WE HAVE two first-sale fiction stories in this issue, from writers whose only common ground (apart from both being 39) is that both had been writing unsuccessfully for years before they clicked almost simultaneously with Maclean’s.
Anka Stewart (“The Scar,” page nine, a $500 prize winner in Maclean’s Short Story Contest) is a naturalized Canadian. She was born in Germany, and hasn’t heard from her family there since before the war. John Bolster (“Come Next Year,” page 12) was born in Brandon, Man., and thus is about as Canadian as it is possible to be.
Mrs. Stewart landed in Canada in 1928, with $60 and one word of English—“Please.” In the next eight years she worked in a spinning mill, scrubbed floors, washed glasses, took out her naturalization papers, modelled (Sweet Caporal Girl was one job), sang in floor shows, and married Jack Stewart, now a buyer for the Polymer Corporation at Sarnia, Ontario. They live in a Wartime House.
Her story was born in 1943, when she saw a scarred, bitterlooking veteran on a Toronto streetcar. But it wasn’t until V-J Day that she found the inspiration to write it the way she knevy it should be. She was walking along a street in Sarnia the day the whistles began to blow for the final victory. From the “enormous emotion of that moment,” she says, “the story wrote itself in one day.”
gMr. Bolster trailed his farmerteacher-real-estate man father all over the prairies getting some schooling before he went to England in 1920 to enrol in the Royal Navy. Instead he wound up as a junior in an Indian Banking house whose'offices overlooked Scotland Yard. One of the high points of his career there, he says, was being drafted for a Yard identification lineup (in which he presumably was not recognized). He returned to Canada in 1926 to work for the Canadian Bank of Commerce, his employers now for, “popular belief to the contrary, 20 lively and rewarding years.”
He’s 6 ft. 3^2 intall ar*d weighs 204 lb.—60 of which he’s picked up since he married a native Winnipegger seven years ago.
#Dr. W. E. Blatz (Your Child Can Co Wrong, page 10) is one of Canada’s most noted child psychologists. He is director of the Institute of Child Study at the University of Toronto, author of several books on the subject, and has become known internationally through a dozen years of summer lectures throughout the United States and Britain.
Geoffrey Hewelcke, who col-
laborated with Dr. Blatz in this article, is one of Maclean’s assistent editors.
^Speaking of assistant editors, we welcome another back to the fold with Gerald Anglin’s “Colleges in a Jam” (page 21). Mr. Anglin joined Maclean’s early in 1941, after four years at the Toronto Star, joined the RCAF in 1942 and during the next two years was editor of the Air Force magazine Wings. In September, 1944, Flt.-Lieut. Anglin went overseas as a public relations officer, and covered life on Croup Capt. Johnny Johnson’s 127 RCAF Spitfire Wing, in Belgium, Holland and Germany until the war ended.
In December he came home to his attractive wife and four-yearold daughter. Now he’s engaged in Canada’s most popular indoor and outdoor sport—looking for a permanent place to live.
01n November, 1945, at Oberursel, near Frankfurt on Main, Maclean’s Lionel S. B. Shapiro (“Dieppe as the Enemy Saw It,” page 11) was visiting the Luftwaffe's interrogation centre now taken over for the same purpose by the American Army’s intelligence division. Looking over the list of important Germans held at Oberursel lor interrogation, Shapiro noticed the name of Major Alfred Greiner, secretary and historian of the German General Staff from 1939 to 1944. Shapiro visited Greiner in his cell and spent three hours over the prisoner’s diary.
“Greiner’s notes on Hitler’s staff meetings between Aug. 19 and Sept. 15, 1942, were particularly interesting,” Shapiro says. “There was one entry, dated Sept. 5, which revealed that the General Staff had asked for exhaustive reports on the Dieppe raid. Another entry, on Sept. 15, acknowledged receipt of the reports. Greiner remembered the reports, but did not know where they might now he found.”
Shapiro checked and finally discovered that these reports had fallen into Allied hands in February, 1944, had been put to use in planning the Normandy invasion, and had been filed away marked “confidential” and therefore not releasable. A period of discussion followed in which Shapiro argued that all information on the Dieppe raid was of historical interest and should be made available.
Three weeks ago military authorities relented, dug very deep into their archives, and handed Shapiro the official translation of the Dieppe reports on which his story is based.
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