Af/e. W/NKLE -
GOES TO HUE
THEODORE
PRATT
W.N.U. RELEASE
4
THE STORY THUS PAR: Forty-four
year-old Wilbert Winnie, who operate* a
general repair shop back of hit home, It
notified by hit draft board that he it in
1-A. He breaks the bad newt to hit domi
neering wife, Amy, and tramp* off to
work without even kitting her goodby.
Neighbors call the next night and shake
their heads solemnly, and the local pa
per publishes his picture on the front
page. Winkle taeks a CLOSED sign over
his shop. Mrs. Winkle confides her wor
ries. She fears he might get interested
In other women, but Wilbert sayt she hat
nothing to worry about. Winkle leads the
draft parade and they march off behind
the band. The martial music tends a
chill up hit spine.
CHAPTER V
Mr. Winkle wasn’t sure if this was
said in the right spirit. He was
glad Amy didn’t appear in time to
hear it. He had been watching for
her, and during the last of the six
blocks, he saw her, hurrying along
to keep up. Her face was flushed.
She waved to him, and Mr. Winkle,
wondering if it was the correct thing
to do, waved back.
After they arrived at the open-air
bus station, there was a quarter of
an hour of confusion whose details
Mr. Winkle never remembered very
well. The selectees left their for
mation and searched out their re
spective families. Mr. Winkle found
his wife and dog. Penelope was en
livened by the excitement to yap sev
eral times. Mrs. Winkle said, "You
looked very military."
"I’m the leader,” he told her.
The horn of the bus honked.
Tears welled in Mrs. Winkle’s
eyes. “I’m not going to cry," she
Things were fast getting out of
band.
announced. And the tears didn’t
spill over but remained in her eyes
when she blinked them back, fast.
He and Amy looked at each other
solemnly. They embraced. They
held each other very close. They
kissed, and kissed again, while the
band played, women wept, and hand
kerchiefs and flags waved.
The next thing Mr. Winkle knew
was that he found himself seated in
the bus and the vehicle was getting
under way. Looking back, he saw
Mrs. Winkle, holding up Penelope
so that she could see him go to war.
Penelope wasn’t interested, but
looked the other way.
Not all of the bus was occupied
by the draft contingent. There hadn’t
been enough of them to charter a
vehicle for their sole use.
He sat alone, not because he
thought himself, as the leader, any
better than the others. Nor did he
care to be aloof; he would have wel
comed somebody to talk with, but
none of his charges joined him. Jack
Pettigrew sat up beside the driver.
The bus stopped and several more
people got on. One of them was a
young, blowzy blonde. Mr. Winkle
watched, fascinated, as Freddie ma
neuvered the selectee beside him
out of his seat and grinned winning
ly at the blonde. She sat beside
Freddie at once, and they began an
animated conversation.
This broke the tension the draftees
brought with them from their send
off. They laughed, and began to
talk and joke, and discuss their
voyage in voices just a little too loud
to be natural.
At noon the bus stopped at a sched
uled station for lunch. Mr. Winkle
herded his charges to the counter in
side the glass-front roadside restau
rant where he produced the proper
paper to obtain meals for them as
guests of the Government. Freddie
Tindall remained outside, talking to
the blonde. She was catching an
other bus here.
He let Freddie alone until he had
ordered his own meal. Then he went
out and told Freddie, “If you want
to get something to eat, you’d bet
ter come in.”
“Be right with you, Pop.” Mr.
Winkle went back to the counter.
Freddie took his time. He waited
until the blonde’s new bus pulled in.
He put her on it and then joined
the others. Some of the men looked
at him in admiration and envy.
“What would you have done,”
Freddie inquired of Mr. twinkle, “if
I'd gotten on the bus with her and
gone away?"
Mr. Winkle regarded him severe
ly. "I wouldn’t have done a thing.
That would be tor others. You
wouldn’t get very far.”
‘‘You mean with the blonde?”
Freddie inquired, and received his
laugh.
He kept up a horseplay of saying
that this was as far as he wanted to
go, that he’d had a nice ride, but
would now go back home. When
this wore thin, he introduced a new
subject. “Still proud to fight. Pop?”
he inquired.
Mr. Winkle kept his temper. “We
all ought to be.”
“Well, I’m not," Freddie declared.
“I’m not going because I want to,
and I don’t care who knows it. I
don’t want to be any darned sol
dier. Lugs, that’s all they are.
They’re going to make me into a
lug.’’
Mr. Winkle looked around. No one
except the contingent from Spring
ville seemed to have heard these
remarks. The men listened with
interest. Some of them looked star
tled.
“I don’t think you ought to say
such things,” Mr. Winkle advised.
“Who says that. Pop? Who says
I can’t say what I want?”
“Well ...” began Mr. Winkle.
“Isn’t this a free country, Pop?
Can’t a man say what he wants?
Tell me that, Pop.”
When Mr. Winkle didn’t reply,
Freddie was infuriated, taking out
his resentment on him as if holding
Mr. Winkle personally responsible
for his being drafted. “Tell me that,
you old coot, and don’t act like
we’re in the Army already.”
Before Mr. Winkle could gather
his outraged senses, Jack Pettigrew
pushed through the group of men
and came up to Freddie. His thin
face was white with anger. “Don’t
talk like that to Mr. Winkle,” he
ordered.
Freddie turned on the revolving
stool to Mr. Winkle, ignoring Jack.
“How about that, Pop? Should I
talk like that to you?”
Jack made a lunge at Freddie,
who whirled, placed his hand on
the boy’s chest, and shoved him
back.
Jack, crying imprecations, re
turned to the fray with clenched
fists.
Freddie jumped up to meet him.
Mr. Winkle was gripped with dis
may. Things were fast getting out
of hand. In fact, they were already
well out of hand. The proprietor of
the place was yelling, a waitress
shrieked, and customers called out.
Mr. Winkle heard his own voice
crying, "Now look here! Look here!
Save that for the Germans! Or the
Japs!”
The men laughed. Jack subsided,
glaring. Freddie made ironic gri
maces.
An armistice had been declared
in the premature war. Mr. Winkle
breathed with relief. He wasn’t cer
tain that he liked the responsibili
ties of leadership.
He counted the men carefully as
they got back on the bus, making
sure Freddie was among them. His
glance caught that of Jack, whose
eyes were hot and who said, “I’m
going to get him! I’m going to get
him plenty.”
"That’s all right,” Mr. Winkle
calmed him. "I appreciate your
standing up for me, but you’ve done
enough.”
Another hour’s ride got them to
their destination, and they descend
ed at a busy station where they were
transferred to another bus. This was
already half filled with soldiers-elect
like themselves.
"Hello, fresh meat,” one of these
greeted them.
From the highway, three miles out
of town, the entrance to the camp
was no more than a dirt side road
where two armed guards stood and a
sign declared this to be a military
reservation and that no admittance
was allowed.
Having been invited, they were ad
mitted.
After passing through a quarter of
a mile of thick woods, they came to
a great cleared space in which stood
a hidden city. There were many
wooden buildings, some of them of
one story, others of two stories. Dust
rose from the passing of their own
and other vehicles, and from march
ing feet.
The bus stopped before a building
which had a sign on it saying, "In
duction Checking Station.” Standing
up or sitting on the ground before
this were perhaps fifty more selec
tees. They stared at the newcom
ers who descended from the bus.
No one spoke in the atmosphere of
patient waiting and weary anxiety.
Mr. Winkle looked about, some
what at a loss. He didn’t know
what to do next.
A tall, thickset Sergeant, holding
a sheaf of papers in his hand, came
out of the building. He looked at
the new arrivals and asked huskily,
“Who’s the leader?”
Mr. Winkle went forward. The
Sergeant gazed down at him. Mr.
Winkle saw the mouse-recognition
look come into the man’s face, the
same way it showed in Amy’s. Then
the Sergeant took on an expression
as if to say he didn’t mean to be
surprised at anything sent to him.
He inquired, “Got ’em all, John?”
Mr. Winkle said he had and turned
over the group papers. This re
lieved him of his command. He
was a leader no longer, but just a
selectee like any other. Because of
this, and because of the mouse-look
he had been given, he felt deflated
and not in the least like a lion.
The Sergeant went inside. Mr.
Winkle waited with the others. Their
eyes went frequently to the door.
What smiles there were on any faces
were nervous ones.
The Sergeant came out again. In
a foghorn voice he began calling
names. It was nearly an hour, dur
ing which other busses arrived, be
fore the Springville men were
reached.
Mr. Winkle found himself in a
small room passing down a line of
soldier clerks sitting at desks. In
place of his own papers, an infor
mation card was given to him, which
he was instructed to hang around
his neck by the cord attached. Thus
ticketed, he took his place in line
down the hall, and finally into an
enormous room where many men
were in the process of being exam
ined.
Here, Mr. Winkle saw, was where
his fate would be decided. He was
told to drop his bag by the wall
under a clothing hook, and strip.
Shivering, he stood in line clad
only in his socks and shoes and in
formation card. It was humiliating
when he compared his skinny phy
sique with the more robust bodies
about him. Several men glanced
at him as if to say he didn’t amount
to much.
He began to run a gantlet of doc
tors and medical assistants. Each
doctor had one part of the body to
examine. Mr. Winkle was accus
tomed to having his family physi
cian make something of a fuss over
him, cajoling him, and treating him
like a living, breathing, human be
ing instead of a skeleton within and
around which was gathered a cer
tain amount of flesh and certain or
gans. Now he felt like ap automo
bile being put together on an assem
bly line in a factory.
His card was taken away from
him and in its place there was
daubed in iodine a number on his
chest. That, he was sure, was the
final ignominy. He was questioned,
weighed, measured, poked, tapped,
and the inner workings of his struc
ture listened to.
He was asked to read a chart with
out his glasses and with them. He
regretted each letter he made out,
but he couldn’t, as he had half
planned, bring himself to cheat. His
eyes were good enough to fight a
war. Even his pulse was found suf
ficiently calm after he had been set
running in one place for a minute
without going anywhere.
Well, he reflected, he hadn’t real
ly counted on any of these things to
save him. It was his dyspepsia he
was banking on.
He was laid on a paper-covered
table. His stomach was kneaded
■rrif miHnmwf)
Mr. Winkle went forward; the ser
geant gazed down at him.
and he was asked, “What’s this on
your record about dyspepsia?”
Mr. Winkle detailed and even
boasted about his acute intestinal
difficulties and the need he had for
his pills. He was kneaded some
more, as if he were an automobile
no longer, but a piece of dough.
The doctor gave a skeptical grunt,
a deprecating snort, and wrote some
thing on Mr. Winkle’s record sheet.
Mr. Winkle, to his horror, gath
ered that his dyspepsia had made
little impression, that it had let him
down completely.
At this, as he was passed on to the
next doctor, his heart beat so fast
that the doctor, who applied a steth
oscope to it, took it away and actu- i
ally looked at him, saying patiently,
“I expect it from the kids, but not
from you.”
Mr. Winkle was abashed. He ac
cused himself of behaving like a
child, like Jack Pettigrew whom he
saw standing tensely, on guard, with
a strained, taut expression on his
boy’s face.
And then Mr. Winkle went through
an experience he never expected to
have.
All during the days leading up to
this, and during the first of the ex
amining process, he hoped fervently
that he would be rejected. He had
even prayed for it. But now he
found himself hoping he would be
accepted.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Roller B Whitman—WNU Features.
DUSTY CONCRETE FLOOR
Question: Some time ago you
wrote about a mixture for laying the
dust of a concrete cellar floor. Will
you please repeat?
Answer: You can lay the dust by
soaking the floor with a mixture of
one part water glass in four parts of
water. Make plenty cf this mixture,
so that it can be poured on the
floor liberally, spread with a broom
and the floor allowed to soak it up.
At the end of some hours, wipe up
any puddles that may remain. You
may have to repeat the treatment
within a day or two. But if you
wish to paint the floor later on,
water glass should not be used. If
you should wish to paint, get a kind
of paint that is proof against the ef
fects of lime; for ordinary floor paint
will not last on a basement floor if
laid in the usual way.
• • •
LEAKING FLUSH TANK
Question: Our old-fashioned, high
type of w’ood flush tank is leaking.
Could I use wood putty to mend it?
Answer: Caulking compound
would last longer. This is similar
to putty (not wood putty) but never
becomes hard or brittle. This com
pound is much used for repairing
outside leaks around window frames.
It is forced into the crack with a
caulking gun. Inquire about this at
your hardware store.
• • •
How to Build Shower Stall
Question: I am planning to build
a shower in a space 32 inches wide
by 24 inches long and 7 feet high.
What type of waterproof material
can I use that will be economical,
yet good? Must the floor be of
cement, or can something else be
used instead?
Answer: The base or receptor of I
the shower should be built of cement
with a lead pan under it to prevent
possible leakage to the floor below.
This work should be done by a com
petent concrete or tile man who
has had experience in this kind of
work. Or, you can get a precast
cement receptor. The latter would
be simple to install.
The walls can be of cement plas
ter over wire lath, or you can use
one of the prefinished dense fiber j
wallboards. If the board is used,
the manufacturer’s directions should
be followed in making the joints
watertight. The smallest size show
er receptor measures 32 by 32
inches. Your 24-inch dimension is
rather "skimpy” for a shower stall.
• • •
Oil Stain on Wooden Chest
Question: I have a wooden chest
that I was preparing to paint, when
a large quantity of baby oil was
spilled on it. Although I wiped it
off with rags as soon as possible,
quite a bit of it penetrated into the
wood. Will the oil that remains in
the wood affect the enamel finish
that I am planning to apply on the
chest?
Answer: Sandpaper as much c(
the surface as possible, and, if som<
of the oil still remains that canned
be removed, cover the stain with I
thick layer of a paste mixture made
by combining fuller’s earth or pow
dered whiting with a (preferably
noninflammable) spot removing
liquid. When dry, brush off the pow
der. An oil stain of that type would
affect the drying quality of the
enamel.
• • •
New Maple Floor
Question: What would you suggest
for a new maple floor to be laid in a
store where there will be considera
ble traffic and wear?
Answer: The floor can be given a
couple of soaking coats of hot lin
seed oil (raw). After allowing an
hour or so for soaking, wipe off the
excess and apply the next coat 24
hours later. Penetrating preserva
tive oil finishes are serviceable and
good-looking on maple.
• • •
Fireproofing Paper
Question: How can paper be made
fireproof?
Answer: Soak it in a solution of
eight ounces of boracic acid and ten
ounces of borax in one gallon of wa
ter. Float the paper on the liquid
until it is thoroughly saturated, and
then hanff un to drip and dry.
By VIRGINIA VALE
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
ACTORS come and actors
go, but it looks as if the
Ameches would go on for
ever. Although Jim Jr., now
barely six, says he wants to
be a mounted cop when he
grows up, he’s doing right
well as a regular member of
the cast of CBS's "Big Sister"; he
got the role a year ago when none of
the child-imitators suited Director
Tom Hutchinson. Jim Jr. can’t read,
so Jim Sr. coaches him in memoriz
ing the lines, then stands behind the
cut-down mike and cues the boy
with gestures; young Jim looks at
JIM AMECHE JR.
him Instead of at the rest of the
cast, and it’s one of the most amus
ing and delightful things to be seen
in any of New York's many broad
casting studios.
-*
Fernando Alvarado was a veteran
actor when he was young Jim’s age.
He’s ten, and has been in pictures
nine years and four months, has
had speaking roles in 50 feature pic
tures. His newest one is “The Fal
con in Mexico.”
-#
Wild Bill Elliott tried for 12 years
to convince Hollywood casting direc
tors that he really was a cowboy.
A series of pictures In which he
played Wild Bill Hickock gave him
his screen nickname, and at last
he’s been recognized as one of the
best horsemen the screen has ever
bad, a cowboys’ horseman. He's
creating the role of “Bed Ryder” in
Republic’s new series based on Fred
Harman's cartoons.
-*
When Anne Shirley showed up on
the set of “Here Comes the Bride"
with an inflamed eye, Producer-Di
rector John Auer didn’t send her
home; he had Anne and Phil Terry
play the picture’s five kissing scenes.
“You will please shut your eyes
when you kiss him, Anne,” said
Auer. "We will make it come true
that love is blind.” And the camera
never picked up a glimpse of her in
flamed eye.
-*
Helen Holmes was a star of silent
films. Now she’s on Hollywood movie
6ets again. One of the actors in
RKO’s "The Falcon in Mexico,”
which stars Tom Conway, is Black
ie. Helen Holmes directs him. j
Blackie is a cat.
-*
“Lives of great men all remind |
us”—of Warner Bros. Following
“The Adventures of Mark Twain,”
the studio has eight other famous
lives lined up for us. “Rhapsody in
Blue,” film story of George Gersh
win, is completed; on the way are
the life stories of Will Rogers, Aud
ubon, Marilyn Miller, Cole Porter,
Vincent Youmans, Broadway’s Sime
Silverman, and Marine Sergeant Al
Schmid.
-*
Carlo Roes is thanking his stars
for fan letters. Six weeks ago this
young war worker was engaged by
J. L. Grimes, originator and pro
ducer of ‘‘Musical Steelmakers,” to
sing just eight bars of the program’s
theme song each week. Those eight
bars of song every Sunday impressed
1,418 listeners so much that they
wrote to Carlo, in Wheeling—and
now he’s a featured vocalist on each
“Steelmakers” broadcast.
-if
When visitors to Hildegarde’s
“Beat the Band” program hail her
as ‘‘Charlie1' she’s delighted. It was
her fa*' name, and when she
was a n New Holstein. Wis.,
it was stom for the children
to call t ,iui other by their father’s
given names. Hildy was born in Mil
waukee and acquired her famous
continental manners in Europe.
-*
Beatrice Kay, singer-comedienne
of the air’s “Gay Nineties,” will
make her picture debut in the very
near future. “Billy Rose’s Diamond
Horseshoe,” in which she has a fea
tured role, is going into production
much sooner than expected.
ODDS AND ENDS—Irene Dunn
will play her original role in “Penny
Serenade” uhen it's done on the air
May 8 . . . Ingrid Bergman, soon to
be seen in Metro’s “Gaslight," teas
chosen as the pin-up girl of “Yank,"
urmy weekly, for one issue . . . Al Jot
son will make his debut as producer
by handling Columbia’s re-make of
"Burlesquewith Bita Hayworth in
the role done originally by Barbara
Stanwyck . . . After a two-months’ vaca
tion, Errol Fly"n has checked in at
Warner Bros, to begin his next starring
role, in “Objective Burma” ... In
"Road to Utopia’* Bob Hope wears a
mustache copied from Colonna’s.
I
fSftTTERNS
SEWONG CD1RCLE
Debonair
T'HE new low neckline, edged
with a frill, the ribbon side-lac
ing, topped with a dainty flower
applique design, makes it a mem
orable dress.
• • •
Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1936 la de
signed for sizes 11, 13, 13. 17 and 19. Size
13, short sleeves, requires 3',j| yards 39
inch material; 2 yards ribbon.
n \ Y*rT
d U &
Where There’s Life—
“I’m going to marry a widow.”
“I wouldn’t like to be the second
husband of a widow.”
“Well, I’d rather be the second
than the first.”
You’ve heard about the little
chick who was naughty. After one
of his pranks, his mother said to
him, “If your father could see you
now, he’d turn over in his gravy.”
Extended in Front
Caller—Let me see. I know most
of your folks, but I have never
met your brother, George. Which
side of the house does he look like?
The small boy in the family—
The side with the bay window.
To Forget
"Have you forgotten that five spot /
let you have last week?”
"Not yet; give me time!"
Suppose they call them “song
hits” because they’d never be
missed.
Convicted
“Well, jedge,” said the waiter,
“Whut’ll you-all have foh break
fast? Has you ebber tried enny ob
ouah boiled eggs, sah?”
“Yes,” responded the judge,
“and I found them guilty.”
Mistaken
Under the soothing effects of the
moonlight the feminine half of the
party thought she’d try to “make
it up” after the tiff.
So she laid her head on the
young man’s shoulder and sighed:
“Dearest, don’t harden your
heart against me!”
“That isn’t my heart,” he re
plied as he gently moved her an
inch or two to the east, “that’s my
cigarette-case.”
/ \ I 1938
/ ; \ 6-14 yrs.
I
For Summer Parties
1UST the sort of flattering party
** dress any young girl likes to
wear—it can be made in silk
crepes or in crisp dotted muslins.
Done in percales it is a splendid
school frock.
• • •
Barbara Bell Pattern No. 1938 la de
signed for sizes 6, 8, 10. 12 and 14 yean.
Size 8, short sleeves, requires 2*,4 yards of
39-inch material; V« yard contrast for
collar.
Due to an unusually large demand and
current war conditions, slightly more time
is required in filling orders for a few of
the most popular pattern numbers.
Send your order to:
SEWING CIRCLE PATTERN DEPT. J
S30 South Wells St. Chicago 1
% Enclose 20 cents In coins for each '
pattern desired.
Pattern No.Size
Name .
Address .
Judge States
All of the 83 past and present
justices of the Supreme Court of
the U. S. have come from 20
states, and 42 have been from only
6 states: New York, Massachu*
setts, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Tenne»
see and Virginia.
Tki canidy qaiz—
starring
101 t.W'*’1"
THURSDAY NIGHTS!
10:30 P.M. E.W.T.
on the entire BLUE network
j
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