TWO-MINUTE
BIOGRAPHIES
i . ^ . *.mi
JUSTICE STANLEY REED
Although his presence on the
United States Supreme court bench
insures a positive majority of lib
eral justices, Stanley Reed is not a
New Deal zealot. He was recently
appointed to the bench by Presi
dent Roosevelt after retirement of
conservative Justice Sutherland.
“The Constitution has proven it
self beyond dispute," he said short
ly before his appointment, "but the
need for courage and largeness of
vision in its use and application re
mains.”
Mr. Reed came to Washington
nine years ago as counsel for the
farm board, becoming counsel for
the Reconstruction Finance cor
poration in 1932, and solicitor gen
eral in 1935. Before coming to Wash
ington he practiced law in his na
i |,M
tive Kentucky and served four
years in the Kentucky legislature.
He still owns a 300-acre tobacco
farm in that state.
Mr. Reed took degrees from Ken
tucky Wesleyan college and Yale,
later studying law at the Univer
sity of Virginia and Columbia. This
was capped by a period of law
study at the Sorbonne in Paris.
The Reeds (he was married in
1908 while still a student) have two
sons. The elder, John A., is a law
yer in New York.
A LADY
AND HER
MISSOURI
MULE . . .
Some people need step-ladders to
mount a horse or a mule. Some of
them also need more than luck to
stay up once they've made the
ascent. But not little Nancy Car
rol, age four, who has absolutely
subdued and dominated the reck
less attitude of Tissue Paper, a 30
year-old Missouri mule. With
breath-taking courage, she displays
delightful technique in mounting her
charger from the wrong side, a feat
even the most seasoned horseman
would hesitate to perform. Here’s
how she does it ... in pictures.
-THORNTON W. BURGESS'
BEDTIME STORIES
GRANNY FOX is not the only one
who has learned the ways of
Blacky the Crow. No, indeed! Old
Man Coyote is quite as smart and
sharp as she. In fact, he is just
a wee mite smarter and sharper,
as Granny found out shortly after
he came to the Green Meadows to
live, though she never would admit
it and won’t now. Old Man Coyote
knows just as well as she does that
when Blacky gets excited and caws
at the top of his lungs there is
usually something going on worth
looking into.
Now, at the time when Granny
Fox was trotting down the Lone
Little Path and first heard the ex
cited cawing of Blacky the Crow
deep in the Green Forest Old Man
Coyote had just stretched himself
out for a sun bath on the Green
Meadows, not far from edge of the
Green Forest.
“When Blacky caws like that he
sees something quite unusual,” he
said, “and when there is anything
unusual going on it pays to know all
about it. It may be no business of
mine, and I may have a long walk
fnr nnthing, hitf then again I may I
find something worth knowing.”
Old Man Coyote yawned, then he
stretched, yawned again, listened
for a few minutes, and finally trot
ted off into the Green Forest in the
direction from which Blacky’s
voice sounded. Now, just like Gran
ny Fox, Old Man Coyote always
keeps his eyes and ears wide open.
And he always uses his nose. He
learned when he was a very little
fellow that his nose can often tell
him a lot more than either his eyes
or his ears. So as he trotted through
the Green Forest he was using
eyes, ears, and nose, and it was
his nose that gave him the first
news. He was trotting along so soft
ly that he didn't make a sound when
quite suddenly he stopped and wrin
kled up his nose to sniff.
“Ha!” said he to himself. “Old
Granny Fox has just been along
“Ha!” said he to himself. “Old
Granny Fox has just been along
here.”
here. She has heard that fuss
Blacky is making and she is on her
way to see what it is all about.
1 think I will hurry a little faster.”
So Old Man Coyote hurried a little
faster, and though Granny Fox
didn't know it, he was right behind
her when she reached the place
where Blacky was making such a
fuss. He saw just what Granrv
saw, Peter Rabbit dodging this way
and that way, with Reddy Fox right
at his heels, and, just like Granny,
he made up his mind right away
that he would take a hand in the
game, for he is just as fond of rab
bit for dinner as is either Granny
I.ORETTA YOUNG FASHIONS:
(Left) In "Four Men and a Prayer”
she wears this multicolored pastel
afternoon frock interpreting the
vogue for panels. This panel is
shirred with heavy cording strips
of silk in pale chartreuse, orchid
and a slightly deeper green. The
big white straw hat is sashed in
similar colors. (Below) Loretta
combines springlike violet with leaf
green in this daytime ensemble. The
suit is of violet chiffon wool with
ties of green at the neck and is
worn with a green suede hat.
m*. ..mm—i i'ii"i riiTH.i
BETTY WELLS’ COLUMN
I
OODNESS, it gives us a jolt to
think how quickly a baby isn’t
a baby any more! Especially when
you think what a lot of commotion
thpy make while they are little
tikes. And how they can twist a
household around their own little
schedules. Makes us want to cling
very hard to those precious years
of babyhood. And try to make them
less hectic so we can enjoy them
more.
One young mother we know,
or Reddy-Fox. He grinned to him
self, and it was an unpleasant grin,
for he knew that all he had to do
was to show himself to have the
chase of Peter all to himself. You
see, Reddy and Granny Fox are
afraid of him, and he didn’t have
the least doubt that he could catch
Peter, now that he was so far away
from the dear Old Briar Patch. He
was just getting ready to spring out
when Peter stopped dodging and
started lipperty-lipperty-lip for a big
pile of brush. In a twinkling the
white patch on the seat of Peter's
trousers disappeared under the big
pile of brush, and there stood Reddy
and Granny Fox staring at each
other and looking very, very foolish.
Old Man Coyote chuckled. He
couldn't help it.
© T W Burgess.—WNU Service
whose toddling young ones are at
the stage where the business of eat
ing is pretty much hit or miss (miss
the mouth and hit the table), has
devised a simple, labor-saving
method for making their dining ta
ble bright yet practical. She bought
a nice little maple table, with two
barrel-backed chairs. And she hopes
to preserve the finish of the table’s
top (for later use as a coffee ta
ble in the game room) by guarding
it with covers. What to use? Since
almost every meal brings a major
catastrophe with milk or spilled ce
real, this wise mother decided on
seersucker. She bought several
yards in young colors—bright red,
white with blue polka dots, green
and white stripes—and edged each
tablecloth with harmonizing rick
rack braid. These can be washed
out quickly after each meal, hung
on the towel rack near the range,
and are ready for earnest learning
to-feed-themselves youngsters when
meal-time comes again. No ironing
is required and the children love
the gayety of the table.
They also like the "eating shirts”
she has devised of matching ma
terial-little bibs with sleeves, that
tie around the neck and keep pret
tier and more efficient than regular
bibs!
© By Betty Wells.—WNU Service.
AMAZE A M IN UTE
SCIENT1FACTS BY ARNOLD
room
TO GO TO SEA/
The OlNING HALL
in the new British
LINER will 0E THE
largest ROOM ever
Built in a Ship.
/4a
i
15,000 miles
per SECOND -
A new SPEED RECORD
IS attained By nebulae
DISCOVERED TO BE RUSH
ING 15,000 mil^S PER
SECOND AWAY PROM
the_earth .
1
(Copyrijht, by The Bell Syndicete, Inc.)
' ---
ffoyd
ADVENTURERS’ CLUB
-
HEADLINES FROM THE LIVES
OF PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELF!
“Three Strikes”
By FLOYD GIBBONS
Famous Headline Hunter
Hello everybody:
George Codeanne of New Haven, Conn., thinks he
rates a membership in the Adventurers’ club. He bases his
claim on doggone good grounds too. He says he thinks he
has faced death more times in one day than the average
guy in everyday walks of life.
Well, I’m inclined to think George is right about that. George looked
the old Grim Reaper in the eye exactly three times on this particular
day he’s talking about, and I'll bet that third time, the old man with the
scythe heaved a sigh of resignation and said: "What? You here again?"
It’s a fact, boys and girls. George knocked on Death’s
door so many times that day he made a nuisance of himself.
It was on December 24, 1934, that George started out on his all
day battle with the fates. It was just about the first good cold day they’d
had in New Haven that winter, and a bunch of the boys went ice skating.
One of the lads had a car, and they climbed into that for a ride out to
Miller’s pond. They found the ice fairly solid and in pretty decent
skating condition.
First He Broke Through the Ice.
They skated about an hour, and then George’s friends decided to
quit. But George stayed on for one last spin around the ice—and that
was the act that set the old adventure ball a-rolling.
He had gone about half way around the pond, when suddenly, with
out warning, the ice gave way beneath him and he was thrown down
into the icy water.
"I was chilled through in an instant,” he says. “I hit bottom and
tried to rise to the surface, but to my horror, I found that both my skates
had become entangled in the weeds that covered the bottom of the pond.
I bent down to disentangle them, but in my panic, only succeeded in
making matters worse. Things seemed to be growing yellow, and then
- ^ HlPTW V1
ftitmt]-—
His Pals Hauled Him to Safety.
black; voices began calling to me to stretch out my arms. They called
two or three times before I realized it was my friends trying to help me.”
George stood up and raised his arms. That’s what saved his
life. The water was only a little over his head there, and his
hands, stretching out of the water, came in contact with some
thing hard. He grabbed it.
It was a hockey stick he’d caught hold of. Up on the ice his friends
had formed a human chain and were pushing that stick out to him.
With his last ounce of strength, he clung to that stick, while his pals
hauled him to safety.
Now wait a minute. Don’t rush off. That's onlv the first adventure,
and George is the sort of guy who does everything by threes. The
worst was still to come. As George was hauled out onto the solid ice,
everything went black. He lapsed into unconsciousness, and when he
came to again, he was in the car, being rushed home. And no sooner
had he opened his eyes when Death struck another vicious blow—this
time aimed at everybody in that speeding auto.
Next Came an Automobile Wreck.
From where he lay in the back seat, half supported by two of his
friends, George was conscious that the car was making fast time. Up
ahead, another one of his pals was stepping on the gas—trying to get
George home and into some warm clothes before he caught pneumonia.
The car was having tough going. It jounced and swayed and skidded,
for the ground was covered with snow and the road was slippery. They
were coming to a bridge, and George watched dully as the car sped up
the approach. They were on the bridge—in the middle of it. And then,
suddenly, the car hit a slippery spot, skidded, and crashed through
the guard rail.
The car shot out over the water. That, thought George, would
surely be the end. The river swirled darkly forty feet below as
the car’s nose plunged downward to meet it. But again, the gods
were kind, and that car never hit water. The rear wheels
became entangled in the twisted iron of the guard rail, and there
the car hung, suspended perpendicularly over the swirling water.
George was thrown forward against the back of the front seat. So
were the two lads who were with him. There they stayed, not daring
to move lest their slightest stirring tilt the car at such an angle that
they'd fall out.
Says George: ‘‘With each puff of wind—with each slight movement
on the part of any member of our party, the car would tip and sway a
little more forward. We spent about twenty minutes there—twenty min
utes of agonizing torture during which not one of us spoke a single word.
As a matter of fact, we hardly dared to breathe.”
Pneumonia Was Third and Last.
Twenty minutes of that—and then a wrecking car came and
hauled them to safety. So ended adventure number two. Still in
his wet clothes, George was hustled home. But he didn’t get
home quite fast enough. The cold and the wet clothe,s had done
their work. His third meeting with Death was less spectacular
than the others, but it took him a lot longer to get through with
it. George came down with pneumonia.
It took George three months to get over that last adventure. For six
weeks he hovered between life and death. Then Death threw a big.
black double six and Life took the dice to toss out a natural. He’s back on
his feet again now—and we all hope he's done fooling around with Old
Man Doom for a while.
Copyright.—WNU Service.
Meaning of Name Bonita
The name Bonita, diminutive of
the Latin Bona, “good,” means
“good little girl.” Bona is not much
used but was formerly the name of
royal ladies of Italy and Flanders.
There was a Queen Bona or Bonne
of France many years ago. St.
Bonita was French. Bonnie may
be a form of Bona or it may be
Gaelic. In the latter case it means
“pretty.”
Odd Relationship
An odd relationship existed be
tween Peter Tchaikovsky, the Rus
sian composer, and his patron,
Natejda von Meek, a wealthy widow
from 1877 to 1890. On condition
that they never meet, she gave him,
during these years, sums of money
which totaled about $75,000, notes a
correspondent in Collier’s Weekly.
The agreement was never violated,
although they lived close by, passed
each other on the street and wrote
each other love letters several times
a week.
Ape Executed as a Spy
One day during the general Euro
pean war of 1701-1714, a ship was
wrecked off the fishing village of
West Hartlepool, England, and the
sole survivor, an ape, was washed
ashore. None of the villagers had
ever before seen such a creature,
says Collier’s Weekly, so the mon
key was tried by court-martial,
found guilty and hanged—as a
French spy.
Historic Reminders in Lima
In Lima, Peruvian capital dating
from the early Spanish days of the
Fifteenth century, are notable mon
uments reminiscent of the viceroys,
the University of San Marcos, the
oldest seat of learning in the West
ern hemisphere, and the finest ex
amples of Spanish colonial architec
ture in existence. Adjacent to mod
ern Lima are the ancient shrines of
the pre-conquest peoples and the
dead city of Coeval, which vies
with Babylon in its antiquity.—
Rocky Mountain Herald.