Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 27 July 1952 — Page 19

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‘ +. Ed Sovola is on vacation. His column will be resumed on his return;

Inside Indianapolis

By Gene Feingold

he Indianapolis Times

SUNDAY, JULY 27, 1952

PAGE 19

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A CONCRETE MATTER—Works Board in City Hal

It Happened Last Nig By Earl 4 .

CHICAGO, July 26—The Democrats are ready to admit there's one thing they can't do as well as the Republicans, They can’t quarrel among themselves as well. » One of Gov. Adlai Stephenson's stories is about a judge who told a bunch of Kentucky feudists they should quit feudin’ and get closer together. “What do you mean, closer together?” asked one of the feudists. - “Only last week we were s0 close together it took 12 deputy sheriffs to separate us.’ While Phil Regan was singing the new Democratic harmony song, “Don’t Let Them Take It | Away,” a worker for Candidate Y slipped me a piece of scurrilous literature about Candidate Z. And it's true, too, that when the Kentucky demonstrators started swinging their panners for Barkley, it was noted ex-Senator “Happy” Chandler wasn’t with the Kentucky delegation as he 1sually is. Because he obviously didn’t want to get caught demonstrating for a man he’s Jended with a long © time, When Mr. Chandler first Th of Mr. Barkley’s plan_to withdraw from political life he reportedly said: ‘‘This is most unfortunate.” “Why?” “It’s unfortunate he didn’t do it 25 years ago.’ Even Perle Mesta didn’t hate the 50 people who crashed her big $10,000 party at the Blackstone for 400 guests, including your chubby columnist. bo DB MRS. MESTA was responsible for at least 300 extremely chic hangovers. She was never in better form. In fact, I think she should be placed in the cabinet as Secretary of Parties. “I had two secretaries and my maid at the door beside myself,” Madame Minister said, “And

Americana By Rabert C. Ruark

NEW YORK, July 26—Dear Diary: I thought you might, like to reflect the doings of a guy who did't go tothe convention . this time, because not going was all so simple: You must know that Tuesday I lunched with a Roosevelt. This comprises my counterattack against F. D. Jr. This Roose: velt is named George, and he lives in Hawaii when you can pin him down at all. If Hawaii ever gets statehood, George may be heard from: He has a loud voice. ; Spent a lot of time in front of television, Dear D. Thought thé Giants when they beat the Cardinals Tuesday night looked real tight, and wondered what a man like Stanky thinks about later when he puts himself in to pinch-hit and pops up. Of SPENT considerable time in the zoo, admiring the animals. They seem so well-behaved, when contrasted to people. The dromedary is moulting, y+ whatever happens “td camels. Must Ww rite Humane Society about more turf for the animals to pace on. Is this one world or aim't it the animals shouldn't have enough grass? Went to the movies, a British thing called, “Outcast of the Islands.” Joseph Conrad doesn’t write any better for the films than he wrote for the readers, ‘and when Somerset Maugham referred to him as “that ponderous Pole,” he was 30 very, very right. Had lunch with a lady who says in her first reincarnation she wants to be Toots Shor's dog. She figures that even in this economy a dog owned by Toots would not gb hungry. Seemed logical at the time.

"ue TURNED ON the television again and saw Betty Furness, I think she will make a very nice vice president indeed, being so pretty and handy about the kitchen: Or was that Mrs. Roosevelt? It's been go hot here lately I can't tell one poodle cut from another.

Spent Wednesday in meditation. Discovered . that T have 10 toes and 10 fingers.. Is this a , common occurrence? ' Got bill: from hotel in Chicago. Am pleased

to know I own a hotel, but was unaware at the time that I was buying it. Listened to some more television. Must make note to have the Democrats rehearse “Happy Days Are Here Again,” before they attempt to instill confidence in the voters by singing it.’ The man telling the people to sing loud made more noise than the singers. ooo READ all the learned comments about the convention. Unable: make heads or tails out of most of it, an experience I imagine we have all shared lately. Some talk of another war between the states Curent, ‘and unable’ to decide . wood

‘on which side loyalty rests.

——

| hears a property owner seek paving for his street.

ht This Party Was

Very Democratic

we were all checking the people who came in against a guest list.” But people would wait till Madame Minister was busy with the secretaries and sneak in. “I finally had to have a rope put up, to stop everybody until they’were checked,” she recounted. “If I had it to do over, I'd put the rope up immediately.” Naturally, Mrs. Mesta felt all the crashers were Republicans. There was plenty to drink. The champagne flowed like mink coats. Next to Ethel Merman-—who was here on her way to Hollywood to start “Call Me Madam” in the movies—the stars were Phil Regan-and Broadway comedian Julie Oshins. “You didn't know me when I came in,” Mr. Oshins told Madame Minister, “But I guarantee you'll never forget me after this.” “We came in with a party of 11 and were given a table for six,” he continued. oe “AND THE TEXAS delegation thinks it had trouble getting seated.”

Times photos by John R. Spickiemire

» ©

oes Of Bringing Up

By MARGUERITE SMITH Times Garden Editor

DON'T GO around adopting stray baby robins unless you want to take on a lot more trouble than you already:

have.”

For one tHing, the conservation department doesn’ t

approve. For another, what are you going to do with a [ullgrown robin‘ that won't stay put when you shove him outdoors?

That's the nest of robin problems the E. W. Arnolds, . 8316 Haverstick Rd., find themselves in. All on account of Skyler (or Schuyler, if you prefer), so named because, said Mrs. Arnold, “he fell from the sky.” “I didn't want to be bothered with him from the very first,” she continued. “But what what can you do? There he was at my feet, a bundle of Skin and down. So I- took him in.” That's when the fun began— and when the conservation department got in on it. Mrs. Arnold asked about infant diet for robins. Worms, said conservation. - 80 she and Mr. Arnold took turns digging. For some two hours and 120 worms a day. s n n

WHEN Sky could fly in the yard a bit, he soon learned that the shovel in the manure pile and his lovely worms were somehow associated. So he'd perch on the shovel handle un-

Wrestler-movie star Mike Mazurki had come . til one of his slaves began daig-

over to the’ party with Julie Oshins from the Chicago company of “Guys and Dolls.” “The Republicans didn’t invite us to any parties like this,” complained Mike, “Why do you think we're voting Democratic?” said Julie, Mrs. Mesta danced with many guests, one of them being author Louis Bromfield, who did his hoofing in cowboy boots. Louis is a cowboy from away out west in Ohio. Gov. Stevenson told a newspaperman suddenly, “Well, I took the plunge.” “You announced your candidacy.” v “No, I went swimming.”

What a Columnist . Does in Dog Days

Ah got hot suth’'n blood but ah lives up no'th. Worried some:abéaiit Perle Mesta's futuré,-and speculated idly about a husband for our emissary to Luxembourg. If she got married again would they have to call him Mistah Mesta? Counted money in piggy bank. Not enough to run away on, yet, but it's growing, and don’t nobody crowd me. Answered several queries as to whether it is hot enough for me. Answered affirmatively, Wd

CONTEMPLATED life on Thursday. Have reached point where consider it is inevitable un less you would rather be dead. Also contem plated unpaid taxes, and wonder if first decision may not be erroneous. Went to the zoo again. The half-lion, halftiger looks rather silly with a bobbed tail. Am convinced Republicans chose wrong animal when they picked elephant as symbol. Donkey fits Democrats rather well. Was kicked in shin by small child, name unknown. Wrote mash note. to. Betty Furness. she is to be our next President. woman ever made it. + Saw George Roosevelt again. Don't think he's got enough jaw for the job. ‘Wrong side of the family, anyhow, Counted money in piggy bank again. Enough, now, Ran away, and have not been heard from since.

Dishing the Dirt By Marguerite Smith

QI have a hydrangea which bloomed beau tifully until last year. This year we do not have one bloom. The plant is a beautiful green and does not have any bugs or anything on it. When should we cut it back, spring or fall? Mrs. William E. Tieman, 935 N. Parker Ave. A—If your hydrangea is one of the pink (or blue) flowering tender kinds, its buds may have been winter killed. For this kind blooms on stalks of last year's growth. ‘So flower buds made last summer may have frozen. Especially since last winter was just the kind to do it. The “beautiful green” and no blossoms might mean it needs better balance of plant food. If you have been fertilizing with manure for several years it. likely needs some chemical fertilizer of the flower garden type high in phosphate, Bone meal this fall would help, too. ‘Then your query about pruning suggests that you might have pruned it at the wrong time. For spring

So glad First time 2

' ‘pruning simply cuts off the flower buds on these

tender varieties. Prune after blooming and do. not remove any of the strong new . For this climate the newer types of pink. and blue hydryfigeas that flower on the Burson: season's much ‘more satisfacto : "

ging. Luckily he either got tired of worms, or maybe graduated.

He now enjoys a bit of breakfast cereal, preferably shared at table with Mrs. Arnold. Ice cream and grapes also rank high on his appetite list. His daily bath became a problem he himself solved. At first he was quite content with a small flat soup dish. Then he discovered the outdoor birds had bigger baths, so he wouldn't use his soup dish. Then one morning Mrs. Arnold was washing her hands. This was always a process that fascinated him. 3 “He probably thought I was his parent and he was trying to

learn from me,” commented Mrs. Arnold. s o un

HE RAN back to his soup -

bowl and jumped in. “He stood still, no bathing, and I could see the water barely covered his feet,” said Mrs. Arnold. “Then he ran across the counter to the sink, back to his bath, back to the sink.” Mrs. Arnold took the hint: She found the biggest suitable dish she had. That it was an item from a local store's connoiseur’s shop didn't bother Sky. As soon as she filled it, he approved and bathed.

Sky's choice of bedtime brought another crisis. He's all for the sensible life.” Until

Splash Time=—Skylerjdemanded this: larger: indoor bird bath.

A Ns. x

just lately that meant going to perch above a kitchen windown promptly at 5 p. m. Not only did he believe in early to bed, he insisted the Arnolds go, too.

Mr. Arnold says personally

"he thinks Sky has the right

idea, but not always a convenient one.

Now- that Sky" has reached full-grown robinhood he settles for an eight o'clock curfew. Mr. Arnold rises, however, at 5 a. m. when Sky likes to lark around outside for the early worm.

“So we try to get the kitchen

v work done and turn the lights on seldom after 8 said Mrs. Arnold. “And no matter how we coax he won't talk or have anything todo with us if we disturb his sleep.” n #" s HAVING reared a creature with complete freedom from fear, the Arnolds wonder what you do next, Sky doesn't even know about cats. He'll have nothing to do with ordinary robins. He prefers to sit around chatting with Mrs. Arnold. This. he does with a delicate peep, peep, whenever he is spoken to. He doesn’t believe in freedom

Bedtime——Skyler tchos ona bembioe blind] v above a Kichaniwindovw,

from fear for common birds, however. Sparrows he simply chases from the outdoor feeders, Bigger birds, like catbirds, get a special treatment. He

himself dislikes noise very .

much. So to intimidate a big ger bird, he picks up a dry leaf and shakes and rattles it. The biggest problem still is unsolved. What is Sky: going to do this winter? There's all that cold weather. “If our friends,” said Mrs. Arnold, “see the Arnolds drive ing south this fall, théy'll know we've got the perfect excuse for going to Florida. We just had to take skyler.”

How TV Eye Looks To Real One

Chief. Technician Charles A. Davis (Laboratory) and Detective Donald E. Winn (Seymour) recently were enumerating the corny TV

and radio crime shows they had seen or heard. Just for laughs, Officer

The telephone jangled as | put the final touch on a murder case report. It was the sergeant. The Busy Bee Cafe's restroom key was missing; Hamhanded Homer the Dip also had disappeared. I called Watson; checked my lunch basket, and synchronized my wrist-

- watch. It was just 4:07.

I rushed out into the street, disdainful of my personal safety. The person responsible for "80 much sufféring must face justice. I saw a lumbering figure

ahead. I knew it was handed Homer, yelled, “Halloo, went thataway.” exactly 4:24,

Ham’ I wheeled and Watson. He The time was

‘

eyes, sat down. locked, the crowd had "become restive. I told Watson to note it in his answer. He wasn't there. Where was my loyal companion and confidant, Dr. Watson?

I arrived at the scene at 4:11. swept the interior with m) dusted off a chair, then With the restroom

notebook. He - didn't

Quickly assembling my col-

lapsible, jet-propelled scooter, 1 blasted off im pursuit. ‘I tuned in the secret radio transmitter in my ring and gave the ser geant details of the chase, There - was no trouble. gigantic man halted at my command. The luminous dial on my wrist watch read 4:27.

The

A woman screamed shrilly. I slapped her cheek. I slapped her other cheek, At 4:15 the

technicians finished, and 1 began taking the place apart, board by board, progressing methodically to the basement. I peered through a knothole. Egad. What monstrous beast had I encountered.

I unlimbered my badge. “I'm a police officer,” I said tersely. “Are you Hamhanded Homer the Dip?” He nodded yes, and then I informed him I wanted to ask him a few questions at headquarters. Watson made rapid notes on an old wine bottle’ label, he having misplaced his notebook.

' ¥

A ey

An eye stared back unblinkingly into mine through the knothole. Twas Watson. He was headed for the wine cellar. I retrieved him, then reviewed my findings. To date: Nothing. It was 4:19. Hamhanded Homer was craftier than I had imagined. My old hriar quieted tensed nerves.

At headquarters I gave it to him—cold turkey. He ‘ate hungrily. I had one myself,

Then Homer began to talk. It was a sordid story. shiny things. «just shiny ones. Yes, he had

He liked ‘Not dull things.

ning 4 e vide

. oi : SAA ORT SR Si Sw he

Davis whipped out his camera and Officer Winn borrowed Lt. Robert F. Borkenstein’s double-billed cap, and they made this photographic series. The Shield, Indiana State Police magazine, added the lines. We reprint the effort here so that Times readers, too, may enjoy it.

In the cafe kitchen, while eating a hot dog, I observed my first clue—huge footprints that marched across the floor, up a wall, and out a gaping hole in the ceiling. My quarry was formidable. I smiled grimly, then

loosened my atomic ray gun for action, Danger lay ahead.

That's about the story. I

experienced a certain elation at making the case, but it soom passed, At 4:36 I took Homer into court. received sentence and was on his way to prison at 437. I Walked slowly to the office and knocked out my official report, I jand handed it in.

He pleaded guilty,