r\: W'^, Jf f \ "\ ... ;' 1 >- • * V*1*
DESOLATE SUEZ
I “FRENCHMEN %
i KEEP IT -
I GOING J
Experienced Special rilots Guide Ships Through the Sue* Canal.
Popular Idea That British Control
Canal Doesn't Agree With Facts
Prepared by National Geographic Boclatj
Washington, U C.-WXU Service.
THE Suez canal, thought
by many laymen to be
British controlled, is the prop
erty of and is operated by the
Compagnie Universelle du
Canal Maritime de Suez, reg
istered as an Egyptian com
pany under Egyptian law,
with its main administrative
offices in Paris. The presi
dent is always French, as are
also 21 of its 32 directors and
its entire secretariat and
higher personnel. The gener
al workers are a cosmopoli
tan group.
The cannl company does nothing
that it can get others to do equally
well. When hand labor gave way to
machine operation, various entre
preneurs were given the work of
excavation and the majority of the
digging was done by contractors.
Part of the west jetty, made up of
cement blocks worth $65 apiece, was
built by contract.
The company had to construct a
fresh-water canal and filtering sta
tions in order to carry on its basic
work. But it leaves the delivery of
the water to others. The personnel
has just three things to do: to keep
the canal open, to keep the ships
passing through, and to keep the
records.
The maintenance of the canal and
its improvements is in the hands of
the works department, whose of
ficers ore first class graduates from
the Ecole Polytechnique and the
Ecole Centrale in Paris.
Dentistry for Dredges.
One never knows how much equip
ment is required in the upkeep of a
canal until he accompanies a mem
ber of the works department
through the shops and around the
■mall harbor where the broken
toothed dredges come back to have
their dentistry done. It looks as
though every disabled or incorrigi
ble piece of wood or metal in that
part /of the world were dumped
abovft
Compared with the works depart
ment, the traffic department has a
nice clean Job. One sees no clutter
of papers, no bulky correspondence.
The principal officers are recruited
from the French navy.
There is, in addition to the watch
fulness of captain and pilot, an eye
on every ship that goes through the
canal from the time she is sighted
in one sea until she is turned loose
to shift for herself in the other.
The British post office refused to
recognize the canal for two years.
“Too slow," they said. Yet nothing
but an airplane has equalled the
speed actually attained between
Port Said and Port Tewflk on the
canal Itself. The traffic department
has some little Thornycroft boats
which can make the trip in a trifle
over two hours and a half.
The speed for steamers on the
canal Is 6.21 miles an hour, but pi
lots exceed the limit when side
winds prevent the ship from obey
ing her rudder at a lower speed.
The canal is now 104t4 miles long.
Jetties having added considerably to
its length in recent years.
Guard Against Blasts.
During the transit of the canal
two pilots are used, each making
one-half the journey. They serve
only in an advisory capacity, though
| many a captain lets the pilot handle
| the ship as though it were his own.
i Officers of the company unhesi
tatingly sacrifice a single vessel to
the common good. A shipload of
explosives was sunk near the Port
Said waterworks and a cargo of ben
zine in the Commercial Basin. But
ships carrying dangerous cargoes
are being removed farther and far
ther from tiie main anchorages and
as careful a quarantine is kept
against spontaneous combustion as
against cholera.
Of the towns on the canal, only
one existed before De Lesseps be
gan his work. Suez, then a mis
erable Arab village, is now a mis
erable Arab town A few apartment
houses are rising on squares of salt
encrusted land which are filled in
to bring them up to the level of the
itreet. The Sweet Water canal
brightens things up and flowers,
fruits, and vegetables line its banks.
Clouds and the softer light that
comes with them give to nonde
script Suez a beauty such as many
a greener, lovelier spot would envy.
The upper curve of the Red sea be
comes purest emerald and beside
' . ' the tawdry town seems carved
- om silver and onyx. In the back
ground, their Imposing flanks mot
tled by shadows Into a chocolate
and coffee marbling, lie the barren
hills of Africa.
In the middle distance gray oil
tanks seem almost phosphorescent
in spite of the brightness of the
whole scene, and tall chimneys of
the Port Ibrahim refineries rise like
full-leaded exclamation points.
Suez has little to do with the
canal. It lies up a creek in which
the dhows from the Arabian coast
ore stranded at low tide and is
connected with Port Tewflk by a
causeway.
Port Tewflk, like Port Said, is a
by-product of the canal. When there
was need for land on which to build,
the dredges dumped it there.
Along the canal front runs the
Avenue Helene, a shady bund with
a comradely cafe or two. Nurse
maids occupy shaded benches and
one healthy little miss of three or
four, who had fallen quite in love
with Lieutenant Wnghorn, stood
gazing at his monument for minutes
together.
Port Tewflk, gateway to the teem
ing East, is provincial. On the
canal and hence a busy place, it is
not a port at all. Ships wait in the
Gulf of Suez until the pilot takes
them in hand. Ships coming down
the canal don’t stop at Port Tewflk.
They only drop the pilot and signal
‘‘full speed ahead.”
Port Ibrahim is principally a
haven for tankers which come there
to spew up the viscous crude oil or
pump forth a silver stream of re
fined petroleum.
To the east of Suez there was
formerly a large camping ground
for Mecca-bound caravans made up
of swarthy Egyptians, slender Syri
ans, serious-faced Turks, and Mos
lems from Turkistan clad in wadded
gowns made of bright-colored cloth
like upholstery cretonnes, with their
women hiding behind horsehair
veils.
Presents Desolate Scene.
Now this vast expanse is deserted.
A single stalking camel or a Bed
ouin on horseback would make it n
desolate picture. Lacking the liv
ing element, it is only empty.
The first station north of Suez is
Shallufa. Near the small wharf are
some brightly painted buoys. At the
foot of the signal mast are the can
vas balls, cylinders, and cones used
to signal to passing ships. Back of
the homes and office is a water
tank served by a windmill and pro
vided with a filter. A few trees
give sparse shade. That is all.
Along the northern half of the
canal the railway runs Just behind
these canal stations and the station
master can keep in touch with the
world on land as well as the world
of ships. But Shallufa is a lonely
spot. The visitor is greeted like a
prodigal son.
Some ships have a strict mall
schedule to keep. Others are un
kempt tramps whose engines need
no slowing down to keep them with
in the proper speed. Winds sweep
across the desert with tremendous
force, although the banks of the
canal, behind which a steamer looks
like a procession of masts, protect
all but the largest ships. Dredges,
with barges alongside, are always
shifting their positidn.
No One Shown Favors.
The station master knows no fa
vorites. It may cause the captain
of a great cruise ship some chuffing
at table if he has to tie up and
let a smudgy tramp steam slowly
by. But he takes his orders from
those who know the canal and would
lose their jobs if they didn’t. As
the tide ebbs and flows between the
Red sea and the equalizing tanks
of the Bitter lakes, the ship facing
the current, be it ragged tramp or
well-groomed merchant prince, ties
up.
At Shallufa from the upper deck
of any decently-large steamer one
can trace the course of the ancient
canal. Making the moderate de
pression more conspicuous are hair
cloth tents of the Beduoins, who
plant grain and vegetables in its
concavity. The station master of
Shallufa uses a section of the an
cient canal as a private garden.
When, in 1887, it was decided to
use the canal day and night there
arose the question of whether the
canal or the ships should be lighted.
The latter was decided upon. A
fine experience is to lie flat on the
bow above the headlight while its
silver beams advance into the mys
tery of Asia on the one side and
Africa on the other. Then another
Polyhemus eye far down the canal
turns its lidless stare upon one and
comes silently on.
»
SEEN and HEAR >
around tfie U
NATIONAL CAPITAL#
By Carter Field jf
FAMOUS WASHINGTON CORRESPONDENT
Washington.—Elaborate maneu
vering is going on to put Elliot
Roosevelt, son of the President, in
the house of representatives from
the twelfth Texas district, now rep
resented by Fritz Garland Lanham.
Under the Texas law, a special
election to fill a vacancy is more
or less a free-for-all. There is no
primary, there is no runoff. Every
body who wants to enters, and the
high man takes the prize. Once in,
the incumbent has a big advantage
at the next regular primary, and
of course a Democrat has no trou
ble in the election if he weathers the
primary.
Lanham has been in the house
since Woodrow Wilson's last con
gress and has been elected at regu
lar elections beginning with 1920,
which makes him rather a veteran.
He has developed quite a streak of
insurgency, being out of sympathy
with a good many New Deal meas
ures. In short, he is more of a
Garner man than a Roosevelt man.
Nobody is claiming the honor of
having first thought of the plan to
put young Roosevelt in his place,
but it has been taken up with
some enthusiasm by the Texas dele
gation, and has not exactly been
frowned on by the White House.
Texans on the inside of the maneu
ver want Lanham “promoted.”
They say he has had a splendid
record, but has become slightly fed
up with service in the house.
Just a few days ago the Texas
delegation voted to endorse Lanham
for president of the University of
Texas, which post is vacant because
of the death of the former presi
dent.
That would be much simpler than
the original idea, which was to have
the administration give Lanham a
more important job. Among the
jobs considered for him are that of
assistant secretary of state, made
vacant by the promotion of Sum
ner Welles to under-secretary of
state, and a post with the Communi
cations commission.
Some Embarrassment
But there is a slight embarrass
ment on the part of the White
House to make an appointment so
obviously to clear the way to put
ting the President’s son in the
house. Kicking a man upstairs to
get rid of his vote is something else
again. It is one of the most often
used political devices. Sometimes
it does not work, as when President
Coolidge "promoted” Senator Wil
liam S. Kenyon to be a judge at a
time when Kenyon as a progressive
senator was a thorn in the adminis
tration’s side. But Kenyon was
shortly thereafter—at the next regu
lar election—replaced by Smith
Wildman Brookhart, which was
more or less like Jumping out of
the frying pan into the fire.
So the White House would be very
pleased at having the way cleared
for Elliott by some other method
than by giving Lanham a political
“promotion.” Especially as there
is always more or less feeling that
this would not be good for party
discipline—handing plums to insur
gems.
If the scheme works out Elliott
should land the job handily, Texans
say. They predict that a large num
ber of candidates would enter the
•‘free-for-all” with the result that
the opposition woyld be divided, and
enough people would vote for the
magic name of Roosevelt to pull
Elliott through. Elliott has been liv
ing in Fort Worth for several years,
and is reported to be popular.
Seek U. S. Help, •
The German drive to have the
United States join in development
of dirigible transatlantic travels
continues, but it seems unlikely to
be authorized this year. Dr. Hugo
Eckener, most successful navigator
of dirigibles so far, is most persua
sive. He has met most of the ar
guments against the idea. But two
of the arguments he has met most
effectively promise to stay the hand
of congress for this session.
One of the objections, of course,
is the shock still remaining from
the Hindenburg tragedy. Every one,
including our naval experts, agrees
that this'would not have been a dis
aster at all had the big bag been
filled with helium instead of explo
sive hydrogen. But the fact remains
that so many people throughout the
country were and still are shocked
at the Hindenburg disaster, and still
remember that this ended the last
delusion about lighter than air
transport—the delusion that the
Germans at least had solved the
problem—that there is no popular
1 demand for action.
So when a senator or representa
tive opposes doing anything about it.
or, as is more usual, when he simply
makes no move to cause action,
there is no unfavorable reaction
j against him among his voters he
must face when he comes up for
re-election.
The other argument is wrapped up
in the neutrality propaganda. When
Doctor Eckener was before the con
gressional committees he was
grilled closely about the danger of
helium, sold to Germany by the
United States or possibly in United
States dirigibles while they might
be abroad and seized during a war,
being used for war purposes.
Dirigibles in War
Doctor Eckener made two most
effective answers, so far as logic
is concerned, according to army and
navy officers who have been study
ing the situation since. One was
that the dirigible would not be an
effective weapon in war today. He
said they would be easy victims of
airplanes and antiaircraft artillery.
In fact, this stage had really been
reached, he said, before the close of
the World war.
But—and this was much more
convincing—if nations did want to
use dirigibles in war, they would
not be deterred by the lack of he
lium. They would use hydrogen de
spite the greater danger.
Doctor Eckener’s remarks along
this line have been closely studied
by our army and navy aviation
experts. Their thought is that the
nation which would decide to use a
dirigible in war would probably pre
fer to use hydrogen. The advan
tage would be that the lifting power
of hydrogen is greater than that of
helium. Therefore the same gas
bag could carry a heavier load of
bombs, more defensive guns, etc.
A dirigible supported by hydrogen
could rise more quickly in an emer
gency, thus escaping antiaircraft
guns.
New Dealers Worry
Two of the groups of the ‘‘sub
merged third” of our population
which are giving the New Dealers
the most gray hairs are the small
farmers, particularly the mountain
eers, and the folks who work in
very small stores and factories, and
hence do not come under the wage
and hour legislation now pending.
The mountaineers are particular
ly troublesome. In the first place
they do not seem to appreciate what
is done for them. They want, ap
parently, to retain their ‘‘rugged in
dividualism." None of the reset
tlement projects which were the ap
ple of Rexford G. Tugwell’s eye,
and which so intrigued Mrs. Roose
velt, have been notably successful.
Quite the contrary.
Yet they are being hit and will
be hit by most of the New Deal legis
lation harder than most folks. While
they do not buy much, naturally
payroll social security taxes, and
state sales taxes necessitated by the
social burdens the states have as
sumed, boost the cost of everything
they buy. Thus not only is their
buying power reduced but their lot
made just that much harder.
A group of congressmen and their
wives who just returned from a trip
to the Smoky Mountain national
park, on the border of North Caro
lina and Tennessee, brought back
a vivid impression of how the social
welfare legislation, both state and
national, is hitting this particular
segment of the submerged third.
‘‘We didn’t go off the beaten
track,” said the wife of one. ‘‘We
weren’t looking for anything but
scenery. But we were shocked at
the living conditions of the moun
tain folk living right along the main
highway. Women were working in
the fields, just as animal-like as in
the most backward sections of Eu
rope. We didn’t see any hitched to
plows, as in the recent disgraceful
case which figured in the newspa
pers, but we could imagine they
often were.
Pitiful Conditions
“It was pitiful — the scrubby,
rocky land they were tilling, the*
squalid, dirty cabins they called
homes, and the cruel grinding day
light to darkness labor they were
putting in so futilely,
"Yet we knew by our own pur
chases that when those folks went
down to the store to buy something
they not only paid a higher price
because of payroll taxes to give
somebody else old age and unem
ployment insurance, but they were,
in North Carolina, paying a three
per cent sales tax. When we got
up into West Virginia, we found,
incidentally, that there were no ex
emptions, as in many states, from
this sales tax, which here was two
per cent.
“My state of Illinois has a three
per cent sales tax, but when a poor
man buys a sandwich and a cup of
coffee—anything not more titan 15
cents, that purchase is exempt. But
in West Virginia the sales tax on a
ten cent purchase is ten per cent,
not two per cent, because they do
not have tokens to split pennies.”
The difficulty the New Deal an
ticipates with small, local groups
of employees' is a matter of con
stitutional law. Some believe that
is why President Roosevelt is so
determined about his Supreme court
enlargement bill despite the recent
liberality of the present court. He
wants, they say, to be able to reach
the little store or plant which em
ploys three to fifteen men or women.
Political danger in such a move
would be very real, but it is these
employees who work longer hours,
and for less pay, on the average,
than the workers who by union ac
tivities better their conditions, and
who will be affected by the wages
and hours bill when that measure
has become law.
© Belt Syndicate.—WNU Service
“Streak of Death”
By FLOYI> GIBBONS
Famous Headline Hunter
YOU know, boys and girls, about half of our battle to live
is fought against ourselves and other people, and the
other half is fought against Old Dame Nature. For every
Bill Jones who got himself caught in a whirling piece of man
made machinery or had to fight for his life against some
vicious or crazed fellow human, there is a Pete Smith, who
finds himself in a jam with an earthquake, or a wild animal,
or some other of Mother Nature’s tools of destruction.
I wouldn’t attempt to say which type of adventure is worse. I’ve got
a hunch that one is just about as bad as the other. But there’s something
about Dame Nature’s right hooks to the jaw that makes them more
terrifying than the others. I guess that’s because we don’t understand
Nature so well as we understand ourselves and the machines we create.
And here’s the story of a bout with Nature, sent to me by
Mrs.. John J. Sproul, of Keyport, N. J. It’s one of those things
that might happen to anybody and everybody. And when it came
along, it threw the whole Sproul family into a sudden, reasonless
panic.
Adventure came on the Sproul family in the dead of the night. They
were all sleeping—Mother and Dad and the children. The Sprouls had
four children then, but only three of them were at home. The other was
away for the night. The evening had been cloudy and threatening. The
sky had been black overhead when they had gone to bed. And now, sud
denly, they were awakened out of a sound sleep by a series of loud,
crashing reports.
This Was No Ordinary Storm, No, Sir!
The din was so terrific that the Sprouls jumped out of bed. It was
a thunderstorm—but what a storm. The first sweeping patter of the
rain quickly rose to a loud, drumming roar. The wind howled, and the
thunder, punctuated by bright flashes of lightning, sounded like a
battery of siege guns being fired right beside the house.
Few people pay much attention to a night thunderstorm.
Some folks sleep right through them. Others get up and shut the
windows to keep the floor from getting rained on. But this storm
was so terrific that the Sprouls were alarmed. Every crashing
bolt of lightning seemed to be striking right around the house.
John Sproul wasliardly out of bed—he was standing in the mid
dle of the bedroom floor—when one of the little boys came running
into the room.
John and the boy started for the stairs. As he did, he shouted back
to Mrs. Sproul. ‘‘Get the other children,” he cried, “and come down
She Found Iler Husband Lying Stiff and Still on the Floor.
»tairs as quick as you can. I’ll light the lamp in the kitchen so you cap
see.”
Mrs. Sproul Is Petrified With Fear.
John went down the stairs. Mrs. Sproul could hear him in the kitchen.
She had started out of the room, headed down the hall toward the room
in which her two other children were, when suddenly she heard a deafen
ing clap of thunder, louder than all the rest.
“I could feel the house shake and vibrate, and immediately I
thought it must have been struck,” she says. “There was a smell
like that of brimstone permeating the whole upper floor. I stopped
and stood stock still for a moment. The children were still in their
bed and I had to get them. But right then I couldn’t seem to move.
“I don’t know how long I stood there, but it must have been for a
Jong time, for presently it occurred to me that, since that last crash,
I had not heard a sound from either my husband in the kitchen, or from
my son who had followed him downstairs. And then, all of a sudden,
I heard a voice coming from below.”
Fear Lurked in the Blackness of Night.
Mrs. Sproul says that voice sounded as if it came from the dead. It
was her little son downstairs with his father and he was calling very
feebly, “Mamma—mamma—come here. Papa’s dead!"
\ Ten seconds before, she had been stiff with fright and unable
to move i muscle. But that sound shocked her into activity. She
ran through the hall and began groping her way down the
stairs. The lower floor was in total darkness. She began calling
hysterically to her boy—asking him where he was. At last he
answered. “I’m here,” he said. “By the high chair.”
Feeling her way through the dark house, she moved toward the
high chair. Thunder was still roaring outside and an occasional flash
of lightning brightened up the room. At last she found her boy—lying
on the floor. She picked him up, carried him into the dining room and
asked him if he knew where his father was. “He’s in the kitchen by
the stove,” the boy said. “I saw him fall down. I guess daddy has been
killed.”
She groped her way toward the kitchen. Her bare feet lit on some
thing wet—then on shattered bits of broken glass. But she didn’t even
feel it in the stress of the moment. She didn’t know until later that her
I husband had fallen with the lamp in his hand and that glass and oil were
strewn all over the kitchen floor.
Storm Provides a Weird Tattoo.
She found her husband—lying stiff and still on the floor. She
began screaming hysterically at the top of her voice. But at the
same time she was tugging at John Sprout’s still form, dragging
it toward the dining room.
In a few minutes neighbors began clamoring at the door. They
1 crowded in and a lamp was lighted. John Sproul wasn’t dead, but he
was badly burned by the lightning, and his clothes were charred and
smoking. When they pulled his clothing from his body they found that
the lightning had played a curious trick. Photographed on his back was
a silvery spot the exact shape of a tree.
A doctor came, worked over him, and brought him back to con
sciousness. He said he cculdn’t understand how he had lived through
the shock, and he was fascinated by that tree imprinted on John’s
back. He said he’d never forget it—but what Mrs. Sproul will never
forget is that terrible night of storm and destruction.
©—WNU Service.
Gibraltar, Rocky Promontory
Gibraltar is a rocky promontory
near the southern point of the
Iberian Peninsula and commanding
the western entrance to the Mediter
ranean sea. It s a colonial posses
sion of Great Britain. Covering
about two square miles, it consists
mainly of a fortified rock, 1,439 feet
high, at the foot of which is the
town with a population of over 21,
000.
Etesian Winds
Etesian winds are winds blowing
at stated times of the year, ap
plied especially to north and north
east winds which prevail at certain
seasons in the Mediterranean re
gions. They are due to the heat ol
the African Sahara, which causes a
huge displacement of air due to
superheating. This is supplied by
the cooler air from Southern Eu.
rop'
Colorful Flower
Heirloom Afghan
A merry-go-round of color,
that’s what this lacy afghan sug
gests, when crocheted square by
square from every colorful scrap
of yarn your work basket will
yield. And won’t it be economical
—this “heirloom” afghan, which
combines deep shades, pastel
Pattern 5830.
shades with the same background
color, that of the leaves. You’ll
love this all-over flowered
“throw,” the 3Ms inch squares of
which are easy to join. In pattern
5830 you will find directions for
making the afghan and a pillow;
an illustration of it and of the
stitches used, material require
ments, and color suggestions.
To obtain this pattern send 15
cents in stamps or coins (coins
preferred) to The Sewing Circle
Household Arts Dept., 259 W.
Fourteenth St., New York, N. Y.
Please write your name and ad
dress and pattern number plainly.
"
Summer Longest Season
No twq of the seasons are of the
same length. Summer is the long
est season, lasting 93 days 14
hours. Spring is second, with 92
days 21 hours. Autumn comes
next, with 89 days 18 hours. Win
ter is the shortest season, last
ing 89 days 1 hour.
IRQ VI t h e IB 5¥ IK] R V
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WNU—U 27—37
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