Brownsville herald. [volume], June 05, 1930, Page SIX, Image 6

About Brownsville herald. [volume] (Brownsville, Tex.) 1910-current

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Hnmmsunk Herald
Established July 4, 1892
Entered as second-class matter In the Postoffice,
Brownsville, Texas.
THE BROWNSVILLE HERALD PUBLISHING
COMPANY
TEXAS DAILY PRESS LEAGUE
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MEMBER OF THE ASSOCIATED PRESS
The Associated Press is exclusively entitled to the use
(or publication of all news dispatches credited to it or
not otherwise credited in this paper, and also the
local news published herein.
National Advertising Representatives
Dallas, Texas, 512 Mercantile Bank Building.
Kansas City, Mo., 306 Coca-Cola Building.
Chicago, 111., Association Building.
New York, 350 Madison Avenue.
St. Louis, 502 Star Building.
Los Angeles, Cal., Room 1015 New Orpheum Bldg.,
648 S. Broadway.
San Francisco, Cal., 318 Kohl Building.
HARLINGEN OFFICE:
Arcadia Theater Building. Phone 1020.
Henry Ford as a Moses
Henry Ford is one of the greatest captains of in
dustry the world has known. He invented a cheap
motor car and & first class one at that and the In
vention made him a billionaire. This is his latest
plan for prosperity:
“The shortest cut to relief from the present busi
ness depression is an extensive development of ag
riculture and manufacture, looking to quantity pro
duction from the soil. This is not just a fanciful
Idea. It is the way out of stagnation.”
Do you get it?
All that the cotton growers have to do to bring
about prosperity is to double the acreage; all the
wheat and corn growers have to do is to double the
acreage and the production: all that the producers of
farm and orchard products have to do is to double
their supply of fruits and vegetables, and green
stuff and feedstuff.
There is a large surplus of wheat.
There is a large surplus of corn.
There is a large surplus of cotton and the way to
get rich is to double the production of all the staples I
and then to sit dowm and count the dollars as they
roll in from the markets of the world.
That's that. That's the Fordian philosophy of farm
relief and how to get it.
A New System For Teachers
A new wrinkle in pedagogy is reported from Mont
gomery county, In Virginia—a scheme that looks like
an excellent thing for district school superintendents
to make a note of.
Dr. Minor W. Thomas of the Virginia State Teach
ers' College has devised a method whereby school
teachers are paid for what their pupils learn. The
pupils are given mental tests at the beginning and end
of each year, and those who have yearned the most
earn their instructors a $200 bonus.
Each teacher is paid 10 cents a day for each child
present. A basic salary of $10 a month for each year
of college education possessed by the teacher is also
in effect.
The result, according to Dr. Thomas, is that 25 per
cent fewer teachers, receiving salaries 15 per cent
above the old average, are able to give one and one
half times as much knowledge to 13 per cent more
pupils than under the old system.
Too Near Perfection
A young man who is just learning a new sport, a
new art or a new profession is generally advised to
watch the leaders in that line and sec how they do
things. Ordinarily that's good advice; but It occurs
to us that in golf there are times when it doesn't
work.
Take, for instance, Bobby Jones. In the recent
British tournament, Bobby teed off on a 430-yard
hole with a 300-yard drive that landed plunk in a
deep sand trap. Then, unflustered, he proceeded to
sock the ball out of the sand, drive it to the green,
130 yards away—and watch it trickle into the cup.
Despite the fact that his drive landed him in a trap,
he made a par four hole in two strokes!
The novice, instead of learning anything from a per
formance like that, is apt to be just plain dismayed.
Such a stunt looks so super-human that the beginner
might well think that there was no use even to try to
copy the great Bobby.
tr- ---"" -j
I The Once Over
LB7 EL L FHLLLJPS
-
THOUGHTS ON THE OLD-FASHIONED HOME
(Copyright, 1930, by The Associated Newspapers.)
L
I remember, I remember, if I take the time to think,
When a bathroom wasn't purple, orange, blue or
red or pink;
When It wasn't in vermillion, black and white or even
green—
And a bathroom wasn't something copied from a
magazine; x
When it wasn't gay or gorgeous and was easy on the
eyes
And to bathe was in no manner an artistic enter
prise;
When a bathtub was a bathtub, neither wonderful nor
great,
And the gadgets were so simple that a child could
operate;
When a wash-bowl was a wash-bowl and most any
one would know
That ‘twas not a rustic fountain nor a new type
radio;
When one mirror was sufficient and there weren’t
mats galore—
When a bathroom was a bathroom, simply that
and nothing more.
n. c
I remember, I remember, when a kitchen was a room
That you knew was Just a kitchen, not a flower shop
in bloom;
When It smelled a lot of cooking and of cooking very
good,
And a lot of kitchen furniture was very largely
wood;
When the kitchen had no panels and it had no "arty”
look "«*
And you’d know, without inquiring, it was Just a
place to cook;
I remember, I remember when it had a kitchen
range
That endured for a lifetime without chance of any
change.
When it was of simple color lacking any touch of art,
When you picked it without guidance from a paint
er's color chart;
When nobody called it "pretty” and nobody said "How
sweet!"
And a stoves primary purpose was preparing food
to eat.
III.
I remember, I remember when an ice-box was a chest
So enormous that two icemen could march into it
abreast;
When it was a wooden fixture with a somewhat oak
ish stain
And a flood was sure to happen if you didn’t watch
the drain;
When the iceman came each morning and we heard
for half a block
The rumble of his wagon and his hatchet’s chock
chock-chock;
When he’d shuffle to the kitchen with a huge and
dripping cake
And departing leave behind him rivulet and mud
dy lake;
I remember when an Ice-pick hung beside the drip
ping box
And the ice for making highballs didn't come in
little blocks.
L’ENVOI
I remember all these fixtures; they're imprinted on
my brain—
Ah, the dear old-fashioned dead days—may they
never come again!
Minor League Seasoning Might Help
Prohibition enforcement has been turned over by
the Treasury Department to the Department of Jus
tice. If it doesn't show to satisfaction there it will
be farmed out to the Bridgeport club.
Mcrvin Lane says he tried to sell a big bread and
roll man some insurance recently, but that the fel
low couldn’t decide whether he wanted an endow
ment or straight life. Thus illustrating the old ad
age "Bakers can’t be choosers.”
Despair
(“McCann Waiting Happy Day Ending Sulphured
Prunes.”—headline.1)
Oh. Happiness is far away,
A most elusive boon;
But it will come upon the day
That ends the sulphured prune.
I'm sad; my spirit’s badly curled.
I sing no lilting tune;
How can I till this cruel world
Casts out the sulphured prune?
Our Boarding House . ... By Ahern
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The Main Stem
Intimate Glimpses of the Valley's Alley
--BY J. R.-—
Allen, the jeweler...standing in
the door of his shop on the Main
Stem...looking at nothing in parti
cular... J. H. BatseU ...sporting
goods dealer...looking over a new
outboard motor...testing it...Mrs.
John E. Rutledge, of Edinburg...
former Brownsville resident...in
town for the first time in many
moons, looking the Main Stem up
and down...W. T. Briggs, on his
way to work.. .Sherwood Bishop, be
moaning slow contributions to the
Red Cross fund..."We need more,"
he says... Mrs. R. B. Rentfro,
madam mayor...as it were...taking
things easy in the back seat of her
car...Joe Vivier, Junior and senior
talking things over in their new
music shop., .laughing at Amos
and Andy...Rev. Emmett P. Day,
Presbyterian minister...riding with
wife and daughter...tipping his hat
to Rev. and Mrs. R. O. Mackintosh,
Episcopalians... Barry Miller... as
pirant for governorship of Texas...
tin town Wednesday with friends.
• • •
Nutty Stuff
Feeling facetious, we get a strangle
hold of the Underw’ood Standard
Typewriter No. 5 and after a few
hysterical laughs and a little first
class hair tearing, bat out the fol
lowing :
Barry Miller: Well, boys, don’t
forget to vote for me.
Innocent bystander: What are
you running for?
Barry Miller, after choking and
turning red: “I'm running for gov
ernor.
Brownsville citizen: Of what
state, Mr. Miller?
Mr. Miller: Of the greatest, grand
est. most glorious state in the
Union. The state that has fought
under six flags...
Third man: I guess you must
mean California.
Mr. Miller: Are you crazy? I’m
running for Governor of Texas.
• • •
Innocent bystander, with a gasp:
You mean Texas? They got so many
men and women running for that
office that the ballots will have to
be printed in two volumes. They
won't be able to get all the names on
the regular sheet.
Mr. Miller: That's not my fault.
I didn't ask these other guys to run
for governor. In fact. If you’d get up
a petition signed by a few thousand
voters requesting everyone else to
take their namus out of the ring,
I’d appreciate it personally.
One of the 400: If you’d take your
name off, it would reduce the total
a little.
Barry Miller: I never thought of
that.
Bystander: It would be a good
idea.
Another bystander: Not so hot.
not so hot. We need men like Barry
Miller in the race. He ought to be
elected:
• • •
Mr. Miller: W'ell. I ve got to go and
make one of my daily dozen speech
es. Don't forget. I want you to vote
for me.
Brownsville chap: Well, when
election day comes around, I'll take
the afternoon off, go to the polls
and wade through the names on the
ballot and maybe I’ll get to yours.
• • •
Voice From the Fast
Buck Combe writes to friends in
Brownsvile and requests that The
Brownsville Herald be notified that
he is still alive and kicking in Mer
ida, Yucatan. He and his young
wife are enjoying the tropical life
down there, eating bananas and
chunking coconuts at the monkeys.
Read today's Air Log column, in
which he says he has gone native.”
* * •
Side Glances
A country boy trying to make a
U-turn on the Main Stem, and say
ing the sign in the middle of the
street which reads "No Left Turn"
but didn't know that U-turns were
included in the don'ts. The law let
him go.
• • •
The flood this year did not create
much interest around Brownsville.
It was the topic of conversation
around the Main Stem Monday,
when it threatened Matamoros for
a while, but outside of that, there
was little said about it. The reason
there was no danger was because
of good levees and good flood con
trol facilities.
• • •
School children... and young men
and women... are roaming around
aimlessly, now that school is out.
More cars are noticed on the streets,
and things are livelier, as a rule.
v> • IN
NEW YORK
Yes, There’* a Thrill to Seeing Your
Name in Print—When a Roving
Reporter Gets Interviewed, It
Ought to Be News.
NEW YORK, June 4.-I doubt if
many of us ever get over the kick
of seeing our names in the paper.
Some of Manhattan’s moet
wealthy and important citizens are
the most liberal subscribers to the
clipping bureaus, and though act-'
Oi> and millionaires alike have had
their names displayed thousands of
times, they still keep running i
through clippings carefully assorted
by their secretaries or publicity re
presentatives.
Nor am I immune, though I’ve
observed my name at the top of
many a bit of writing in hundreds
of newspapers.
But when a fellow New York
columnist mentions me or I breka
into print otherwise. I still have
that impulse to clip it out and send
it to Aunt Agatha.
• • •
All of which is apropos of the
fact that picking up a current copy
of The American Press. I find that
I’ve been interviewed and a sketchy
story of my life has been outlined.
A young man. named Alfred
Zugsmith. came to my desk some
weeks back end asked if he could
prowl about with me. Than which,
nothing is more disconcerting. In
a sense, it’s calling your bluff.
‘So”, the visitor implies. “you
go all these places and know all
these peopl . Well, show* your
stuff.”
Instinctively you know that this
will be the one day when every
body will either be sleeping late
or spending the week In the coun
try And. besides, how can you
explain to anyone else the New
York that you yourself see? It
needs so much explanation to give
the other fellow the notion that
rarely do you set forth with anv
definite Idea In your mind. You
know that New York being what
it is. you’ll run into something if
yev keep your eyes open.
Whirh sounds so sillv when you
say it: particularly if you don’t
run into anything.
Wherefore. I am reminded that
“we went backstage In a theater and
ran into some East Side boys who
took us over to Second avenue to
hear a favorite cymbalom player.
Wandering over to Washington
street, we watched the Syrians
drinking their arrak. the strongest
drink known. (Ed. note—You'll
notice that we mcrey watched
them.)
"Five blocks from the City Hall
wt dropped in on a Greek restau
rant for a sip of their sweetish
coffee and there were many using
tneir cups sl- an excuse for spend
ing the dinner. And later out to
Harlem with Lee Posner....calling
it a day ”
m • m
Looking over these lines, it now
seems to me that I might have done
tetter by a guest who wanted to
go places and see things. On the
ether hand, we appear to have cov
ered considerable territory without
meeting a single celebrity. Or, hav
ing met one, there appears to havn
been no sign of recognition on the
part of either party.
Yet If It makes any difference to
anyone—(chroui, of. "Who cares?")
—this is not an untypical day in
the life of a Manhattan columnist.
For. to quote the quotes of the
yrung gentleman T*ho quoted me.
"It is Swan's belief that the out
cf-towner is as anxious to hear of
the Bowery, the East Side, the
Bronx. Greenwich Village and
Harlem as he is to hear of Broad
w ay.”
• • *
And, to reprint his brief biog
raphy of my favorite author:
“Swan began as a cub reporter on
the Los Angeles Examiner... .police
1 (porter.. .went to Oxnard as coun
try editor... .to San Bernardino and
towns in orange belt on various
nepers... .out to Hawaii and the
South Seas.Into San Francisco
to cover the fair...,On the San
Franrsico News as waterfront re
porter. city editor, mancing editor
and coast bureau manaecr of NEA
-Press agent for Yellowstone
Fark — Sent to New York and
crifted into Gilbert Swan col.”
And there, for no particular rea
son. you have the story of my life.
Rosenthal Gets Many
Congratulatory Wires
Floods of congratulatory tel
egrams have been pouring into the
city manager's office for several
days, beginning immediately after
the successful passage of the port
bill, Z. A. Rosenthal, city manager,
said Wednesday.
R. T. Stuart, owi >r of Stuart
Place and prominent Valley figure,
wires today from Oklahoma City.
“Congratulations, Mr. Browns
ville, for having the vision and
determination for saving the port
for the Valley,” he said.
“I also want to congratulate the
people of San Benito, Point Isabel,
and Brownsville navigation district
for saving the port for the Valley.
I also want to congratulate the
farsighted business men who went
to Washington and who stood one
hundred per cent through all the
riffle for the Valley s port.”
Mr. Stuart pointed out that the
Valley was peopled with more than
150.000 citizens, and that Browns
ville's action in voting for a port
aided the entire section.
Mr. Rosenthal's desk was covered
with telegrams from all over the
United States.
TEST DEADLY TORPEDO
LONDON.—What is said to be
the deadliest torpedo ever yet In
vented by man has been tried out
tetwen Wymouth and Portland. It
is fitted with an 8-cylinder engine
and speeds through the water with
50 per cent greater velocity that
tr.e old types. It has a very high
explosive capacity.
July 4th Plans
Work on plans for a Fourth of
July celebration in Brownsville this
year will start Thursday, it was
said by chamber of commerce of
ficials today.
The chamber committee appoint
ed for the purpose will meet at a
recent date to work out a complete
arrangement for the celebration.
Harry Faulk was chairman of the
committees last year, and will pos
sibly remain in the same capacity
this year.
In the absence of secretary G. C.
Richardson. Mrs. A. V. Smith will
conduct the initial work, being in
charge of the chamber of commerce
while the secretary is in Plainview’
attending the Texas Commercial
Executives convention there.
It is hoped by members in charge
of the work to stage an elaborate
celebration this year.
PLUCKY
BATH. England.—Doreen Brook
es. 13, is a plucky little lass. While
walking across a field recently on
the way home from school, an en
raged cow attacked her. The girl
waited until the cow was almost
upon her and then jumped to catch
hold of the animal’s horns. She
held in until help arrived.
EVENING WRAP
The double chiffon wrap, ac
cordian pleated from the shallow
shoulder yoke to the natural waist
line. is new and stunning. The
pleats fit into a wide sash that
ties in a bow; In front.
Out Our Way.By Williams
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EVELYN CAMPBELL
WNV Service {Copyright Py Evelyn Campbell.}
Eleventh Installment
CHAPTER VIII
Call to Action.
FROM Washington Brian wrote In
a way that revealed his heart
with almost cruel clarity. Linda
could find no doubt there: only the
humility and reverence with which
some men approach the women
they love. This attitude touched
her profoundly. Tenderness was
new to her.
But what was to come of it all?
When that question persistently
arose to torment her she tried to
put it aside with all the easy ex
cuses that are the habit of the
procrastinator. Brian would be
away. Circumstances would sep
arate them; they would both for
get. But in these reflections there
was no solace; instead far from
forgetting, she found the need for
him growing day by day.
There were other troubles.
Money.
The delayed check arrived from
the broker with a stiff notation of
the deduction that was credited to
Senator Converse. Her cheeks
burned when she saw that, and re
called her humiliation. For a mo
ment she felt a stinging desire to
look the truth in the face—to be
honest with herself. She was not
deceived with this elaborate pre
tense. but unless she accepted it
nothing remained but chaos.
The check was comparatively
small, but it come at a moment
which exaggerated its importance.
As if warned by telepathy, poor
Linda’s creditors seemed to have
chosen that morning for a united
foray. She was facing a pile of
bills and letters, some of them
even threatening in a deadly polite
sort of way, when the dove of peace
dropped the bine slip bearing the
signature of Rtevonw Into her lap.
The money vanished.
TTr.w did it happen? Linda, who
thought she had learned the lesson
of prudence, discovered her purse
almost empty once more. Some
new pride within her rebelled
against subterfuge with these peo
ple who had trusted her, and she
[.aid it freely out to dressmakers
and milliners while it lasted. They
w ere placated, and urged by her to
buy again, but she would not, al
though spring peeped temptingly
through the new little leaves of the
gray trees in the park. The shops
were full of lovely things, but she
bought nothing. The hat she had
chosen on that walk writh Brian had
been the last purchase. A feeling
that in some manner an invisible
net was closing around her per
sisted, and there was nothing in
the immediate outlook to raise her
spirits.
lime crept nr, ana Drougnt
March. She was still In the city—
alone, so far as her circle of
friends was concerned, for the
frightful weather had driven every
one away. But she did not miss
them. She was marking time until
Brian would be gone.
Then, she believed, she would be
safe. It would be possible then to
come to some conclusion—to look
things in the face; return to her
old way of living and thinking or
to find that other channel her soul
was dimly striving for.
But not while Brian was there
with his pedestals. That would
make It much too hard; better to
be silent; far better to let him
think her cold, indifferent, while
he was near.
Converse wrote her a brief note
from Washington, where he had
gone Into session.
“Why not run down here for a
few weeks? There's lota going on
and you might amuse yourself play
ing chaperon to your friend Anstey
and little Miss Fen tress.”
She was astonished at the surge
of feeling * those few sentences
aroused in her. She had coupled
Brian and Daisy In her own
thoughts, but this was different.
This was seeing them through the
world’s eyes. This made possthU
Together they had everything.
Youth, wealth, ambition. Their fu
ture was limitless. Suddenly she
felt old and on the shelf. Wlrat
was she doing, immured In her
solitude, under gray skies, when
the others were finding life gay
and happy together? She had been
cheated of her girlhood, and now
womanhood had as little to offer.
But if the senator's letter plunged
her into deeper depression, on the
other hand It aroused her from
lassitude and made action impera
tive.
She went to see Stevens, and
laid a long mnnila envelope on the
desk before him.
“I want to leave New York,” she
said. “These are the last. Will
you see what you eari do for me?”
The broker, a dry, flat man. drew
the corners of the crackly parch
ment papers from the flap of the
envelope and glanced at them.
Light and Power . . . Traction
. . . Little Maud OIL ... lie
smiled imperceptibly.
“Well, we have placed a great
deal of this stuff. ... Per
haps . . .”
“You said this was good, and I
have kept it until the last." she in
“So Our Friendship Is to End With 1
the Last Hundred Shares?”
terrupted impatiently. She wus
biting ber lip . . . an amazing 1
sign of nervousness In her.
Mr. Stevens raised his yellowish
brows.
“Only a month ago ... we for
warded our check . . .**
“What of that? The securities j
had been in your hands since Oc
tober !”
“Very well. I will do what I
can." He turned away, llrokers
have a uniform antipathy to Ir
ritable clients.
Linda, who had always swept In j
and out of that office as a queen j
lingered hesitant at the door.
“There is an obligation which Is j
troubling me. My bill at the St.
Sevier has been running for a long
time. They must have a payment 1
from this money." She spoke
thoughtfully, as if the stock was al
ready sold and she had only to
disburse its equivalent.
Mr. Stevens was shocked. This
was an error in tactics for which
he was unprepared. He had noth
ing whatever to do with the liabil
ities or embarrassments of bis
clients.
‘‘The bookkeeper will forward
the check to your address, Mrs.
Kotb.” he said frigidly.
And so Linda assured the mana
ger of her hotel that he would hear
from her within the week. She
was giving up her rooms for good
—leaving New York. Politely asked
for an address, she answered
runes, bat now her heart heat as
madly aa any sixteeo-year-oWa
who gets her first peep at the
world through the historic If ut
terly dull and plebeian horde* that
migrate to and from the political
center at every season.
She had sent no word of her com
ing to the two men who would be
interested in seeing her. but twen
ty minutes after her bags were
brought up she telephoned Converse
come to her. Ills response was
so pleased and triumphant that aho
was smiling faintly when she
turned from the telephone.
When they met an hour later, he
still wore the manner of victory,
but this disappeared at her first
words.
"I have given everything Into
Stevens’ hands.” she said. “Soon
the Inst bit of paper I possess will
he gone and then—you will be
troubled with my poor little af
fairs no longer.” She tried to spe»k
lightly, disguising the meaning of
her words with mockery.
Ilis face altered at once, but not
with chagrin—rather ft was with a
closing down of pleasantry, t
tightening of every muscle in that
visage which beneath Its purple
mask of tlesh remained crafty and
sinister.
CHAPTER IX
From Mountain Top Into the
Valley.
SENATOR CONVERSE made him
self comfortable in the widest
chair the room afforded and select
ed a cigarette with care before he
answered Linda. She watched this,
stri\in*r to keep her thoughts from
her eyes.
“So our friendship Is to end with
the last hundred shares?**
She winced from something In
his tone.
“Were we ever friends?**
He reflected upon this. “Possi
bly not. I am then to be of no fur
ther use to you. We wITl pot it
that way in spite of baldness."
She interrupted warmly: “Ton
helped me with advice—with your
influence in selling those stocks
because you liked my father—not
me—■"
me senator burst out laugxuog.
“Gad. what frauds you women
are! Are you lying to yourself «r
Just to me?"
It was going to be hortfMe but
she must control herself.
“I pave you no encourncement to
believe yourself my friend," she
said coldly. “I would have—paid
—you for what you did. That it
how I have always felt to you."
She realized that she had made
an error when she saw him start
violently. She had angered him
and he had power. He repeated
her words slowly. . {
"So you would have paid me-*
but not with the coin I wanted—*
from you." His glance traveled
over her slowly and she cringed
before It. She wanted to say that
this was pay—as she had paid a
hundred times in humiliation, but
that would have gained her noth
ing. After a little while he became
merciful and turned his eyes away.
"I believed that you would turn
to me some day," he said slowly.
"Turn to you? No, no, I could
not!”
"If there hadn't been anotfce*
man," he went on, toneiesaly,
"you'd have got over that feeling
you have for me—repulsion. I sup
pose you'd call It You'd have got
so—you could touch me without
shivering. That was Just youth—
and you spent your youth pretty
freely. It's nearly gone, though
you haven't lived so very many
years. I figured It would last about
as lone as the red and blue papers
your daddy left behind him."
•Tied and blue papers," she re
peated dully, though she knew it
was just that.
He got up and took a step t<»
ward her. A thick dark vein stood
out on his forehead like an ugly
bruise and his hand trembled when
It fell upon her shoulder. Shdy
would have screamed, but ther«
was no escape. She would b4
smothered—effaced—before anyona
came. V
"It Is another man. Isn't It?" V
She conld not say no. \
"Then let me tell yon—you can’t
have that boy. You'll ruin him—a
woman like you. Why don't you
let him marry that young girl?
She's fresh. Shell give him every
thing. She can have half a dozen
children without remembering—*
That wrested a cry from her. ^