Coaching Canine Cops
Although trained dogs have been in use as assistants to police
officers in European countries for many years, the idea has taken
hold in the Vnited States only recently. Berkeley, Calif., was one of
the first cities in this country to put dogs on regular police duty.
Their dogs are Dobermann Pinschers from the Palanka Kennels at
Richmond, Calif., where Capt. C. A. Roy, former Canadian police
officer, turns out ranine cops. These photos show some of the most
important stages in the development of dogs for this work.
The captain here takes a hurdle with one of the dogs he is training
for police work. The trainer always wears a uniform, the idea being
to teach the dog that the man in uniform is his friend and master.
The Dobermann goes up the
step ladder in pursuit of a mythi
cal criminal. This is one of the
hanlest lessons for the dog.
The dog must get over the
plank wall, but he docs it. Height
of the barrier is gradually in•
creased.
Assigned to a radio prowl car,
this Dobermann is the pal of Sgt.
Coffey of the Berkeley police de
partment.
Dogs arc taught to grab for
dropped pistols, and to bring
them to the nearest policeman,
or an-ay from criminal.
Here the dog has grabbed a “criminal'’ making off with a suit
case. This dog is almost completely trained.
NATIONAL
AFFAIRS
Reviewed by
CARTER FIELD
U. S. Silence on Sink
ing of U-boats Is Ex
plained . . . ‘T ittle Fel
low’ Still Has Tough Go
ing in Defense Program.
(Bell Syndicate—WNU Service.)
WASHINGTON.—What might be
called an official explanation of why
this government—and the British
1 government—pursue the policy of
not announcing the sinking of any
submarine has just been made by
none other than Charles Michelson.
What is much more interesting than
the explanation is the possibility of
interpreting the explanation as ad
mitting that our navy has sunk Nazi
U-boats.
“Some comment has been made,”
says Mr. Michelson, "on the Presi
dent’s notice that, when and if Ger
man submarines are destroyed
there would be no announcement of
the events.
“There have been reports, origi
nating from letters to their home
folks from men of the patrol fleet,
that they had caught U-boats. One
referred to two subs destroyed by
his vessel. Why, the question is
asked, should not the American peo
ple be advised that all the losses
have not been on our side?
“It is deemed more important
that the Germans should not have
this information than thirty our na
tural curiosity should be gratified.
A raiding submarine is ordered to a
particular traffic lane to intercept
convoys. If that U-boat were
knocked off, another would be sent
to lie in wait in that ambush. Ul
timately, of course, the Reich, get
ting no word from the raider, will
surmise that she is lost, but before
that information is conclusive,
one or more convoyed fleets may
have passed the danger point in
safety from attack. Even a few
days or a week is of value in this
situation.
“That, and the psychological ef
fect of suspense and doubt—not an
inconsiderable factor in a war of
nerves—explains the riddle.”
But the explanation as to why an
nouncements of submarine sinkings
are so meager is not quite adequate.
Obviously the United States govern
ment is following the practice of
the British in this respect. The Brit
ish did the same thing in the last
war, and seemed to think, then and
now, that it was wise strategy.
*Little Fellow’
Has Tough Going
Another blast in behalf of the “lit
tle fellows” in manufacturing has
just been issued by Sen. James J.
Davis, of Pennsylvania So much
has been written and spoken about
the necessity of getting all the lit
tle shops of the country bound into
the defense drive, and therefore
kept in operation, that it might be
well to point out some of the out
standing reasons why the program
to do precisely that has bogged
down. For “bogged down” it has,
beyond the slightest doubt.
Senator Davis views the situation
from many angles; not the least in
teresting is that ordinary business
must carry the tax load. It makes
very little difference, really, what
the profits of the manufacturers who
are producing for national defense
are. If they are small, they car
be disregarded. But if they are
large very few “spending dollars”
will find their way into the pockets
of the owners.
The corporation income tax will
take pretty nearly the first third,
the excess profits tax will take an
other chunk, and the terrific per
sonal income taxes, those already
enacted and those to come, will
take three-fourths or more of what
is left—assuming that the gentle
men in question have sizable in
comes.
One way of looking at this is
that if the government pays low
prices for defense products, there
is nothing to worry about, but if it
pays high prices it will get all the
cream, or most of it, back.
So we can almost disregard what
we might call the defense indus
tries in this problem of taxation,
and look at what industries are left
It is these non-defense industries
which will pay most of the govern
ment's revenue. As more and more
of them are being curtailed because,
not being defense industries, they
cannot get the materials they need,
this becomes a serious problem, and
obviously will force a larger and
larger percentage of the total de
fense cost to be financed by bor
; rowing.
Small Plant* Important
The other angle is that the de
fense effort should be much greater,
and one way to make it greater is
to bring more of the small plants
into defense production.
The difficulty here is a problem
almost as old as human nature.
Your big contractor is assailed for
not subcontracting more. It is as
sumed that he wants to keep all
the gravy for himself, instead of
passing it around. This is not the
main reason because the more sub
contracting he can do the more
total business he can do. A lot of
subcontracting, instead of cutting
down the amount of his earnings,
j might actually increase them.
Her First Sale
By KARL GRAYSON
(Associated Newspapers—WNU Service.)
Adeline kirby, the famous
short story writer, told me
^ this story one day at a Writ
er’s Guild luncheon.
"In a way,” she began, smiling,
“I don’t blame the beginner writers
for feeling that the editors to whom
they submit their manuscripts are
without feeling or pity. I can
understand how they feel and what
provokes their skepticism. 1 was
that way myself. And then some
thing happened that changed my
opinion of editors. I guess perhaps
I made it happen. Anyway, I found
out they were quite human.
"I started in early, began submit
ting stories before I’d finished high
school. You see, I always had the
urge to write. And because no one
had much faith in my ability, I de
termined at an early age to prove to
everyone they were wrong and I
was right.
“And so when 1 was fourteen 1
pecked off my first story on an old
broken down typewriter and shipped
it off. Of course it came back, and
the shock of that first rejection was
quite a blow. But I survived. I
tucked the manuscript away in an
old trunk (the trunk's filled to over
flowing now) and began another
story. This, too, came back. And
so did the next and the next. It
was pretty discouraging business
and pretty disheartening, especially
when the folks smiled and shook
their heads sympathetically, and
little brother Jerry jeered quite
openly.
"After high school, at Smith, I
continued to write on the average of
He looked at me and 1 looked at
him and suddenly he began to laugh.
two stories a month. They were
returned without fail, and with never
a word of encouragement. I began
to think of editors as grim-visaged,
ugly looking people, whose lives
were dedicated to the sole purpose
of rejecting unknown writers’ manu
scripts, and in doing which they took
a fiendish delight.
“Up until my junior year at col
lege I had been going about the busi
ness in rather a hit or miss manner,
writing whatever type of story that
seemed best suited to my mood, and
shooting it off to the magazine that
paid the highest rates. But that
same year I attended a lecture
given by one of our foremost writ
ers. This writer, much to my sur
prise, had undergone a period of
apprenticeship filled with as many
trials and discouragements as my
own. It had occurred to him after
awhile, he said, to study the types
of stories that certain magazines
published and to attempt to model
his own stuff after their particular
formula.
“This seemed to me like a wholly
sensible thing to do. I decided to
adopt the plan myself, and forthwith
selected a half dozen of our lead
ing magazines in which I would like
to see my work. I bought them regu
larly and studied them diligently.
Presently I had boiled the half dozen
down to two, one of which became
my real aim. It was called Mor
ton’s Magazine. Thereafter I mod
eled and designed every new story
for Morton's. And I continued to do
so for two years. But the results
were the same. The old phobia
about the inhumanness of edi
tors began to assert itself again. It
just didn't seem possible to me that
any man or woman with human
blood in his .veins could be heartless
enough to continue rejecting my
yarns, especially when some of
those yarns were as good if not bet
ter than stories they published every
week. Or so I thought.
“At any rate, graduation came
and I was still an unknown writer
without a single sale to my credit.
I spent that summer at home and in
the fall persuaded my family to let
me live in New York for a year, in
the hopes of finding a Job. My real
purpose, of course, was to call on
the editor of Morton’s Magazine,
and a few others, and find out for
myself if they were as inhuman and
pitiless as I thought. Also to ask
why my stories weren’t suited to
their darned old publications.
“The editor of Morton’s Maga
zine, I learned, was named Sam
Jones, which to me wasn’t a very
romantic sounding combination of
words, and served to substantiate
my suspicions before I even saw the
gentleman.
“It wasn’t so easy getting into see
Mr. Jones. He was, it appeared, a
very busy man, and besides that he
employed a whole stall of people
I
whose jobs were to talk with and
console would-be writers. But be
ing a woman and a very persistent
woman I was eventually ushered
into Mr. Jones’ office.
“Sight of him was quite a shock,
quite a come down, I might add.
He was a large man, immaculately
attired and possessed a very pleas
ant face and a gentle voice. He
greeted me courteously. Actually.
“ 'Miss Kirby?’ he said, as if run
ning through the category of names
in his mind. ’Ah, yes, I remember.
You’ve sent us any number of
stories, Miss Kirby, all of which, 1
regret to say, were found unsuitable
to our publication. I’m sorry.’
“ ‘So am I,’ I said. ‘Tell me, Mr.
Jones,’ I asked, voicing the griev
ance of most would-be writers, ‘do
you actually read my stuff?’
“ ‘Why, of course. We read all
the manuscripts—’
“ ‘Will you please read this one,
then?’ I thrust a manuscript toward
him with a sort of vehemence that
fairly made him gasp.
“ ‘Of course,’ he said. 'In the
regular course of things your
story—’
" ‘Thank you.' I rose. 'I’ll be
back next week to get your reac
tion.’
“ ‘That,’ said Mr. Jones, ‘won’t
be necessary. If the story is found
unsuitable, it will be returned to
you.’ I
“ ‘If you don't mind,’ I said, ‘I’ll
be back next week.’ And I went
out.
“In a week I was back. The story
hadn’t been returned, and I was
living in the hopes that by my
brusqueness I had made an impres
sion on Mr. Jones. Impressions, I
thought, helped sell stories. Mr.
Jones’ secretary declared the great
man was busy and was on the point
of telling me to go home, when Sam
himself came through his office door
and almost bumped into me. I
planted myself in front of him.
“ ‘Fancy!’ I said. ‘You remember
me, of course?’
“Mr. Jones nodded. ‘Of course,’
he smiled. ‘And I regret to say
that your story was found—’
“ ‘Are you sure you read it?’ I
asked him almost savagely.
“ ‘Indeed I read it. I—’
“ ‘And you read those little poems
at the beginning of each chapter?’
I interrupted again.
“ ‘The little poems, too,’ he
agreed. ‘But even the little poems—'
“ ‘Ha!’ I thrust forward my jaw
belligerently. 'I knew it! I knew
you weren’t reading my stuff, Mr.
Jones, there were no little poems
at the beginning of each chapter.
Now what do you think of that?’
“Mr. Jones took a nervous look
around. The room was full of peo
ple, all of whom seemed to have
stopped whatever they were doing to
Jisten. Suddenly he looked down at
me. ‘Follow me,’ he said, and
turned back into his^offlce.
“I followed him, actually trem
bling because of the horrible thing
I’d done. Mr. Jones stood near his
desk. He looked at me and I looked
at him, and suddenly he began to
laugh. He laughed till the tears
rolled down his cheeks and he was
forced to sit from weakness. ‘That,’
he said, ‘was about the smartest
thing I’ve ever run up against. Miss
Kirby, I apologize.’
“Yes, Mr. Jones apologized for
telling me he’d read the story. I
remained with him for more than
an hour. He explained that they’d
received so many stories from me
and all of them had been so outstand
ingly poor, that two years ago they’d
stopped reading them. He asked me
if I blamed them, I said, no, I didn’t
but would he read this new yarn?
He would and he did and he bought
it. And that's how I got my first
story published and discovered that
editors were human. There’s a
moral to this story, which is this:
If you want to write, make a busi
ness of it, study your markets and
don’t submit anything till you’re
pretty sure of your ground.’’
Fever From Milk Infects
Some 12,000,000 People
Some 12,000,000 people in the
U. S. are infected with the germs
of a strange, lingering, milk-borne
disease called undulant fever (bru
cellosis). So wrote Health Officer
Harold Jerome Harris of Westport,
N. Y.
Undulant fever may smolder for
years, suddenly flare up into a com
plex disease resembling typhoid,
malaria or tuberculosis. It is
caused by any of three germs of
the group Brucella (named after Sir
David Bruce, who discovered the
strain in 1886). Brucellae infect
cattle, sheep, goats and pigs, cause
a disease known as contagious abor
tion. Between 11 and 20 per cent
of all U. S. cattle are infected,
causing a yearly Joss to farmers
of some $80,000,000. The disease
is transmitted to man through milk,
butter, cheese, and through han
dling of infected carcasses; it is not
passed from one person to another.
Anyone who lives in the country
and drinks unpasteurized milk from
an infected cow, or pours a spot
of tainted ir-am in his coffee, is
liable to come down with a low
fever and vague pains. He may
feel fine every morning, but in the
afternoon his temperature soars,
and he gradually loses strength.
Smart to Crochet Your Mittens
DE SMART! Crochet these mit
tens for that outdoor girl. The
one laced up the back is “tops”
in red, white and blue. The other
is worked in one piece.
It’s not how much you pay, but
how well it is received, that makes
a Christmas gift welcome. That’s
why Camel Cigarettes and Prince
Albert Smoking Tobacco make
such ideal gifts. The cost is mod
est, the welcome assured. For
Camel is America’s favorite ciga
rette, and Prince Albert Smoking
Tobacco is the National Joy
Smoke. Local dealers are featur
ing Camels in your choice of two
handsome gift packages — the
Camel carton of ten packages and
a gay package of four “flat fif
ties.” Prince Albert is featured in
the pound tin and the pound glass
humidor in specially designed
Christmas gift wrappings.—Adv.
Inward Beauty
O beloved Pan, and all ye other
gods of this place, grant me to be
come beautiful in the inner man.
—Socrates.
Pattern 2969 contains Instructions for
making mittens in small, medium and
large sizes; illustrations of them and
stitches; materials required; photograph
of pattern stitches. Send your order to:
Sewing Circle Needlecraft Dept.
82 Eighth Ave. New York
Enclose 15 cents in coins for Pat
tern No.
Name....
Address...
Pull the Trigger on
Lazy Bowels, with
Ease for Stomach, too
When constipation brings on acid in
digestion, stomach upset, bloating, dizzy
spells, gas, coated tongue, sour taste and
bad breath, your stomach is probably
“crying the blues” because your bowels
don’t motfe. It calls for Laxative-Senna
to pull the trigger on those lazy bowels,
combined with Syrup Pepsin for perfect
ease to your stomach in taking. For years,
many Doctors have given pepsin prepa
rations in their prescriptions to make
medicine more agreeable to a touchy stom
sch. So be sure your laxative contains
Syrup Pepsin. Insist on Dr. Caldwell’s
Laxative Senna combined with Syrup Pep
sin. See how wonderfully the Laxative
Senna wakes up lazy nerves and muscles
in your intestines to bring welcome relief
from constipation And the good old
Syrup Pepsin makes this laxative so com
fortable and easy on your stomach. Even
finicky children love the taste of this
pleasant family laxative. Buy Dr. Cald
well’s Laxative Senna at your druggist
today. Try one laxative combined with
Syrup Pepsin for ease to your stomach, too.
Need of Patience
Patience is a necessary ingredi
ent of genius.—Disraeli.
How To Relieve
Bronchitis
Creomulslon relieves promptly be
cause it goes right to the seat of the
trouble to help loosen and expel
germ laden phlegm, and aid nature
to soothe and heal raw, tender, in
flamed bronchial mucous mem
branes. Tell your druggist to sell you
a bottle of Creomulslon with the un
derstanding you must like the way it
quickly allays the cough or you are
t« have your money back.
CREOMULSION
for Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis
Wind and Opinions
Wind puffs up empty bladders;
opinions fools.—Socrates.
never saved a life
• One skid may cost more than ten pairs of Weeds. May
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cause they give more than ft
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