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TWO-MINUTE
BIOGRAPHIES
ARTHUR H. VANDENBERG
Already such Republicans as Her
bert Hoover and Alf Landon are
preparing for battle, but the party's
Washington leader, Senator Arthur
H, Vandenberg, is strangely silent.
Too canny to accept a presidential
nomination last year, he probably
is still reticent about the party’s
future. In fine physical shape and
looking younger than his 53 years,
he is not blustery but a strong fight
er who believes the 1940 election J
will decide America’s future. Van
denberg supported many Roosevelt
measures in 1934 and even today is
not unduly hostile. He was born in
Grand Rapids, Mich., the son of a
harness maker. Eventually he be
came publisher of the Grand Rapids
Herald and was appointed to the
senate in 1928. He was granted an
honorary degree by the University
of Michigan.
the south coast of Florida a
V_/ 170-mile "overseas highway”
to Key West will be completed this
year through an allotment of $3,
600,000 from the Public Works ad
ministration. Where trains once
passed on the famous Key West rail
road, workmen are removing rails
and widening bridges to permit a
two-lane roadway. When complet
.
Bag
ed, it will be the longest continuous
overseas highway in the world, with
bridges and viaducts spanning
miles of strong ocean currents and
lagoons, and roadways crossing
several keys. Upper view gives a
panorama of the work. Left: work
men removing rails. Below: Long
Key bridge, formerly a single track
railroad bridge.
TONIGHT’S BEDTIME STORY
By THORNTON W. BURGESS
IT IS fun to play dodge when the
* one who is trying to catch you is
a friend and it is all a game. But
to play dodge when the one trying
to catch you is doing it so as to
have you for his dinner is quite
another matter. It isn’t fun then
unless you are sure that you can
get away, but it is very exciting.
Peter Rabbit is one of the best dodg
ers on the Green Meadows or in the
Green Forest. One of the very first
things Peter learned when he was
a very little fellow was how to
dodge.
But never had Peter had greater
need of knowing how to dodge than
now. You see, he had been having
a terrible fight with himself in the
Green Forest, trying to decide
whether to tell Buster Bear where
Busy Bee kept her store of honey
and so make Buster his friend, or
whether to keep it to himself. If
he told, Buster would be sure to
make trouble for Busy Bee, for
he is very fond of honey. He want
ed to tell, for he was very, very
anxious to have Buster his friend,
but a little voice inside, his better
self, kept urging him not to tell.
First he would listen to his own
selfish desire and then run a little
way to look for Buster Bear.
So he would run a little way, then
sit down; run a little farther and
sit down. All the time he was so
busy fighting with himself that he
had no eyes for anything else, and
so he didn’t see Reddy Fox hiding
behind an old stump just ahead of
him. At last Peter sat down within
two jumps of the old stump, and
there he fought it all out with him
self, and he decided that he wouldn’t
tell Buster Bear.
Now, it usually pays to do right.
It paid Peter this time, though he
didn’t know it was going to. You
see, he sat still a long time just two
jumps from the old stump, behind
which Reddy Fox was hiding with
his mouth fairly watering at the
thought of what a good dinner Peter
would make. If he had decided to
go on and tell Buster Bear, he
would have passed right close to
that old stump and—well—probably
Reddy Fox would have had a
chance to find out just how good a
AMAZE A MINUTE I
SCIENTIFACTS — BY ARNOLD
Far sighted time - There are fewer children
A Tokyo department under five years old in theU.S.
STORE HAS A CLOCK WHOSE To-DAY, THAN THERE WERE TWELVE
FACS 1$ SIX STORIES HIGH. YEARS AGO. . ,
(Copyright, by Tht Bell Syndictf. Inc.)
“Caw, caw, caw!” shrieked Blacky
the Crow in great excitement.
dinner Peter would make But when
Peter finally did make up his mind
not to tell, he started to turn back,
for then, of course, he didn’t want
to find Buster Bear. Like a red
flash, Reddy was after him.
Now, you know, Peter’s eyes are
so placed that he can see behind
him without turning his head, and
the very second Reddy jumped, Pe
ter saw him and dodged sidewise,
so that Reddy missed him. But Red
dy is almost as quick as Peter, and
in a flash he had turned and Peter
had to dodge again.
“I’ll get you this time!” snarled
Reddy.
“You’ll be smarter than you’ve
ever been before if you do,” panted
P^ter, dodging behind a tree.
“Caw, caw, cawl" shouted Blacky
the Crow, who happend along just
then. “Go it. Peter!”
Peter went it. He twisted his
way and dodged that way, with Red
dy Fox right at his heels.
At last Peter saw a great pile of
brush. If he could get under that
he would be safe. He dodged just
in the nick of time, and then, draw
ing a long breath, he started for
that pile of brush as fast as ever
he could.
“Caw, caw, caw, caw!" shouted
Blacky the Crow.
© T. W. Burgess.—WNU Service.
FOR
INFORMAL
AFTERNOONS
Betty Furness, petite Metro-Gold
wyn-Mayer actress, wears this tiny
off-the-face hat in tucked pink wool
crepe, designed by Meadowbrook.
It is very plain and is tied in the
back with a simple bow.
W indoiv Problem
Solved Through
Use of Drapes
By BETTY WELLS
“I’m keeping a scrap book of your
suggestions, because they are so
pleasant home-y," writes M.L.S.—
and do we take a bow! "But now
I’m in need of some personal ad
vice and so I hope you’ll lend an
ear. I seem to be much too vene
tian-blind conscious because I can’t
figure the window problems out in
my new living room since Venetian
blinds are out. I hesitated long be
fore taking the place because I like
interesting windows and a view. But
here it is so ideal for the baby that
I gave in. Now I have the curtain
question with neither view nor win
dows that will do anything for the
room.
"I enclose a diagram of the prob
lem—a door with just two short
none-too-large windows on either
side. I’ll have to make some use of
the draperies I have—brown ground
and white sweet pea design on
them. I thought I could have them
extend over the side of the windows
a bit to make the windows seem a
bit larger. The wall paper is ele
gant, cream with a gold wreath.
Any suggestions will be much ap
preciated.”
What about swag draping the win
dows each to one side, thus framing
the door rather impressively? It
wouldn't cost much and will produce
startling results.
Have the draperies extend over
onto the wall to make the windows
seem a bit larger, and if they look
all right to the floor that will be best
by all means. But if they seem too
high waisted and stringy that way,
you could have them just to the sill,
it would probably be better to use
just a sheer material instead of the
chintz, maybe gold ninon.
© By Betty Wells.—WNU Service.
Tloyd (fi66&u^
ADVENTURERS’ CLUB
-
HEADLINES FROM THE LIVES
OF PEOPLE LIKE YOURSELF!_
thThe Crack of Doom ’
By FLOYD GIBBONS
Famous Headline Hunter
Hello everybody:
Fate plays dirty tricks on some of us—and to others
it gives all the breaks. George Reiser of Clinton, Iowa,
must be one of Fate’s favorites. George woke up one day
out of a sound sleep to listen to the Crack of Doom—and
he lived to tell the story.
George is a railroad man—and the lads who work on the railroad all
seem to have an adventure yarn or two under their hats. George's
adventure came to him in 1931, when he was working as head brakeman
for the C. M. St. P. & P. railroad, on a run between Nahant and Green
Island, Iowa.
It was the morning of April 5. The night before George had had a
rneal in a restaurant in Nahant, and some of the food he ate—well—
| George thinks it was tainted. Anyway, he woke up the next morning a
\ very sick man, with a lot of the symptoms of ptomaine poisoning.
George felt pretty bad—but he thought the feeling would wear
off if he pitched in and worked a bit. It was a freight run he was
braking that day, and when the train started out George was
aboard her. But that terrible feeling didn’t wear off. Instead,
it got worse.
George Was Sick and Went to the Caboose.
He stuck to his job and managed to perform his duties until the
train reached Le Claire, Iowa, and then he felt he couldn’t take it stand
! ing up any longer. He went to the conductor and told him what was
wrong. The conductor called in the rear-end brakeman and told him to
take over George’s work.
George went back to the caboose, thankful for a chance to lie down
and rest. But he wouldn’t have been so happy about it had he known
that Fate had picked that train out for its especial attention that day, and
that the caboose was due to be the most dangerous spot of all.
George lay down in a bunk and began to doze. Soon he dropped
off into a sound sleep, and while he was sleeping, Fate began to set the
Buried Beneath a Pile of Wreckage.
stage. The train stopped at Comanche, to set out a car. The conductor
was given some new train orders. He looked over the orders—but
there was one he missed.
And that order had to do with a certain train—on the same
track his own train was using—which had left Davenport behind
him and was coming along at a fast clip with no stops scheduled.
How It Feels to Be in a Collision.
George was asleep, so he didn’t see anything of it. He had been told
about it later. But that second train—a C. B. & Q. freight, came up
behind them, smashed right through the caboose in which George Jay,
smashing it to matchwood. Then it kept right on going until it had
smashed up two freight cars up ahead of the caboose.
Figure George’s chances out for yourself. A sleeping man in a
caboose that had been ploughed right through by an engine. Anybody
who would give a nickel for George’s chances would just be throwing
away good money.
“Since I was asleep at the time,” he says, “I couldn’t know what
was happening. The first thing I was aware of was a terrible crashing
that broke into my slumber. The crash was followed by an almost deaf
ening roar of escaping steam. I felt as though I was being picked up
bodily by some giant hand and thrown a great distance.
“I opened my eyes just then, and the sight I saw was appall
ing. Everything about me seemed to be breaking. The bunks
were tearing from the walls and bending at crazy angles. The
sides of the car were splitting and breaking. The back end was
crushed in. The floor was bucking and heaving. For just a small
part of a second I watched the car falling to pieces—and then
blackness!”
George doesn’t know how long he was out, but when he regained
consciousness he was buried beneath a pile of wreckage. Was he hurt?
He didn’t know. His body was numbed by the pressure of the debris
that held him down. He tried to wriggle around to take a look at himself
and see if he was bleeding, but he was pinned fast.
Then He Heard the Deadly Steam.
“I was held down so tightly,” he says, "that the only thing I could
move was my eyes. I lay still a minute, and then, suddenly, I heard the
hiss of escaping steam. I began to scream for help then, but the noise
of the steam was so loud that my voice couldn’t be heard.”
Again George screamed—and again! The sound of the steam
threw him into a panic. Hot steam from an engine boiler has
scalded many a man to death, and every railroader knows what
it means. But this steam wasn’t close enough to George to harm
him, and finally one of the trainmen from the C. B. & Q.
freight heard his cries.
Frantically, the whole crew began dragging for his body, prying up
timbers and pushing the debris aside. They were only a few minutes
at it, but it seemed hours to George as he lay there fighting the pressure
of the stuff that was bearing down on his body.
At last they got him out. Not one of that crew of rescuers expected
to find anything but a man badly, if not fatally, injured. After all, when
a locomotive crashes through a car, smashing it to matchwood, you
don’t expect the man inside to come out unhurt. But THAT’S EXACTLY
WHAT GEORGE DID!
When they got him out there was nothing showing on his body but
a few scratches. They took him to a hospital, and the doctors couldn’t
find anything else wrong with him either, outside of a bad case of nerves.
And if George isn’t one of Fate’s white-headed boys—well—I’d like
to know who is.
Copyright.—WNU Service.
From Forest to Fireside
Since the ancient Egyptians, cen- |
turies before Christ, wove, pounded
and polished reeds to make sheets
of papyrus, paper has been made
of vegetable substances. From
! about 1880, the most prolific source
of paper for printing has been the
American forests of conifers, the
spruce being the most important
tree for this purpose. Virtually all
newspapers are printed on paper
made from a mixture of ground
and chemically digested wood.
1
Early Furniture-Making
Until comparatively recent times,
woodworking did not exist. There
was no need for it. Ancient peoples
spent most time outdoors Merely
eating and sleeping in the home,
they used little furniture, usually
preferred that to be made of metal.
But about 400 years ago woodwork
ing became an art; furniture mak
ing was highly profitable and its
secrets handed down from genera
tion to generation. But machinery
made furniture ended that