xt75mk657d11 https://exploreuk.uky.edu/dips/xt75mk657d11/data/mets.xml Lexington Transient Service Bureau Kentucky Lexington Transient Service Bureau 1935-06-15 volumes, 28 cm. Call Number: HV4506.K4 A75 newsletters HV4506.K4 A75 English Kentucky Emergency Relief Administration  Contact the Special Collections Research Center for information regarding rights and use of this collection The Ark newsletters Kentucky Emergency Relief Administration Lexington Transient Bureau Homeless persons -- Kentucky -- Economic conditions -- 1918-1945 Homeless persons -- Kentucky -- Social conditions -- 1933-1945 Migrant labor -- Kentucky -- 1929-1945 Labor camps -- Kentucky -- 1929-1945 Transients, Relief of -- Kentucky The Ark No.19, June 15, 1935 text image The Ark No.19, June 15, 1935 1935 1935-06-15 2026 true xt75mk657d11 section xt75mk657d11  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mm W

Le X7 G 6mm
T§Qfl9€flT
i3UQ€QU

 

 

 

 

wm— l6
no.1?

 

  M ' i
k? g’éfiffinww L15 x 1 N GTO N KY,

1 C)
® “NV-93x“ JUNE 15th No. 19

The ARK is published twice each
month; the mimeographing and stencil
cutting being done by and through the
courtesy of the State Office, KERA,
Louisville, Ky.

The Transient Bureau is not
responsible for any of the views or
opinions expressed in this magazine,
nor is the accuracy of any statement
made herein guaranteed.

Editor Artist
Frank Perry Jack Blake

toITMim E,—

From.all indications, both in the transient press and from
grapevine rumors, it appears the transient set-up will be
included in the new works program - right away.

Apparently there will be some restrictions. Men who are floaters,
who have registered in camp or shelter since May Slst, may not
be eligible. Any man using an alias may not be considered for
any jobs on the program. This last qualification will elim»
inate about 90% of the transients!

Something has to be done about this - we can't stay here for-
ever. So we have devised a scheme whereby we can all leave the
bureau under our own power and find ourselves a job.

We all know we can't do a thing with only a dollar or so in
our pockets - we need a front and some cash. Here's a way to
get it.

Each pay day, let's all chip in half a buck, throw it in a hat,
draw numbers, and the winner takes all. This should amount to
about fifty dollars. The winner can leave with a decent stake
and the chances are his luck will hold good and he'll find a
job.

-"Barnacle Bill"
P.S. Of course, there's a hook to this. We shall expect 10%

of the kitty for promoting the idea, and the first grab out
of the hat!

 

 

 

 

  

www PROM fH—E 5%
s34
\\C::=P

K.
”3. Log: DOOK Fffg;

The bureau still runs along smoothly with the least possible
friction. The kitchen force are on the job in a quiet efficient
manner, putting out the best easts to be obtained from the supplies
on hand which seem to be ample. The dining room crew are cheerful
and obliging, and up in the doctor‘s shop everything is done with
a maximum of skill and good fellowship. There's a spirit of give
and take in evidence all through the bureau. All of which is to
the credit of the "higher uppers" in handling a difficult situation
- difficult because the majority of the men are on edge from un-
certainty of the future, and the inability of most to get a foot-
hold again in the outside world.

 

*********************

A new deal in the canteen — Ed. Reed now in charge with a comp
plete supply of most everything, including several kinds of candy,
package cigarettes, "Hoover" dust, and razor blades. The genial Ed
of the firm of Reed and Barton, has promised to keep the quality
up and the prices down, with the best of service. Patronize the
canteen fellows - it's a great convenience.

*********************

Three young men arrived in town the other day, and registered
into the bureau. Nothing unusual in this - but they arrived in a
taxi. They first called up from downtown and found they had only a
few minutes to get to the bureau before registration closed. So they
chipped in their few niokels and called a taxi - thus saving them?
selves a night in the open. All three were ex C.C.C. boys.

*********************

Everything runs along smoothly for a spell and then up crops a
couple of riotous drunks. It means a check out fellows, and sometimes
a spell in the calaboose. We read in the "Dynamo" of Chattanooga how
the drunks are carefully put to bed in a special room until they have
cooled off, and the officials claim this procedure is very satisfactory
to all concerned. It has saved the bureau from much notoriety, and the
spectable of the "Black Maria" driving up to the bureau is new a thing
of the past. Well, maybe they drink a different brand of hooch down there:

*********************

The weary looking old man you see walking around with a long thin
stick is no other than our old friend "Check 'em out" Carroll who is
recuperating from an attach of neuritis or sumpin’. Says we have all
given him a pain in the ankle!

*********************

- 22-

 

 

 \

ll

 

 

Here’s one that J.J. of the Leader missed when he wise—cracked
about "Boondoggling" recently in his "Four Bit" column. We have it
on good authority, the word ”boondoggle" - meaning to make small
handy things as a relief project for white collar workers - really
comes from Kentucky. In the old days, any minor mechanical device
that worked and filled a need was called a "toggle". Daniel Boone
made a device consisting of three leather straps to affix his gun
to his head while swimming rivers. All the old time hunters in Ken-

tucky copied this device and called it a "Boontoggle". From boontcggle

to boondoggle to boondoggling is but a short step. Well, the honor
is all yours, Kentucky!

*********************

"Social Work is on a parlous spot because it has thus far fail-
ed to be understood by the general public — and because social work-
ers have misinterpreted their function in the present crisis. Pro-
blems proper to social case work were, and are, the adjustment of
abnormal persons to normal conditions — whereas, the relief problems
of the depression consist largely of adjusting normal persons to
abnormal conditions." Thomas D. Eliot, North Western University.
Ain't it the truth, Mister!

*********************

many millions of dollars have been spent on the CCC - and the
taxpayers never even raised a howl! That's because the CCC was care-
fully planned, with a ballyhoo of advertising, and the operation of
the CCC camps was entrusted to army officers. The CCC has cost tax—
payers many millions more than the transient bureaus, both in wages
and equipment, but the work done by the CCC men is approximately
the same as in transient camps. The bureaus have suffered by being
labeled "Social wcrk" - the CCC has been enhanced by the label "Con-
servation." Great is the power of advertising - and words:

*********************

About twenty men leave here every day to work at the Narcotic
Farm. They work hard, breaking up rocks for the driveways, cutting
grass, and so on. Our Handicraft School has been delayed for lack of
space, with everybody working on screens. Work at the Camp is going
along nicely on Project 17 - which means cleaning up and beautifying
the Blue Licks State Park. At present, about 130 men in the Center,
and about 150 men at Camp. The ball team at the Center suffers from
check-outs, but the Camp team is going strong. All quiet on the
various fronts.

¥********************

 

/\
a
g)

 

 

 

 

  

c9 ‘. “-BUQQaLL

[/0 ,

 

RON «H'ICHL'IG‘HTIII "W

A \-
mss ADAMS

 

 

 

I \“/F //a
fiEE/jicfl‘fl/C 4%
\ f ’ / 4L

°CflRROkk “EL-E4“ ,
M~E SHOOT T4411 om:— ’

 

 

 

 
  

 

 

 

 

   
   

PM...) r“ - . I 1 ’
/ ‘9: Egg! 3’3’725—3/N Z WMR

‘7. _._._
A! 5/} f": ”ii—”Viz? 2/ V“ 4
K ‘

‘ \I E STUDY; DC: 7*YE 8' P\cx\m
.3

 

 

'\

o u 1 T +£98st E m ” HORSE‘ a

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Su FERCHGFROM TB.
4 - T BELL-Y)

 

 

-4-

 

 

  

a dye pref‘undis

A policeman sat at a desk and we gave our names as we filed by.
Another officer felt us over for weapons and knives. We were turned into
a corridor lined with cells, and through a barred gate we entered a large
room with a concrete floor.

Along one wall wooden benches were occupied by men sitting closely
side by side, some of them sleeping upright. Every available foot of
floor space seemed to be covered with men lying down on newspapers. Black
and white were mixed indiscriminately.

The odor of unwashed bodies arose in waves from the floor. Some of
the men had taken off their shoes and coats and made pillows of them. In
some cases their shirts were alive with vermin. Stepping over the prostate
bodies of the sleepers, we sat down with our back to the wall.

The hours passed slowly in a daze. Men snored, rolled over on each
other, cursed. Once, dreaming of a melon patch, through half closed eyes
we saw what appeared to be a huge melon, round and yellow. We reached out
our hand and touched it. It was warm and soft - the bare posterior of a
sleeping man who had removed his pants to make a pillow! At intervals
we dozed until the clang of a gong and the shouts of a policeman brought
us to our feet.

There was no place to wash. It was still dark as we filed out of the
station house into the chilly dawn. A few blocks away stood the depot. We
made our way_ to the washroom in the depot and found a dozen men there before
us - washing and shaving hurriedly before the station police should drive
them out. We washed hurriedly and walked up and down the platform. As we
passed the lunch counter at the end of the platform we looked with longing
and envy at the early morning passengers eating breakfast.

Turning quickly, we almost bumped into a portly individual — on impulse
we stammered out a request for a dime for a cup of coffee. He glared cold-
ly at us, threw back his coat lapel showing his police badge. "Get out and
stay out" he ordered harshly. We mentally committed murder and mayhem 0
his person as he stood and watched us leave up the steps.

Outside, someone thrust a newspaper under our arm, and walking around
to the lee side of the building we looked _
over the want ads. One in particular Effigg
caught our eye "Telephone salesman ”21
wanted", and the address was thirty '
blocks away We set out on the quest.
It had stopped raining during the

night, but the air was raw and the \ 5% (DP
wind blustery. The address proved to A > W
“

 

 

be a feeding station for children.
The windows were covered with hearts ’,~i__£}1<:>

and crosses — a Children's Mission. ,“,’~

A middle aged woman with buck f/ \/ /

‘\
teeth met us at the door and we ‘~//;w~'i::;;i:) ’,/

 

 

-5-

 

 

  

7~w~m~ffim ,

 

 

explained the reason for our calling. We were doubtful as to this being
the proper place, but we were soon set at ease. Salesmen were wanted to
solicit donations to help feed the slum children. In a room upstairs,
bare of everything but a few tables and chairs were three phones.

At one of the tables'sat a frowsy blonde in her thirties, talking
with a dulcet voice into the phone. The woman with the buck teeth handed
us a sucker list containing the names of people who donated various sums
to charity. We listened to the spiel of the blonde for a few minutes to
get the hang of it, and then called the first name on our list. It was
a Jewish name, and the notation alongside said he was good for ten dollars.

. With the typewritten spiel in front of us, we made the request for
funds to help feed the starving children of the slums, and the pangs of
our stomach put realism into the words. "Send your messenger around about
ten o'clock and I'll have something for him" came the reply. The woman
with the buck teeth smiled, and the frowsy blonds cursed the tightwads on
her list. She had been on a binge the night before and the pathos had
gone from her voice. Beginners luck for us!

The commission was 25% cf the ”take". We called the list of names,
and by noon had solicited over thirty dollars. When the messenger returned
with his collections, we collected our share and left. Of the total secured,
none Went to the children we found. The woman with the buck teeth solicited
stale bread, meat, vegetables, and cake from stores and wholesale houses.
About forty slum children living in the immediate neighborhood ate their
midday meal in the mission room downstairs. It was a good racket, and the
"take" averaged a hundred dollars a week clear of expenses.

we caught a street car downtown and entered a lunch room. A huge steak
and we felt much better. we mused over the situation of hungry starving
men walking the streets, while crooks under the guise of philanthropists
waxed rich. Across the street was a poolroom, and through the ventilator
came the voice of the race caller. we entered unchallenged, and found a
hundred men poring over racing forms and placing bets. On impulse we
placed a two dollar bet on a long shot. He romped home a winner at twenty
to one!

Our luck had changed. That night we slept in the Statler and thought
of the poor devils over in the station house sleeping like cattle. We also
thought of the saps who listened to the siren voices over the telephone
lines, and wondered how many would have given these men the price of a
cup of coffee in the name of humanity.

Newspapers attack the transient
bureaus in short sighted ignorance -
forgetting, the bureaus have eliminated
the awful and horrible conditions under
which destitute men were forced to exist.

 
  
    

THE LORD
Lox/urn A ,
CHEERFULL cw

  

   
 
 

The bureaus have helped prevent the wpk/

spread of disease, and have saved many ,‘ [fir\\ V” QE)
a man from a life of crime. The country .~ //k d
has been spared from riot, bloodshed, “2/5 .
and property damage from the hands of :EY‘-<\

bitter, deeperate men, and we thank you.

*********a****»*e****

 

 

  

A\\'/ I l / 2
Just ike a Woman ‘
"There arn't any little things, Sam," said Mona. "A cinder in

your eye is as big as a mountain. And what you call a woman's pid—
dling over nothing is usually half the works."

"You think that, Honey," replied Sam, "because you're a natural
born fuss budget". And he laughed as he said it.

Mona was Sam Shelby's wife. You couldn't upset Mona, nor could
you shake her out of her ways. Heaven knows, Sam tried. He told her
once - that was the year he made his pile "You've got a cock eye
for details, honey - must be like living with a swarm of gnats
biting you. Turn those picayune jobs you do over to other people.

I can pay for it."

It was after this they gave up their house and moved to the
Biltmore Hotel. Sam's idea of freeing her. But Mona didn't want to
be freed. She kept right on puttering. .

She was a great bargain hunter, too. Adored pawnshops. On a
certain cloudy November afternoon she discovered a new shop, and
lingered so long in a delightful dicker over an emerald bracelet,
that when she walked out with it in it's little case, darkness had
fallen. She managed to find a taxi and settled back.

Jolting, the taxi stopped. A nut was missing, the driver told
her, but he would only be a jiffy getting a new one. In a few minutes
the door of the taxi swung open and a revolver was thrust into her face.

t" "Keep your trap shut, lady," a muffled voice directed, "and get
ou .

She got out, was gripped by the arm and propelled into a narrow
black alley between two buildings. The thief then produced a flash-
light and looked her over. What he saw was a mink coat - good skins -
open at the throat, a diamond pin, a string of worth while pearls
with a naively amazed face above them.

The bandit held the flashlight low and tilted upward. She merely
got a view of his vest, from which his dark coat hung away. He wore

no overcoat. /////’
/

Without a word the man took her
bag and the box from the pawnshop.
Then he said "Take them pearls off".

She pulled her gloves off, slipping
them into her coat pocket and removed
the pearls. He pocketed them. "Diamond
pin." he said. She gave it to him. /////

"Now I'll take the coat." //

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

"My dress is awfully thin," she said. "Yes, but it's swell." this was
uttered in a female voice. A girl had quietly joined the man. "Take this,"
he said, and threw the coat over her arm. "I gotta have that dress," the
girl announced.

The man removed the dress, leaving Mona appalled and shivering in a
satin slip. The next second she was alone. Then she hollered for help.

Magically, a dapper young man appeared, walking briskly. "Oh, madam,"
he cried, as she stepped from the alley. "I say, what an outrage. You've
been robbed." His tone was cultivated, his manner exquisite. He took off
his overcoat and put it around her. This left him a tightly buttoned
dark suit.

”He‘ll have to find a taxi," he said.

"Looks like the one I had is gone," Mona remarked. Then, "What we've
got to do is find an officer right away."

"Oh, no, madam, I beg of you. You don't know this neighborhood. The
police and thugs are hand in glove, believe me. Go straight to your hus-
band. Consult him. I will accompany you, if you will allow me. You are
married?"

"Yes," she said. He called a taxi.

When they reached the Biltmore, he said, with a certain formality,
"I will go with you to the door of your suite. You can give me my coat
there." He told the driver to wait.

In the hotel lobby Mona caught sight of Sam, and a group of Sam's
pals. "All of you men come here," she called. "I've got a gentleman
you've got to meet." They moved in an astonished body toward her.

"I‘ve been robbed," her calm voice stated, "and this man here did
it."

"You're a liar, the woman's a liar. You can search me and prove
it."

"Searching won‘t prove anything," Mona told them. "He had an ac-
complice. He naturally gave everything to her. Somehow she brought him
an overcoat. He's smart. He snapped into another role and dragged me
off to give her plenty of time for a getaway - and maybe he was mixing
thievery with gallantry. Anyway, he's too smart. I know him by his vest.“

"The fellow who robbed me had the third vest button missing. If
the third button's gone, he's it." They tore his coat open. The third
button hole gaped empty. She held up a small disk. It was the missing
button!

"My hands got cold," she said. "I put them in his overcoat pocket.
I felt this button and got to thinking - and I've got a good eye for
details, as you've admitted more than once, Sam Shelby."

Then the first touch of hysteria shook her voice. "You'd call it a
little thing, Sam, but here's one little thing you can’t laugh off!"

-Bruce Carlton.

 

 

 

.8-

 

  

 

Evolut io n ofd ham 5 mt

Huey Long attributes his start in life to the luck of a cold winter
night, plus an Oklahoma lumber dealer. He was then 18 years old, stranded
in Oklahoma City with about ten cents to his name. For lack of anything
better to do he was going to study law at the University of Oklahoma.

To this end he secured a job with a commission house to sell groceries.
He was to be paid only when the goods he sold had been delivered. Further
more, the firm was in Oklahoma City, the University at Norman, 18 miles
away. And Huey had no car fare.

80, about sundown, he got in the middle of the Santa Fe tracks and
headed south. It was below zero. Early in the morning he got into Norman.
With sunrise, he got busy selling potatoes, and before the day was over
he had placed orders for a carload. The commission on the carload was
about fifty dollars, and the future Senator from Louisiana figured he could
get a ten dollar advance on this.

"But it cost two bits to phone the company in Oklahoma City," said
Huey, "and I had not two bits. So finally I took a brand new pocket book
I had just got for Christmas and pawned it for two bits. Then I telephoned
in the order."

"Sorry," they told me in Oklahoma City, "but we’re all out of potatoes."

Sc Huey decided the University of Oklahoma was no place for him. He
went down to the station, ready to walk to Purcell, another 18 miles south.
In the station he saw a prosperous looking man who eyed him curiously.

"You live here?" the man asked. "No," said Huey, and told him about
the potatoes. "I should have known," he said, "that if I couldn't get a job
in Louisiana I can't get one in Oklahoma. I might as well go back."

The prosperous inquisitor offered to lend Huey twenty dollars. "No,"
said Huey, 'I'd never pay it back." Finally, however, he compromised at
five dollars — "and then," he explained, "if I can't pay it back you can

say 'He was a square guy, he could have taken fifteen dollars more‘".

So Huey stuck, and made a hundred a
month selling groceries on the side while
attending the University. He paid back

the five dollars. .a’f’ )j;5)

\\

Years later, he traced his benefactor, Iii
a lumber dealer named R.O.Jackson, to —\
Miami, where, after the hurricane, he was Q/ /
ruined. Huey, by then a power in Louisina, 0c\\5\\\“ “l
lent him a total of $6,000, finally got 32¢; ‘

him a job in New Orleans, where Jackson

   

now is.
1A ’3
Few loans of $5.00 have brought a
$6,000 return.

"Washington Merry - Go - Round."

 

 

 

-9-

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

CA M :3 C5 ngfit
’V‘ L_i<::> <33“ ’i/h/fijk\/Hfl54”Aw’l

George Bishop and Ralph walker must be entertaining ideas of entering
the next Bunion Derby. A few days ago, while viewing a Show with the rest
of the boys over in Carlisle, they scoffed at the idea of riding back to
the Camp on the truck and bravely started back ”a pied". They reached Camp
the next morning about 8 A.M., with Ralph leaning heavily on George's
shoulder. Tsk, Tsk!

********************

It is rumored around camp a place is being made for "Supt" Ed. Rice.
This is no surprise to the boys who know him, as Ed. is known for his
terrific working capacity and the responsibilities he carries are tremen-
dous and stupendous. The little women over in Carlisle must feel proud
of you Ed. Eh, What!

********************

The "flivver" El. Gidley and Roy Taylor purchased from the Lieutenant
is beginning to blossom out in gay summer attire. It already has four
crimson colored wheels and a brand new tire cover, which, if one cares for
up to date literature, advertizes a well known brand of beer. All the car
needs now is a new body, a new motor, and four new tires. Taking everything
into consideration, it isn't a bad buggy for the shape it's in.

********************

Fred Lawson certainly can express himself when the occasion arises.
While over in Carlisle the other night, a certain little thing caused him
to get quite hot around the collar. Throwing up his guard in true John L.
Sullivan style, he announced in a stentorious voice he could "wope" any"
body who couldn't "wope" him!

******$********$$***

A few of the boys were arguing about the number of miles that lie
between Winchester and Lexington. Not being able to agree among themselves,
they called on "Cab" Galloway to settle the argument. After scratching his
head for a few minutes, "Cab" finally had to admit he was stumped as to the
exact number of miles, but, to quote the "Cab", "If you boys are interested,
I can give you the number of railroad ties”.

**$*********x*******

Theodore "Humpy" Floyd, who acts as orderly to Lieutenant Crutcher,
left the key to the Lieutenant's quarters in the lock the other day. Big
Bob Swafford, who noted this omission on "Humpy's" part, pocketed the key.
The Lieutenant being away for the day, poor "Bumpy" had to stand guard over
the building all day. Better put your running pants on Bob, for when "Bumpy"
reads this he may become violent.

 

 

“10-

 

 

 

  

The three black crows are no more. These crows were members of the
Camp's queerly assorted pets. Some well intentioned but badly misinformed
camp member tried to appease their appetites by feeding them beef that was
highly spiced, and as a result, they died the next day. The grey squirrels
are still capering around in great fashion, and the three foxes are rapidly
nearing the stage where they will look pretty upon the neck of some fair
maiden. Judging from the way the boys keep running to the camp hospital
with punctured hands, the foxes must still be fond of white meat. ”Briar
Hopper" was bit in eight places the other day, but still insists he will
tame them.

********************

A remark overheard in the meas hall: "If you dont like our pork
and beans, then whyinel dont you go home and eat your grits and gravy."
And did the seedy looking perpetual groucher to whom the remark was
intended look guilty — just ask me: Ha. Ha.

********************

It reminds me of the first time I ate in the mess hall. Sitting down
to an appetizing plate of swiss steak, I politely inquired of the head
waiter if he would bring me some ketchup. Looking me in the eye, he in-
quired if I ate ketchup at home. "Sure," sez I. ”Then why dont you go
home and eat it?" sez he. was my face red!

**********t*$*******

A large majority of the boys are regularly attending Church Service
every Sunday evening down in the recreation hall. "Preacher” Allen Callaway
is doing a fine job in making the boys see the light. Orchids to Mr. Callaway
for his most sincere endeavors.

**********$*********

We now have a baseball diamond at Camp Blue Licks. Last Friday a
detail of camp members went bravely forth to battle with the high weeds
that have grown up on the lot, where, at one time the State had intended
to locate the Museum. By Saturday, they had dragged the playing diamond
and had the bases all in place. They also had erected a screen in back
of the catcher's box. So Saturday evening a gang of the boys went out
there to Christen the field. we chose up sides which we called the "weinies"
and the "sauer krauts". Pitching for the "weinies" was a new comer here
at camp, Joe Burke, late of Camp Foster down in Sunny Florida. Pitching
for the "sauer krauts" was the old ka
dependable Sam Rose. It was a nice ,ni ”\.
game up until the sixth inning,
whereupon the ”weinies" went on a
batting spree. The final score was
about 20 - 8 in favor of the good
old "weinies". Quite a few good
baseball players were discovered
during this game, and the boys are
all set for the "center gang” when-
ever they may care to play us.

—Paul Hock
Camp Blue Licks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

 

:3 Cam mmtnds
@9000 p

The boys at Camp Blue Licks Battleground put on a minstrel show
last Tuesday night at the Blue Licks School House. Before a packed
house, our Thespianic inclined members cavorted back and forth upon
the stage in true Showmanship fashion. As this was the first attempt
of the boys in putting on a show of this nature, and considering the
lack of proper equipment, one must give them a big hand for their
sincere efforts. The show was well received by an audience composed of
about fifty local residents and a like number from Camp.

At the beginning, "Atty" Sam Preston, who acted both as straight
man and master of ceremonies, gave a short concise speech in which he
said he hoped the members of the audience would get an insight as to
the caliber of the men who reside here in Camp, and that if they en-
joyed the entertainment, then the boys would feel they were well re-
paid for their efforts.

Following this, the camp guartette, composed of Joseph Freeman,
George Bishop, Freddie Ferguson, and Tylmond Jones, started the acts
off by singing in a very sweet manner the State's favorite song “h
old Kentucky Home."

The next act on the program was a black face sketch, which, to
say the least, had the audience rocking back and forth in their seats
with laughter. Elvin "Cab" Galloway, who acted the part of the black
face, needs bow to no one as his peer, for it was here that he was in
his glory. He merely had to act naturally and the trick was done. his
weird alibi as to why he was not working for M . Jones that day was a
ccrker, and the story how he saved his “Gal" from a big fire over in
Carlisle had the audience howling. Sam Preston did a very good job in
leading him fron_one tale to another.

At this point, Joseph Freeman and George Bishop showed the aud—
ience how to really harmonize, when they rendered the trensient's fav—
orite road song entitled "Let me sleep in your barn tonight, fiister.“

William Mitchell, the camp's genial laundry man, was the next
black face to grace the stage. Paired with “Atty” Preston, he wise-
cracked back and forth jokes on the local boys. There was many a red
face in the audience by the time they had finished this act, for they
spared no one, not even Camp Superintendent Lt. Crutcher, who, if one
was to believe Mitchell, married a sister of twins, and when asked
how he told them apart, replied that he didn‘t try, that he made them
watch out for themselves!

(/1, \ f / ‘3‘“, \\l l,/ \

.e \ ,4 ‘

I’M/MAW

   
 

pus

            

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

  

 

0

"Cab" Galloway and Sam Preston then put on the suit case act.
Standing back to back, they both delved into their respective suit-
cases — looking for a clean white shirt - and while one would pick up
an article and ask what it was for, the other Would hold up a different
article and give the purpose of the article. The high light of this
act was when "Cab” picked up a woman‘s teddy and asked Sam what in
the world that was for, and Sam, who at the time was holding up a
necklace, replied that he had bought one for a neightbor's wife, and
that he was going to take her to a dance and slip it on her in some
dark corner of the dance hall.

Beatrice Paris, a little miss of about ten years, then thrilled
the audience with a tap dance to the tune of Jimmie Wilson's harmonica.
She was the only outside talent of the show, and made a very pretty
picture on the stage.

Following this act, Sam.Preston started to make an announcement,
but was rudely interrupted by an old bewhiskered gentleman, who, while
slowly ambling up the aisle, demanded in a squeaky country voice, a job
in this "Dadburn show". Asked if he could perform, he replied haughtily
that he was born on a farm, and so it went on for about ten minutes.
First one would wise crack and then the other. The old man was no other
then Hiram Moon, a famous actor of yesteryear, and this act was completed
when the old man slowly walked back to his seat playing the "Arkansas
Traveler" on his harmonica.

Then the whole cast, with the added attraction of Dave McIntosh
to lead them in singing, and Jimmie Wilson playing the guitar, filed
out upon the stage and put the finishing touches to the show by singing
the closing chorus entitled "Under The weeping Willow Tree."

Throughout the entire performance, Bee Coleman, dressed in gay
clownish clothes, entertained the audience with his goofy actions. He
also did a fine job in ushering the town folks to their seats.

- Paul Hock
Camp Blue Licks.

' Emfi "
a411,? 54$“? ; Li "

a
r (.40 M

t

 

 

  

 

S A ____,_ >
w...
/\ A F
‘l 0 .A
(1:) (2‘) “fiyg
(KS/J :3- .7; Kit};
4m» m7» may]

 

 

  

 

 

““31er a tease

WV AJF\‘/V§

The pessimists are increasing judging from the talk one hears on
every side, which is not a bad sign at all!

 

 

4-. :(1

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

we have gone through a period of optimistic waiting - now the people
are getting impatient, angry, discontented to the point where they will
individually try with real old time energy to pull out of it.

I believe a peak of prosperity equal to that of 1927 ~ 28 is about
due in 1938. The upward trend will be slow until afterthe next President-
ial election - Roosevelt in again by a large margin — then a rapid increase
in boom times.

Perhaps my line of reasoning is wrong and my deductions away off.
I am.only one of many millions with an opinion on the subject. If you
figure I'm all wet, tell me about it in the next issue of the ARK.

Business is comparable to the circulatory system in the body. Slow
up or stop the circulation of the blood and you are sick or dead.

That is exactly what a certain New England farmer in the White
House at washington advocated to our"Captains of Industry" at the peak
of prosperous times. war time wages enabled the public to begin purchasing
products of which they had never before even dreamed they could own.

Victrclas, player pianos, automobiles, vacuum cleaners - then fol-
lowed radio, electric refrigerators, cheaper and better cars. All had a
tendency to stimulate the circulation of money, higher wages, better
1 iving 0 end it ions .

we were on top of the world, living high, wide and handsome — b t
we never reached the point of so called "over production". Millions of
families never owned a car, or even a radio for that matter, a bath tub,
or electric lights. Our home market for our own products was barely
scratched, let alone saturated.

Then our President, a New England farme