Loading...
HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Brussels Post, 1962-06-14, Page 211!ONICLE txGERFAit ewendoline P.. Cleake '„;;•:!, aeeSee. s Moscow electrician K i ay, o Verkakova works in overel's. Women prepare auto for final painting in Dodge plant, Detroit. • .1,•-'41"." • assemble radio tubes in -Leningrad factory:' Workers allot brake line to *Oat axle assembly DROP THE WRAP—A new"car game Is introduced by two children left in a parked car . while their parents went shaPping 'in Watsonville, Calif. Christina,,3, .and Anna Comore°, 2, drop a coat from the car and plead with a passerby to pick it up (left). After he com- plies with their wishes, the two tykes wait until he is out of sight (center) and drop it again, letting the whole thing repeat itself. A woman (right) picks up the coat, hands it to them and goes her way. The two kept the game up until their parents. returned. Another Angie On Roar .g; Twonties , My Phildre'l find it difficult to believe that,.although I Prew during the 1920'4,1 never met Al Capone, danced the Charleston, played the ukulele or rode in Stutz Beercat, Iiteeeuse of television, the ehil- dren feel they know all about that roaring decade, But the 2,0's they know and the 20's I remem- ber' seem to be two entirely dif- ferent eras. Ness never came roaring down Main Street in Orwell, Ohio, in persuit of gangsters in a Chalmers Six, If he had, I would have hopped on my bi- cycle and hurried to see the bat- tle, you can be sure. But the only gunplay I remember was at the Opera House—later renamed the "Gem" when the proprietor bought a new electric sign and, preferred to pay for three letters rather than ten, Hoot Gibson and I used to meet there every Saturday night. Hoot did a lot of shooting, looming large on the screen while the piano player thundered her way across the keyboard, but he shot quietly, for the talkies had not yet arrived, Al Capone never showed up in Orwell, either. I suppose there were those in the neighborhood who danced the Charleston, but I never did. I didn't speak to girls then and they didn't speak to me, so it would have been difficult to find a partner. As for the Bearcats, I don't think there was a Stutz in town. There were plenty of Model T's, though, which had a lot more personality, especially on a cold morning. I can recall quite plainly when Clara Bow had "it," although I was never quite sure what "it" was, and when "sez you" was considered the ultimate in so- phisticated repartee. I can re- member Calvin Coolidge, rumble seats, Harold' Lloyd, spats and the noise a pair of corduroy knickers made when you walked alOng. But those aren't the things the children want me to tell them about. I knew who Capone and Legs Diamond were, all right. But they weren't the celebrities in our lives that Hoot Gibson, Chaz Chase and Uncle Billy Smith were. Uncle Billy had been a drummer boy in the Civil War. Eyery town had its ex-drummer boy then, grown gray and given to telling eye-witness tales of battles he never came near. I had the impression then that the Civil War consisted solely of an army of drummer boys, march- ing in a rhythmic, unbroken line that stretched from Washington to Richmond. As I understood the situation, c-rant had more and better drummer boys, which was the reason Lee finally gave up, If I had grown up in Georgia.. I sup pose, Lee wetad have had the edge in drummer boys. But that wasn't the way Uncle Billy de- scribed it. My children aren't impressed by such recollections, of course. They know the 1920's weren't like that. They think the reason my reminiscences are so dull is that I'm hiding something. "You mean you never even sa w a gangster or a Prohibition agent, Dad?" Well, there was the time my Boy Scout troop was encamped along Lake Erie and a boat loomed offshore in the darkness and began flashing a light. We signaled back with our flash- lights, sure we were about to cap- ture some rum runners from Canada. But the boat pulled away and we never found out who was aboard. It was true, too, that I was a member of a gang then. Our headquarters were in a cabin we ISSUE 10 — 1962 hod constructed in Dixon's Woods and we were a tough looking crew, sitting around, our camp fire, armed to the teeth with BB guns, tf any Indians had shown up we would have given a good account of ourselves, you can be sure, But none ever did. "Well, then, what did you do, Dad?" the children demand, "Sit around and listen to Rues Col- umba records?" But I have to disappoint even that modest expectation, We didn't listen to records much. It was partly that it was too much trouble to keep winding the pho- nograph. But it was mostly that the songs in those vanished days were not designed for children, the way the songs are now. Oh, I'll admit if you listen to the songs Columbo and Rudy Vallee used to sing, it sounds as though they were written for children, and fairly backward ones, at that. But they weren't, Not that we didn't do our best to waste our inheritance of hours. We sat through scores of the worst movies ever made, and a few of the best, We swam in places I wouldn't allow my chil- dren to go near, We argued in- terminably over whether some- one had tagged third base in what would now be called a softball game, but was then called "indoor," perhaps because it was always played outside. The third base in question would never have passed muster in a Little League game. It was a rock and our stadium was a vacant lot. The world had not yet learned that children require a $100,000 playground in order to get exercise, writes Robert W. Wells in the Christian Science Monitor, There were no adults to super- vise, the way there'd be now. The only times adults appeared was when someone hit a long fly ball toward right field. A long fly ball in that direction usually went through a window. On such occasions we left before the adult advisers arrived, unless they were unusually fast runners. I don't try to tell my children this, but we had little contact with the adult world then, ex- cept at mealtimes. This suited us and it seemed to suit the adults. Still, I think there was more real tolerance between the generations then. When the ball went through the window no one called the town constable the way they would now. And if they'd called him, he wouldn't have come. It would have been beneath his dignity, especially as he'd played ball on the same vacant lot him- self once and hit his share of flies to far right field. Perhaps, looking back at it, the constable was the man responsi- ble for keeping the 20's from roaring very loudly in Orwell ;and thus, indirectly, to blame for my inability to live up to the children's expectations. If a Marmon full of gangsters had come careening through town, with. Ness and his boys in hot pusuit. the constable would have taken stern action. He would have hopped into his Model T and gone tarryhooting after them. And when he caught them, he would have hauled them before the Mayor and given the lot of them fines that would have taught them a good lesson, Be was a tolerant man, the constable was, when it came to boys playing indoor, or the driv- ing habits of local. residents. But he would never have stood for Capone running through the red light that marked the intersec- tion of Routes 45 and 322 in the center of the village. Capone was from out of town. And that would have been reason enough to teach him a little respect for law and order. Playboy—a man who summers In the Alps, winters, in Florida, and springs at blondes. The weather around here still leaves much to be desired but I suppose we -can think ourselves lucky we are not in Europe or Los Angeles. Of course most people carry on regardless of the weather. But not e — I postpone going out until the going is good. Sometimes that leads to incon- veniences. Loot Friday we were down to a few dollars in the house, no meat and minus quite a few groceries. So before I was even out of bed I was writing out a shopping list. Then Partner came along, told me I had better forget about shopping, it was half-freezing rain and as slippery as could,be underfoot. That was enough to make me revise all. my plans; look through my supply shelves once again and figure out maize-:A.1qt menus for the week- end. And then late in the after- noon it turned soft so away we went after all. The bank was open so we got our business done there; bought our meat and gro- ceries and on the way home got a "Like-home" order of fish and chips far supper. Partner came with me — and that was one for the record because he hates shop- ping! However, I suppose he was afraid I might get stuck or run into a ditch or something in which case he would have been of great assistance. But except for the car stalling a few times we got along fine. New I am wondering how much I'll get done this week. I have several full days planned ahead, including a "hair-do", a visit to an oculist and to go with Dee to the Girl Guide Festival at the C.N.E. grounds. Again every- thing depends on the weather. Last week before this column was in the mail Ross was, hare with his Dad — just for about fifteen minutes. He had just been released from the hospital and was on his way home. Thurs- day Ross and Cedric spent the day here while their mother was at the dentist's. Poor little Ross, he looked as if he had been drag- ged through the proverbial knot- hole. One of our little neighbours had also been having a rough time since having her tonsils out. Perhaps there isn't too much to worry about as one dootor said it is really about six months be- fore a child shows any definite improvement after a tonsillec- tomy, What do you think re. these incidents/ Each one is an eye- witness account of two curious accidents that were told to me last week, neither of which need have happened. A neighbour was sitting in a parked, car at a shop- ping centre waiting for his friend to finish shopping. Sud- denly he noticed a car with only a little boy in it start to move. It took a zig-zag course, side- swiping no less than four cars on its way, stopping just before ,it reached neighbour Vs ear. By this time T. was Out of the car anyway, running towards the child-driven Vehicle, Incidental- ly he *mild have been out sooner' except that the car in which he Was a passenger was a two-door oar and an, elderly gentleman occupied the front passenger seat, He got to the runaway car just as the' lady's father appeared 'Oh the scene father 'Who had corn= initted the Unpardonable error Of leaving a child alone in a tat With the ignition turned on. Ry "Yes, she was going out to the car, slipped on the ice and broke her hip!" Now Wasn't that an awful thing to happen? I had previously heard the hospital grounds were just a glare of ice and thought it showed very poor management fOr a public institu- tion to have a parking lot that was a hazard to its visitors. The trouble is people talk about danger in this and that connection 'but very seldom do anything about it. In this case it • bfilyneeded someone to approach the proper authorities and ask that, something- be done — the grounds salted, • or sanded or in some, may made safe for public use. We seem to have reached the point- when•_.we tolerate in- efficiency too "readily. ,Aftei• all it is the "squeaking wheel that gets the grease". Perhaps.. it is not generally known that every local council has an emergency Public Works department, ready and waiting to deal with emer- gencies — hydro, water or roads — that is, IF THE DEPART- MENT IS- NOTIFIED. Q. If a girl is to be married in church wearing an afternoon dress and having only one maid- of-honor, is she supposed to' In- vite only a very few friends and relatives, to a wedding of this type? A. There is no limit to the number of guests she may in- vite, provided, of course, there is ample room for everyone. Connie Has Money But Not Much Fun When Connie Francis was 1$ years old, a short, chubby girl who hid behind a fat accordion, she dreamed of hit records and long nightclub runs, woven into a glittering tapestry of fame and fortune. now, ten years later, Connie has her hits, runs, and arras, "The dream," she Says, "was more glamorous," Reality is more prosperous, At 23, Connie has more than 25 million record sales (including eight single disks that each pess- ed the million mark), earns per- haps half a million dollars an- neatly, and directs five fleurish- ing corporations. Through 1506, she is booked to play two months a year at the Sahara in. Las Vegas, to record five albums and make at least one• movie a year„ She is an international celebrity who records her songs (from rock 'a roll to eentimental ciae- sies) in EngItsh, French, Spanish, Italian, German, Hebrew, and Japanese. And, unless Tin Pan is a blind alley, "Don't Break the Heart That. Loves You„" which she released last month, will' mark her eighteenth consecutive hit. "You don't gain without los- ing, and I do= miss and lose a great deal," Connie said one day' recently, as she lounged he the' living room of her modest, split- level home in Bloomfield, N.J. It was only 10 a.m., but Connie. sparkled. She wore a boat-neck blouse and toreador pants. Her eyes glistened. Her black hair rose in a bouffant hairdo. Her hairdresser had arrived at 8':30 a.m. "You can't sit with eleven men at a conference table and have them treat you as if you were a product — not. an individual — and not lose femininity," she said. "When, I signed ray new contract with-MGM a few weeks ago, they said, 'You've got the best con- tract in the record business. Aren't you thrilled?' I said sure. I didn't know why I didn't feel so great. It hit me later. I had signed away another five years of my life." Connie's life has been singing, for twenty years. Her father, an amiable ex-longshoreman and ex- roofing contractor who nb' w works for Connie, gave her an accordion when she was 3. Dur- ing the 'tiring rounds of talent shows, she. polished a onetime' monotone, shed the accordion (and, later, 40 pounds), acquired a stage name, and found her present mana ger (George Scheck). She began recording for MGM in 1955, but when her first few records fizzled, she decided to funk her career and accept an academic scholarship to New • yorkljniver,iity, 1,.:tber suggested that Connie record' "C'ha's Sorry Now?" In 195.0, the record cracked the million mark. Who's sorry now? Nobody really, if George Franconero was: an anxious parent, pushing 114 daughter's career, then Connie Was an anxious child, pushing, ner own career, Yet Connie ad- gilts she misses many diversions. "When, I date," she said, ".t.'co I? Years old. I've never progr(rsed„ When someone asks. ore. ,-Jut, .tor. a cocktail, I get shook. I don't drink. Once :f, raid; 'Could' we, 'o' for tomato soup?' The iden go oven frig. Connie Iatighed easily.. "I!arx• not enhappye'esbe "Ir.'s ;ins t. that, this, isn't like Mc: ercum; Finn- years ago, going to. Chlealo wtts very big thell4 now going to. Australia is just ti puck mY things and' go.'" Altar an ap..t.mar- ance. on, the. 'Bd SulliVam aihnw recently, she began a• t:zur wile take her' from. Las V.eqes-- to Hollywood eo Eurepe t> tae Far East to South, Ameriean "I like the, young' Ringers iii Europe she said. "They unliny life Ill or6 than singers' — in- cluding teryeelfe (Dine.' buy' Ire Gate many. works•s-Ex .months in ye ar and plays six months' a year." • Connie' Francis' smiled, "lea know,, if someone told t telt?, three dayse to lust. do any thing. I wanted,. I' wouldn't knew what to: du."' • Fewer NEW, Saer TOUGH WIHTER. Perm trees killed by' freezing, tem- peratures. are. removed: feorie fortecus. Canal' Street in New' Odeon*, They'll be rep:7ced with new' palms Inv fiirn.e!f;crr an- nual! Mardi Gros festival'. the time man has settled for damages to four cars he may pos- sibly, have learnt a lesson. The other accident was of. a very different nature. Mr. C. was getting ready to visit his wife in hospital when he met a friend of hers who was also planning to visit Edna. "You may as well, ride with us", said Mrs. M,- So they all went together. Before visiting .hours were up Mrs. M. discreetly withdrew, leaving hus- band and wife together, saying she would wait in the' car. When Mr. C. got outside the car was there but no one in it. He went back to the waiting room. Still no sign of her. Finally he ap- proached the desk and asked the receptionist if she had seen the lady. "Mrs. M. . . . oh yes, she's in the operating room!" "in the operating room!" ex- claimed Mr. C. incredulously. ENTRODUtES DAUGHTER--President S'ijkaslia, eV-it, intro Uces hit young daughter to visiting; U.S. Attorney General 'rid Mrs. Robert genhedy during dirihee 16 Jakarta, Irido-, -Sid, Wiehieh workeep engaged in industrial production Is ei familiar fhenie'.pictures of Atiesice but it is as typical. as it' is of the Soviet Union. Anieriddil Warrien arei tontelbating their labor to the strug,, gle for beoiltifilid ttibterhoey of increasing rate ,even 'fa •paSitiOnS on dUfa assembly r linet, beginning With' the shortage' of Men' tailited by. the, Sedative Women Make Up One-Third of Working Force gervite Act of 1989, ihaittialhg' nurglb is of Women• have' been employed 'ffi fne'peadutOon departments, of American indusley The number of' Wdi+jeig women epee: from. 14 million in 1940 to about 18 Million in 1950'. Last year, 2 /1,.5 Million-Working women repro stinted 34 per cent' of the total American 161;i0 fart* of 71,399,000 Pedjedieone indicate that :80 million American women be::watkitig' by 1976.