are remarkably like the monoliths left by extinct civilizations in South America?” I felt sure that a roar of agreement came from the breakers. And then they slowly subsided while I slept So began a whole series of events which finally landed the six of us and a green parrot on board a raft off the coast of South America.

TOMORROW — The ancient Peruvian legend which led to the great adventure. And how a complete stranger, and a landlubber to boot, became the first crew member.

From the book, *“Kon-Tiki—Acros: Pacific on a Raf$.’’ Publishers, Rang Horn (Si Sobreenly Hil By Ther . stribute and Tribune Syndicate.) y .

ught Weatherman’s Lore

1 ™