Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 13 December 1951 — Page 27

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In Indianapolis By Ed Sovela NO WONDER the Roman Empire fell apart. Did you ever ride in a chariot? If you have, the Nero debacle should be clear.

First news of a Roman chariot parked behind Loew's Theater fired my imagination. (Could

) ‘have used some fire later. Those togas weren't

designed for breezy Hoosier weather.) Manager Howard Rutherford was checking out Earl chargers, Prince and Fred, about how to act when he drove around the downtown area to pique the interest of the populace in the forthcoming movie, “Quo Vadis.” Excellent. “Let me get in the act, Howard. I was in Rome last summer. I know all about the Romans.” .

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EARL DIDN'T care, There ‘was room in ‘the chdriot. Howard was afraid I'd fall out and hurt myself, Ha, He thought I'd ham up the act. Never, Prince and Fred neighed. “Even the horses are laughing,” B quipped. “I'd he perfect in the part of a Roman warrior— fearless, athletic, , . . ” Prince and Fred were straining in their harness. Do horses laugh? “Can you dress in a hurry?” - “Quick-change artist.” I was in. Piling into a Roman prince's outfit is a- bit more complicated than getting into ‘a sweatshirt. By the time I was dressed, half of the Loew's staff was helping. Almost called in Prince and Fred.te help out with the straps.

THE HELMET fit about as snugly as a 10gallon “water bucket. Felt like one, too. The thing kept slipping down over my eyes. Howard wouldn't consider taking it to a blacksmith to have it blocked. The outfit wasn't bad except for the toga. I'm used to trousers. Rolling the trouser legs beyond the knees and seeing those bare banty legs sticking out made me feel silly. Iron hat and bare legs. Goofy Romans. Howard threw a hunk of plumbing he called a trumpet in my hands and we climbed into the chariot. My recollection of Roman chariot drivers in movies was scant. I did remember they stood

raised, returning ovations of the multitudes. w “Giddap,” clucked Earl. The -chariot lurched down the alley.

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THE ROMANS might have stood up. straight and waved to the crowds. The Romans might have held their chins high in the air. Hoosiers do it differently. When in Hoosiérland, do as Hoosiers do. = My helmet slipped over my nose: The horn fell off my shoulder. Only my acute sense of balance saved me from landing in the alley. From then on it was both hdnds on the side of the chariot. EE TET Tn the back of my mind was an idea before we started out. I thought it might be fun to wave to girls and see if some carefree creature would accept a ride. Never gave a girl a ride in a chariot. Busses, ves. 2% Once we began to roll all those thoughts rattled around the top of the helmet. “Where are we?” I yelled. “We're turning on Washington. St.” shouted. “Make like a Roman.”

Earl

It Happened Last Night

By Earl Wilsen :

NEW YORK, Dec. 13—Yup. Gary Cooper invited me to dinner. Sure did. Yup, and I said Nope. : ’ ‘Cause what he eats, I wouldn't like to. Poor eritter's in Roosevelt Hospital with his ulcer. Yup. When the nurse brought him some ice cream, he almost leaned out of his pajamas grabbing it. “They don't give you ‘any spices,” the big fellow grunted unhappily. “Soup without seasoning. No pepper. Coffee's 'tout one-third coffee, two-thirds milk. You have something, Earl?” ’ Yup, that’s when I said Nope. Cooper spooned the ice cream. Then he pulled down his pajama top that'd been riding toward his neck. Squirming out of bed, he stood there in his bare feet. He lit a cigaret, took one puff, and tamped it out. y “Got to quit cigarets,” he announced. “D’you ever quit? Makes you dizzy. Amazing, though, how much more you can taste things. Even the plainest kind of junk they give you here do€sn’t taste bad.”

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COOP got back into bed, propped himself against -a pillow and denounced the general situation. “Just when I was set to go to Korea, this kicks up. Trouble is, the Army medics might not take a guy with an ulcer, “It's not the food you'd get there. Army's got the best food in the world. “But an ulcer’s just nerves. So this meetin’

Guess the

Americana By Roberi C. Ruark

NEW YORK. Dec. 13—You can get sort of tascinated with the pictures of Mr. T. (for Theron) Lamar Caudle, that sweef, sweet thing, a-going through his agonies as they grill him to a turn. The theater has suffered for new talent, and not since John Barrymore got his leg amputated in “Moby Dick” has a man exuded anguish so notably as T. Lamar (pronounced seemoan see-moan). It is exciting theatrical news that a govt. tax atty. can exceed the thespian excesses of a departed matinee idol, because the excess of excesses is supposed to be naughty under the law, and punishable ‘by excessive excess taxes. (Note to’the desk, all them excess words are supposed to be there, due to ignorance, if nothing else.) me like the voluble Carolinian done gone and went-and lost the election as a perfect symbol of what's happened to the ship of state, If we can drop T. Lamar's argot for a second, and creep into the facts, they would seem to be these: Many and many a sin have been committed by the pack of freebooters who operate in Washington, but mostly they have been fairly complicated sins, open to. argument. But the tax thing has hit everybody where they live.

bh NH WE CANNOT understand a billion here, a billion there, because so few of ‘us deal in billions that they just represent a lorig line of zeros. We cannot understand the intricacies of the atom. We cannot understand the deviations, both politically and sexually, of the State Department. We cannot understand inside military-politico monkeyshines. Z r i The good Lord knows we cannot understand what has transpired with prices and ceilings and economics general, because it is a solid cinch the people who perpetrate them do not understand them, either. But there is one thing we know, from Natchez to Mobile, and Memphis to St. Joe. Taxes we know. I know ‘em, because I owe em. You know ‘em. You know 'em because they squeeze 'em right out of your tired old take-home, and you never get through the one year without fretting about the next. > SS AND JUST the other day we had a raise in sweet, sweet things. You took home less. The booze costs more. The luxury taxes on, well, say such things as fur coats, were fabulous. The oil

for baby, and that necessary accoutrement for all

women, the handbag—taxes, taxes, Everything costs you more. And bless gawd, honey, as ah live heah and breathe, they'e been mo’ funny businesses about other people's tax money than a feller'd care to shake a stick at, Looks mighty like we ain’t got nothing much but thieves in the high places of the tax grabbers ~— just ‘a-grabbin’ and a-grabbin’ your money for the govarnment to spend, and then lettin’ the big friendly thieves off'n the hook. ” "Ah declare to. goodness, every time I pick up the paper, it seems like they got another feller

H. Murphy, owner of the two spirited: |’

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"A Ride in Chariot «. Brings Horse Laugh

ROMAN INVADERS ?—No, it's "Mistus Insidus" and Earl Murphy making all the old Komans turn over in their chariots. :

Make like a Roman. How are you going to make like a Roman when you can’t see what you're doing? Crossing the tracks on Pennsylvania St. was brutal. For a brief second the helmet went up and came down. I won't say I was bent over double, but it was confusing to hear someone shout about a midget in the chariot. “Where are we now?" ’ » “On the Circle.” Oh, fine. Earl stopped in front of Canary Cottage. He wanted me to straighten up and get a grip on myself. “What's wrong with gripping the chariot?”

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I HOPPED off for a moment to return the ovation (with a tin helmet on your head jeers sound like an ovation) from the populace. “Are you working. up a new comedy act?” sneered a youth. wiet's. get out of here” said Earl, Motorcycle Officer..Gilbert.. Massey was in the

lead. We hit a bump and I was flying blind again. I was never so glad to see an alley in my life.

Chariots will never become popular. Togas will never come back for men and helmets with plumes are for the birds, I'm going to see how Robert Taylor does it when “Quo Vadis” opens on Christmas Day. Where was Fisher when they made the body of that chariot?

Eatin Wrong Gary Guesses

people constantly and puttin’ on shows might start the thing goin’ again. Now I got to wait till they get the pictures. “Best to get the damn thing cleared up quick, though.” Cooper stirred fretfully in the bed that seemed too short for his legs. “I never knew that ‘was what Valentino had, did you?

“I think he came in one night late. Didn't

know who he was and let him go till next morning. Too late then. Peritonitis.” COOPER asked about ‘the weather. “She

cooled off today, huh? Little brisko and clear? That's the way I like New York. “I was figurin’ on leaving New York yesterday and get the rest of my shots. Supposed to take off the 20th.” “Can you have plenty of visitors?” I asked. “Some guy was in here sellin’ me religion a little while ago. Don't know how he got in. They get you when you're down. Probably a very good idea, though.” “Do yousget hungry?” “Hungry? You eat often here. and in between a big cup of custard. 10 o'clock at night a snackeroo. “Funny, I was just layin’ here thinkin’ of the oysters and clams and bouillabaisse that T always try to eat when I'm in New York, and what I'm eating now. “Been eatin’ wrong, I guess., ,

Three meals And at

. Hits a Tender. Spot

caught finaglin'. Finaglin’ with our money and makin’ it easy for the big boys. Seems like that Greek found an honest man easier than we can. Ain't heard nobody holler “eureka” in days . ..,

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I HATE this lapsing back into Caudlerese every now and again, but it seems to fit the script. We have just taxed a nation into poverty, and nearly destroyed incentive, and suddenly we find that the whole collection agency is rotten clear through, Or th'ough, depending dn where you come from, We can forget, I imagine, most of the other stuff, but this one sticks. No amount of slick talk can live it down. This is one that no rampage on the television can cure. It is prime parcel with Harry's Aloha shirt that adorned Life magazine's cover the other day. That shirt and the tax scandals are the worst things that have happened to the Democratic Party. That and Mr. T. Lamar (pronounced see-moan seemoan) Caudle. ~ - Come fall we are bound to think of Harry's shirts and Harry's friends, and how much we owe the tithe collectors retroactively, and where the money went, and why didn’t we know somebody in high places, and why the man cut the - vacation short. And this we shall remember, hé-” cause it hurt us on the hip. f Oh, Mr. Caudle, that anguish in your rubber face was not misplaced. The slogan of the present party is pronounced easily: “See-moan. See-

moan,” ®

Dishing the Dirt By Marguerite Smith

Q—I am writing to you. I hope you can help me. I have many amaryllis bulbs. They used to bloom but not now, and I don’t know why. I also had an African violet and it died. Could I get books on these flowers? Mrs. I. Peters, Universal. A—The free leaflets offered by The Times will give you some help on the African violets (readers who want these should be sure to send a stamped, self-addressed.envelope). Then you can get many good books on flowers in general

Read Marguerite Smith's Garden Column in The Sunday Times

or African violets in particular if you are in touch with a book-store or ¢an send for some publisher's book lists. Two good publishers of garden books are “The American Garden Guild, Inc., 444 Madison Ave. New York, 22" and “M. Barrows and Co., 114 E. 32nd St., New York, 16.” Keep in touch with your county agent for Purdue's free leaflets on various flowers. And write to the Superintendent of Documents, Washington 22, D, C,, for a list of government publications on flowers—most of them free or selling for 5 or 10c. City and town libraries and (for country dwellers) the state library are other sources of book material.

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"The Indianapolis

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CHAPTER 10—

MURDER, INC.

By BURTON B. TURKUS and SID FEDER

WE EXPECTED to find anything but romance in our investigation of Murder, Inc. We were looking for murderers, not their amorous adventures. But the adventures kept crop-

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 13, 1951 ry

ping up.- They provided no end |

of interesting little touches. The wives of some of the gangsters seemed to be nice girls. You felt somewhat sorry for them. Most were completely loyal. The only person in the world in whom Kid Twist Reles had complete faith was his wife. To her alone he en-

EDITOR'S NOTE: This is the tenth installment of a series which trace the pattern of organized crime across America, Mr. Tarkus is the prosecutor who sent seven killers of Murder, Inc. to the electric chair in the famous Broeklyn . investigation. Mr. Feder is the well known press association correspondent and author, These chapters are from the book, MURDER, INC, just published by Farrar, Straus and Young,

trusted the mission of going to the District Attéorney to ask for the interview that started the

avalanche. The loyalty of these women was rarely mutual Wifely

fealty was generally repaid with a continuous indulgence in extramarital activities. Mostly, the Ladies Auxiliary of Murder, Inc., consisted of girl friends—eclinging, curvaceous clothes-horses with furs and diamonds and the lacquered look of store-window mannequins.

» ” " YOU COULD always spot the lady whom the dead gangster had been dallying last. .The girl friend donned deepest mourning and wore her widow's weeds even longer than the widow. But there were exceptions. One cold. wet night, the phone rang in Chippy Weiner's New York apartment. Chippy was a well known burglar and fence --a graduate of Murder. Inc. Mrs. Chippy answered. A few minutes afterward she donned her furs and left, mumbling about getting cigarets at the

LOVEY DOVEY—When the lady goes out for cigarets, look out.

corner, Looking at his TV set, Chippy barely heard her as she walked out into the slush of January in open-toed shoes. A half hour later Chippy was shot full of holes. Chippy’s wife did not return {io the apartment for ar hour after that. Police were there. They were curious as to how Mrs. Chippy's open-toed sandals remained so dry after an hour and a half on the wet streets.

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“TI TOOK a cab to the Hotel New Yorker to meet a friend - but I was stood up.” she said. A month later a jeweler was held up. As the stickup men fled, the victim got the license

number of their car. Sal Bretagna and Curly Fennessy wera arrested. Curly was panicky, talked: “Me and Sal heisted that job so Sal could get away on account of hitting Chippy Weiner +» » Sal's hot” It developed that Sal had murdered Chippy for one Farby, who was annoyed because Chippy had shorfechanged him by $500 in a burglary payoff, Farby was the “friend” who had phoned Chippy's wife. He was a ladies man and wouldn't have stood her up, except he was more anxious to murder Chippy (with Sal's help) than

The Women Behind the Candidates—

Behind Sen. Taft His Wife, Martha

EHTOR'S NOTE: Here's the second of four—dispatches about three wives and their philosophies and influence that give new light into the decisions of the three men most likely to be candidates for President

in 1952.

By DOUGLAS LARSEN Times Special Writer

ASHINGTON, Dec. 13—The Sunday afternoon before Sen. Robert Taft announced his presidential candidacyv he and his wife Martha were discussing one of the See-Moan. See-Moan ost important decisions they had ever had to make

together. In body it "wasn’t the same

“Martha Taft who, with unflagging ~ energy ‘had accompanied her husband on his

many tough barnstorming campaigns, supplementing his staid personality with a flashing wit and bubbling enthusiasm. It was a semi-invalid Mrs. Taft whose job of rearing four sons and being her husband's good right arm had finally caught up with health several months ago, and who realized she probably faced the rest of her life in and out of a wheel chair. . : In spirit, however, it was the same Martha Taft who had inspired the headline “Bob and Martha Taft Win” in a Cleve.land paper in 1938 when he was first elected to the 1. 8

Senate She had contributed much to his successful cam..paign. They were inseparable

during the difficult electioneer-

~ ing, and when they happened to

long hours discussing

be apart he spent on the (telephoiie plans and strategy.

» n » ONF DAY IN the thick of the campaign he was forced to leave the platform during a rally for him to catch a train

THE SONGS OF

to the next city. It was planned that Martha would take over. She stepped up after his departure and said: “I am the most miserable woman in the world. My husband had just told a story on which .my whole speech was based and I have just discovered a run in my stocking.” It brought a roar of laughter and put the crowd in the palm of her hand, During that -campaign she made stops, speeches and arrangements for her husband in 85 out of Ohio's 88 counties. She drove her own car over rough, muddy roads and was forced to change her own tires ‘several times. Once she turned the car over, climbed out of it, hitch-hiked to her destination, made a speech and then got help to get her car.

» n ~ IN SUBSEQUENT campaigns she continued that furious pace. Between times she kept active in public, affairs, doing such things as ofganizing the Cincinnati League. of Women Voters and running charity drives.

She never let these activities keep her from maintaining a

CHRISTMAS

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to have a date with Mrs. Chippy. : » » » FARBY never had a chance to apologize for standing up the lady. He and Sal went to the electric chair too soon. Mrs. Tootsie Feinstein was a curly-haired, wide-eyed darling. Tootsie, her husband, was deep in murder and rackets, one of Lepke's hands. But Mr. Tootsie Feinstein decided to go straight. He said that loud enough to be heard, which was a mistake. One evening Mr. Tootsie's pal, Bug Workman, stopped in the Feinstein apartment,

MARTHA TAFT—Another campaign won't be the same fun.

close contact with the Senator's daily work. She read all the papers and kept an extensive clip file on all current events for his use. There never waa a time when

.she wasn't able to come up with

a quip or gag during the years she was actively working with the Senator. At the last Republican Na-

On his yoy from his mission the

tional Convention in Philadelphia "she held a press conference at which she expécted all would be women reporters. Practically all the male scribes turned up, however, firing barbed questions in hopes of getting a good story. She parried their questions expertly until one of them fired a loaded one.

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Murderers Always Have ‘Nice’ Gals Around; A Few of 'Em Had Their Guys Knocked Off

greeted Mrs. Tootsie pleasantly and invited Mr, Tootsie to take a little ride. : ® 5

MR. TOOTSIE'S body was buried a few hours later in a graveyard along the Passaic River. The boys liked Tootsie. They felt sorry he had to ge. But when’ a mobster suffers pangs of honesty, it's a grave risk to let him live. Mrs. Tootsie never mentioned the absence of .her helpmate to the police. The boys felt some solace should be tendered her. Shortly after she had seen the last of Mr. Tootsie, a stranger came to Mrs, Tootsie's apartment. He thrust an envelope in her hand, muttered something about “Tootsie is all right,” and went away. Fifty dollars were in the envelope. Every week thereafter, for a long time, a messenger gave Mrs. Tootsie an envelope with $50 in it. One of our informers told me of these transactions. We sent for Mrs. Tootsie. ; » n o » SHE ADMITTED getting the fifties, denied knowing where it came from, denied knowing Bugs Workman who was last seen with her husband. Then Allie, our informer, was brought into the room. “I never ‘saw him before,” said Mrs. Tootsie. Allie was insulted. “She's a damn liar, she knows me well,” he said. So he proved it. At his suggestion a roll of 16mm. movie film was dug from his effects. We ran it off so Mrs. Tootsie could see it. It was fine clear action of a group at play on a white beach near a palmfringed golf course. ” » x IN THE group was Bug Workman, Mrs. Workman, Allie and his bride—and a lady who looked remarkably like Mrs. Tootsie. Allie had taken the pictures, after Tootsie’s murder. Mrs. Tootsie was an exception to the usual run of the Ladies Auxiliary, who mourned their consorts. She said she couldn't recognize herself prancing around in a bathing suit as big as two handkerchiefs, with the very murderers who had made her a widow,

(Copyright, 1951, hy Burfon B. Turkus

and Sid Peder.) TOMORROW: Ladies Night In Murder, Ine.

“Give me three good reasons why the Senator should be nominated,” he asked belligerently. » » »

WITHOUT hesitation she replied: gi - “Brains, perience.”

It broke up the conference with a big cheer for Mrs. Taft. It was that Mrs. Taft on a Sunday afternoon in 1951 who insisted that her husband ansnounce his candidacy, knowing that it wouldn't be the same fun for either of them, and realizing - full well that if he won her life as a semi-invalid Firs. Lady would be as difficult as anything she had ever faced.

But they made the decision together.

character and ex-

Tomorrow: “I want what-

ever Ike wants.”

But Bob's hoping the outcome will be different.

lllustrated by Walt Scott