The Dillon Examiner (Dillon, Mont.) 1891-1962, November 07, 1945, Image 6

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!Ì 1§Ä8 imxki SifeíV» ' - w\ -< '. ~ y y — ¡5— r - ^ - T T^ n -'- « »' -tf11,11111-> , r- -, jw m T H E B T L Î i O N E X A M I N E R < l k * c ) t o m & ^ o u m R e p & d e b In WASHINGTON By Walter Shead WNU Correspondent WNU Washington Bureau, 1616 Eye St.. N. W. Government’s Job Way back in the second adminis­ tration of President Cleveland there was a severe drouth in the Middle- West. Farmers did not even have seed corn. So the congress passed a bill providing for the distribution of seed corn to the farmers. Presi­ dent Cleveland vetoed the bill and sent it back to congress with a strong veto message wherein he stated that the government of the United States was set up to be sus­ tained by the people of the United States and not to sustain the people of the United States. That fallacy in the concept ol our federal government was enunciated a half century ago, and yet in this conservative congress in the year 1945 there are some who still adhere to that archaic belief . . that it is not the business of government to help the people of this country . . that it is not even the business of ^»pvernment to adopt a policy of gov­ ernment guaranteeing the people anything. This attitude on the part of some senators was definitely apparent in the debate on the so-called full em­ ployment bill when the opponents, led by Senator Taft (R., Ohio) were able to emasculate the language of the bill to such an extent that it is more or less meaningless as it went over to the house. *The Right to Work* The original bill, as it was intro­ duced by Senators Murray <D., Mont.) and Thomas (D., Utah) con­ tained this language: ‘‘All Ameri­ cans able to work and seeking work have the right to useful, remunera­ tive, regular and full-time employ-, ment. . . .” Senator Taft questioned this “right\ of these Americans and declared, in effect, that it was not the business of this government 'o guarantee that right by any law. And of course the answer is that under the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, the Bill of Rights . . . if Americans do not have the right to work they have no rights. It finally came down to a point in the debate that the Ohioan conceded we possibly did have the right, bi^t it was no. business of government to set that right up as a governmental policy, and so the splitting of hairs began. Columnists, radio commentators, senators, ¡congressmen, lobbyists have taken up the cry, \where did this bill come from?\ \what does it propose to do?” \what’s behind the measure?” and, \what does it actu­ ally mean?” and other questions. Insofar as this reporter can learn, the full employment bill is backed not only by this government, but by 50 governments throughout the world and was drawn up pursuant to a resolution adopted by the Interna­ tional Labor Organization’s conven­ tion at Philadelphia in May of 1944, which sponsored full employment as an objective of government. Backed by SO Nations Senator Thomas was an American delegate to that international con­ vention. Labor and governmental delegates from 50 nations were pres­ ent. The resolution was adopted unanimously. The full employment bill, then, is this government’s at­ tempt to give expression to that con­ cept of government as committed at the Philadelphia convention. In his testimony before the Banking and Currency committee of the Senate, Senator Thomas said: “The declaration of Philadalphia was in reality the first serious study to try to bring about that condition which is promised in the “four free­ doms”—a condition which would make freedom from want a real freedom. In the declaration at Phil­ adelphia there were many theories and many different ideas sponsored but among those ideas was the idea of sponsoring the concept of full em­ ployment as an objective of govern­ ment.” As a matter of fact guaran­ teeing a person the right to a job is not new in our government. That guarantee is given to re­ turning veterans in the Selective Service act . . . that they get their old job back. The whole civil service system is builded ■pon that same guarantee of gov­ ernment; the unemployment compensation act is also attuned to the right of a man to work; many of the new laws, including the act governing disposal of gurplus Property, which start off with the words, in order to pro­ mote ^ull employment etc.,” are tied la with the right to work. Aid to Private Enterprise The point is that whether the con­ gress says a man has the right to work or not, the fact is, that in this country he does have that right, and lie important sections of the full employment bill are those sections which set up the machinery for pro­ viding full employment . . . the an­ nual national survey by the Presi­ dent . . . the incentives offered pri­ vate industry to expand, to provide Jobs, placing the responsibility, if you please, on private enterprise Ja bring about full employment. D e m o t i v a / D v ï e w ï T>tf GWEN BRISTO W * WHU ffATURXS THE STORY THUS FAR: Spratt Her- long, motion picture producer, had mar­ ried Elizabeth, after her first hnsband, Arthur Kittredge, had heen reported killed In World War I. Elizabeth had been orphaned when a baby and had been raised by her aunt and uncle in Tulsa. One summer vacation she met Arthur at the country club. They were married soon afterwards. Within a year he enlisted and before long was reported killed in action. After a long period of soul deadness, Elizabeth decid­ ed to go to Los Angeles and start a new life. In her office she met Spratt Her- long, whom she immediately Uked for his character and ability. CHAPTER VII \Hollywood is a factory town, where several big industrial plants manufacture a product that is packed in tin cans and shipped out to be sold to consumers. The hon­ est manufacturers do their best to turn out a product that will be worth the money they get for it. That’s all.” Elizabeth smiled appreciatively. “It’s refreshing to meet a man as honest as you are.” “Thanks,” returned Spratt, \though I didn’t know there was any special virtue in speaking one’s mind.” “There is in knowing one’s mind,\ said Elizabeth. Spratt laughed a little. They had finished dinner in a restaurant, and as Spratt happened not to have a show to cover that evening they had ordered more coffee and stayed to talk, ghe nsked, “What do you want to do in pic­ tures ultimately, Spratt?” \Produce them,” he answered without hesitation. \I like the ex­ ecutive end. But I shouldn’t want to be a producer until I’ve had some experience in writing, or at least supervising a story, and directing. It’s a good thing to know what other people are doing before you try to tell them how to do it.” “And you’ll do your best,\ she added, “to pack an honest product in your little tin cans?” “Certainly,” he said, laughing frankly. \A first - class product worth a first-class price.\ She laughed back at him. \You’re not an idealist, are you, Spratt?\ \Not the classic variety, at any rate.” He paused a moment, and re­ marked, “Elizabeth, it’s so much easier to dream about the ideals we can’t reach than to do the best job we’re capable of doing.” He paused again, poured cream into his coffee, and in a rare expression of confidence he added, \I guess I saw too much of that when I was a young­ ster. I come from a long line of visionaries who were too sensitive to take the world as they found it and get anything done. I don’t like it.” “Please go on,” she urged. “Half my father’s salary was al­ ways going to support relatives so delicate-minded they couldn't do anything but write bits of verse for the magazines and lament the de­ cline of culture. The other half went mostly for books, and soap. Books, soap, toothbrushes, neat patches and the appurtenances of gentility.” He shivered. “I think I'm really getting to know you,” said Elizabeth. \May I ven­ ture a guess?” “Go ahead.” \So now half your salary goes for postage on letters to the delicate- minded relatives, telling them they can either go to work or starve, it’s all one to you.” “How right you are,” said Spratt. They began to laugh again, and Elizabeth started telling him about Aunt Grace and her cups of tea. “My aunt would really be sorry to see the millennium arrive, for if there were no affliction there'd be nobody for her to pester with good works. In consequence I sometimes think I'm hard-hearted. But I sim­ ply loathe patronizing the poor.” \Now we do understand each oth­ er,” said Spratt. He gave her a companionable smile acres*-: the ta­ ble. “1 like you, Elizabeth.” \I like you too,” she said. By this time they were spending their evenings together several times a week. It was characteristic of Spratt's forthright habit of mind that several nights later, when they were having dinner again, he sud­ denly interrupted a pause in the con­ versation to say to her, “Elizabeth, may I ask you a per­ sonal question?” “You can ask it, of course,” she returned, “though if it’s very per­ sonal I don’t promise to answer it. What do you want to know?\ “About your husband,” he „aid. Elizabeth looked down at the re­ flection of an overhead light on the surface of her coffee. “My hus­ band was killed in the war,\ she an­ swered briefly. “Forgive me, won't you?” said Spratt. She looked up. Spratt was regard­ ing her with a friendly contrition. “I’m sorry,” he continued. “I can see it’s not easy for you to recall it.” “No, it’s not,” said Elizabeth. Aft­ er an instant’s pause she went on, “Why did you want to know?” He smiled. “Frankly, for seif- protection. Shall I explain?” \Why yes, I wish you would.” He leaned a trifle nearer her. “Well, this isn’t an easy town to get around in, Elizabeth. You are Mrs., and you wear a wedding ring, but you live alone and I’ve never heard you mention your husband. We’ve bees seeing a good deal of each oth­ er, and I’d like to keep on seeing you, but I wanted to make sure. I’ve had—well,” he said with a shrug, “one or two embarrassing ex­ periences with unexpected husbands turning up. I hope this doesn’t make you angry,” he added. “Why no, of course it doesn’t. I don’t mind saying it surprises me. I suppose I take it for granted that everyone knows I’m a widow, or at least that if I weren’t widowed or thoroughly divorced I shouldn’t be going out with men as casually as I do. But maybe I've been a bit naive for Hollywood—and anyway, as you noticed, I’m still reluctant to talk about it.” \Then we shan’t talk about it,” he said gently. \Thank you for un­ derstanding why I brought it up.” There was a pause. “Were you in the army?\ she asked. \For a little while. I never got across.” “And when did you come here?” “In the first winter of the world’s hangover.” He spoke readily, evi­ dently glad to turn the course of her attention. “Before we went into the I B l i i i i m \4f “My husband was killed in the war.” war I had worked for an advertising agency in New York. We handled a lot of moving picture advertising, so after the war they sent me out to organize a branch office in Los An­ geles. Then I got a chance to do studio publicity.” From there the talk went back to moving pictures. As he drove her .home, Spratt said, “I’d like to see you over the week-end if you can manage it.” “I can, easily.\ \Good. Would you rather go dancing at a night club Saturday night or spend Sunday at a swim­ ming pool?\ “Sunday, swimming.” “Terrific, so would I. I’ve got to do a layout on one of my beauties, and I can do it either Saturday night or Sunday. So I’ll get rid of it Sat­ urday night, and pick you up Sunday morning. I belong to a rather good country club and we’ll go there— swim, late lunch by the pool, get sunburnt in the afternoon. Right?” “Splendid.” He stopped the car in front of her apartment house and went up with her. At her door Spratt said, “Elizabeth, about what came up at dinner. Don’t run away from it. Look at it hard, and take it.” “I do try to, Spratt,” she said in a low voice. \I’ve been trying to for a long time now, but I can't always. Sometimes it—comes back. As if it had just happened yesterday.” \I think I understand. Though maybe I don’t—nothing's easier than believing we understand experiences we’ve never had. But the longer you live the more you find out that life consists mostly of getting used to things we don’t like. Keep trying.” \I will, Spratt.\ He went on, \You know, most of us, when we say happiness, mean the absence of. change. And that’s just fighting the facts. Our lives are always changing in spite of anything we can do about it. Eventually, if we learn anything, we learn to take what happens and go on with it.” He stopped abruptly, half abashed. “Queer, my talking like this. I don’t often. But there it is—I wrish I could offer you more consolation.” “Why, you have,” said Elizabeth. “Have I? How?” “By being you. It’s hard to ex­ plain.” “Thank you.” He took both her hands in his and gave them a hard grip. “You’re a swell girl, Eliza­ beth.” ' When she went into her room and turned on the light she felt a new elation. She had not seen this side of Spratt’s nature before. Finding it made her feel that for the first time since she came to California she had acquired, not another com­ panion to amuse her leisure, but a friend who would be there when she needed him. ■ The following Sunday, at they were driving home, after a brisk day of sun and water, she leaned back in the car, saying drowsily, \I’ll probably be asleep by eight o’clock tonight. I’m so tired!” \I am too,” said Spratt, “fun- tired. Let’s do this often.” “I’d like to. But I thought you worked most of your week-ends.” “So I do, but that's been because there was nobody interesting to play with. I work too hard.” “Are you just beginning to realize that?” she asked. “Not exactly, but I’m just begin­ ning to admit it. Work can be like liquor sometimes, an escape from too much of one’s own company.” She glanced up, expecting him to go on, but Spratt remarked on the coloring of the desert hills in the sunset and said no more about him­ self. Remembering his remark lat­ er, however, she thought she should have expected it. She might have realized long ago that like so many other brilliant and ambitious men, Spratt was essentially lonely. Yet she had not realized it, and she was glad to do so now. She needed his friendship; it was good to know that in spite of his self-assurance Spratt had need of her. When he asked her to marry him she was not surprised. She did not answer him at once. Spratt had giv­ en her so much, more than she knew until now, when she had to consider the possibility of letting him go. But she wanted to be fair, and in fair­ ness there were matters that had to be explained. She explained them on an evening when they were in her apartment, Spratt listening with quiet attention while she spoke. She told him how she had loved Arthur, and how she had suffered at being told he was dead. “It can’t be easy for you to hear this,” she said. “It’s easier now than it’ll ever be again,\ he answered. \Go on.” Elizabeth stood up. Moving around behind her chair she put her hands on the back of it and held it while she talked. “Spratt, you told me to take this out and face it. I’ve tried to. I’ve tried to be practical, to tell myself everything I might tell somebody else. I’ve said to myself that maybe Arthur wasn’t worth what I gave him, maybe nobody ever born could deserve so much.” “Yes. But you haven’t said wheth­ er or not you want to marry me.” \I do want to. But I’m not sure you’re going to want to marry me. If you don’t want to, say so. You’re too fine and honest to have anything less than the truth from me, or to let me have anything less than that from you. Spratt, when Arthur died something died in me. What I feel for you—it’s strange to call it love, because it’s so different. It’s not adoration that sees no faults. It's thoughtful and realistic. I like you, I admire you, I have tremendous re­ spect for you. I trust you complete­ ly. I’d tell you anything. I know you’ll never fail me. But 1 can’t give you what I gave Arthur, be­ cause I haven’t got it to give. It’s just not there any more.\ She looked across the room at him, listening steadily in the half-glow ol a reading lamp some distance away. She concluded, “It would hurt me terribly to lose you. But it would be worse to know I had been less than completely hon­ est with you. There may be another woman who can give you what I can’t, and if that’s what you want, please, please tell me so.” She heard a soft, smothered little sound from his direction, and saw to her amazement that Spratt was laughing. He stood up and came over to her. “My darling girl, you told me 1 was honest. I am, and I’m going to prove it. If any woman offered me the sort of total worship you’re talking about, she’d throw me into a panic.” He put his hands on her shoulders and squeezed them as he continued, in comradely fashion. “Forgive me for laughing. I wasn’t laughing at you, but at the idea that anybody could possibly think I might want to be adored like that, which you’ll have to admit is ridiculous. Eliza­ beth, if I may be brutally frank—if that's what you were like when you were a young girl I’m glad you got rid of it before I met you. I want you the way you are.” Quite suddenly, she began to laugh too. This way of talking about mar­ riage was so different from the shin­ ing rapture with which she and Ar­ thur had talked about it. “Then you do want me, Spratt?” “You bet I do.” \You’re not going to be sorry for what’s past?” “I should say not. You see, Eliza­ beth, it's really quite simple. I love you as you are. What you are must be the result of what’s happened to you before. H it had happened differ­ ently, you’d have been a different sort of woman now, and I shouldn’t have loved you. It makes sense.” “You’re the only man I know,” said Elizabeth, “who always makes sense.” They were married soon after that. She had never had reason to be sorry. Spratt had been brilliant­ ly successful in his work, they had their three children, their long un­ broken affection, and the peace of mind that came from knowing them­ selves of supreme importance to each other. It was a good life. (TO B E C O N T IN U E D ) By VIRGINIA VALE Released by Western Newspaper Union. E IGHT cows who appear in Samuel Goldwyn’s “The Kid From Brooklyn,” which stars Danny Kaye, have in­ herited a beard that once belonged to Douglas Fair­ banks. But not as a beard. They’re all dolled up for the dairy maid number, in which they are assisted by the 1946 class of Goldwyn girls. The cows make their debut wearing pearl earrings, fancy hats, and arti­ ficial eyelashes. That’s where the beard comes in. The property man tried stiff black paper, then pipe cleaners, with no luck. But the beard was perfect. • * * One appearance on the Edgar Ber­ gen radio program was all that Anita Gordon needed to launch her on a career. Bergen signed the 15- AN1TA GORDON year-old singer to a contract after her first program, and two days later 20th Century-Fox gave her a film contract. » • • Helmut Dantine’s going to know picture-making from A to Z or know why. He’s secured permission from Warner Bros, to sit in on all phases of the process in “The Man Who Died Twice,\ while awaiting his next acting assignment. • * * Betty nutton got a pleasant sur­ prise when she opened the door of her new and fancy portable dress­ ing room on the set of “The Stork Club.” In the corner stood a new bleached walnut piano, replacing the old upright that had been In­ stalled temporarily when the dress­ ing room was unveiled. Paramount gave it to Betty so that she could rehearse her song numbers on the set during filming. • • • Lulu McConnell was a star of the theater in the days of Anna Held and Lillian Russell; now, on “It Pays to Be Ignorant,” she’s the most insulted woman in America— and loves it! She thought she was done when bronchitis ruined a good singing voice, but that croaky voice became one of her biggest assets. She'd retired when Tom Howard en­ listed her for “Ignorant.\ • • • Phillip Terry headed for New York after finishing his role- in “George White’s Scandals,” his third RKO role. He’s one of the few Hollywood players who got his theatrical school­ ing abroad in London, and touring the British provinces in stock. He'c done all right in Hollywood—played romantic leads in “Music in Ameri­ ca” and “Pan-Americana” at RKO, and did \The Lost Week End” and “To Each His Own” at his home lot, Paramount. But an awful lot of movie-goers will just identify him as he's Joan Crawford’s hus­ band. » » • Producer Leo McCarey did a nice thing — picked 10 girls from the extra ranks in “The Bells of St. Mary’s,” to play the nuns in a paro­ chial school, hoping that their scenes with Bing Crosby and Ingrid Bergman would start them on real screen careers. • • • Joan Crawford’s new picture, \Mildred Pierce,” is the kind that a lot of women are going to love. And it’s a swell come-back for the val­ iant Miss Crawford; in her lexicon there’s certainly no such word as “fail,” no matter how bad the breaks. • • • We hear that Paramount has sworn affidavits to prove that the voice you'll hear as Dorothy La- mour’s in “Masquerade in Mexico” is really hers. Seems that, instead of its being a contralto, as it’s been for the last eight years, it’s sudden­ ly become an operatic high soprano, discovered by Director Mitchell Leisen. B flat used to be her limit; now, they say, she hits a D 10 notes higher. • • • ODDS AND ENDS—Hanley Stafford. \‘Daddy Higgins ” oj the “Baby Snooks Show,” was originally asked by Fanny Brice to do a guest spot on the pro­ gram—the “guest spot ” will soon be rounding out its eighth year. . . . Dick PowelVs happy about his neio radio series, “Rogue's Gallery,” except for one thing; he won't be able to vacation in South America with the new Mrs. Powell as he’d planned.. .. Ruth Bren­ nan has been signed by Republic. . . . After being slapped by Teresa IFright and Rose Hobart and belabored with powder puffs by a bevy of beauties in “The Trouble With Women ” Ray Mil land thinks he can stand Tinythint. O We can’t make enough Smith Bros. Cough Drops to satisfy everybody. Our output is still restricted. Buy only what you need. Smith Bros, have soothed coughs due to colds since 1847. Black or Menthol—still only 54. SMITH BROS. 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Fleischmann’s fresh active Yeast goes right to work—makes sweeter, tastier bread . . . helps insure tender light texture. IF YOU BAKE AT HOME— use Fleischmann’s active, fresh Yeast with the familiar yellow label. Depend­ able—America’s time-tested favorite for over 70 years. M G M F m M O M E N T S w i t h fresh JEvereadv Batteries ■ p a t e d \ Clancy , I think you done that on purposel” A t LAST— you can buy all the fresh, doled “IJveready” flash­ light batteries you need! Your dealer has them now, in the size that fits your flashligbL Naturally, they’re still on the job with the Armed Forces-rbut there are plenty for civilian use, as well. So be sure and ask for fresh, dated “Eveready” flashlight bat­ teries. 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The Dillon Examiner (Dillon, Mont.), 07 Nov. 1945, located at <>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.