Bellefonte, Pa., August 20, 1926.
ES Sn
BELLE-FONTE.
Written years ago, for the “Watchman,”
by Will H. Truckenmiller.
Loved by Indian hunter
In the long ago,
Mystic music hearing
In the water's flow. :
Oft his campfire glimmered,
In the dusky night,
Thy clear depths reflecting
Back the ruddy light.
Health, and long-life drinking
From thy limpid stream,
Thou wast to him the fountain
Of the Spaniard’s dream.
When the crimson maples
Foretold winter soon,
And above the mountains
Hung the harvest moon;
Sought the Indian maiden
In thy depths to trace,
Though it be but faintly,
Her true lover's face.
Ah! well, they have vanished,
~ Many years ago,
And the white man’s coming
Laid the forests low;
Built his busy city
Built his iron road,
Chained the passing river
Bade it bear his load.
But still thy waters flow
Pure and sweet as then
To comfort and to cheer
The weary sons of men.
DRESSING THE MOVIE STARS.
Do you remember a motion picture
—last year I think it was—called
“Too Many Kisses?” rather a hectic
title, I admit. However, we won’t
worry over that; because we are not
going to talk about the kisses in that
picture but about the dresses.
I had a curious experience in con-
nection with this particular screen
drama. It was filmed at the huge
studio of Famous Players in New
York City; and one day, when they
were “shooting the scenes,” I hap-
pened to be there for luncheon.
The studio restaurant is an extra-
ordinarily interesting place; especial-
ly when, as sometimes happens, sev-
eral pictures are being made gimulta-
neously in different parts of the great
building; for everybody—famous
stars, directors, photographers, elec-
tricians, extras, the whole amazing
medley of people——goes to this one
big room for luncheon.
And they go just as they are. At
one table you may see Gloria Swan-
son in a gorgeous evening gown that
cost as much as the little “extra” girl,
at the next table, earns in a whole
year. You may see Thomas Meighan,
immaculate and handsome, in one cor-
ner—and a stage carpenter, in over-
alls, in the opposite corner.
Well, this play that I speak of,
“Too Many Kisses,” was laid in the
Basque country. You may have seen
the picture; but even so, you have no
idea of what those costumes really
were, because they, of course, photo-
graphed only as black and white.
If only you could see them as I did!
Every table in the restaurant was
crowded. And oh, such colors! The
place fairly quivered with marvelous
blues and greens, orange and red and
violet. The air seemed to be full of
shattered rainbows. The colors not
simply blazed and shone. They
danced and sang!
I wonder if I can make you feel the
thrill of it. I had a curious sensation
of excitement, of romance, of adven-
ture. The very atmosphere seemed to
be charged with some electric current.
Every one was affected by it. The
room buzzed with talk and with
laughter. People seemed eager, alert,
responsive, full of enjoyment.
That was many months ago, but I
never have forgotten that hour of
subtle excitement. Thinking it over,
I believed I understood the secret of
the spell under which we all came.
And finally, a few days ago, I went to
see the man who had created that
spell.
He is Mr. H. M. K. Smith, the cos-
tume director for Famous Players at
their New York studio. Before he
took this position he was with Lady
Duff Gordon, known throughout the
world of fashion as “Lucille,” the fa-
mous dressmaker of New York, Lon-
don and Paris.
He took me through the studio
wardrobe department, opened door
after door and showed me racks hung
with wonderful gowns and evening
wraps—thousands of dollars’ worth
of finery in a single small compart-
ment! He must have bought a mil-
lion dollars’ worth of clothes during
the past few years.
From the wardrobe, we went down-
stairs to the restaurant for luncheon.
The same restaurant—but how differ-
ent from what it was on that day
when it seemed full of shattered rain-
bows, so bright and brilliant.
Gloria was there; but for the pic-
ture they were making now she wore
the tawdry finery of a poor New York
shop-girl. There were others like her.
And somehow I had a feeling of dir-
ty streets, of crowded subway trains,
of ugly tenement houses.
Turning my back on it all, I told
Mr. Smith of the day I had lunched
there when the place was a riot of
lovely color.
“I have thought of it many times,”
I said to him. “In the picture all
those colors would be either black,
white, or the intermediate tones. Why
did you go to the trouble and expense
of dressing even the ‘mob’ in all that
glory?
He smiled and said quickly, “How
did you say you felt when you were
here that day?”
“Well,” he said, “that was the way
I wanted the actors to feel! That was
the way they had to feel in that pic-
ture. If we had dressed them in
blacks and whites and grays, we
should have got the same photograph-
ic effects. But we could not have got
the same spirit in the people! They
. would have acted black and white and
gray. Do you understand what I
mean?” x
I certainly did; for that was pre-
cisely the way I had figured out the
spell which I myself had felt that day.
“There's an old proverb,” x.
not making fine birds. But, ina
sense, that isn’t true; for fine feath-
woman knows this. You remember
the famous epigram: |
the consciousness of being well dress-
ed gives a sense of tranquility which
religion fails to bestow.’
~ “There is good sound psychology
back of this. Women ought to real-
ize it, for they can turn it to wonder-
ful use. You may have seen a picture
called ‘Clothes Make the Pirate. It
was a story of a meek, henpecked lit-
tle tailor who became a roistering
buccaneer, simply by being thrust in-
to a pirate’s garments. Well, I can
tell you that clothes do not simply
make the pirate. They make the wom-
an!
“You know the kind of part that
Lois Wilson has always been given in
motion pictures. She is cast as the
‘good girl;’ the noble and virtuous
young heroine; charming and appeal-
ing, but not—what shall I say ?—not
exotic. She is always the daughter
of poor but honest parents. Some-
thing of that sort. And she does it
beautifully.
“Well, a year ago I was in London.
So was Miss Wilson; and I called on
her at the Savoy. I assure you that
if I never had seen her except on the
screen I shouldn’t have recognized
her! She wore the loveliest negligee,
one of those alluringly beautiful
things that quite take your breath
away.
“She seemed—and this is the point
I want to make—an entirely differ-
ent person. As I watched her I said
to myself, ‘I should like to try an ex-
periment. If, instead of a minister’s
daughter—which was to be her next
part in a picture—she could be cast
for a - passionate peacock sort of
role,’ ” he laughted, ‘and could be
dressed in passionate peacock plum-
age, I wonder if the mere act of dress-
ing the part would create in her the
spirit of the part.’
“The way a woman dresses controls,
to an extraordinary degree, her mood.
Not only that, but it also dictates our
own attitude toward her. Do you re-
member that sports costume I showed
you upstairs 7”
1 did remember it. A gay, capri-
cious little dress of lively blue taffeta,
with clustered stripes in bright col-
ors.
“You laughed when you saw it,” he
went on, “but were you laughing at
the dress?”
~ “N-no,” I said; “I just laughed be-
cause—well, because I felt like laugh-
ing.
“Precisely!” he exclaimed. - “It was
a gay, impudent, amusing little dress.
A costume is like a bit of music. It
can be as tragic as a dirge; as dull as
a five-finger exercise; as shrill and
strident as a screaming phrase of
jazz; as tender as the lilt of a love
song. And when you see a girl or a
woman dressed in any one of these
ways, you feel just as the correspond-
ing bit of music would make you feel
when you heard that.
“Some women know these things
instinctively. But if they haven’t this
intuitive knowledge, they ought to
study other women’s dress, to find out
the feeling it gives them.
I “Is it altogether a question of col-
ors?” I asked.
' “Not at all!” he said emphatically.
“Black and white could be as impu-
dent and as amusing as that gay lit-
tle taffeta dress you saw. But colors
are undoubtedly the most important
source of these effects.
| “If I were a woman, I should study
the psychology of colors. We all have
strong likes and strange antipathies
in regard to them. You, yourself,
have these preferences and prejudic-
es; and you shouldn’t let yourself be
nersuaded to wear a color toward
which you feel an antipathy.
, “Billie Burke was once making a
picture here, under a director who had
a strong liking for an ugly, sickly
shade of green. He was a good deal
of a dictator, as well as a director,
and insisted on this shade for one of
her costumes.
+ “But when Miss Burke put on the
dress, for the scene in which she was
to wear it—she simply quit! Know-
ing the psychology of clothes as I do,
I think she was entirely justified. She
felt such an inward antagonism to-
. ward the color that she could not re-
lease herself from its influence.”
{ “But,” I said, “suppose I do not like
a color which appeals to other people.
Shouldn’t I wear it for its effect on
them 7”
| “No; you should not!” he declared.
“You want to impress yourself on
' people; not merely your outward ap-
pearance. If you wear what you dis-
(like, you will be inside a barrier
| through which you personally cannot
1 break. When Shakespeare said, ‘To
thine own self be true,’ he wasn’
, thinking of clothes; but every woman
' might well put that sentence up over
i her mirror.”
| “How about the famous motion-
picture stars?” I asked. “Tell me
about dressing people for the movies.
{Do the stars choose their own cos-
, tumes 7”
| “Only in a few cases,” he said.
| “As a rule, I decide on the costumes
“for the entire cast. We have our own
| designers and our own workrooms. I
‘also order from the leading dress-
{ making establishments in New York.
| Often I go to Paris to study the ad-
vance styles. To women all ovar the
country many of our pictures-are not
simply plays; they are style shows!
| Consequently I must try to give them
the very latest fashions.
“The situation here in America is
an extraordinary one. For instance,
did you see this advertisement in the
morning paper? A New York store,
with branches in Brooklyn and New-
ark, is selling copies of a Jean Patou
model at fifteen dollars apiece.
“Patou is one of the leading design-
ers. Yet our ready-to-wear manufac-
turers copy a Patou model, sell the
frocks to dealers all over the country,
and for the insignificant sum of fif-
Smith went on, “about fine feathers |
ers make you at least feel fine. Every |
‘To a woman, |:
“The gown was of silver brocade,
{| Every Inch a
Real Home
A
ceptionally well planned Colonial house.
The living-room extends on one side
the dining-room, set off only by twe small
. china closets, and on the other into
sunroom. The whole effect is one of
ciousness and hospitality.
Another outstanding feature is the down-
Is This Colonial Type
oe ——
LIVING-ROOM forty feet long—tha
is practically whpt one has in-this ex-
ma a
=
3 == YE
A 0 [rcHeNERS
° On js HALL
f=
into DINING LIVING er
a roo 17-8187 Doty
spa- e epee
TESTE L PLAN
CULING HUISET 6-6 -
!
so triplicates.”
“For Bebe Daniels’ picture, ‘The
Palm Beach Girl,’ I had to provide a
i ‘double’ for one dress, and two dou-
bles for each of two other dresses.
“In the scene where the first of
these three was to be worn, Miss Dan- |
‘iels had to put her head out of a car
window just as a switch engine came
‘along. The engine was to discharge
: a huge puff of thick coal smoke, black-
ing her face and her dress. A dupli-
| cate of the dress was made, so that
| she-would have a clean one in reserve.
4 “In another scene she is fishing
| from a small boat when a big tarpon
| takes the bait and drags her over-
{board. She has other adventures
| equally disastrous to her costumes; is
i lost in a swamp, for instance, and be-
| comes hopelessly mud-stained and be-
| draggled. Maude Turner Gordon,
{ who plays Miss Daniels’ aunt in the
' picture, shares these adventures.
instead of six dresses for them in
those few scenes I furnished sixteen!”
“Couldn’t you use cheaper materials
for the costumes which were to be ru-
ined 7” 1 asked.
“Not in this case,” said Mr. Smith,
“because the action was so close to the
camera that the difference would have
shown in the picture. In case of a
long shot, we can use a less expensive
duplicate dress. And if only a part of
i the costume—a sleeve, for instance—
is to be torn or injured in any way,
i we provide a duplicate of that part of
‘ the dress, not of the entire costume.
“In advance, I always make a care- |
ful analysis of a scenario to provide
for any possible accidents, as well as
i for the emergencies which the story
! calls for. Suppose a string of pearls
stairs bed-room, which can be used as sick-room, guest chamber, playroom —imitation, of course—is to be worn.
or ‘sewing room, as occasion arises. The stairways are compactly arranged I know by experience that the string
and well out of sight. There are closets and storage space enough to please may break. So instead of buying one,
the most
sist heat
The cost
CERNING
acquisitive housekeeper.
White, cream or grey paint may be used on the
siding with shutters, trim and roof in harmoniz- | eyed people who would spot the least
ing colors. The walls and roof are made to re-
and cold by insulating with celotex.
of building may be kept down by ex-
cavating only half of the house, aking care to
insulate the unexcavated half with a layer of |
celotex in order to heat the house easily in the
coldest weather, A further saving may be effect-
ed by‘finishing off the walls of the second floor
rooms with celotex instead of lath and plaster.
Left either plain painted, stained or finished with a dainty stencil such walls
are extremely effective and durable:
©, Celotechnic Institute, Chicago, 1928.
teen dollars a girl in Podunk—if there
is such a place—can own one.
“This is nothing unusual. The man-
ufacéturers, and also the women’s mag-
azines, take the latest fashions into
every corner of the country, no matter
how remote. The result is that Amer-
ican girls and women are amazingly
up-to-date in their dress.
“But I have one criticism to make
of them: their dress is too standard-
ized. Everybody wants to wear what
everybody else is wearing. In buy-
ing ready-made clothes, they fail to
achieve individuality.
“That is why I practically never go
to a shop and buy from the stock in
hand. If I did, and an actress should
wear the dress in a picture, girls’
over the country would go to the mov-
ies and say, ‘Oh, I’ve got a dress made
just like that myself!
“I try to show them the fashions—
but individualized to suit different
types of girls and of women. Take
Alice Joyce, for instance, an actress
with exquisite taste in dress. I can
leave the choice of costumes to her
without a moment’s uneasiness. I
take only one precaution: I go with
Miss Joyce to her couturiere, Frances,
to make sure that there shall be some
features of the costume which will
not appear in those which Frances
makes for other costumers. In other
words, when you see a dress in one of
our pictures, I want it to have touch-
es which make it unique.
“Gloria Swanson has her own de-
signer, Rene Hubert, whom she
brought over from Paris after the
production of ‘Madame Sans Gene.
She is probably the most remarkable
of the film stars in the range of parts
she ean act. She can wear anything!
And it isn’t because she has great |
beauty or a perfect figure, Other
stars surpass her in both those re-
spects. But Miss Swanson has what-
ever we mean by ‘it.’ I suppose ‘it’
is an immensely vital personality. i
“She is one of the busiest persons
I know; so busy that she never will |
take the time for fittings. Her cos- |
tumes are made on a dummy model, a
replica of her own figure.
“Bebe Daniels is just the reverse.
When we have to do her costumes for
a new picture, she and I have a beau-
tiful time going the rounds of the
shops and dress-makers, looking at
materials and studying designs. ¢
1
“There is a bit of pleasure in plan-
ning her wardrobe. She loves it so
much herself! And I believe this is
one secret of what you might call suc-
cessful dressing! The woman who-
really loves clothes, who puts her
mind and heart into choosing them, is
almost certain to be well dressed.
The woman who has a sort of con-
tempt for clothes—well,” he laughed,
“she generally wears clothes which
are beneath contempt!”
“What was the most expensive
dress ever worn in one of your pic-
tures ?”” I asked.
“It was the wedding costume pro-
vided for Gloria Swanson in a picture
called ‘Her Love Story,’ ” he replied.
heavily embroidered in pearls and di-
amonds; imitation of course. The
train, which was five yards in length,
was lined throughout with gold cloth
and bordered with a twelve-inch band
of ermine.
“The dress and the train cost
$5,000; but, in addition, she wore a
wedding veil of antique Brussels lace,
valued at $15,000; a coronet of dia-
monds from Cartier’s, valued at $30,-
000; and a necklace, earrings and
brooch worth $10,000; so that $60,000
represented the cost of the costume
and the accessories.
“The dress was designed and made
here in our own workrooms. We rent-
ed the veil, paying $200 a day for the
use of it while we were making the
scenes in which it was worn. Miss
Swanson herself bought the necklace,
earrings and brooch from the jeweler;
and he loaned her the coronet.
“That, of course, was a very excep-
tional costume, for the scene was sup-
posed to be a royal wedding. How-
ever, the gowns worn in a modern so-
ciety picture are sometimes almost as
costly. We made one costume for
Miss Swanson, an afternoon ensemble
of gray cloth, which cost $4,500 with-
out accessories. By accessgries 1
mean hat, gloves, shoes and hosiery.
We furnish all these. We even fur-
nish lingerie, if it is to show in the
picture.
“The high price of this one after-
noon costume was due to the fact that
it was elaborately trimmed with real
chinchilla. Sometimes we can use fur
that is not what it seems to be; but
we often use the genuine thing. If it
is a fur coat, with the price running
up into thousands of dollars, we usu-
ally rent it from the furrier. But as
you saw from your glimpses into our
wardrobe, we buy outright quantities
of the most beautiful and costly furs.
As for the dress materials, they are
the finest we can procure. The aver-
age cost of dresses for a society pic-
ture is from $250 to $750 each. As
for evening wraps, the cost runs from
$350 to $1,250, according to the ma-
terial and the kind of fur used as
trimming.”
“I should think the stars would like
to keep some of these costumes and
wraps for their own personal ward-
robes,” I said.
“Sometimes they do want one that
particularly pleases them,” said Mr.
Smith. “In that case, they can have
it at fifty per cent. of its cost.
“A great many people imagine that
we sell our used costumes to second-
hand dealers; but we never do. In
the first place, they would not pay us
enough. It is more practical and bet-
ter economy to keep them.
“A star or a leading actress does
not wear the same costume in two pic-
tures. But the girls or other women
who take minor parts can appear in
dresses which have been worn in a
previous picture. We do a lot of mak-
ing over, too. A gown of beautiful
and expensive fabric is ripped to
| pieces, and the materials are used in
making other dresses.
“Not, of course, for one of the
stars! They have a complete new
outfit for each picture. But the ma-
terials can be used for less important
people. When you realize that for a
picture like ‘Monsieur Beaucaire,” for
example, we have to supply as many
as 750 costumes, you will uwlerstand
that we can use all the silks and vel-
vets and laces we possess.
“The costumes for ‘Monsieur Beau-
caire’ cost $60,000; and we had to
have special shoes, shirts and even
handkerchiefs. We rented $85,000
worth of antique jewelry. We have,
by the way, a stock of jewelry of our
own which is worth $10,000, although
the stones are, of course, paste. For
‘Madame Sans Gene,’ all the jewelry
was made to order in Paris and was
copied faithfully from genuine pieces
of that period. The costumes cost
about $125,000, because so many of
them were court dresses.”
“In some pictures,” I said, “there is
a scene where a perfectly good dress
is ruined. Sometimes the actress, all
dressed up to the queen’s taste, has-fo
fall into the water. Or the action
may be so violent that the frock is
hopelessly torn and mussed up. I
know that a director does not take the
scenes in their regular sequence. Sup-
pose, after that dress is ruined, he
wants to take—or to retake—a scene
in which the actress must wear the
same costume in all of its original
freshness. What then?”
“That is all provided for in ad-
vance,” Mr. Smith assured me. “If a
dress is to have its troubles anywhere
in the course of the play, an ahgolute
duplicate is provided before we start
making the picture, In fact, we some-
| I buy half a dozen.
“In every audience there are lynx-
change in a costume which should be
identical in various scenes. As we
can’t depend on the actors to remem-
ber every detail,
every item to be worn is given to each
performer.
“When a man, for instance, is told
to report for a certain scene, his list
wear; the kind of hat, collar, necktie,
shirt, coat, waist-coat, trousers, hos-
iery and boots. If he is to carry a
walking stick and to have a watch
and chain, this is all set down on the
list. Even the kind of handkerchief
is specified; also how he is to carry it.
If, in one scene, he had it in his
sleeve, and it wasn’t there in another
scene, a surpirsing number of people
would notice that it was missing. If
an actress should wear a certain scarf
in one scene and a different scarf in
another, when she is supposed not to
have left the room, a million women
would detect the inconsistency.
“I spoke of the psychology of color
in achieving a certain mood. There is
also a psychology of perfume!
I often make use of it in my work as
costume director.
“A few years ago, in a picture
called ‘The Secret of Forgotten men,’
certain characters were to represent
women of doubtful reputation. I
carefully planned their dresses, hats,
and so on, to fit that type of women.
But when they put on their regalia
and presented themselves for my in-
spection, some subtle quality was
lacking. They seemed just what they
were: good women, dressed up to im-
itate their unfortunate sisters.
“While 1 was puzzling over the
problem, I had a sudden inspiration.
Hurrying to the nearest drug store,
I bought an atomizer and some cheap
studio, I sprayed it liberally over the
good bad ladies, and sent them down
but the psychology of that perfume,
affecting not only the women them-
plied the subtle quality which was
“There is one fact in connection
with dress which I always have real-
ized, but never so forcibly as now. A
woman’s costume should fit not only
herself—her physical type and her
temperament—but it should fit her en-
vironment also. A dress which is
beautiful and effective in one room
will be all wrong in another kind of
room.”
“Do people ever write in and crit-
icize the clothes worn in a picture?”
I asked.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “The
stars receive all kinds of ‘fan letters,’
as they are called, and occasionally
they refer, either in praise or in crit-
icism, to clothes.
“In the production, ‘The King on
Main Street,’ one of the characters
was a prim New England spinster
with very decided ideas about modesty
in dress. For a certain scene she had
to resurrect an evening gown of the
1900 period; an elaborate black lace
dress, with a very tight waist, trim-
med profusely with velvet ivy leaves!
“After the picture was shown, she
received a letter from a ‘fan’ of 32-
vanced years, living in Connecticut,
congratulating her on her good taste.
There are similar letters from other
old-timers whenever we show a pic-
ture that goes back to the days of
their youth.”
“What was the most difficult cos-
tume order you ever had to fill?” I
asked.
“It was for the glass slippers to be
worn by Betty Bronson in ‘A Kiss for
Cinderella.’ :
The director, Herbert Brenon,
wanted them to be actually of glass.
But it seemed an impossible undertak-
ing, so we experimented with prac-
tically every other transparent sub-
stance we could find. However, we
also consulted all the leading glass
manufacturers.
“While we were still negotiating,
Mr. Frederick Carter returned from
Paris. He had been sent there by
Herbert Hoover, of the United States
Department of Commerce to study the
glass exhibits at the Exposition des
Arts Decoratifs. He heard of our
problem and undertook to have it
solved, under his direction, at the
Corning Glass Works.
“Impressions were taken of Miss
Bronson’s feet and were sent to Corn-
ing. There Mr, Carter turned out two
So, !
a careful list of |
informs him exactly what he is to |
And |
strong perfume. Coming back to the '
to the set. You may not believe it,
selves but also the other actors, sup- |
! times have not only duplicates but al- pairs of exquisitely wrought glass
| slippers, with French heels three and
| one-half inches high. It took six
| weeks to complete them. Meanwhile,
| we had been forced to proceed with
| the picture and had used transparent
celluloid slippers. However, the glass
‘ones were made and fitted perfectly.
i They are now in our possession and
i are probably the only pair of ‘custom-
made’ glass slippers in existence.
| Some time we may be able to make
use of them, for this business of
dressing the movie stars makes de-
, mands, sooner or later, for everything
| that has ever been worn, either in
‘ fact, fiction or fairy tales.”—By Mary
| B. Mullett.
| PATIENCE—AND THE SLICE
OF THE MELLON.
Some men are undone by their van-
ity. Others by their stubbornness.
| And still more by impatience.
I have a new theory which seems to
explain why the farm makes such an
excellent training ground for success-
ful men.
A boy who is raised on a farm
knows how to wait. He plows the
ground in the fall for the crop he wiil
reap the next summer. He plants
trees now for the fruit he will pick in
five years. The hog that will win the
championship at the State fair in 1938
will not be born for more than ten
years, but some farmer lad has al-
ready begun to breed that hog. He is
now choosing its ancestors.
This willingness to wait with pa-
, tience, to let time and the law of av-
, erages work for you, is a distinguish-
ing quality of great men.
The insurance business is a monu-
, ment to what compound interest will
do if favored by time and patience.
, The distinguishing quality of great
, Scientists is patience. The patience
of trout fishers is classic. Noted de-
i tectives are marked for patience—for
| their willingness to collect evidence
bit by bit until they have a chain
which cannot be broken. The patience
of Lincoln is legend, and is one rea-
son why his memory is cherished so
dearly.
Of course, I can’t say that I adnetre
| bovine patience. There is such a
| thing as alert patience, gcdly pa-
tience, or if you prefer, satanic pa-
tience.
Men have grown indecently rich by
fencing off a chunk of vacant land and
waiting patiently for a city to grow
up around it. Others have grown
i wealthy by letting six per cent. com-
pound interest work for them while
they slept and waited.
This form of patience is all right
for those of the proper temperament,
but I can more easily admire and com-
mend the patience of men like Luther
{ Burbank who can wait twenty years
{to transform a thistle into an edible
, plant, or men like Charles Goodyear
| who dragged himself through a life of
i poverty and at the very end succeeded
. at last in vuleanizing rubber.
City life makes men too impatient,
to their misfortune. A delay in an
expected promotion or an increase in
salary causes them to sacrifice three
or four years of effort. ;
Farmers boys come along, lacking
the ability and agility of city boys,
but endowed with generous patience.
They don’t expect to pick fruit the
first year. They hang on, and on, and
Yhen a melon is cut they get their
slice. fi
A New Entrant for the Altoona Races.
In connection with the announce-
ment of the 250-mile speed classic to
1 be held by the Altoona Speedway As-
| sociation on Labor day, the manage-
, ment has arranged for the appearance
iof Frank Lockhart, of Los Angeles,
California.
: That Lockhart is perhaps the most
‘noted of the younger pilots on the
| American roster is shown in press dis-
patches accorded him recently follow-
ing his sensational victory on the In-
dianapolis bowl. Being the recipient
of $42,000 for a single afternoon’s
driving, he immediately assumed a
prominent place in the racing world.
So marked was his advance follow-
ing his graduation from the dirt
tracks of the country, that thousands
of eager fans awaited his recognition
by the contest board of the American
Automobile association.
Now that he occupies fourth place
standing with the official body, there
appears no end to the many offers he
has received to drive on the grand na-
tional circuit. For a while Lockhart
was unable to determine just what
course he would pursue. It remained
however, for the veteran Harry Mil-
ler, dean of the racing motor indus-
try, to win the valorous Lockhart on
his famous racing team.
The deal made with Miller offers
Lockhart greater prestige, since it is
known in racing circles that the vet-
eran manufacturer is preparing a
special mount for the coming event in
Altoona. The car should excel any-
thing in rear wheel driven construc-
tion. This car will team with the fa-
mous two cars of front wheel drive
design, piloted by the two oldest driv-
ers in the game, Earl Cooper and
Dave Lewis. Both these cars have
been victorious at Salem, N. H., and
Atlantic City tracks. The trio repre-
sents a very unusual combination, and
should add to the intense interest
which is steadily surrounding the
coming event, :
Orphans to Get More Learning.
Extensions of the course to permit
a third and fourth year at the Sun-
bury High schools was decided upon
at Friday’s meeting of the Central
Pennsylvania Odd Felows Orphans’
Home Association at the orphanage,
near Sunbury.
More than 200 orphans are students
in the schools, and the new plan will
give them a chance to complete either
business or college preparatory cours-
es.
The officers elected were: Roy D.
Beeman, Harrisburg, president; E. E.
Chubbick, Monroeton, and W. G.
Lentz, Catawissa, vice presidents; L.
M. Dice, Marysville, secretary, and
Robert Davis, Mt. Carmel, treasurer.
Mr. and ‘Mrs. Kimber A. Hartman
were continued in charge of the home.