Judge — April 18, 1925 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

© PARAPHRASE a national hymn: ‘Barnum's body lies a-moldering in the grave but his soul goes marching on.” et ft Ht Ht On May 18, 1924, Samuel M. Vauclain, president of the Baldwin Locomotive Works, signed a pledge to mount the water wagon for a year, or forfeit $10,000. We've heard of hangovers like that. st ft At A tf Still, $10,000, while it seems like a lot of money, may look no larger to Mr. Vauclain than the current price of a highball to most of the rest of us. He may have flected, also, that he would have to pay it only for the first drink. Subsequent drinks would involve no forfeit, and enough of them would pull the average way down. st we * Besides, the pledge contains a loophole. It is only binding in this country. Is there any significance in the fact that it was signed on Mr. Vauclain’s private car “near Benevides, Tex.,” which is a few miles from the Mexican border, or that the day he made it public he was on his way to Bermuda? seo ewe If he breaks it, us we understand its provisions, the $10,000 forfeit goes to some worthy charity, So we sup- pose for the sake of his honor he'll keep it, if he has to stay in Bermuda for the purpose until the year is up. Peace by Research T" American people have two pet obsessions that seem interrelated. One is that you can enforce morality by legislation, and the other that a college can teach any- thing. If you looked up the pedigrees of these obsessions you would probably find they had a common ancestor in the belief that human beings both can and should be standardized and turned out like Fords. However that may be, the latest innovation in the field of the higher learning is a School of International Relations named after no less a person than the late Walter Hines Page, sponsored by no less a person than Owen D. Young, and established at no less an institution than Johns Hopkins University. The objects of this school, according to Mr. Young, are to discover the causes of war and teach the “science” of peace. “Our curse is ignorance,” Mr. Young says. are our scarcest raw materia About the first half of this statement we are not so sure. The second half, however, is twaddle. We are buried in facts, shot at us in type, from the platform, through the air, by messiahs of every shade of opinion and “Facts degree of sanity. We inhale facts with every breath, we sweat them from every pore. What we need to promote the cause of peace is not a further marshaling of facts. but the proper interpretation of those we already have. And interpretation involves feeling. Proper interpre tation requires tolerance, human sympathy, humility. These are the raw material of peace, not facts. Nor does one acquire them, necessarily, by studying for a Ph.P. (Philosopher of Peace), or a B/H.A.S. (Bachelor of Hands Across the Sea), or whi has in mind to confer. ever degree this new school The Ma Ferguson Complex Now Carottna politicians are reported as consider- +, ably upset because a Miss Julia Anderson insists on running for Governor. Wher respondent of the N ‘ore the Washington cor- ew York World generalizes as follows: “More and better jobs is to be the poliey of women politicians. The activity of Southern women has sur- prised the old-time leaders of the South, who used to argue that their women folk did not care to vote.” The epic of Ma Ferguson's triumph has undoubtedly fired many a female imagination. Yet it is impossible to woman quite seriously as a political office seeker. For one reason, she can’t, in the polit field, underbid man and thus establish the advant vr him that she enjoys in certain departments of the industrial organization. For another, and more important reason doesn’t crave political power for its own si office for the personal enhancement seems to offer. Some woman writer has said that every woman at heart is a butterfly. This basic trait colors all her public activities and renders them just short of con- vineing. To ladies anxious to emulate Ma Ferguson, public office means simply a new and more iridescent pattern for their wings. But public office, except semi-oc nally, doesn’t fall to dilettantes. In the keen competition of politics, as in that of money-making, it is the hound who wants the thing for itself who wins it. Men—the successful ones—go after the rewards of politics single-mindedly, and in the process they are perfectly willing to, and often do, r nounce their social affiliations and ambitions and drag their wings in the mud. Women may come to this, but it will take a profounder change of heart than is anywhere apparent at present. So, notwithstanding the anxicty of old-time Southern leaders, we shall probably to put up with a prepon derance of pants in our politics for some time woman he seeks id social prestige it com WoMU. comicbooks.com