In the Editor's Confidence

In the Editor's Confidence

June 15 1933
In the Editor's Confidence

In the Editor's Confidence

June 15 1933

In the Editor's Confidence

¶ FOR A YEAR and a half the World Disarmament Conference has been in session at Geneva. In that time the principal nations represented have spent five billions of dollars on improved methods of destruction. In Asia and South America they have tried out their newest guns and ammunition under actual working conditions; wars have been, or are being, fought. In Europe, Germany once more is a keg of gunpowder, with her neighbors frantically jumping up and down on the fuse in an effort to stamp out the spark. Throughout the world there is more talk of war than at any time before the last War to End Wars, much of it deliberately provoked and inspired.

The Right Honorable Arthur Henderson, President of the Disarmament Conference, has made this statement: “The people who circulate war talk in its many forms are hut few in number; they have great money power behind them, that is all. They are what I describe as the general staff of the forces of hell.”

For a long time Maclean's has been hammering home the fact that the money power to which Mr. Henderson refers comes from the trusts of private munitions manufacturers, the Salesmen of Death. We have pointed out the hook-up of the British armament group formed by ZaharofF with the Mitsui trust of Japan, with munitions manufacturers in Spain, Italy, Poland, France and other countries, and with banking and finance corporations in many lands. Now, at long last, newspapers are discovering and giving light to these facts.

On April 3, Sir Herbert Lawrence, the chairman of Vickers, Limited, deemed it advisable for the first time to make an effort to divert the rising tide of public opinion in favor of the suppression of the private manufacture of arms. On page nine, in his article “Hell's General Staff," Liéut.-Colonel Drew answers Sir Herbert's statement and demonstrates that disarmament can only be effective when the profit motive is eliminated from preparations for war.

Watch Your Step

fT A WEEK or two ago wc were sitting in a railway ^ car when an owlish-looking gentleman in the next scat leaned over and solemnly pointed his index finger at our top vest button. “Did it ever occur to you,” said he, “that for every man hurt next year by falling off a stcpladdcr, one and a halt men will be hurt getting into bed and three climbing in and out of the bathtub?”

We said that it didn't surprise us a bit, because wc had just heard of an amazing accident involving a gentleman who returned from a game ot golf and took a bath. Shampooing his hair, the soap got in his eyes. Groping blindly for a towel, his hand closed on a woolly substance which he seized with violence. Instantly, the victim was entangled in the window curtains, curtain rods and what not. Completely panic-stricken, he jumped out of the bath, tripped, fell out of the window and landed on the club-house lawn in the midst of his wife's tea party. And an insurance company paid him damages.

“If that is true," said the Good Companion, “it is most interesting." This gave us an idea. Back in the office we summoned Beverley Owen. "Go to the accident insurance companies,” we said, "and get them to tell you about all the odd accidents on which they have paid claims.” The result appears on page eight, and it is amazing.

{T ODDLY ENOUGH, it wasn't by accident that ^ prim Miss Sylvia Thornton suddenly went hack to Nature and took a nocturnal swim in a moonlit lake. She did it deliberately. And she an official of Kamp Klee-o-mee for refined young ladies! You may surmise that it wasn't entirely by accident that a white yacht should nearly bisect her. And when, thereafter night after night, a very personable young man should sit on the deck, twanging a guitar and serenading the whole camp, nobody could say that there was anything accidental about that. What happened to Miss Thornton can be discovered by turning to “Ah, Moon of My Delight,” on page ten. What will happen to the story remains to be seen, but F. B. Watt tells us that most of his recent Maclean stories have been republished in leading English magazines and also in Denmark and Holland. This is one instance in which we are glad to hear of an author getting in Dutch, as it were.

Drama on a Reef

{T TWO SHIPWRECKED, thirst-mad men clinging ^ to a wave-swept coral reef. The island and safety lie but a short distance away, across a sheltered lagoon. But in that calm water, a shark keeps incessant patrol. The sacrifice of one man may give the other a chance. They sit down with a pack of cards to decide their fate. And one man is a cheat. That is the tense situation developed in “In Praise of a Trader," by J. C. Peters, which appears on page five. Mr. Peters lives at Mimico, just outside of Toronto.

Nelson blood is writing fluid. For years John Nelson was a steady contributor to Maclean's, and now comes J. Cecil Nelson following in his father's footsteps. On page twenty-two is his first short story, “Blanc-Mange,” and it isn't hard to swallow. Mr. Nelson now resides at Hudson, P.Q., but he hails from the Pacific Coast and knows his Pea vie Petes.

On page fourteen we bid au revoir to Malcolm Gossett, the ex-detective, for “Uncle Hiram to the Rescue" concludes this series by E. Phillips Oppenheim. We hope to hear from Mr. Oppenheim again before long.

List issue, in introducing our new serial, “Czar's Gold,” we stated it had everything a good adventure tale ought to have and then a little more. We should have made it read “a whole lot more,” for Robert Welles Ritchie writes us as follows: “It may interest you to know that the gold still lies cached somewhere in the vicinity of the mysterious Urga, where a White Russian caravan buried it before being wiped out by bandits. So much for fact undecorated by faction."

Next Issue

{jT A FINE sea talc, "She Who Walks the Waters,” by ^ Jefferson Cralle; a summery romance,“Fair But Not Frail,” by Gladys Taber; an unusual story of a mountain goat, “Warden of the Flock,” by Paul Annixter; a new Leslie Gordon Barnard story, “Strawberry Picnic,” and "Letter from Minnie,” a short short story by Percival Wilde plus another palpitating chapter of “Czar's Gold.“ will provide as much fiction as any reasonable being can digest. Dr. Hugh Grant Rowell will tell you how to look after your eyes; R. T. L. will present a three-minute sketch of Mr. Beatty of the C. P. R.; Harold E. Crowle will explain what he thinks a Central Rink could do for Canada; R.S. Kennedy will tell about Regina’s international grain fair, and other articles will deal with a variety of matters from the state of Ontario's politics to homing pigeon races. All for ten cents. It’s beyond belief.