anaheim-bulletin 1953-09-03

DON WINSLOW OF THE NAVY— THIS RAT WAS WHIPPING JAWES! ENEMY NUMBER ONE! BLOOP AND I GOT ENEMIES TWO THREE-FOUR--- YEAR GOOD PITCH REAL DIXIE DUGAN— (SIGH) IT ALL LOOKS THE SAME — EXCEPT YOU, OF COURSE — MY FATHER USED TO RUN THIS PLACE THEN YOU'RE— LLOYD LOVE, MRS. ALLUN — I'M SO GLAD YOU GOT MY WIRE. I MIGHT AS WELL STICK AROUND FOR SEVERAL WEEKS — CAN AT LEAST BASKIN THE MEMORY OF MR. ALLUN— State Government Collected $68 for Every Person in America During 1953 WASHINGTON — State governments collected $10,542,000,000 in taxes during the 1953 fiscal year which ended last June 30, a Census Bureau report showed today. That comes to about $68.04 each for every man, woman and child in America. Federal tax collections during the same period totalled $65,200,000,000 or about $420 per person. The state figures do not include taxes collected by cities, counties, sanitation districts and other local governments. But the Census tax as one of several alternative proposals for raising additional federal revenue if that becomes necessary. Such a tax would put the federal government directly into the state's favorite revenue day he wants to challenge again. "I'm sure K-2 can be cliff Dr. Charles Houston of C Mass., said." "We hope again next year." The deeply sunburned sat beside his wife as he the misadventures and death harassed his eight members dition in the attempt to scra unconquered peak. Gales and avalanches be climbers back a short day from the top and brought to Arthur K. Gilkey of New York a 10-foot stone cairn five miles the mountain marks the where he died in an avalanche. "Only bad weather defea this year," Houston said. Every Person in America During 1953 WASHINGTON — State governments collected $10,542,000,000 in taxes during the 1953 fiscal year which ended last June 30, a Census Bureau report showed today. That comes to about $68.04 each for every man, woman and child in America. Federal tax collections during the same period totalled $65,200,-000,000 or about $420 per person. The state figures do not include taxes collected by cities, counties, sanitation districts and other local governments. But the Census Bureau estimated that nationwide such taxes total nearly as much as state taxes. Sales Taxes First General sales taxes were the biggest producers for state revenues, accounting for $2,433,000,000. Gasoline taxes were a close second, at $2,017,000,000. Motorists also shelled out $1,120,000,000 for vehicle and driver licenses, the third biggest revenue source. Property taxes, which once were a mainstay of state finances, accounted for only $365,000,000 of the 1953 revenue. Most important to the states were individual income levies of $969,000,000 and corporation income taxes of $810,000,000. Study National Levy The Eisenhower administration is now considering a national sales tax as one of several alternative proposals for raising additional federal revenue if that becomes necessary. Such a tax would put the federal government directly into the state's favorite revenue field and to that extent would conflict with President Eisenhower's long range goal of eliminating "overlapping" of federal state functions. Tax collections by states during fiscal 1953 included: California, $1,139,442,000; Arizona, $74,540,000; Idaho, $38,765,-000; Oregon, $129,779,000; Utah, $49.85,000; Washington, $265,630,-000. Houston to Try Again To Scale Mountain RAWALPINDI, Pakistan (UP) — The leader of the unsuccessful American attempt to climb Mount Godwin Austen (K-2), world's second highest mountain, said to restate here preparatory to for the United States with ing members of the expedition. GHOSTLY HOOFBEATS by Norman A. Fox SYNOPSIS Packrel 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 justice to the holiday who had eluded his ill-trips father, the late Sheriff Fritz Manning, years before. But on reaching his destination Cole learns from Mack Torgun and his killer companion Gal that old Torgun had fled the jail and sided by a girl and her wagon was at large now, a bounty on his head. Griffin, the present sheriff remains to Manning that eccentric old Packrat is important to the case. He'd merely been half way up when some of the long lost loot turned up near his home. Listening in on a conversation at the local hospital, Cole discover that Manning is attempting to blackmail its founder and highly esteemed Dr. Brownlee. He further learns that the girl who had added Purdy in his escape is Dr. Brownlee's lofty granddaughter, Laura. Out on the trail Manning meets Slade Ruxton, a snake rogue whose aim is to collect the Wells Fargo "reward." CHAPTER ELEVEN COLE MANNING looked at him in the moonlight, seeing Slade Ruxton as something new in his experience, seeing a smart man who was single-minded but somehow smelled of unscrupulousness. he grasped at the door, pulled it open and lunged inside. There was only one room, musty from long emptiness, and it held a crude table with the food sacks Laura had fetched piled upon it; a rusty cooking stove, two rickety chairs, a sagging bunk—no more furnishings than that. A lantern burned on the table, and in its light Manning saw Laura rise from one of the chairs, her face gone blank with surprise. "Where's Purdy?" Manning demanded. She moved back and stood crouched against the rear dirt wall; she shook her head numbly, the fear in her eyes telling Manning that she recognized him from yesterday. "First you've got to know that I'm not one of Torgin's men," he said. "Tm Cole Manning, federal marshal. This man is Slade Ruxton, here because of Wells Fargo. You've got to tell us where Purdy is!" "Gone!" she said tonelessly, and swapt her hand to take in the whole dusk. hideout gun if Torgin hadn't halted the play. But there would have been nothing personal about it. Not then. Turning all this over his mind, it struck Gal that he should be glad that Torgin hadn't interfered. If Manning had died this afternoon, he'd have died knowing who'd cut him down. The wouldn't have pleased Gal. Not that way he'd take his pleasure when he again stood face to face with Cole Manning. On his foam-flecked horse, he sat rigidly, feeling hog-tied. Stoot to reason that Manning had headed north, for Slash 7 had gone there other direction and Manning showed on their trail. Manning must have set out after Lauren Brownlee and Packrat Purdy. That was it. The dirty badge-tolerator sure got a good jolt when he learned who'd been in the wagon. Gal drew some satisfaction from that, and part of the haze lifted from his brain. What was it the prison doctor used to say to him in those early years at Deer lodge when he'd go CHAPTER ELEVEN COLE MANNING looked at him in the moonlight, seeing Slade Ruxton as something new in his experience, seeing a smart man who was single-minded but somehow amelled of unscrupulousness. He frowned. He could order the fellow to clear out of here; he supposed; he could even arrest Ruxton for having interfered with a federal marshal yesterday, though that might be a hard one to make stick, considering that he'd been tussling with a girl when Ruxton had bought in. The other choice was to let Ruxton come along to the showdown. The whole question in that case was whether he could trust the man. Ruxton might have been a mind reader. "You'll find a letter in my wallet. It's from the San Francisco office of Wells Fargo in answer to my inquiry as to whether the old reward still stands. Have a look at it." "Til take your word," Manning said. "Then stop and consider that two cats closing in on one rathole make for greater efficiency than one cat. Shall we get going?" "Why not?" Manning said and moved along the coulee with Ruxton trailing him. For the first few minutes, Manning's back was tensed and he wondered what sort of fool he was to take this risk. But Ruxton seemed content to follow peaceably, quietly down when Manning cautioned him to silence. Thus they came together to the clearing. A light now stood in the window of the dugout, and Manning whispered, "There it is." "How do you intend to handle things?" The laughter in that voice was like a sharp stick to Manning. "Like this!" he said and drew his gun again and sped swiftly across the clearing. Ruxton was right behind him as She moved back and stood crouched against the rear dirt wall; she shook her head numbly, the fear in her eyes telling Manning that she recognized him from yesterday. "First you've got to know that I'm not one of Torgin's men," he said. "Tm Cole Manning, federal marshal. This man is Slade Ruxton, here because of Wells Fargo. You've got to tell us where Pufdy is!" "Gone" she said tonelessly, and swep her hand to take in the whole dugout. "He was gone when I got back tonight. Torgin's found him, I think." "Are you telling the truth?" "Of course she's telling the truth," Ruxton said at Manning's elbow. "Can't you see that she's almost in a state of shock?" He was the cool one again, turning a thoughtful face to the girl; but not showing any pity. In this moment Manning found something to admire in him, for Ruxton was taking disaster in his stride. Ruxton's smile returned. "I shall leave you to comfort the lady, Mr. Manning. Good night, both of you. The deck seems to have been reshuffled. Good luck—and the full reward to the man first able to claim it." In Gal, riding wildly from Slash? the night before, one thought beat steadily as he spurred his horse. "Get Manning! Get Manning! This was a relentless drumming in him, drowning out all other thought till he realized he was quirking the horse up the steep slant to the canyon's rim. He eased down then, though his turmill was no less; and when he got higher and hipped around for a look at the buildings below, he found that his hands were shaking, and he was breathing as though he'd run a hard mile. He'd have to get hold of himself, he decided. He mustn't led the old craziness make his judgment unsteady, too. Yet anger stayed. Mack Torgin a blind, stupid blunderer! Why Torgin recognized Cole Manning when he stood within reach out there in the cottonwoods? Manning, as a stranger, hadn't meant much, though Gal would have got in a lick with his at rigidly, feeling hog-tied. Stood to reason that Manning had headed north, for Slash? had gone the other direction and Manning had showed on their trail. Manning must have set out after Laurel Browniee and Packrat Purdy. That was it. The dirty badge-toter has sure got a good jolt when he's learned who'd been in the wagon. Gal drew some satisfaction from that, and part of the haze lifted from his brain. What was it the prison doctor used to say to him in those early years at Deer lodge when he'd got those wild spells and had to be put in solitary? "You're not really crazy, Bridger, any more than I or the warden or anybody else. Each of us has got some one sore spot that makes us come off the hinges when it's touched. Yours is your hate for Flint Manning. You get thinking about his putting you here, and your hate sprouts like a polsonous weed. But the only person it harms is you." Well, he'd got that sore spot touched tonight when Mack Torgin had suddenly remembered who Cole Manning was. Maybe he shouldn't even hold that against Mack, considering that he, too, had had a look at young Manner, so therefore a chance to remember. The kid favored his father enough; that was certain. But he, Gal, hadn't neighbored with Manning eight years here in the Bootjack as Torgin had Still, as little as he'd seen of Flint Manner, Gal would have sworn that high-boned face, big-beaked and smoky-eyed, was stuck in his memory forever. Sometimes, like now, it stood before him real clear. Gal jogged his horse and began riding northward. Maybe, just by chance, he'd stumble upon another rider of the night. He had been patient for a good long time; he could be patient still. He'd been veering a little east-ward, toward Bootjack river. He headed now for the willows along that stream, pulled into them, squaw-hobbled his horse and spread the saddle-blanket upon the ground and used the saddle for a pillow. A little too early in the season for the mosquitoes to be peaky, and he liked the sound of running water so close by. (To Be Continued) by Frank V. Mastak AND I GOT ENEMIES TWO THREE FOUR YEAH GOOD PITCHING RED! YOU CAME IN TIME! I HOPE BUT THE RIGHTS STILL ON THIS IS JUST AN INTERMISSION! by Leonard Samanne I MIGHT AS WELL STICK AROUND FOR SEVERAL WEEKS CAN LEAST BASKIN THE MEMORY OF MR ALLUN I'M SORRY, MRS. ALLUN IT CAN ONLY BE SEVERAL DAYS WHY? WE ALL HAVE TO GET OUT ay he wants to challenge it again. "I'm sure K-2 can be climbed," Mr. Charles Houston of Concord, Mass., said. "We hope to try again next year." The deeply sunburned doctor beside his wife as he told of the misadventures and death which crassed his eight member expedition in the attempt to scale the conquered peak. Gales and avalanches beat the timbers back a short distance from the top and brought death Arthur K. Gilkey of New York. 10-foot stone cairn five miles up the mountain marks the spot where he died in an avalanche. "Only bad weather defeated us this year," Houston said as he being as bad as the evil it protects against. For a man it would be every bit as deadly. That was Dr. Charles L. Dunham's comment today on a British medical magazine's prescription of whiskey as a antidote to A-bomb radiation. J. Gordon Cook, writing in "The Family Doctor," said tests show mice can survive radiation if they are fortified with alcohol. He conceded that what's good for mice may not be good for human beings, but he concluded that: Prescribes A Shot "There seems to be every justification for taking a protective dose of alcohol as soon as it is known that atomic bombs are on Claim Spacemen "Just Can't Exist" By DELOS SMITH NEW YORK (UP)—All existing scientific evidence is that spacemen from other planets just can't exist, a noted authority said today with apologies to the bubblegum set. Whether or not he had the juvenile television audiences in mind, Dr. Herbertus Strughold, professor of ham's comment today on a British medical magazine's prescription of whiskey as a antidote to A-bomb radiation. J. Gordon Cook, writing in "The Family Doctor," said tests show mice can survive radiation if they are fortified with alcohol. He conceded that what's good for mice may not be good for human beings, but he concluded that: Prescribes A Shot "There seems to be every justification for taking a protective dose of alcohol as soon as it is known that atomic bombs are on the way." Dunham did not discuss the general merits of a shot or two of whiskey in a time of stress. But he warned against expecting alcohol to do for people what it does for mice. Dunham is chief of the medical branch of the Atomic Energy Commission's Division of Biology and Medicine. The AEC has done a lot of research on ways of minimizing radiation effects, and it has known for several years that both alcohol and morphine help to protect mice. But that is a far cry from saying that a drunken dope addict is safe against the A-bomb's deadly rays. Won't Work In Rats "There is no reason whatever," Du ham said, "for believing that what's helpful for mice would be any good for human beings. "There seems to be something peculiar about mice that makes alcohol a protection for them against radiation. Tests show it is not for rats, and rats are more closely related to mice than man is." In the experiments with mice, the alcohol was injected into the body. Dunham said the amount it takes to protect a mouse from radiation is almost enough to kill it. Increase this protective dose on a weight-for-weight basis and it would amount to about one pint for a man. "That much pure alcohol injected into an average man," Dunham said, "would raise the alcohol level of his blood well above lethal." In other words, if the radiation didn't kill him, the alcohol would. "Just Can't Exist" By DELOS SMITH NEW YORK (UP)—All existing scientific evidence is that spacemen from other planets just can't exist, a noted authority said today with apologies to the bubblegum set. Whether or not he had the juvenile television audiences in mind, Dr. Herbertus Strughold, professor of space medicine, Air Force School of Aviation Medicine, admitted that he couldn't be absolutely positive. But all the evidence now at hand is that intelligent life as we know it on earth can't exist on Mars, he said. Since Mars is the planet which would be most likely on the basis of present knowledge to support life comparable to earth life, he spoke for all known planets. "The lack of oxygen precludes any higher order of living beings, either animal or vegetable" on Mars, he said. "There is good evidence for a primitive type of plant life, similar to the lichens that grow on our desert rocks and arctic tundras, and we find that biological principles—as we observe them on earth—favor the likelihood of some such elemental species. In addition, there is an outside chance that we might find on Mars a lowly type of animal existence; bacteria of some kind, for example. But the odds against any intelligent beings on that planet are so great as to place the idea of 'visitors from mars' in the realm of fantasy." But the kids will be glad to know that he was by no means positive. He said "no one will be more agreeably surprised than myself to find, or better, to hear that he is utterly wrong." Thursday, September 8, 1958 ANAHEIM (CaL) BULLETIN — 1 by Fred Meagher LET ME AT HIM... I'LL KILL HIM! I'LL KILL HIM! DON'T SHOOT! IT'S NOT FAIR! HE'S NOT ARMED! HE HAS A PISTOL! HE'S JUST WAITING FOR ME TO GET CLOSER! IVE HEARD THE SILOUX DON'T ALLOW WEARINGS IN THEIR WEDDING SANCTUARY! THAT'S SO FIGHTS SURE TO BE JUS' PLAIN LOVE SCRAPS! by Carl Grubert WOMEN ARE LIKE VALENTNABLE BECAUSE THY MOVE MOST OF THE TIME! HIM--LET'S CHANGE THAT A LITTLE-- A MAN HAS MORE TEMPTATIONS THAN A WOMAN, BECAUSE HE KIDNE WHERE TO FIND THEM! by McEvoy and Striebel I ASKED HIM TO WATER THE LAWN FIRST! HE'S DOING ALL THAT... AND WASHING HIS CLOTHES, TOO! by McEvoy and Striebel I ASKED HIM TO WATER THE LAWN, FIRST! HE'S DOING ALL THAT... AND WASHING HIS CLOTHES, TOO! by R. M. Brinkerhoff I MOVE THAT THE CAPTAIN OF OUR TWO SCHOOL TEAMS, TUBBY AND WALLY, BE DELEGATED TO ESCORT MARY IN TO TAKE A BOW. OH-NO NO-NO-NO! FOR SHE'S A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW OR SHE'S A JOLLY GOOD FELLOW by Walter Lants LISTEN OTTO, DO YOU WANT TO GO TO THE MOVIES OR NOT? MAKE UP YOUR MIND! THIS WON'T TAKE A MINUTE! SPACE MAN by Wayne Boring HELEN, YOU GO HOME AND CHANGE! ILL PACK A BAG--AND WE'LL ELOPE! ALL RIGHT, EDGAR! I ONLY HAVE TO KEEP THIS RAY ON CHARLEY A FEW MINUTES LONGER UNTIL EDGAR AND HELEN HAVE MADE THEIR GETAWAY! S-SUPERMAN! ZIGI, YOLL AND ZAGI HAVE INTERFERED IN THESE PEOPLES' LIVES LONG ENOUGH! HELEN, YOU GO HOME AND CHANGE! I'LL PACK A BAG...AND WE'LL ELOPE! ALL RIGHT EDGAR! I ONLY HAVE TO KEEP THIS RAY ON CHARLEY A FEW MINUTES LONGER UNTIL EDGAR AND HELEN HAVE MADE THEIR GETAWAY! S-SUPERMAN! ZIGI, YOLL AND ZASI HAVE INTERFERED IN THESE PEOPLES'LIVES LONG ENOUGH! THE COLUMISTS... WHY...WHAT COLUMISTS...I NEVER READ THEM THINGS PERSONNELY. OH...THERE WAS SOME GOSSIP. ARE YA READY TO GO, HONEY? GOSH...GOOD THING I DIDN'T LEAVE ALL THE CLIPPINS ABOUT US IN THE OTHER ROOM. I'll BE READY IN A SECOND, HONEY BUN. I DIDN'T EXPECT TO BE EAVESDROPPING MYSELF, BUT I FORGOT TO PLUG MY EARS! DID YOU HEAR EVERYTHING JOE NEWO SAID? QUITE ENOUGH, YOU'D BETTER TELL ME, ALAINE... WHAT /5 THIS CAPER HE'S COOKING UP? LESLIE, CIMETTE, JOHN SPRAMBER.