Listen, World! — "Chivalry and Equality"

1922

By Elsie Robinson

And right now we're going to talk about this business of taking off hats in elevators or giving up seats to ladies on the street cars. It is generally conceded that such acts indicate a chivalrous attitude toward the ladies and the Advocates of Chivalry bitterly deplore the hatted head and the seated seat. My opinion is that the Advocates of Chivalry had better take a cold shower and snap out of it.

I too believe in chivalrous attitudes and marks of honor. But the highest mark of honor, to my mind, which a man can give a woman is to treat her as an equal. None of this pedestal stuff. I would feel much more honored if a tired man would ask me to help him carry his bundles than if he should take off his hat in the elevator in which we are rising. There's infinitely more freedom, dignity and true comradeship for me in sharing 50-50 with a man on amusement expenses than in all the knightly jousts that ever kicked up the dust in honor of some fair lady's glove. I would much rather stand while a busy man tells me of his work though he does it with a cigar in his mouth and his coat off than have him honor me by giving me his chair while he inwardly curses at the interruption.

And why, in the name of common sense and fairness, should the average man give his seat to a woman in the street car — provided she be neither old nor infirm? Does a man not grow tired as well as a woman? He does. Doesn't he have back aches and headaches and heartaches and fallen arches just as frequently? He does. Can't the average Young Person to whom he is supposed to give that seat out dance him and outrun him? She can. Can't the average Dowager out eat him and out-window shop him? She can. Then that's that.

What I want are the tokens of Equality. I don't give two hoots for the politeness that's handed out to me because I'm a Woman. But beautiful to me as a sunrise and as full of golden promises are the indifferences and rudenesses which I encounter as a FELLOW WORKER.

Cleo Shows Her Ears

1922

Famous French Beauty Disproves A Suspicion

Friend of Edward VII of England and Leopold of Belgium Reveals Them to Reporters

PARIS, (By Mail) — "Kings may come, and kings may go, but I go on forever," sang Cleo de Merode the other day when, after an absence from the public eye of a quarter of a century, the erstwhile famous dancer jumped right back into the first pages of all the Paris newspapers by proving that she had ears.

Time was, in the days when Edward, prince of Wales, and Leopold, king of the Belgians were citizens of Paris by unanimous vote of the boulevards, when it pleased Cleo de Merode to twist her hair flat and low around her shapely head and launch the Merode curl. The style still persists, as did, until a few days ago, the legend that the dancer was imbued not so much with the desire to create a new fashion in coiffure, but to hide the fact that a jealous rival had slashed her ears, or, as some of the stories had it, that a discarded lover, had bitten them off.

It was the heyday of the "grandes vedettes" — of the demimonde — Liane de Pougy, Emilienne d'Alencon and a half dozen others whose gowns and horses and whims set the pace for the entire cosmopolitan crowd who brought their millions and their appetites for the new and startling to the city on the Seine. Kings and kinglets shared honors in their train with diamond kings from the Rand and from iron kings from Pittsburgh.

Was Veritable Queen

Cleo de Merode's beauty and her undoubted choreographic gifts, which had brought her from the music halls to the Paris Opera stage, combined with the unhidden interests which the Belgian sovereign displayed in her, made the dancer a veritable queen. It brought upon her also the bitter hate of less favored aspirants to royal honors. Hence the tale of the blemish under the flat curls.

Now comes this beauty of an age that has vanished to remind the world that she is still here and that her reputation is as much to her in the second decade of the twentieth century as was her fame in the closing years of the nineteenth. All because an American film producer thought fit to bestow the name Cleo on the heroine of a "life story" screen drama having to do with the loves and adventures of a Parisian dancer "the Great Parisian Dancer," to be accurate.

"Why, my name is Cleo and I am The Great Parisian Dancer," exclaimed Mlle. de Merode, and straightway she decided the public must be warned that the film didn't represent in the slightest particular the intimate life of the oldtime music-hall favorite. Certainly, most certainly, King Leopold and King Edward and King Whatshishame and Prince Fromthesouth were her friends and admirers, but what of that? She appealed to the courts to silence the wicked tongues that whispered tales of scandal about her friendships.

Proves Her Ears

While waiting for the court machinery to get into operation, Cleo de Merode allowed her present address to be known to the principal newspaper offices and selected the most stunning of her photographs of the days of triumph.

"It is horrible," she wailed to her visitors, "that I, the most modest, the most classical, the most dressed, of music-hall dancers, should be represented as an exponent of the lewd."

When one of the reporters suggested that perhaps after all there was some basis of truth in the film representation, Mlle. de Merode got furious.

"You remember," she exclaimed, "the story about my not having any ears, that I dressed my hair so as to cover up the deficiency. Well, look here."

And with a quick gesture, she threw back her hair and displayed to the gaze of the newspapermen the pink and pearlies that nature gave her and nobody had destroyed or deformed.

This victory over maleficent gossipers was quickly followed by another when the presiding judge of the court of referees granted her plea that the offending film be ordered withdrawn from the boulevard theater where it was being shown until a final decision is handed down.

—The Lincoln State Journal, Lincoln, NE, Nov. 15, 1922, p. 11.

The Oldest Mystery — The Swastika

1922

The Swastika is the oldest symbol in the world. Also, it is the oldest mystery. You find it engraved on primitive tools, dug up in the mounds of the Ohio, Tennessee and Mississippi mound-builders, who inhabited America, before the Indians. The Swastika also is found in the most ancient ruins of Alaska, Mexico, Brazil, Egypt, Babylonia, China, Japan, India, Assyria, Phoenicia, Persia, Tibet, Greece — and nearly every other country in the world, including obscure islands. It is the international symbol for good luck and general welfare — like our horseshoe, the negro's rabbit-foot and the "chung-meng-fui-goi" sign that is painted on the door of nearly every Chinese home.

The Swastika's origin is unknown. But archaeologists, the ditch-diggers of science, have traced it back to the beginning of the Bronze Age, 4500 years ago. For all we know, the Swastika may have been old then. How did it spread over the earth and become known in countries that are supposed to have had no knowledge of each other in ancient times?

The only plausible explanation of the universal use of the Swastika comes from China. The Chinese — who claim that their explorer, Fu-sang, visited America 1060 years before Columbus — believe that civilization travels in an endless wave — up 30,000 years, then down 30,000, so on forever. That's why Chinese mythology tells of "flying men" far back in antiquity.

The earth may be 1,700,000,000 years old, says Prof. William Duane, of Harvard Medical School. He bases his calculation on radioactivity. Regardless of the number of years, queer things are buried back there in the past, as shown by the Swastika, the oldest mystery.

—The La Crosse Tribune, La Crosse, Wisconsin, May 27, 1922, p. 3.

The Body Perfectly Obeys Your Rapid Brain

1922

YOUR POWERS

Lulu M. Cargill, clerk in the New York post office, takes from Nina E. Holmes of Detroit the title of "champion letter sorter of the world."

Miss Holmes attracted attention by sorting 20,610 letters in eight hours, or nearly 43 a minute. Miss Cargill sorts 30,215 letters in eight hours, which is better than one a second. And she sorted the first 23,500 letters without pause. Then she stopped for a cup of tea. Sorting a letter means picking it up, reading the address, recalling the postal route to reach the address, then tossing the letter into the proper bag.

Miss Cargill is 26 years old. She has been a postal clerk only three years.

Miss Cargill, you reflect, must have wonderful co-ordination of body and mind. A brain that works with lightning swiftness has automatically perfect teamwork with a body that perfectly obeys her rapid brain.

The body is a collection of machines, each trying to work cooperatively for the good of all. It is a more perfect system of government than man has been able to devise.

Miss Cargill, judging from her work, has what scientists would call "an extraordinary well-balanced system of endocrine glands."

In the so-called "efficient" person, the body glands speed up when needed and slow down when the energy of the body is required by the other glands.

In a boy who is growing too rapidly, as a result of abnormal activity by the pituitary gland in the brain, the other glands slow down and surrender part of their share of the body's energy. With most of his energy devoted to growing, the lad is apt to be otherwise languid.

Or, for example, you suddenly are in danger, which requires a quick use of reserve energy. The word is telegraphed through the blood. The message is sent out by the adrenal glands, which stand guard as a mobilizer of reserve energy. Other glands slow down, as if saying, "If the adrenals fail in this emergency, we all perish."

The heart responds to the adrenals and rushes blood to the arms or other parts of the body that have to meet the danger. This rush of blood is why "the face goes white" in a time of peril.

The crisis met and conquered, the blood rushes back to normal distribution through the body. The other glands "come to life." The sudden change makes the person, calm in or, half-collapse "after it's all over."

—The Bridgeport Telegram, Bridgeport, Connecticut, Sept. 26, 1922, p. 3.

Two Runaway Flappers Put Into The Coop

Olean, New York, 1922

"Micky" Snyder, 15 years old and "Betty" Plunkert, age 17, Butler, Pa., girls, who ran away from their home in the Pittsburgh suburb late last night, are being held by police here for word from their parents.

The girls arrived in Olean this morning, registered at the Commercial Hotel, reserved a room for tonight and started out to see the sights. One of the first things they saw was Truant Officer "Jimmie" McCready, who also saw them and spotted them for strangers. Because of their age he talked with them and then took them to police headquarters for safe keeping.

Blonde and Brunette

"Micky," as she insists she was christened, is a bobbed-hair blonde with a roguish eye, while "Betty" is a brunette of more serious mien. They gave their fathers' names as George Snyder and Frank Plunkert, with no address but "general delivery, Butler, Pa."

Sergeant Richard Allen called the chief of police of Butler on the long distance phone and the parents will be sought. No word has been received late this afternoon.

"Betty came because I did and I came because she did," gigglingly explained "Micky", who also intimated that there was another reason but it was a "secret."

"We just saw the name of Olean on the map," she continued. "It was a funny sounding name and we came to see what the town was like." Betty financed the trip and the girls said they still had enough money to get back home.

Had Jobs at Home

What they intended to do in Olean they declined to tell but said they did not wish to return home. Betty worked at housework in Butler and "Micky" had worked as helper girl in the kitchen of a Pittsburgh hospital, she said.

Micky has a sister and five brothers and Betty has two brothers and two sisters.

They refused to eat their dinners because they did not get pie and ice cream and both insisted they "never, NEVER," would stay where they are for tonight.

—Olean Evening Herald, Olean, New York, May 11, 1922, p. 5.

Happy the Newsboy Drunk, Like A Jungle Lion

Olean, New York, 1922

GETS PLENTY OF LIQUOR AT $.25 A SHOT

However, two nips are two too many for "Happy" North Union street "sing song boy"

If there are any among the many "hootch hounds" of Olean who crave for action, and are of the opinion that the city is lacking in this "virtue," they of the doubt, may lay aside their worries and find plenty of the above mentioned action, and all for the sum of 50 cents. At least that's the opinion of "Happy" Calkins, a vendor of newspapers and a familiar figure on Union and State streets.

Happy told Judge Keating when arraigned in police court this morning on a charge of intoxication that he had obtained sufficient action in the Ross block in North Union street to last him for an indefinite period. "I only had two drinks of whiskey at 25 cents a drink," Happy stated, "and within 15 minutes after drinking it I felt like a jungle lion full of lust for battle, and believe me Judge, Jack Dempsey couldn't have knocked me out."

Pleading forgiveness for the offense, Happy, a very penitent prisoner, was permitted his freedom with a 60-day suspended sentence hanging over his head.

The next time he gets in jail it means a trip to Little Valley, Judge Keating warned the newsboy.

—Olean Evening Herald, Olean, NY, May 11, 1922, p. 4.

Marconi Listens for Signals from Mars, Doyle for Spirits

1922

MARTIANS AND SPIRITS

With Mars only about 40,000,000 miles from the earth, Marconi, the inventor of the wireless, is trying to get signals from that planet. True, the most powerful wireless outfits yet built on this planet are capable of sending messages only an infinitesimal fraction of that distance, but Marconi hopes the Martians can do better. That is, if there are any Martians.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle announces that he is installing a complete radio outfit in his London home, for use in his psychic investigations. He feels confident that by means of radio he will be able to communicate with the spirit world.

It might simplify things if the "spirit world" happened to be Mars. Then Marconi and Doyle could work together on the job.

Scoffing is easy, and it is also futile. Nobody can say with assurance that either of these gifted men is wrong. But certainly the chances of their being wrong are great. The least that can be expected of the public is an open mind, a willingness to be "shown." There is a long chain of "ifs" in both cases.

—The Monessen Daily Independent, Monessen, Pennsylvania, June 23, 1922, p. 3.

Babies Now Getting Lullabies by Radio, Not Mother

Baby Florence Jackson listening in on a bedtime story.

New York, 1922

NEW RADIOPHONE LULLABY SUPPLANTS OLD SONGS OF MOTHER AT TWILIGHT

The romance of your baby days will soon fade from the babe of tomorrow. For no longer need mother croon or rock her babe to sleep, or even whisper the story of the sandman. All she will do will be to "cut in" and let babe go to sleep to the tune of a radio lullaby or bedtime story. Florence Jackson now gets her twilight lullaby in New York by radio.

—The Chronicle Telegram, Elyria, Ohio, April 13, 1922, p. 8.

Insurance Collected, "Dead" Man is Alive

1922

CLARION, Pa. — A. W. Weed, formerly an "oil shooter" of Oklahoma, today told how he wandered about the country for nearly two years, his mind a temporary blank, following an explosion of a magazine of the Osage Torpedo company at Pawhuska, Okla., where he was employed. Weed, whose wife collected $6,000 insurance in the belief that he was blown to atoms, related his experiences from the time he found himself lying beside a small stream following the explosion, until he was arrested and lodged in jail here for driving an automobile without a license.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Aug. 26, 1922, p. 2.

Evangeline Weed — Making Personality to Order

1922

BOSTON — A medley of public officials, business men, manufacturers, debutantes and society matrons have worn a path to the studio of a modest and demure young woman in Beacon St.

They go to her filled with worldly knowledge and material experience of years but conquered by one of the greatest of man's weaknesses — self-consciousness.

She diagnoses their cases like a physician, cures them and endows them with man's greatest boon — personality.

She is Miss Evangeline Weed, proprietor of the Personality Institute, the first project of its kind.

Miss Weed numbers among her clients three mayors, two state senators, three representatives and many business men. These men, though successful, are handicapped by self-consciousness and unable to realize their full powers because of undeveloped personality.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Aug. 26, 1922, p. 1.

Sergeant Joe Reed Now Telephone "Girl" for Police

Lima, Ohio, 1922

SERGEANT JOE REED IS NOW TELEPHONE "GIRL" AT POLICE HEADQUARTERS

Joe Reed, day desk sergeant at police headquarters, spent the larger part of the day Monday, learning to operate the new telephone switchboard.

It is now complete and ready to be cut in for use.

The board controls the entire report system of tin police department, special danger and emergency signals and the entire phone system of the department and criminal court.

It is considerably more intricate than the ordinary phone switchboard, because of the additional and special stations with which it is hooked up.

Telephone company employes expect to "cut it in" for use beginning Tuesday morning.

"Guess I'll have to don a blue gingham apron, Reed opined as he tried switches and plugged stations.

—The Lima News, Lima, Ohio, Aug. 28, 1922, p. 2.

Summer's Slipping (poetry)

1922

Poems You Will Enjoy
By Berton Braley

SUMMER'S SLIPPING
The summer's almost gone again,
And fall is coming on again,
When we must really get upon the job;
When we must quit our pleasuring,
And start once more to treasuring
The work that keeps the busy
world athrob.

The small boy thinks unpleasantly
Of school days coming presently;
He'd like to have vacation all the year.
Fall styles are in the stores again,
We'll soon read football scores again,
And apples on the menu will appear.

Straw hats will soon be laid away,
And Palm Beach suits will fade away,
And oysters will again be fit to eat.
Dramatic stars will flash again,
And college boys grow brash again,
And we won't be complaining of the heat.

Thus, after summer's lazy days,
We'll have the golden, hazy-days
When we'll have lots of pep on which to call,
As back to work we turn again,
To earn the coal to burn again,
When winter comes along right after fall!

Their Long Span of Life -- "Same Razor Everyday, 53 Years"

1922

London — Setting forth a compilation of the longevity of many of the common-place things in life — things which though soon every day are scarcely given thought — the London Mail points out that the length of useful life possessed by articles of man's handiwork forms an interesting speculation, and one which is full of surprises.

"For instance, an artificial leg had been worn by its owner for sixty years and was still serviceable at the end of that time.

"The average life of a locomotive engine is about twenty years, but there are many cases on record of this term being greatly exceeded. One built in 1846 worked for a period of over fifty years, first as a passenger, then freight, and finally as a shifting engine. Another completed over two million miles, equal to one hundred year's service, on the ordinary basis of twenty thousand miles a year.

"In the year 1913 a town in Wales was using a fire engine which had been in active service for seventy years on end. But this record pales when compared with that of an engine which was still in use at the beginning of the present century by a firm of metal rollers in Birmingham. This, a beam engine, was erected in the year 1767, and worked continuously for one hundred and thirty-six years before it was last pulled down and replaced.

"There is a case on record of a man using the same razor every morning for fifty-three years."

—Appleton Post-Crescent, Appleton, Wisconsin, Jan. 23, 1922, p. 4.


1899

A Long Service

In remote parts of Scotland the old Covenanters' love for long services on the bare hillside still lingers. At Dingwall a recent communion service in the open air lasted from 10 a. m. until 4 p. m. without exhausting the staying power of the congregation.

African's Teeth Passport

1922

When a man of Central Africa is asked from where he comes his answer is a grin. This answer is perfectly satisfactory, because his teeth are filed and sometimes colored to show to what tribe he belongs.

The women of the Felletah tribe stain their teeth blue, yellow and purple, leaving a white tooth here and there. These women are veritable "rainbows of fashion," with their contrasting colors. Sometimes the women stain their fingers, toes and hair also. Then they feel sure they are much more "dressed up" than any of their neighbors.

In time of war, or any kind of trouble among the tribes, the shaped or colored teeth are a good means of identification. A spy from another tribe can be detected immediately and will not be able to prove an alibi. The dental work is done when the African is very young, and marks him all through his life. — Detroit News.

The Wonderful Tree – Story for Christmas

The Wonderful Tree
By Christopher G. Hazard
(1922, Western Newspaper Union)

It stood in the corner of a rather needy room. It was festooned with strings of popcorn and cables of cranberries. Wisps of tissue paper and tinsel ornaments were out upon the branches, and small candles stood ready to illuminate the occasion. There were many invisible things upon the tree, too. The imaginations of the children had been as busy as their dreams. Family resources may be limited, but there are no bounds in the realms of Santa Claus and hope. In the magical Christmas time the clouds of poverty are all as gilded and beautiful as any sunset can furnish. Anything may happen then. Cinderella is as hopeful as her more favored sisters; not an urchin but has an expectant eye. So the Tanner Christmas tree was as beautiful as a picture and as full of presents as a picture could be.

But, however pictured by fancy and made of good wishes, the presents were all invisible. No one could see what was in the heads of the dreamers and the hearts of the anxious but needy providers. For weeks the mill had been closed, and now the family pocketbook was about empty. Father Tanner looked at the tree, could not see a gift on it, and shook his head. Mother Tanner was inclined to make the best of it.

Yes, the tree was one of the family. It had been the tree of last year's Christmas and the tree of the year before that. It was a tree that kept its evergreen habit and that did not seem to grow old. It was like a living tree, made to bring forth its fruit every year. It had been so good to them that they had named it Bounty. And now it stood there in the dark, all dressed up, but with nothing but blossoms, without any fruit. It could see the hurrying children running to their morning disappointment. It could hear their cries of surprise and chagrin. Silly Sam, more needy of amusement than the others, would look in vain for his expected go-cart; Sue would miss the two dress patterns for her big doll, her new hat and high chair for her little doll; Bill Tanner would not get his skates; Dick would still need a sled. It was anything but a merry tree.

But it was a wonderful tree. It had a power of making itself felt all over a neighborhood. It could summon Santa Claus by a kind of wireless message that went through walls and everything. It reached as far as the folks who were having a Christmas eve party two blocks away and made them think of Mr. Folsom's mill boss and Mrs. Folsom's laundry woman. They had been wishing for some new fun for their party that day and now it came into their heads to go over and be Santa for the Tanners. So the tree drew a very silent but very busy company to the Tanners' back door.

As the children had left directions for Santa on the table it was easy to find out what the tree was expected to do, so, presently, it did it. There was more, too, than orders for the wanted things; the merrymakers had brought with them enough to satisfy any reasonable tree; there were picture books, picture puzzles, games, a scissors grinder that could make the sparks fly, a train of cars that could go, a doll that could say "mama," and candy enough to go round. For Father and Mother Tanner there was a pocketbook with gold in it, and a note of good cheer that was better than the gold.

So the wonderful tree spent the rest of the night in trembling joy. It could not sleep for thinking of the friendly love that had provided such a happy morning to come. And when the first of the morning light brought all the Tanners downstairs the tree fairly shook with pleasure, amid the wonder and the glee of that Christmas day.

As for the servants of Santa Claus, they had never had such a merry Christmas before. Their hearts were so warm that they did not mind the frost. They sang over the pleasure of giving pleasure and relief. They said they knew that Santa Claus had to live up North so that he could cool off after his warm interest in the happiness of others. They addressed him in verses that must have made him jollier than ever, calling him:

THE MAGIC MAN
There is a man who lives up north
All clad in robes and furs,
And every year he sallies forth
As love his going spurs.

He mitigates the winter's cold
That otherwise would freeze,
And keeps himself from growing old
By tending Christmas trees.

The children for his coming wait,
So do the old folks, too;
Unhappiness goes out the gate
When Santa comes to you.

And their own presents never seemed so large and good before.

Court Interrupts Founder of "Perfect Woman" Cult

Chicago, 1922

Court Interrupts Founder of Cult

Mrs. Rachael Marie Riggs was reigning on her throne in her home, surrounded by mystic symbols, weird pictures and curious charms, when Chicago police interrupted her reign to ask her to appear in court to answer a charge of contributing to the delinquency of two wards of the court. She claims to see the coming of the perfect woman.

—The Coshocton Tribune, Coshocton, OH, Jan. 18, 1922, p. 1.

Note: I've seen three different publications of this article. They're all from a common source, of course, but each one says she claims to "see" the coming of the perfect woman, not "be" the perfect woman, so apparently there is no typo.

Christmas to Life Termer Empty, Black, Day of Dreams of What Might Have Been

1922

(International News Service.)

STATE PENITENTIARY. JOLIET, ILL.. Dec. 25. — Christmas to a "lifer" behind prison walls — empty, black, a day saddened by memories of what was and dreams of what might have been.

True there's a special dinner, a movie perhaps, but what's that?

Friends, relatives, loved ones make Christmas. Without them the day is meaningless. So said two convicted murderers here today. They're in for life. To them, Christmas, like any other day, means only iron bars, bleak stone walls, wasted lives.

There's prisoner No. 8383. He's 24, a farmer boy. Never before has he eaten a Christmas dinner away from his mother's table.

Last August, crazed with bad liquor, he murdered his bride of four months. Three weeks ago he was brought here. He changed his name for a number.

His face is frank, open, boyish. His hands are nervous, twitching — twitching because their owner is just beginning to realize the enormity of the crime they committed.

"I never was in trouble before," he said, thinking back over many cheerful Christmas days spent at his home near Morris, Ill., and of four happy months with his young wife, "the only girl I ever went with."

"I was raised just as well as any boy in the country," he said. "I had a good education. I never drank before. Now everything is swept away. It's sad. When I think of it I almost go crazy."

"Christmas?" queried another "lifer" convicted in 1913 of murdering an actress in a Chicago hotel. "Well, it's just about like any other day."

His voice was weak, submissive. And he laughed, a hollow meaningless laugh. Six years in prison have made him that way.

Three possessions he has in the world — his life, which is useless to him unless he can gain his freedom: a small picture, a reproduction of a hotel cash book with which be once had a faint hope he might prove he was innocent of the crime of which he was declared guilty, and $170 in money, not enough to engage a good lawyer to handle his case.

Several years ago this prisoner, then a trusty, walked away from the prison farm. His sole idea was to earn enough money to prove his innocence. He was missing three years. In Seattle he made good. But one day he was recognized by a detective, picked up and brought back to Joliet. He had $170, saved from a salary never more than $2.50 a week.

All this he confided on condition that neither his name nor his number be made known.

"I don't want to beg for sympathy," he said, "if I only had a friend outside who would do something for me. But there is no one. I am getting old. Freedom is a wonderful thing."

Tears welled into his sad eyes. He wiped them away with the back of his hand.

Then he walked away to his cell, there to contemplate another black Christmas — only another day of memories and of dreams that never come true.

—The Lincoln Star, Lincoln, NE, Dec. 25, 1922, p. 7.

No Brain Operation for Train Bandit

Editorial, 1922

Were Roy Gardner, the mail train bandit, permitted to undergo the suggested brain operation to make him a law abiding citizen, it would be among the probabilities that he would become an angel. Contrary to the generally prevailing opinion, brain surgery is considerably more of a failure than a success.

Gardner had been told that his propensity to rob mail trains was due to pressure on the brain, and a simple operation to remove the pressure would give him normal moral sense. In the Federal penitentiary, in Leavenworth, Kans., he demands that the operation should be performed, insisting that Attorney General Daugherty promised him relief through surgery.

The Department of Justice decides now that the operation cannot be performed. Prison officials had wired the department that they believed the operation would not do Gardner any good.

Many moral irregularities are due unquestionably to mental or physical disease or deficiency. Medical or surgical treatment is effectual with many of them, but it is not a certain remedy or cure.

As to brain surgery proper, it is a last resort in a desperate case. The great majority of operations on the brain itself are fatal. Though trephining the skull and removing pressure is a simple performance, it is more often unsuccessful than successful. Surgical experience obviously is, therefore, sufficient warrant for the department's adverse decision.

—The Monessen Daily Independent, Monessen, PA, Oct. 23, 1922, p. 2.

The Head Doesn't Belong In Heaven

Editorial, 1922

One of the members of the National Spiritualist Association, which has been holding its annual convention in Chicago, gives information quite as interesting and definite as Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's concerning the other world. The particular value of this most instructive information is that it authentically describes what we might call spiritualization.

Most of us are too little advised regarding the spirit world. Disappointed as we sometimes are, and even despondent, we are in no hurry to look beyond the grave until we get there, and we are, in our opinion of absolute sanity, in no sanguinary haste to go there.

Now, this scientist of spiritism explains that the feet become spiritualized first, and are the part of the body first to enter heaven. The head is spiritualized last, and, of course, arrives in heaven a yard or two behind the feet.

Another spirit scientist expresses confidence that there are golf links and base ball diamonds in heaven. He argues that it is natural that a person who takes interest in a sport for ten, twenty or more years should retain his interest in that subject after becoming a spirit. From this we may imply that there will be free cigarettes, ice cream, and, perhaps, movies in heaven.

It strikes us as being most unfortunate that the great majority of us finds it to be impossible to obtain facts about the spirits and their world. And then, besides, we don't seem to be rational enough to accept and understand plausible revelations when they are offered to us.

Isn't it somewhat foolish to keep on working, and planning, and thinking, and taking old inspirations on faith, when we could, at will or by profession, practically enter the spirit world? We set such sublime and fond store on what we recognize to be sacred teachings about the other world — yet we could, if we could, obtain authentic and up-to-date knowledge from lights and shadows, which according to their own assurances, are denizens of the spirit world.

No wonder that spiritism scientists tell us that the head is spiritualized last. The wonder is that the head can be spiritualized at all. If there is infinity in the spirit world of modern spiritism, the head does not belong there. If there is anything that the human brain cannot understand it is the infinite, the infinite being supernatural, and the head does not belong in an environment which it is incapable of appreciating.

The average head fully realizes its limitations. This is why it is predisposed to be guided by inspiration concerning the other world. It rests in security on faith.

—The Monessen Daily Independent, Monessen, PA, Oct. 23, 1922, p. 2.

Maxims of a Modern Maid

1922

By Marguerite Mooers Marshall

In an emergency even a good woman will deceive the man she loves. But the emergency rarely arises — he is such an expert on deceiving himself.

The end of the honeymoon is timed for the moment when you realize that instead of loving your husband's bad puns you loathe them.

It must be so nice to be a man. Whenever anybody of the opposite sex puts a poser he can look particularly superior and say: "I'm afraid I couldn't explain so that you would understand."

Home is a vastly overestimated spot. Somebody is always using the bathtub or the morris chair or the telephone when you want it.

When a young man has not quite made up his mind about a girl, that simply means she has not yet got around to making it up for him.

Very young girls prefer the pack formation. When they are a little older they hunt in couples. But in the last, long, stern chase of man each woman is a lone wolf.

When a man believes that he can take a kiss or leave it alone he — as usual — proves he is free and independent by taking it.

"Look over your dressing and see what you can omit," advises a fashion expert. But hasn't the back-to-Eve movement gone about as far as Summer and the police will allow?

The measure of a man's respect for the flapper is said to be the smallest size made.

—April 2, 1922