HORACE, the composing room messenger, has been in again. “Well,” said he, holding up a proof of the illustration on page five of this issue, “I guess your goose is cooked this time. You can’t get away with pictures of a big guy socking a lady on the chin.
HER NAME was Mercy Trainor, but no one ever called her Mercy. She had been called Mike ever since she could remember, and had often been sorry that she was not born boy. She had three roughneck brothers, all of them heavyweight boxers at college.By ADDISON SIMMONS
THE MAJOR—he had been Major Henry Peck, of the 89th, for four long, bloody years, and so would always be “Major” to his friends—was fed up with Walker. This Thursday night, as he rode down in the elevator from the splendid apartment on the third floor and strode through the lobby of the Brockley Arms and out into the pleasant twilight, he was thinking of Walker and resolving, for the tenth time, that tomorrow would see the end of their association.By LOUIS ARTHUR CUNNINGHAM
SENATOR MEIGHEN occasionally reflects that things might be worse, but not very much. One of the few things he likes about being leader of the Senate is that he has no Board of Strategy. Another thing is that he also has no Cabinet colleagues to make suggestions about maintaining the dignity of a Prime Minister.By R. T. L.
THE WORLD watches anxiously while the Government of the United States remains in a state of suspended animation imposed by a constitution that it has long outgrown. The international economic structure is weakening dangerously at many points, but the only legislative body with power to control the situation refuses to act, because it disagrees politically with its present chief executive and prefers to wait until the new president takes office.By LIEUT.COLONEL GEORGE A. DREW
BUT very few wiseacres along the Rue de Rumor know the inside story, before and after. All they know is what came out in the papers. Here’s what really happened: The Skating Snake went haywire during the play-offs last spring and couldn’t be used in the last game against the Pups.By LESLIE ROBERTS
SPORTING EDITORS are all right in their way, but they should not be thoughtful, considerate sporting editors and invite happy, contented, semi-stout, middle-aged men to wrestling matches. No, indeed! Sporting editors of my acquaintance should not roll up and say, “Hey, Eddie, how about the wrestling tonight?”By EDGAR MARCH
THEY CALL HIM the Czar of radio, but he doesn’t like it. Yet the wires from every microphone and from every one of our 770,000 radio sets are tied, figuratively, into his desk at Ottawa. He is Hector Charlesworth, Chairman of the Canadian Radio Commission, chief administrator of the statute enacted by Parliament in 1932 nationalizing broadcasting.
OH, MY GOSH! Say, would you believe it? Just the same.” He leaned—a little, neat man with grey hair—resting one elbow on a fence post, his cheek in his hand. He shook his head from side to side in the bewildering joy of recognizing familiar things.By MARTHA BANNING THOMAS
IN DECEMBER, 1932, the Canadian and Northern United States newspapers devoted several columns to the plight of an Englishwoman detained with her children at the Canadian border. She was on her way to join her husband, an American, now working in Toronto.By DORA M. SANDERS
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