Detroit evening times., December 24, 1945, REDLINE, Page 10-C, Image 10

About Detroit evening times. (Detroit, Mich) 1921-1958

Image provided by: Central Michigan University, Clark Historical Library

                
10-C
THE DETROIT TIMES
Mon., Dec. 24 1045
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LAFF-A-DAY BUZ SAWYER B Y R oy Crane BEST LAUGHS OF 1945
\/% |yj->^f :r -r"o i *vN X "DON'T HAND Mi THAT 6TUFE BUZZO- ILL BET rr<S THE TRGPICS. I CAN SEE VOUR INTEREST NMV WELFARE 6 1 ~ ”
«*y )U jiffltfflKm ' you now-you, the maharaja of batu, with voup sultry maharani touching, But let me assure — —__ — —
/rHTP W« 1 1 r LUCKY SAWVEP.' not ONE GIRITN SV YOUR SIDE, WATCHING VOUP LUSCIOUS DANCING GIftLS...BOX WHAT A LIFE/' YOU MV ONLV CONCERN , "
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SECRET AGENT X-9 By Mel Graff THE PHANTOM By Lee Falk and Ray Moore
I ' " ',irf.*.’-?U 1 Vait KXBA~o"d'w\ ua-ka-iU 1 A vtnv CLEVER Ruse To Si i' I “ |' WE RAISE FOOD TO EAT-1] [SEE TWIS LAD-HE TRIEDiI I AND TMIS ONE-TRIED ToV
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Im. *n* iLalwM, ... "Who will hi you build ,oui wop" aikrd Hi. Dm. ¥... N. WiT Mind (acnom. "No. ,n Ml"
HOWARD ROARK laughed. He «tood at the edge of a
clifT. the lake far below him. He laughed at the thing
v. hich had happened to him that morning and at the things
which now lay ahead.
He knew that the days ahead would be difficult. He tried
to consider it But he forgot. He was looking at the granite.
To be cut. he thought, and made into walls. He looked at a
tree To be split and made into rafters. These rocks, he
thought, are here for me; waiting for the shape my hands
will give them. Then he remembered: that morning he had
been expelled from the Architectural School of the Stanton
Institute of Technology.
Later that day, an unexpected call summoned Roark to
the Dean’s office. Uncomfortably, the Dean tried to explain
the expulsion: Roark had refused to copy the popular
historical styles accepted by all; he had designed buildings
as he vyished, in a style of his own. His buildings were not
Classical, Gothic or Renaissance; they were only Howard
Roark. Now the Dean offered him another chance if he
would subordinate himself to the standards of the ma
jority. Roark refused. He said: “I don’t give a damn what
anyone thinks about architecture—or about anything else,
for that matter. I set my own standards. A building is alive,
like a man. Its integrity is to follow its own truth and to
serve its own purpose.”
"Who will let you build your w’ay?” asked the Dean.
Roark said, "Who will stop me?”
Roark went to New York that spring of 1922, to the
miserable office of Henry Cameron who had been a great
architect thirty years ago, had fought for modern archi
6«ttd en tb# great, bed-ielling novel of e rren
wko dared to pit kit geniut against the world
By AYN RAND
4 ILLUSTRATION* BY FRANK GODWIN
tecture and lost. "What do you want?” snapped Cameron.
“I should like to work for you," said Koark quietly.
“Why the hell should you pick me?”
"I think you know that.”
Cameron looked at Roark’s sketches “I wish I d done
that at your age! But do you know how much you’ve got
to learn?” “Yes. That's why I’m here.” ...
“Damn you,” roared Cameron suddorf#. “You’re setting
out to ruin yourself. I don’t want to see you. I don't like
you. You’re too sure of yourself Twenty years ago I’d have
punched your face with the greatest of pleasure You’re
coming to work here tomorrow morning at nine sharp.”
“Yes.” Roark reached for his drawings.
“Leave these here!” bellowed Cameron. "Now get out!"
(Continued tomorrow’)