anaheim-gazette 1931-09-03

ROWENA RIDES THE RUMBLE BY ETHEL HUESTON Eleventh Installment Rackruff Motors hire Rowena to accompany Peter on a nation-wide tour in their roadster as an advertising stunt. At the last minute Little Bobby is engaged to act as chaperon. A few miles out Bobby becomes tearful at being parted from her sweetheart and Rowena insists on taking her place in the rumble so that she can ride with Peter and have him to talk about Carter. Rowena gets Peter to consent to divide the expense money each week as soon as it arrives, and astonishes Peter by eating too economically. The three tourists reach Denver, after passing through Buffalo, Chicago and St. Louis. Peter and Rowena have many tiffs on the way while Carter keeps wiring Bobby to return to New York. The morning after they reach Denver, Peter and Rowena discover Bobby has deserted them and returned to New York by train. They are faced with the impossible condition of continuing their trip without a chaperon. Rowena suggests to Peter that they make a "companionate" marriage. They are married and go to Cheyenne, where their actions, when they ask for rooms on separate floors, arouses the suspicions of the hotel clerk. They finally succeed in getting rooms, but not without exciting the laughter of the hotel loungers. They resume the trip next day and are overwhelmed by a cloudburst in an arroyo and are thrown out of the car. A party of tourist campers gives them dry clothes and food. Spokane is finally reached and the hotel clerk smiles when they register. They resume the trip the next day and are overwhelmed by a cloudburst in the girls the answer to his personal telegram. "Such has been and is my intention," read the telegram. "I am probably the last man living entirely honorable in my dealings with women. Our engagement most certainly is not ended and if you interfere I shall sue. Plan to marry her instant of her arrival. In fact, expect to meet her with license, ring and minister. Wire what train." So at ten-ten Peter and Rowena stood side by side under the quaint titled portico of the Santa Fe station and waved a fond—and not ungratified—farewell to little brown Bobby. The misadventures of Bobby's return and their legal entanglements in Los Angeles had keyed them to a high nervous tension, but when they had left the limits of the city a sudden quiet restfulness descended upon them. Rowena dropped drowsily against his shoulder. "Shall I put up the umbrella in the rumble seat?" Peter asked facetiously. But Rowena pretended she was asleep. By the time they reached the outskirts of San Diego, Peter as well as Rowena confessed to a complete exhaustion, mental as well as physical. They pulled up at the U.S. Grant hotel. There was no in sight and Peter, unwilling to waste a moment, himself carried their bags into the lobby and hurried over to the desk. He enna had received a letter from him at every stop remembered her subsequent bills and rush for a ticket her complete financial way she starved herself desserts—her thousand economies. Now Peter realized meant—this thing that he wrote back in complaint ranged outside interference would be beyond him. They had talked sometime when their motor thought they would pick friends in later years vices vicissitudes were timetick, and no longer booled in each other's eyes. But if Peter flung openly—"The Sacred Cow!" such hopes for the future void. Well, Peter told me know that he cared. And get on so very well with she was a good sport he had ever seen—and break than Buddy was. Peter's grip on the sword as he gave form thoughts. "Granting to begin none of my business, he wrote, heavily—" "It nevertheless affo..." their actions, when they ask for rooms on separate floors, arouses the suspicions of the hotel clerk. They finally succeed in getting rooms, but not without exciting the laughter of the hotel loungers. They resume the trip next day and are overwhelmed by a cloudburst in an arroyo and are thrown out of the car. A party of tourist campers gives them dry clothes and food. Spokane is finally reached and the hotel clerk smiles when they register. They resume the trip the next day and are overwhelmed by a cloudburst in an arroyo and are thrown out of the car. A party of tourist campers gives them dry clothes and food. Spokane is finally reached and the hotel clerk smiles when they register. They find Rackruff Motors have arranged a public reception and dance for them. They are deluged with presents. After the festivities, Peter angers the hotel staff by leaving his bride alone all night and Rowena tries to console him for the bad opinion he has won by his actions. They find Bobble awaiting them in the hotel at Seattle and she travels with them to Los Angeles where they are met by an unfriendly hotel clerk, who summons the police who thereupon place all three under arrest for kidnapping Bobby. NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY: "See here," said Peter angrily, "what sort of tommyrot is this, anyhow? This lady is too old for the juvenile court. Why, she is her own mistress. She's twenty-three years old." "Well, according to the complaint from New York, there is nothing we can do about it. Our orders are to put you under arrest. You'll have to talk to the judge." "But, Peter," cried Rowena, "are you going to let them arrest us for not being married, when we are married! Look at all the trouble we've had. That's proof enough." "But why should they say you are only pretending to be married if you really are married?" "Well, who says so? That's the first question. Where did the complaint come from anyhow?" "From a gentleman in New York by the name of Carter Wellman—" "You can fix this up," said the officer. "You got influential friends,'ain't you? They'll fix you up all right. All they got to do is swear they know all about you and everything's jake and there you are. You just hop down private in your own car with Bill here to show you the way—this is Bill Harmon—fine chap,too—he'll go down with you and introduce you to the judge. He's a swell gent, the judge is. He'll see how things stand in a jiffy." It was the simplest way out, and the officers made it as easy for them as possibly, allowed them to walk unescorted through the lobby of the hotel and waited at a respectful distance when Peter stopped to send a telegram. was surprised at being immediately accommodated with two single rooms. Their good fortune followed them and they both had a real good night's rest. Peter had all the bags stowed neatly away in the car the next morning, ready for their start for the East, when Rowena tripped out of the hotel, leading the freshly washed Constantine on a brand-new leash attached to a brand-new collar. "Gosh, Rowena," ejaculated Peter, "what'll we do with the mutt? I forgot about him?" "Do with Constantine!" she echoed. "Why, we'll buy him a nice silk cushion to ride on, and get him a fresh bone every day. And charge it all to Rackruff." Peter did his best picture at Grand Canyon, one which brought him no small amount of praise and profit. It was the Rackruff and Rowena riding through the rainbow fringe, with Constantine's queer, quaint black and white head nodding approbation beside her. Rowena was not having the best of luck with her work in those declining weeks of their tour. She kept a pencil and note-book constantly at hand, even teaching Constantine to carry them for her on command, but ideas were not coming to her with much frequency. For the first time in her life, Rowena did not feel like writing, did not want to be bothered, and it may as well be added, her writing was far below its usual standard. They lapsed into comfortable silence. They did not quarrel so much when they were alone—there seemed less point to it. To be sure, when occasion sword as he gave form thoughts. "Granting to begin none of my business, he wrote, heavily— "It nevertheless afforded them actions." At El Paso Rowena she sat right down in the got to do is swear they know all about you and everything's jake and there you are. You just hop down private in your own car with Bill here to show you the way—this is Bill Harmon—fine chap, too—he'll go down with you and introduce you to the judge. He's a swell gent, the judge is. He'll see how things stand in a jiffy." It was the simplest way out, and the officers made it as easy for them as possibly, allowed them to walk unescorted through the lobby of the hotel and waited at a respectful distance when Peter stopped to send a telegram, which he wrote with a very firm hand and signaled for Rowena to come and read. It was addressed to Carter Wellman. "Are you going to marry Roberta Lowell immediately on her return to New York, or are you not? If your engagement is canceled, as she believes, I shall marry her myself immediately. A rolling brown dumpling gathers nothing but trouble for all concerned. Please state your exact intentions." "But you can't marry her," protested Rowena. "You're married now." "Well, he doesn't believe it—and Rackruff, Inc., will pay for that wire if I have to steal a spare tire to get it." The judge proved extremely sympathetic and agreed with Peter that it was an outrage, no less, the way people in love embroiled innocent bystanders in the tangled web of their affairs. He had his secretary send off a wire to Denver to verify the marriage, and to Rackruff Motors, Inc., in New York, for details of the trip and complete information regarding Rowena and Peter. He even sent for the local Rackruff dealer, who fortunately turned out to be both a native son and a brother Elk. He was willing to stand entirely responsible for their appearance if required. Besides seeing to their freedom he made Rowena a present of a friendly little dog which he had found in his showrooms that morning and which Rowena promptly proceeded to call Constantine. Peter grumbled at the addition to their party, but was overruled. And so Rowena had a companion on the rumble seat from then on. By the salesman's good offices they were enabled to return to the hotel without police surveillance of any kind. In the early morning Peter read to luck with her work in those declining weeks of their tour. She kept a pencil and note-book constantly at hand, even teaching Constantine to carry them for her on command, but ideas were not coming to her with much frequency. For the first time in her life, Rowena did not feel like writing, did not want to be bothered, and it may as well be added, her writing was far below its usual standard. They lapsed into comfortable silence. They did not quarrel so much when they were alone—there seemed less point to it. To be sure, when occasion required, they would wither each other with a scathing word, but they never went to the old lengths. In Albuquerque, when Peter had registered and called for their mail, he was handed half a dozen telegrams and two or three letters. "Nothing for Miss Rostand," said the clerk. "What!" ejaculated Rowena. "Nothing for me? Not anything? Why Buddy always—he surely must have written. Oh, please look again! There must be at least one!" The clerk obligingly ran through the mall again. "Sorry—not a thing," he said again. "Dear me," said Rowena thoughtfully. "How—extremely—odd!" Alone in his own room, Peter took off his coat and settled down to his mail. A quick glance at the letters told him they were of no especial importance, and he turned to the telegrams. The two that he opened first were from the company, but the third started off on an odd note. "Darling, I hate to ask you again." Peter read, his eyes starting with surprise. "Devil's own luck. Lost fifty bucks at craps. Got to have it this week or they will chuck me out. Rush it by wire. Wish I hadn't played." It was signed, "Buddy." To Peter it made no sense at all. He turned it over and scrutinized the address again. Ah! That explained it. It was addressed not to "Mr." but to "Mrs. Peter Blande." His mind traveled back over the trip. Buddy—that was her brother—Ronald Rostand. Ready for his third year in college and taking summer courses to cut down the time and expense. Row- And without an insult he endorsed his sentiment that would one thousand--"Peter Blanche." Peter was pretty unconscious at the whole business. He to any sort of double duty not at all sure but at any cess of the law—or perhaps company—would fail to jail to explicate his unpopulation of other people telegraph. At El Paso Rowena I She sat right down in the hall to read them, and Peter from cigar stand to eat again, and watched her Peter could stand it in "Buddy O.K." he insisted "He's entirely too O.D. fried." "You can't be too O.D. Peter." "Nobody can mean?" ANAHEIM GAZETTE ona had received a letter or telegram from him at every stop en route. He remembered her subsequent counting of bills and rush for a telegraph office—her complete financial stringency—the way she starved herself, eschewing all desserts—her thousand painful small economies. Now Peter realized fully what it meant—this thing that he was going to do. Know quite well that when Buddy wrote back in complaint of this unwarranted outside interference, Rowenn's rage would be beyond bounds. They had talked sometimes of the future when their motor tour was over, thought they would probably be good friends in later years when their business vicissitudes were separate and distinct, and no longer bound up by compulsion in each other's work and wish. But if Peter flung open insult at Buddy—"The Sacred Cow!" he sneered—all such hopes for the future were null and void. Well, Peter told himself, he didn't know that he cared. After all, he didn't get on so very well with Rowena. But she was a good sport—the best sport he had ever seen—and deserved a better break than Buddy was giving her. Peter's grip on the pen made it a sword as he gave form to his scathing thoughts. "Granting to begin with that it is none of my business," he wrote, heavily— "It nevertheless affords me great Affairs of Week at Nation's Capital (Correspondence to The Gazette) Washington, D. C.—Signs are multiplying here that John Barton Payne is growing into the disfavor of these closest in touch with the recent actions of the American Red Cross. President Hoover, the titular head of the big relief organization, leaves all the work to its active head and Judge Payne is beginning to impress many with the fact that he is growing old. He is 73, but is not carrying his age as well as many others now active in public office. The administration of the Red Cross requires brains of a high order and the initiative and energy that one associates with men of half Payne's age. It is not enough to be big enough to inspire contributors with a belief in the honesty of all Red Cross workers. The hundreds of thousands of donors, many of them women, who support the national agency with voluntary funds, want to see relief given where it is needed. To them a starving miner is just as much a sufferer as a land-holder washed off his farm by a freshet, or a mountaineer deprived of his home by a forest fire. Many feel that President Hoover, as the real head of the Red Cross, should see to it that all citizens in trouble be taken care of. The short cut, many point out, would be to supplant Judge Payne with a man more in touch with present day conditions and less steeped in the Florence Nightingale tradition. Mr. Hoover's well-wishers are hoping that he will supplant Judge Payne with a man like Colonel Arthur Woods, now the President's chairman of the committee on employment. Colonel Woods' work in that connection has put him in close touch with the dangerous situation that is expected to confront the country this coming winter, when millions of idle men will be hard put to support their families. There is a demand for a man who can apply relief measures wherever needed, without ing of "deserted farms" by city people, who have capital enough to finance better methods of working the land than the old owners, and who bring an open mind to the problem and go in more for diversified farming, growing their own catables and specializing in fancy crops, like mushrooms, new-hard eggs, and other products than can be classed more as delicacies than necessities. Every big newspaper in the East carries long lists of small farms for sale at prices ranging from $10 an acre up, and they are finding a ready market among people tired of living in congested cities. Christian Science Lesson-Sermon "Man" is the subject of the lesson-sermon, Sunday, in all Christian Science churches, branches of The Mother Church, The First Church of Christ Scientist, in Boston, Mass. The golden text is from Ecclesiastes, "Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright." The lesson-sermon is comprised of citations from the Bible and correlative pleasure to tell you that in my opinion you are an unspeakable cad. You may not know—of course you do not know, for Rowena is one Rostand who is a rousing good sport and would not throw up her privations to you—that in order to meet your insatiate demands for money, your sister, tired and exhausted as she is by hard work and long driving, has saved money by doing her own laundry in the bath-tub at nights; has starved herself on soup and coffee and gone without a proper meal for days at a time. "Better men than you have worked their way through college. For Rowena's sake, I myself am sending you the fifty bucks." "It is of course quite unnecessary for me to explain that Rowena does not know that you wired for this money nor that I am sending it. Your telegram was handed me by mistake and I opened it under the impression it was for me." And without an instant's hesitation he endorses his sentiments with the signature that would one day be worth thousands—"Peter Blande." Peter was pretty uncomfortable about the whole business. He was not used to any sort of double dealing and was not at all sure but at any moment officers of the law—or perhaps the telegraph company—would hale him away to jail to explain his unwarranted manipulation of other people's affairs by telegraph. At El Paso Rowena had two letters. She sat right down in the nearest chair present day conditions and less steeped in the Florence Nightingale tradition. Mr. Hoover's well-wishers are hoping that he will supplant Judge Payne with a man like Colonel Arthur Woods, now the President's chairman of the committee on employment. Colonel Woods' work in that connection has put him in close touch with the dangerous situation that is expected to confront the country this coming winter, when millions of idle men will be hard put to support their families. There is a demand for a man who can apply relief measures wherever needed, without stopping to consider the economics of the cause. Colonel Woods would make an ideal man for the place. It is believed by many here, and his appointment would result in relieving many more people during the coming stress, they say. He is an old newspaperman, winning his spurs on the New York Sun before being drafted by big business and the President. His work as police commissioner of New York City was of the highest order and he did more to lessen crime than any police chief between Theodore Roosevelt and Commissioner Mulrooney, the present incumbent. Whether the President will be able to draft Colonel Woods is another matter, recent disclosures indicating that the two were on the outs because Woods insists in saying between five and six millions will be out of work next winter against the President's remarks that nobody can estimate without careful research. It is generally conceded here that Woods is the best qualified man for the job, a man who can be relied upon to act first and study the economism of the action afterward, even without consulting those who are enmeshed in red tape. There are more tenant farms in the United States right now than ever before in the history of the country. The figures are given by the Department of Agriculture which shows that 42.4 of all farmers rented their land last year, an increase of more than four in every hundred farms since 1920. In 1880 only one farmer in four was a renter. In cities the same figures are shown by the number of failures, one set showing that only one in ten stores did not fail in the course of ten years. These statistics on small business men need not be taken as discouraging. It is pointed out, as a lot of the changes were caused by owners selling out at a profit, or finding the field had changed over a course of years. In the case of farms the report is far from encouraging, as it indicates that farmers are unable to carry over their profits from big years so as to take care of hard times. Panicky conditions also have a bad effect on farmers many rural banks finding themselves overloaded with frozen securities, like farm mortgages, and being unable to renew loans. This results in the more prosperous Christian Science Lesson-Sermon "Man" is the subject of the lesson-sermon, Sunday, in all Christian Science churches, branches of The Mother Church, The First Church of Christ, Scientist, in Boston, Mass. The golden text is from Ecclesiastes, "Lo, this only have I found, that God hath made man upright." The lesson-sermon is comprised of citations from the Bible and correlative passages from "Science and Health with Key to Scriptures," by Mary Baker Eddy. One of the Scriptural selections presents the following verses from the first chapter of Genesis: "And God said, Let us make man in our image, after our likeness; and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fear of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creeps upon the earth. So God created man in His own image, in the image of God created Him himself; male and female created He them." A passage from Science and Health states: "The Scriptures inform us that man is made in the image and likeness of God... Man is spiritual and perfect; and because he is spiritual and perfect, he must be so understood in Christian Science." Science Lectures Broadcast Richard J. Davis of Chicago will be heard in a radio lecture over KNX from the Third Church of Christ, Scientist, in Los Angeles, at 3 o'clock next Saturday afternoon. He will again broadcast a lecture over KECA on Thursday, September 10, beginning at 12:10 noon, under the auspices of the Ninth Church of Christ, Scientist, Los Angeles. He is a member of the board of lectureship of the Motter church. NEW HOME FOR NATION'S CLOCKS The clocks that keep the nation's time are to have a new home. Bids have been opened for the construction of an underground vault in the grounds of the Naval Observatory at Washington. The vault will be embedded below the frost line. No visitors will be allowed to enter it, for precision clocks are extremely sensitious. And without an instant's hesitation he endorsed his sentiments with the signature that would one day be worth thousands—"Peter Blande." Peter was pretty uncomfortable about the whole business. He was not used to any sort of double dealing and was not at all sure but at any moment officers of the law—or perhaps the telegraph company—would hale him away to jail to explain his unwarranted manipulation of other people's affairs by telegraph. At El Paso Rowena had two letters. She sat right down in the nearest chair to read them, and Peter stalked moodily from cigar stand to desk and back again, and watched her furtively. Peter could stand it no longer. "Buddy O. K." he inquired anxiously. "He's entirely too O. K. I'm worried." "You can't be too O. K." protested Peter. "Nobody can. What do you mean?" (CONTINUED NEXT WEEK) Primitive Man This statue, which stands near the grotto in France in which bones of the earliest type of European man were found, represents our earliest ancestors. Not Often Snapped J. P. Morgan, famous international banker, is camera-shy, but the photographer got him as he was landing from his yacht, the "Corsair." H. V. 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BUSINESS DIRECTORY For Quick Reference Look Under Alphabetical Classification of the Business or Profession You Are Seeking. You'll Find This Anaheim Gazette Business Directory Reliable, Convenient and Profitable. USE IT. BIG AUCTION Every Saturday at 2 and 7:30 p.m. at Jack Martin's Auction House, 137 S. Lemon, Phone 3220. Private sales all the time For Cash or Easy Terms. Buy Anything—Sell Anything. "The Bargain Spot of Orange Co." Jack Martin, Prop. IRISH AUCTIONEER Automobile Wrecking Curran Auto Wrecking Co. L. A. at Palm, Anaheim 3101 Battery Business H. D. Hushman, Willard Batteries, 419 W Center St., Anaheim 3503 Chiropractors The Pintlers, Chiropractors, 108 E. Broadway, Anaheim, Ph. 3413 Funeral Directors Ambulance Service—Day or Night Phone 8209 Backs, Terry & Campbell FUNERAL DIRECTORS H. P. CAMPBELL, Resident Director 251 No. Lemon St., Anaheim, Calif. DeLuxe Ambulance Service Telephone 4105 HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME Optometrists Dr. Loerch Jr., 222 N. Broadway, Santa Ana 2586 Homer A. Nelson, Opt. D. 114 N. Lemon St., Anaheim 3104 Paint Business When You Want—a good painter, or paper hanger; good paint, varnish, lacquer or wallpaper, call the National Lead Co. OF CALIFORNIA Successors to BASS-HUETER PAINT COMPANY 121 East Center St. Anaheim Phone 2706 Fullerton Paint & Paper Co. 212 N. Spadra, Fullerton 477 Photographers Betzsold Studio 119 E. Center, Phone Anaheim 2530 Physicians & Surgeons Phone 8212 Open Evenings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extraction. Ocullus—Glasses Elitted. 107¼ E Center St., Anaheim, Calif. H. P. CAMPBELL, Resident Director 251 No. Lemon St., Anaheim, Calif. DeLuxe Ambulance Service Telephone 4105 HILGENFELD'S FUNERAL HOME South Lemon at Broadway Anaheim, California Funiture—Used J. P. Glenn 124 W. Wilshire, Fullerton 51 Hospitals Johnston-Wickett Clinic ANAHEIM, CALIF. Hours: 8:00 A.M. to 5:00 P.M. Phone 3212 Open Evenings Sunday by Appointment DR. OSHER PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON Eye, Bar, Nose and Throat Dentist—Painless Extraction. Ocullst—Glasses Fitted. 107½ E. Center St., Anaheim, Calif. Office Phone 3218 Residence 887 S. Los Angeles St. Residence Phone 2610 Hours: 11-12; 2-4; 7-8 J. W. Truxaw, M.D. Physician and Surgeon Golden State Bank Bldg. Cor. Center and Los Angeles Sta. Anaheim, California Sash and Doors Nagel-Gohree & Co. 418 S. Lemon St., Anaheim 2403 Used Cars Glen A. Peck, Used Cars. 333 W. Center Anaheim 4102 ANAHEIM FEED AND FUEL CO. Dealers in GRAIN FLOUR SEEDS WOOD COAL HAY Phone 3210 W. D. GRAFTON, Prop. Public Weighing Scales It Pays To Advertise In The Gazette