anaheim-bulletin 1953-09-02

Craft, Hobby Show Winners Revealed Winners of the recent annual Craft and Hobby Exhibit, sponsored by the Anaheim Recreation department, were announced today. The exhibit was held on Friday, Aug. 26 at 2 p.m. and judges for the event were Mrs. Virginia Sullivan, of the Hobby and Ceramics of Savanna, third and Dianne Smith, fourth. In the 11-year-old group: Colleen O'Brien, first; Susan Henry, second; Gretchen Schmidt, third; and Joellyn Wise, fourth. Marilyn Robinson was declared first place winner in the 12-year-old group; Bud Fassel, second; Genelda Bozarth of Stanton, third and Diana Palm, fourth. For the 13-year-old group, Gary La Greide of Los Alamitos placed first; Bud Stanley of Savanna, second; Donna Starmer, third and James Dickey, fourth. A number of special awards were made and winners of these in the formal award for oil painting. In the ceramic painting competitions were divided into groups and winners of the 11 year old group were: Thornton and Donna Lee, Merrily La Mont, second; Suiter and Patricia Ward. In the 12 to 16 year old groups were: Eddie Reynolds, Lou May, first; Jack Pillel Diane Snell, first; Jack Pillel Diane Snel, second; Judy I third and Janet Busman, fourth. Winners of the 4 to 9-y group were: Jane and Mark ning and Judy and Harry first place; Nina Polley and Winners of the recent annual Craft and Hobby Exhibit, sponsored by the Anaheim Recreation department, were announced today. The exhibit was held on Friday, Aug. 26 at 2 p.m. and judges for the event were Mrs. Virginia Sullivan, of the Hobby and Ceramics shop, Ted Wade, art instructor at Anaheim Union High School and Larry Macaray, local artist. Decisions of the judges in the junior artist group were: Six-year-olds, Debbie Saville, first; Pam Steele, second; Julia Ersek, third; and Marilyn Hansen, fourth. Seven-year-olds, Janet Kier, landscape, first; Maureen Truxau, landscape, second; Marianne Hansen, third, and Claira Fisher, landscape, fourth. In the eight-year-old group, Gall Curtis of Los Alamitos won first place; Rebecca Padilla of Los Alamitos, figure, second; Nancy Cook, third and Christina Miles, fourth. Nine-year-olds; Randy Martin of Savanna, first; Alan Harville, Los Alamitos, second; Susan Saville, third and Cathleen Basse, fourth. Winners in the 10-year-old group were: Jimmy Cousins, first; Melinda Watson, second; Gary Eastwood, GHOSTLY HOOFBEATS by Norman A. Fox Copyright 1982 by Norman A. Fox Distributed by King Fassner Syndicate STORIES Packrat Purdy's arrest had opened up once more the case of the Phantom Bandit and sent Cole Manning galloping into the Bootjack country. He hoped now to bring to justice the discovery that of a valuable War Pargo cargo, who had sludged his illustrious father, the late Sheriff Flint Manning, years before. But on reaching his destination Cole learns from bough Morgan and his killer cowon Gail that sly old. Purdy had fled the jail and aided by a girl and her wagon, was at large now, a bounty on his head. Griffin, the present sheriff explains to Manning that eccentric old Packrat is not important to the case. He merely been held for questioning when some of the long lost loot turned up near his home. Listening in on a conversation at the local hospital Cole discover that Morgan is attempting blackmail its founder, the vulnerable and highly esteemed Dr. Brownlee. He further learns that the girl who had aided Purdy in his escape is Dr. Brownlee's lovely granddaughter, Laura. CHAPTER TEN HERE then was a deserted homestead, abandoned by some pilgrim who'd brought a plow to the Bookjack and pitied it against rocky, forested land. You could find such monuments to foolhardiness all duroy jacket to match the breeches—a string tie like a gambler's—a bit of white shirt showing—an expensive sombrero too wide of brim for this northern range. That was how the fellow added up. His gun in his hand, Manning stepped out into the clearing and said sharply, "Just raise those paws, please," and saw quick surprise on the fellow's face. But only for an instant. The man's hands went up, but his aplomb seemed scarcely shaken. He said, "You can put that gun away, Manning. It might go off, you know." "And just who are you?" "The name is Ruxton—Slade Ruxton." He had a voice in keeping with that sardonic face, a voice holding its hint of laughter. A cool one, this Ruxton, somewhere in his thirties, which made him too young to have been that phantom hold-up man of twenty-four years ago. "Step back!" Manning ordered, wagging the gun. "What's your her to anybody in the basement they'll hand you her name. And you, I read the papers. And seen that statue in town. papers said Flint Manning was an route; the statue graved an idea what you'd look like and two make four. As a lot tooter, you're a little slow, frightened. You're a little slow, frightened." "Tm a working apperence Mannings grimly." "Leas as I go." Then I could give some lessons. Mannings. I am here half a day ahead of you it seems I've learned faster. The vacuous Mr. Purford beamed to be the key to thing, but it was my curse to find him freely absent the jail. I rode out looking him yesterday afternoon, put on till I got to this end basin. People were stirring at me from the slope," Mannings in angrily. "And you wrecked play for me. I'd have had but for that." CHAPTER TEN HERE then was a deserted homestead, abandoned by some pilgrim who'd brought a plow to the Boot-rock and pitted it against rocky, forested land. You could find such monuments to foolhardiness all over Montana. But where one man had left his hope behind him, Cole Manning had found his; and a fierce jubilation arose in him. He'd tracked Laura to the hideout where Packrat Purdy was being kept. She was inside now, and it was safe to cross to the door. He took a step toward the dugout. Then a new excitement crawled in him, for he heard a faint threening behind and knew that someone moved through the bushes. He began moving carefully along the backtrail, testing each step before he set down his boot. In him desire cried to go on into the dugout and put Packrat Purdy under his gun, and this desire remained a steady torment even as he traveled in the opposite direction. Trouble was, you had to guard your back. You took on this job of being a professional man hunter, and though you'd inherited Flint Manning's looks and maybe some of his instinct for such work, you had to come by the rest of it the hard way. Once into that dugout, you might have your hands full—the memory of Laura's scrapiness yesterday was still fresh—and you didn't want someone else moving up on you from behind. Hunter he'd been tonight, and hunter he must remain. So thinking, he worked his way back along the coulee, pausing often to listen. Now the one who hunted him was drawing nearer and not being too careful as he moved. Twigs cracked beneath the fellow's boots, and bushes swished to his passing. In the bright moonlight, Manning kept to cover and peered across an open space, wondering how to negotiate it; and as he looked, his man showed plain before him. A long body to match a long face. Corduroy riding breeches tucked into boots—a coral He said, "You can put that gun away, Manning. It might go off, you know." "And just who are you?" "The name is Ruxton—Slade Ruxton." He had a voice in keeping with that sardonic face, a voice holding its hint of laughter. A cool one, this Ruxton, somewhere in his thirties, which made him too young to have been that phantom hold-up man of twenty-four years ago. "Step back!" Manning ordered, wagging the gun. "What's your game, feller?" he demanded. "The reward, naturally." "What reward?" Ruxton smiled. "It can't be that you really don't know. Wells Fargo posted a reward twenty-four years ago, right after that holdup. It still stands. Twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of that stagecoach robber or for proof of his death. It's a comfortable-sounding sum, isn't it? That's why I'm in the Bootjack, and that's why I followed Laura Brownlee tonight." "Brownlee—!" Look, friend," Ruxton said, "are you pretending you didn't know she's old Doe Brownlee's granddaughter?" Manning's thoughts were a chaos, but out of them came the remembrance of that heated talk between Torgin and Doc Brownlee at the hospital and Torgin's studied, intimidating, ...I reckon maybe you know who was driving that wagon, Doc." So it had been Brownlee's granddaughter, along with old Ma Hibbard, who'd helped Packrat Purdy escape. Torgin had known that all along; and Torgin, selling diseased beef and fearing the pressure Doe Brownlee might bring to bear against him, had wanted a club to use against Brownlee. That was the size of it. Or was it? Was Torgin hoping to capture Purdy so that he might also capture Laura and prove her to be Purdy's accomplice? Or was something deeper involved, something that was an echo out of the yesterdays? Manning got the feeling that maybe the trail had turned more tangled, and all this while Ruxton stood smiling at him. "How did you know her name, Ruxton? And mine, for that matter?" "By most obvious means. In her case, I asked questions. Describe what seemed scarcerly marked." He said, "You can put that gun away, Manning. It might go off, you know." "And just who are you?" "The name is Ruxton—Slade Ruxton." He had a voice in keeping with that sardonic face, a voice holding its hint of laughter. A cool one, this Ruxton, somewhere in his thirties, which made him too young to have been that phantom hold-up man of twenty-four years ago. "Step back!" Manning ordered, wagging the gun. "What's your game, feller?" he demanded. "The reward, naturally." "What reward?" Ruxton smiled. "It can't be that you really don't know. Wells Fargo posted a reward twenty-four years ago, right after that holdup. It still stands. Twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of that stagecoach robber or for proof of his death. It's a comfortable-sounding sum, isn't it? That's why I'm in the Bootjack, and that's why I followed Laura Brownlee tonight." "Brownlee—!" Look, friend," Ruxton said, "are you pretending you didn't know she's old Doe Brownlee's granddaughter?" Manning's thoughts were a chaos, but out of them came the remembrance of that heated talk between Torgin and Doc Brownlee at the hospital and Torgin's studied, intimidating, ...I reckon maybe you know who was driving that wagon, Doc." So it had been Brownlee's granddaughter, along with old Ma Hibbard, who'd helped Packrat Purdy escape. Torgin had known that all along; and Torgin, selling diseased beef and fearing the pressure Doe Brownlee might bring to bear against him, had wanted a club to use against Brownlee. That was the size of it. Or was it? Was Torgin hoping to capture Purdy so that he might also capture Laura and prove her to be Purdy's accomplice? Or was something deeper involved, something that was an echo out of the yesterdays? Manning got the feeling that maybe the trail had turned more tangled, and all this while Ruxton stood smiling at him. "How did you know her name, Ruxton? And mine, for that matter?" "By most obvious means. In her case, I asked questions. Describe what seemed scarcerly marked." He said, "You can put that gun away, Manning. It might go off, you know." "And just who are you?" "The name is Ruxton—Slade Ruxton." He had a voice in keeping with that sardonic face, a voice holding its hint of laughter. A cool one, this Ruxton, somewhere in his thirties, which made him too young to have been that phantom hold-up man of twenty-four years ago. "Step back!" Manning ordered, wagging the gun. "What's your game, feller?" he demanded. "The reward, naturally." "What reward?" Ruxton smiled. "It can't be that you really don't know. Wells Fargo posted a reward twenty-four years ago, right after that holdup. It still stands. Twenty-five thousand dollars for the arrest and conviction of that stagecoach robber or for proof of his death. It's a comfortable-sounding sum, isn't it? That's why I'm in the Bootjack, and that's why I followed Laura Brownlee tonight." "Brownlee—!" Look, friend," Ruxton said, "are you pretending you didn't know she's old Doe Brownlee's granddaughter?" Manning's thoughts were a chaos, but out of them came the remembrance of that heated talk between Torgin and Doc Brownlee at the hospital and Torgin's studied, intimidating, ...I reckon maybe you know who was driving that wagon, Doc." So it had been Brownlee's granddaughter, along with old Ma Hibbard, who'd helped Packrat Purdy escape. Torgin had known that all along; and Torgin, selling diseased beef and fearing the pressure Doe Brownlee might bring to bear against him, had wanted a club to use against Brownlee. That was the size of it. Or was it? Was Torgin hoping to capture Purdy so that he might also capture Laura and prove her to be Purdy's accomplishment? Or was something deeper involved, something that was an echo out of the yesterdays? Manning got the feeling that maybe the trail had turned more tangled, and all this while Ruxton stood smiling at him. "How did you know her name, Ruxton? And mine, for that matter?" "By most obvious means. In her case, I asked questions. Describe what seemed scarcerly marked." He said, "You can put that gun away, Manning. It might go off, you know." "And just who are you?" "The name is Ruxton—Slade Ruxton." He had a voice in keeping with that sardonic face, a voice holding its hint of laughter. A cool one, this Ruxton, somewhere in his thirties, which made him too young to have been that phantom hold-up man of twenty-four years ago. "Step back!" Manning ordered, wagging the gun. "What's your game, feller?" he demanded. "The reward, naturally." "What reward?" Ruxton smiled. "It can't be that you really don't know who you were both your voice and hers very well in this mountain all seemed much concerned Purdy. Another bounty-hunt thought. So I discouraged you." For what other reason I lady got clear away as a part of my gallant action, but as the competition was eliminated the time being. Not until I close-up glimpse of you in tonight did I realize that Tory interfering with the law. For I apologize." Yeah," Manning observed a grin spread all over your mouth." Obviously we're wasting Ruxton said. "I judge that trailed Miss Brownlee to her hair or you wouldn't be here exchanging experience me. Don't you think you'd case that枪 so we can get important business? If interested in striking a boll I'll lend a hand at the grace. For half the reward is better than none. Is it gain?" Manning put his gun in his stern but stood ready and "It can't be the reward I'm after." Ruxton shook his head lievingly. "So the papers mated. Very well; the gloyou the gold for me. I will have believed such an all-foal was left in the world." Then you've got something learn，too." Manning snapped "You'll change your mind the reward is within reach ton said." But that's tom problem. Lead the way，Mr ning." (To Be Continued) by Frank V. Martinek THAT GIRL RED IT-IT'S JANE! JOHN JOYRON 9:2 by Leonard Samsone CHAPERONING MA AND PA ON THEIR SECOND HONEY-MOON HOW CUTE— MIND IF I WANDER AROUND A LITTLE BEFORE CHECKING IN FOR MINE? THE BERRYS DADDY, WILL YOU LEAD ME FIFTY CENTS? I WILL...BUT I SHOULDN'T! WILLIE— Hollywood By ALINE MOSBY HOLLYWOOD (P) — I must take take off my clothes more often. Since I un-covered a nudist convention in my birthday suit, the mailman has brought fan letters and even one honest-to-gosh proposal. Marilyn Monroe skipped to stardom after she posed in the nude and now I can immodestly report I, too, have found a few fans because I stripped to report a meeting of sun-all-over-lovers. By ALINE MOSBY HOLLYWOOD — I must take off my clothes more often. Since I un-covered a nudist convention in my birthday suit, the mailman has brought fan letters and even one honest-to-gosh proposal. Marilyn Monroe skipped to stardom after she posed in the nude and now I can immodestly report I too, have found a few fans because I stripped to report a meeting of sun-all-over-lovers. A worker at the Naval air station at Pensacola, Fla., wrote, "I would marry you if you were here." In fact, he added, "I would even travel to L. A. to marry you," indicating ardent devotion. "I am a nice-looking fellow of 27 with blue eyes, dark hair and a loving disposition," his letter said. "You are a very beautiful woman, dressed or undressed. You can swim in the gulf here," with my bathing suit on. I trust. Want Memoirs A Macon, Ga., fellow enthused, "When you get this letter please return your personal address for other communications, you being willing. It could hardly be imagined you would not be willing." Now what could he mean by that? My journalism school professor at Missoula, Mont., wrote that somehow he must be responsible for all this. A Caruthers, Calif., reader wants to know how he can join a nudist camp, and a Medford, Ore., lady asked if I could send her some false eyelashes. A Nashville, Tenn., newspaper, the Banner, invited me to cover a nudist convention there, if they ever have one. The police gazette and Man's Magazine in New York asked-for my memoirs of my day in the sun. And next week I'm lecturing on nudists at the annual banquet of the Publicity club of Los Angeles. Fellow Nudist A nudist magazine in Germany, "Sonnen Freund," wrote they wanted to publish "a full-length picture of you at the nudist encampment." There isn't one available, I hope, except a cartoon the South Haven, Mich. Tribune printed and sent along. I can answer, however, seven requests for MY autographed calendar photo, the only authorized version, a back view from the waist up. I am proud to report the United Press bureau in Washington wrote I am now "the poor man's Monroe." UP columnist Harmon Nichols in Washington also passed along word he once covered a funeral at a nudist colony of a guy named Joe whose ashes were in a cigar box. "The wind took a notion to competeitors were divided into age groups and winners of the 10 to year old group were: Karen Norton and Donna Lee, first; Harrily La Mont, second; Linda Bitter and Patricia Ward, third. The 12 to 16 year-old group, winners were: Eddie Reynolds, Mary Lu May, first; Jack Pilley and Jane Snell, first; Jack Pilley and Jane Snell, second; Judy Blacke and Janet Busman, fourth. Winners of the 4 to 9-year-old group were: Jane and Mark Henning and Judy and Harry Denzer place; Nina Polley and Dick Queue, second; Loel William and Lile Blue, third; and Michele Ame Hotel and Beth Polley fourth place. Special hobbies were displayed: Judy Blacke, embroidery, Dear Evans, plastic lacing, Donissis, woodcarving, stamp and collections and Debbie Saville tittle painting. Samples of the paper-mache craft as popular in the special activities program this summer, were added attraction. The Craft and Hobby Exhibit was open to the public until 8 p.m. Saturday Aug. 29. Those who participated in the exhibit are requested to go to the City Park for their awards and entries. Recreational leaders responsible for the display were Mrs. S. L. Smith, Junior Artists Groups, Miss Marjorie Henderson, Special Crafts and Miss Mary M. Lawrence, ceramic painting instructor. BEATS to anybody in the basin and you'll hand you her name. As for me, I read the papers. And I've seen that statue in town. The papers said Flint Manning's son is en route; the statue gave me idea what you'd look like. Two two make four. As a badgeer you're a little slow, friend." I'm a working apprentice," Manning said grimly. "Learning I go." Then I think I could give you no lessons, Manning. I only got half a day ahead of you, but seems I've learned faster. Much later. The vacuous Mr. Purdy appeared to be the key to everything, but it was my cursed luck find him freshly absent from jail. I rode out looking for an yesterday afternoon, pushing till I got to this end of the insinan. People were stirring about." "So you took a few pot shots at from the slope," Manning put angrily. "And you wrecked my way for me. I'd have had Purdy fit for that." August Banner Month For Local Building Another banner month in local building permits was on record today in the office of Inspector Homer Wallace of the Anaheim Building Department with a total of $1,369,408. This amount was the outgrowth of the issuance of 126 permits, of which 100 were for dwellings. Business and industrial building for the month totaled $349,405. Inspector Wallace said. Top for August of this year was materially over last year's $730,465. Of the 81 permits issued, 69 were for homes. Total permits for the first eight months of this year are valued at $9,570,165. Wallace said, contrasted with a top of $5,273,038 for the first eight months of last year—a decided upswing over last year. SNAKE IN THE HOUSE MEMPHIS, Tenn. (UP—Miss Extella Houston was enjoying the movie when she felt a sting on her foot. It began to hurt so she got up and went home. The next day, she called a doctor who stated it was a snake bite. If It's News You'll See It In The Bulletin MEANWHILE HORSE-FACE COMES TO: THAT PALEFACE SOUAW... WHAT DID SHE HIT ME WITH? WHERE DID SHE GO? SHE TRIED TO ESCAPE THROUGH THE TUNNEL...AND SHE SPRUNG THE TRAP!...THE LITTLE FOOL! QUIET!...WELL SWIM OUT NOW! REMEMBER OUR WEAPONS AND SHELLS ARE SOAKED! I WILL...BUT I SHOULDN'T! I'M BORROWING TROUBLE WHEN YOU BORROW MONEY FROM ME! WHATS THE TROUBLE! GETTING IT BACK! BEEN PLAYIN' HARD! WELL...THEN...RELAX! RELAX? WITH ONLY ONE MORE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL? GOTTA KEEP PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN' by Fred Meagher by Carl Grubert by McEvoy and Striebel by McEvoy and Striebel ...BEEN PLAYIN' HARD! WELL...THEN... RELAX! RELAX? WITH ONLY ONE MORE WEEK BEFORE SCHOOL? GOTTA KEEP PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN', PLAYIN' by R. M. Brinkerhoff I'VE GOT CIRDERS FOR SIX HAIRBURGERS AND FIVE HOTDOGS WHY! -TED IS STANDING UP--HE'S GOING TO MAKE A SPEECH OR SOMETHING THEY'RE ALL CLAPPING MAY I PROPOSE ANOTHER TOAST! -HERES TO MARY- SHE'S A GIRL BUT A GOOD FELLOW JUST THE SAME by Walter Lants CHOMP! BY WAYNE BORING YOUR MY DEAR! IS NOTHING FEAR! GENIE, TAKE CARE OF THAT BIG CRUMB! AS YOU WISH, MASTER! EDGAR BIRDSALL, YOU--YOU FIANCEE STEALER! I'M GONNA PICK YOU UP AND PUT YOU DOWN IN SECTIONS! I'M GONNA UH... WHAT...WAS I SAYING? HANDY LITTLE GADGET, THIS DE-MEMORIZER! by Wayne Boring GENIE, TAKE CARE OF THAT BIG CRUMB! AS YOU WISH, MASTER! EDGAR BIRDSALL, YOU--YOU FIANCÉE STEALER! I'M GONNA PICK YOU UP AND PUT YOU DOWN IN SECTIONS, I'M GONNA UH... WHAT...WAS I SAYING? HANDY LITTLE GADGET, THIS DE-MEMORIZER! by Ham Fisher ALSM...WHY U WISE UP... WAY...SHE'S BITIOUS KID... OW WAIT A MINUTE... IM BEING A GOOD SPORT... SHE'S USING YOU TO BURN ME UP...DONT YOU REALIZE WHY SHE DRAGS YOU AROUND... IT'S TO SEE ME... WHAT...WHY, YOU... YEAH...THAT'S WHAT I CALLED VA... AN' IF I SEE YA...I'll KNOCK YER TEETH OUT? WHAT THAT POOR KID MUST OF WENT THRU WHILE I WAS AWAY...SHE'S AS FRESH AN' INNASUNT AS A BABY. by Lealie Charterls WE GOT RID OF THE MICROPHONES, ALAINE, BUT VOICES CARRY OVER YOUR PATIO WALL WITHOUT THEM! THAT'S WHAT GOT ZIGGY IN TROUBLE! AND IT COULD DO THE SAME TO YOU!