Evening Star Newspaper, April 17, 1921, Page 65

THE :SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C., APRIL 17, 1921—PART 4. WHEN SHORTY HORNED IN F TI'd only known it, this wasn't the right day to pull the comedy stuff on Sadie at the breakfast table. No. Absolutely not. Un- derstand, though, she wasn't m(sn_\“‘ about it. Not a bit. Her before- coffee disposition one I'd back | against the field. And when I begins | makin’ sarcastic remarks about the | fancy new doily set she just shrugs her shoulders and smites | “I found it at the church sale ves-| is terda: says she, *and simply couldn’t_resist_buying it. Don't you | “like it. Shorty " Sure!” says I. “I'm crazy about it. Only I don't quite get the idea of | the decorations. Why the blue coal hod full of speckled apples? Supposed | 20 be somebody’s coat of arms, eh?" | “How absurd. Short says she. | *“That's the old-fashioned design. a| basket of fruit and flowers. You see, that little piece of blue linen is ap- pliqued on for the basket, and the “WELL, YOU DON'T GET AWAY WITH ANYTHING LIKE THAT AT THIS GATE,” SAYS HE. N wastin’ the man's time. He was good-natured about it, too—even after he'd leaned my way and beg- ged as a personal favor that some: body raise the bid to ten fifty for the lot, and I'd only tried to duck behind a fat man, who was munchin’ peanuts. “And yet says he, shruggin' his shoulders, disappointed, “I can see before me a swell lot of educated and refined parties. _Well, let the immortal Charles J. Dickens go for ten twenty-five and pass up that ele- gant pair of silver candlesticks with the old London hall mark stamped right in the base of each.” Once more 1 was a total loss. 1 |didn't want candlestocks of any kind. T tried to yawn and edge toward the door, but I got blocked off and found myself nearer the front than ever. The auctioneer had a kind heart, though, and a forgivin' nature. All right” says he. “Put ‘em back. But I'll inter-est some of you intelligent gents yet. We've got all kinds of goods here, and some of OW. YOU'RE BLOCKIN’ TRAFFIC.” drove around. “Say, what do you think this is, a_wreckin' train?" ‘de- mands the chauffeur, as he sizes up the crate. “You need a movin' van for that.” * X ok X AS & compromise, though, he agrees 41 to send down a friend of his from Times Square with a tourin’ car, a Mr. Squid Whaley. I hadn’t met Squid | before, but 1 knew the type. He is one { of these tourist hawks that cruises out to bootleggin' joints and roadhouses, and he only charges what he thinks he can make you pay. “Where to?" says Squid, after we'd jloaded the crate in the back, and I've climbed in to hold it on First off 1 was for taking it ta the studio, but then I thought of Swifty Joe. He's got more curiosity, Swifty has, than a village dres want to know what it was and where I got it, and what I was going to do with it, and 1 could picture how fool- ish 1'd look explainin’ to him how l'd been bunked into buyin' a tery After kiddin' him_about tnem sleev supporters, too. N face Swifty just th “Grand Central station,” says I, off- PFand. Maybe it would be best to take the thing home and smuggle it into the garage. If 1 sent it by express it would be delivered when I wasn't “STEP ASIDE’ roses and peaches and things are embroidered. 1 think they're cute!” “Uh-huh!" says L “As long as no- body gets reckless with the soft- boiled egg. That would kind of queer Jhe color scheme, wouldn't it? I ex- Pect 1 ought to be thankful, though, that some female genius hasn't thought of embroiderin’ posies. on the napkins.” 5 1 believe I hinted, too, that the erage woman don't care What she spends her money for as long as she gets rid of it. “Oh, well” says Sadie. “it's lucky 80 many of them are blessed with such wise husbands, isn't it?” So the morning wasn't started en- tirely wrong, after all. Any way, there was no hittin’ in the clinch that took place as usual just before 1 started to catch the 8:31. She even comes to the door and gives me the friendly wave. 1 But I must have had tbe streak on | meg that day, for I no sooper gets to the Physical Culture Studjo than I begins kiddin' Swifty Joe on the new yair of sleeve supporters he's bioomed out in. They're pink, with gold-rlated buckles. “What barber wished those on you, Swifty?” I asks. T Ahr-r-r chee'” says Swifty. “Wot's the matter with ‘em?” “Not a thing” says I “They're Jazzy stuff, all right. Couldn't you find any set with imitation rubies? Say. where did ycu get 'em?" “Fire sale at a gent's furnishin’ place on Nassau street” admits Swifty. “If vou're stuck on ‘em I'll get you a pair when I go out to lunch.” “Thanks.” says T, “but T guess one pair of those around the studio is all we need: Besidss. I'm observin' an- other thrift week." And after all that tight-wad talk T didn't_have the nerve to go to my favorite chop house at noontime. but wanders down Broadway for eight or ten blocks until 1 comes across this one-armed joint where I got a help-yourself feed for 39 cents, in- cludin’ a cup of chickory blend, a thick ham sandwich and a hunk of soezy pie. That’s how T happened to have this extra half hour and let mvself zet Inred into this auction place. Not that Pm a red flag addict. Hardly As a general thing. T give a sniff of senrn and walk right past these ~oing - going - dump dumps. Ne haught a Japanese tea set or 2 Vi with a it Aragon wound round n my lifs TI'm even nronf against nd near-Sheffield tree plat- r it * * % x | RUT this place don't seem to have the usual collection of junk. It "advertises a storage warehouse sale of unclaimed lots, and in the win- dow T'd spotted a banjo clock that looked like the real thing. Just what Sadie’d been hunting for. as a mat- r of fact. Maybe they'd be puttin’ that up pretty scon and I might have a chance of biddin' it in at a bargain. Wouldn't do any harm to! stick around a while and sce. So 0 1 drifts 1 expect these auctioneers can tell easy mark as far as they can him. Anyway. this round-faced | zent, with the chin dimple and the «mooth voice, seems 10 know I've ar- | rived, for he gives me the folksy nod and waves for me to step up | and examine the inlaid music cab- | inet that the crowd don’t =eem to | be goin' wild over. I pinks up in| the ears and shakes my head I don’t know ‘why a little lhlnk] like that should get me fussed, but | I felt almost as guilty as though I'd . been called on to make a speech and | had renigzed. But music cabinets wasn't in my line. Finally it goes| for fiftcen seventy-five and the as-: sistant shoves up a dusty set of! kens bound in red leather with h edges. I'm urged particular ook ‘em over, and one is passed 31 to me. But I gazes at it fool- ist and sends it back. Maybe Dick- +nx is all right, but I've got along £o far without a library set of his works and I guess 1 can struggle onyfor a few years more. 1 didn't 4s%ny biddin’ on Dickens. Yet somehow 1 felt like 1 was {1 would. ‘em are just what you want. Be pa- tient with me, folks. I'm a slow guesser, but I'll get around after & while. ' Now, what's in that there crate, Jim? Hoist it up here so these good people san see.” That was the exact moment when I should have gone away from there— fought my way out, if necessary. T had the hunch, all right, that this ‘was my cue for flitting. Why I didn’t I can't say. Maybe I was curious to see what was in that fool crate. It ‘was a solid-built affair, about the e of a roll-top desk, and under the slats is a linin’ of heavy buildin’ paper. “Eh?" says the auctioneer, lookin’ it over. “That doesn’t help much, does it? Look it over, Jim. and see if there are any marks to show what's inside. All right. We'll eell it as it is. Come on, now, let's see if there's any sporting blood in this crowd. Here we have. good people. an article 80 rare and costly that it was crated with great care.. 1'don’t know what's inside. You don’t. Might be half a dozen valuable oil paintings—old mas- ters, including the missing Mona Lisa. Or maybe a couple of genuine Hep- plewaite chairs brought over in the Mavflower. Will you take a chance if T will? Let's see. Somebody start it NOBODY did. though. One hard- +N faced old girl with peroxide hair. probably some boardin’ house land- lady, did venture to step up and take a peek, but tha as far as she'd go. “Gentlemen,” says the auctioneer, Tm surprised and pained. Here I put up to you a perfectly good sport- ing proposition and you shy off as though I was trying to sell you stock in an outdoor skating rink located in Havana. Honest, this isn't a gambling game I'm trying to get you into. I'm not asking you to bet on which shell the little pea is under. Nothing like that. T'll guarantee you'll get some- thing for your money. Come! Give * k¥ ¥ us a bid. You. young man in the new straw hat. Show ’em the way, will| you?" And once more T have all the sen- sations of being called on by the toastmaster. Everybody turns and rubbers at me, and I could feel my ears tintin’ up. And the next thing T knew T heard myself sayin’, husky: “Five dollars.” The man seems mighty grateful for that. He stops and thanks me. He says he's glad to find one true spor in the bunch. Also he asks earnest who'll make it ten. That was too much of a jump. though. After a good deal of eloguent pleadin’, how- ever, a sallow-faced gent on the other de of the room raised it to six. Now we're off!” says the auction- eer. swingin' back at me. “Will you make it seven?’ By that time T was gettin® over my stage fright a bit. I nods casual that I was kind of enjoyin’ the game. My idea was that if I boosted the biddin’ once or twice more and then dropped out 1 could make mv eetaway with a clear conscience. I'd have heen some help, even if I hadnit beught anything. But they sure were a lot of hard- boiled eggs in that crowd. The man talks his smoothest. but he can't seem to pry another bid out of 'em, and almost before 1 know what's hap- penin’ 1 find that the prize package has been knocked down to me. “All right.” says 1. stepping up and countin’ out the money. “Send it up.” “Nothing doing.” says the cash clerk. “It's yours. Take it awa: Say. T don't know yet how I could be buffaloed the way I was by that auction room gang. I'll admit I was fussed and all that. but they sure did work me. Seems I not only had to pay spot cash for the thing. but if T dn't take it with me they'd soak me twice as much for storage charges. Wouldn't even let me go out along to look for a truck. but sends along a special cop to see that I got one. Of course, I couldn’t pick up a stray delivery truck on Broadway. Ever try it>” We find an express office on a 'side street, but they had no trucks in and couldn’t promise one until next day. “Better get a taxi,” suggests the cop. “That's what most af ‘em do." So I halled a brown and black and [ there, and then Sadie'd have to be told. ‘I didn’t want to tell Sadic—that is, not until after 1 knew what I'd bought. Course, if it was some rich prize, worth ten or a hundred times what I paid for it, that would be dif- ferent. But what t! anyway? Gradually it was beginning to dawn on_me that I'd got to find out. But how? You can't stop a tourin’ car on Broadway and open a crate with- out attractin’ a lot of attention. Be- sides, 1 didn't have so much as a pocket knife with me. And then, as we swung into 6th avenue above 34th street. I spots this porter gettin' busy with a hatchet on some cases of canned goods in front of a wholesale grocery. 1 calls to Squid. | 1 ih “Pull up tackle the crate for fear he'd lose his job, bat when I shoved a five at him he lifted it out and proceeded to pry the slats loose. Next he tears off the heavy paper and out he digs—well, what's_your guess? A whalin' big deer’s head sproutin’ a he-sized set of antlers. “Gosh!” says I “So that's what was in there?” “Where you steal him, eh?" de- mands the porter. “You flatter me, Otto.” says I “Do I look like I had sense enough to steal anything? Squid, drive on up to the station.” I was sure mow that I couldn't show up at the studio with a thing like that. I'd never hear the last of it from Swifty it 1 did. All I could think of was gettin’ out to Rock- hurst. So I balances the head on the seat, hooks one arm careless through the” antlers, and tries to look as though I wasn't doing anything un- usual. But we got plenty of notice on that drive. especially across 42nd street. I'll say we did. “Hey, where’d you shoot it?" yells a kid on the back of a truck. “Say, they’re movin' the museum!"” sings out another. T'd rather not say how much Squid stuck me for that ride. He had me where I couldn’t put up an argument, though. %o I paid up prompt, wrapped my arms around that set of antlers and sneaked in through the taxi en- I trance—that is, I tried to sneak in | unobtrusive. 'But with all them horns draped around me and the prongs stickin' out every which way, it was hardly a successful sneak. 1 managed to spear one zippy female through the veil and another old dame's shirt waist at the same time. and while we was gettin' untangled they didn’t hesitate to state their opinions of a man who traveled with such hand baggage. “Carting a deer's head about in a crowd! says the old girl. “You must be crazy.” “You've said it.” says 1. “I'm on my way back to the asylum now." And if you want to feel real foolish some time just try strollin’ through a busy place like the Grand Central esplanade embracin’ a full grown set of deer antlers. Why, parties who were rushin’ breathless for the ticket windows stopped to gawp at me. Groups of young things coming in from boardin’ schools for a matinee and marshmallow orgie took one glance and got the giggles. Lady shoppers who dodged out of my way stared at me indignant. A Boston bull being led toward the baggage car tugged frantic at his leash and wanted to mix it up with me the worst way. Two red-capped station porters that I tried to hire shook their heads and beat it. * ¥ x x YOU might know, too, that prob- ably the only souse i sight would get his eye on me and come tackin' over. He's a tall, long-geared gent who wears tan spats and bone rimmed glasses and is tryin’ to lbok mighty solemn and dignified, But he sure had been shootin’ from the hip frequent that day, for he wabbles some as he glves me the friendly hail. “Pardon me, m'friend.” says he, “but might I ashk pershonal ques- tion 7" “If you'll make it snappy, you may,” says 1. “Right! says he. “Just want to know if my vision informs me cor—| L didn't want to blazes was it By Sewell Ford MULTITUDE OF DUTIES FALL UPON PRESIDENT'S “RIGHT-HAND” MAN correc’ly. You—you're carrying some- thing? You're a good guesser says I a—what?" s he. 11" says I, “it might be a bust of Shakespeare, or a coffee urn, or a floral offerin.” But it ain't” It's a stuffed deer's head with horns. very grateful, sir.” sa;s he. . Just what I thought I 1 get ; stage where you can't quite believe all you see. But this is the real thing and if you don’t mind steppin’ one side. T'll be tricklin' on.” % “Cernly,” says he. “Awkward thing to carry. Must lemme assist, Sir. I tried to shoo him off, but he was so full of gratitude, and other senti- ! ments, that there was no shaking I him. With him holdin’ one side of the ihorns and me the toher and the head | danglin' between, we got along worse {than ever. Much worse. Every few steps we'd trap some hurryin® com- jmuter and then the threc of us would { mill around until the victim got loose. Once it was a fat old lady with a | suit case in one hand and an umbrel- {1a and a lot of parcels in the other. I She lets out a scared squak and sits down on the deer's head “Pardon me. madam." says my friend, “but you'll find the lounging room over at vour right. Sorry.” “Don’t you sorry me.” she sputters. uch a breath! I'd like to know where you got it. “Naturally,” says he. “But th's se- icret can't confide to any but in—in'ni- mate frien's. Not concealed about deer's head, assure you. madam. Allow me to assist vou to rise. There! No harm done anybody 0'bye." “Say. prof " 1 breaks in, “I think I'd be less of a dragnet if you let me lug this alone.” “Couldn’t think of it, sir.”" says he. “Too gra'ful. Never abandon com- is my motto. Come Where'sh desh—desh’nashui rade in distressh on. rack says he “See you on But the gateman at 19 is an old grouch and when we tries to push past with the antlers he bars us off. you need a_box car for he. ‘Take it away. that s where?” says I ave a i heart, old sport. “I've got to get this Fome somehow. adds the souse. *“Case of t ou don't get away with hat at this gate.” savs e now. You're block- “Well, anything lik he. “Stemely rude person,” says my frirnd. “But all is not lost. No. | Mike is on duty at No. 12. He's soul of coursv. Mike is. Le's go." And Mike proved to be all that he Tt ain’t reg'lar. Mr. s he. “but I'll take a chance. il celebratin’ the big event, T ses. How are the twins comin’ along?" “Wonnerful.” says Northrup. “So's the mother, too. Just called up Doc. Paily on ’'phone. ‘Wonnerful man, Doc. Baily, Must make him fine present. Thanks. Mike.” Which was where I got this brfil- liant hunch of mine. “Say. Northrup,” says T, “‘where does this doctor person live?" “Next block to me," says he. “Stam- fora." “Thouzht what vou're goin’ to give him as a twin memorial?” I gaes on. [ Not yet.” says Mr. Northrup. | “Too—too 'full of grat'tude to think clearly _yet. Got—got any sug- ges'ions? * k X % “WWFLL" savs I “I don't know how it strikes you, but if T was the proud father of new twins I'd want to show the Doc how I felt about it right away.” “Quite right,” says Northrup. “The prompt giver of gifts is thrishe blesht, en?" “Something like that” I agrees. | “Now how about a nice deer's head with antlers? One like this.” “You—you'll sell thish wonnerful traphy?* he asks. “No,” says L “T'll contribute ft— frep. for nothing. You're a friend of mine, ain't you? And you're the father of twins. Weil, there you are. WHat do you say?” He said a plenty, T'll tell the judge. Honmest, he almost wept on my shoulder, he was so grateful. And after I'd helped him stow the blamed antlers in the front end of the smok- ing car on the Stamford express he Ppaws me on the shoulder affectionate. | “I'll remember your generoush act Ia]ways. says he. “I—I'll tell the [;:l;'\:’u about it—when—when they “That'll be plenty time enough,” says I. “Good luck, old man. And 1 walks back through the sta- |glon feelin’ as free and light as if I'd just sawed myself loose from a ball and chain. “Che!” says Swifty, when I drifts into the Studio about 2:30. “Why dontcher let on about a special half holiday bein’ declared? What's it for, anyway?” “Twins in Stamford,” L “Hadnt you heard?" But' say, if 1 ever go to an auction room again it will be with a guardian, and I'll have him gag me first. You ought to see how meek I am around the house these days, too. Once in a while, though. 1 has to let out a chuckle. That's when I'm wonderin’ what Doc Baily said when {riend Northup showed up with that set of jantlers. | (Copyright, 1921, by Bewell Ford.) | The “Old Home Trees.” \THERE is a tree which because of the affectionate regard which old-fashioned folk have for it, is called “the old home tree.” It is the black locust, which is also called, be- cause of the color of its wood, the vellow locust. Nearly as far back as says the country it would seem that a man could not set up his home with- out surrounding it with these trees. The practice continued at least as other trees have become the fashion. All around the old home in the Po- mad gegion grow these venerably trees, generally rough, gnarled and storm-broken and they also mark the site of many a house that long ago passed from earth. A tew years ago in bullding a rafl- road “fll" across a Virgini ecrsin near Washington the pressure of the rock and dirt dumped in to make the fill forced up nearby portions of the bed of the creek. exposing the hull of a ship that must have been sunk there in the early days of the American colonies. Her timbers were not sound, yet they were not wholly rotted, nor had they fallen apart, Her sides and decking were of locust Iplank and the planking was fastened ito her ribs not by nails and bolts, but by “pins” of locust wood, or “dowel- pins,” as they are called. That was one of the many uses to which the Americans of other times put the lo- locust, cust tree. You must know well the which Is’ varlousty calied. Siaiacot: cust, yellow locust and false acacia, with its thorny branches, it dellcate pinnate leaves and its dense clusters of fragrant white blossoms. The wood s very hard and strong and has long been ysed as fence posts, well lining and in many forms of turnery. One of the reasons so many of our ancestors chose this tree as their “home tree” is that bees revel in the nectar of its flowers and love it nearly as dearly as they do the lin- den, or “the bee tree.”” Another re son’ was that they belleved the lo- cust tree had the power of protect- ing & house from lightning, and an. other reason was that they believed that its shade was cooler than that of any other tree. » BY JAMES A. BUCHANAN. NE of the most important executive positions under our form of government is that of -secretary to the President. Few persons throughout the length and breadth of the land appreciate the importance of having the position of secretary to the Presi- dent filled by a man who must pos- sess not only the qualifications of a diplomat of the first order, but also one endowed with great political acumen—political acumen particularly as it relates to American politics. In no other country in the world are politics conducted in a similar manner. With the two foregoing at- tributes there must be combined a real love of fellow man and homel conception of the rights of the citi- zen, and a sort of big brother affec- tion that will aid in getting the view- point of the so-called common peo- ple. The people of this country did not until the entrance of the late Grover Cleveland into the White House fully appreclate the necessity of having as private secretary to the President a man possessed of more than ordinary ability. Daniel W. Lamont, who served as secretary to Mr. Cleveland, by his masterly handling of delicate situations brought the position into far greater importance than it had ever occupied before, The next in- cumbent of the office was George B. Cortelyou, a courteous, suave and highly eflicient man. The manner in which Mr. Cortelyou assisted Presi- dent McKinley during the trouble- some years that he occupied the White House not only won for him the plaudits of both political parties iand the people of the country, but also excited the admiration of for- eign countries. * ¥ ¥ * \I R. LOEB, with President Theodore M Roosevelt, was handicapped be- cause of the dynamic qualities pos- sessed by his chief, and yet, despite the fame of the late T. R. Mr. Loeb made an excellent impression upon those with whom he came in contact. | For eight years Joseph P. Tumulty occupied tne position of secretary to the President of the United States, and even those who were not success- ful in securing what they wanted from the Wilson administration were compelled to acknowledge that Mr. ‘Tumulty had treated them most coui teously. It is of more than passing importance to state that all of these men, when they left the White House, entered upon most successful business careers. The position not only brought them in contact with keen judges of human nature. but also gave them the knowledge of many subjects which made them valuable acquisitions to corporations, banking institutions, etc. ‘Warren G. Harding was particularly fortunate in selecting Geore Busby Christian, jr. as private secretary, for Christian brought to ‘the President a pleasing personality, a thorough knowledge of the workings of the United States Senate and House of Representatives, knowledge gained during the troublesome days of the great war. He also brought with him a desire to so flll the position that ~ the Harding _administration might be most successful; and he fur- ther brought an intense devotion to his friend and fellow towngman for years—Warren G. Harding Chris- tian's devotion to the President is like that of Damon and Pythias. The | men are bosom friends. They think and act along the same lines: they have the same old-fazhioned regard for the rights of others; they are fond | of the same amusements, and they are both Intensely earnest. George Christian for years had one main thought and that was to aid in every manner possible fo make his friend President, and it is an open secret, in Ohio, that Christian a num- ber of years ago. while talking with a number of politicians in the Buck- eve atate, declared with decided em- phasis that some day Harding would occupy the White House. This state- ment was uttered with such a deep conviction that it bred the thought in the minds of many that Harding was of presidential timber. So. step by step, we find that the now secre- tary to the President never lost an opportunity to emphasize Mr. Hard- | ing’s fitness for the position. i 'Mr. Christian was born in Marion I | CHARACTER Sketch of George Busby Christian, Jr., Sccrctary to the President. His Work During the Cémpaign' and His Early Predictions—Callers at the White HOBSC. Other Secretaries to Chief Executives \Vho? *Made Good"—Prominence of the Position. GEORGE B. CHRISTIAN, PRIVATE SECRETARY TO PRESIDENT HARDIN: nomination, Christian was pursuing the even temor of his ways, never overlooking, however, an opportunity to say a word here and plant a Sug- gestion there as to the desirability ot Warrén Harding’s nomination. In constant touch ~with that modern Nanoleon of politics, Attormey General Daugherty, Christian planned day and night to bring about his friend’s nomination, and, the letters he wrote to his and the senator’s friends car- ried conviction. They were not couched in political language, thes were written in‘plain, convincing En- glish and mogé:ghan one delegate at Chicago, when e realized that -none of the leading candidates could be nominated, remembered the impelling and compelling. tones of Christian’s letters regarding Senator Harding, and while one does not desire for a moment to detract an iota from the splendid strategy displayed by Pre- convention Campaign Manager Daugh- erty, it must, in justice, be said that the letters written by Senator Hard- ing's secretary made the path much easier to traverse. Just before Mr. Christian left for Chicago the writer met him at the Senate restaurant in the Capitol and asked him what he thought of Sen- ator Harding’s chances to win the nomination. The reply was character- Mr. Christian was holding down the job. it was necessary to camouflage a BOIng to be received by the President and he was to meet them in Chri tian’s office. Purposely, he arrived an hour ahead of time. nonchalantly stat- was going to =it down and chat with my old time friend, Rudolph Forster, | who for many years has been execu- tive clerk at the White House. Chris- tian was as kind and cordial as in the old days, and when the writer had again assured him that he was seek- bit. Some friends of the writer werel ing that he had nothing else to do and | ing no office. there was a little mite more of happin in the smile that he gave. The -impressions gathered o Christian during the time the writei has known him, when he was merely a secretary to a senator, when he war secretary 1o the nominee of the repub- |lican party. when he was secretary to the President-elect and as secre. ta to the President, are as follows: orge B. Christian, jr. is a pocke! editfon of Abraham Lincoln, six fee! in height. slightly stooped, weighing about 165 pounds: voice resonant: ac- cent. slightly western: a_warm-hon est-glad-to-see-you handclasp: black hair, shot with gray: nose. chin and check bones reminiscent of the mar- tyred Lincoln. While Christian fea- tures remind one of Lincoin. it is ir the point of rugged honest He affects dark cloth turn-down collars. with black bow or pelka-dot ties. His dark eyes are the old-fash- ioned. kindly sort: bushy. black ey | brows surmount them. While liste ing to visitors he stands at ease, sometimes with hand in pocket while the other holds the visitor's creden- tials, or he plays with his eve ing. Seated. he sits in easily and naturally. One ded and believe that fool. for. while he is s, he is ever on mindful that a slip on his part micht em rass the {man that is not only the President of the United States, but who is also his friend A rather interesting situation arose while the writer was studying Mr Christian. A well known citizen from ©Ohio brought two friends to the White { House. One of them had lately ex- tablished a paper in the interests of some foreizn-speaking residents of tate. After the formal re over. the young to interview the secre. Christian listensd. and. trend, he bucked, politely, diplomat but firmiy. He was not to be interviewed. This wa evidently a matter, in his judgment. | that should have been passed upon by the State Department. He w ever mindful that any word of his onstrued ax a thought of dent’s. He is ever mindful duty is to serve his country and protect his chief. Mentally he is quick and interruptions do not cause him to forget the matter being dis- jcussed. His expericnces during the war-time period have proved a great help in his new position, for during that time many problems arose that taxed the ingenuity of senators and I secretaries alike. His idea of the position is not to act as a_buffer. but really to be of help to the public and to the admin- istration. and there are hundreds of cascs where his office has taken up matters, to the satisfaction of visitors who would have taken up the Presi- dent’s valuable time only to have had | their causes reported back to the sec- jretary. Mr. Christian realizes that events taking place at the White House are of great interest to the { public. and, whenever it is possible 1o give out news, calls in the newspaper men stationed at the Executive Man- ision. He is a real friend of the news gatherers and is always willing and lad to assist them, and they. in turn, his thoughtfulness and [ m hatr man tary. Mr. ing the st ppear to be slow. Mr. Christian makes each action count, and attaches of the White House say that his quick grasp of details enables them to turn out an unusually large amount of work per day. He has two hobbies—the wel- fare of the United States and the success of the administration. One must not gain the idea, however, that the secretary to the President i merely a public official. He is a real. human, _red-blooded American. He plays a fair game of golf. an excellent game of tennis and sits a horse well. He likes the theater, smokes a popu- lar brand of cigarcttes and is a base ball fan of the thirty-third degree. He knows the batting averages of all the big leaguers as well as many of the players in the bush circuits. |ASSISTANT SECRETARY OF NAVY HAS A LOT OF ROOSEVELT PUNCH Talks Enthusiz@:ally of Purpose t(.) Make the Country Better Acquainted With Its Fighting Ships. - | istic. It was: “There has never been a doubt in my mind that the repub- all his life. His carly education was ' lican party will nominate a man who secured in the grammar and high |not only can lead the party to victory schoos of the city of Marion. he lat-{this fall. but also a man who can get jcounty, Ohio, on March 25. 18 He | has been a resident of that county colonial records go In this part of; late as the civil war, but since theni er attended the Pennsylvania Military College, at Chester, Pa., where ho graduated in 1896, with a degree of civil engineer. Returning to Marion, he entered upon 2 business career, becoming, in the course of time, the assistant secretary, the secretary, the assistant general manager and then general manager of the Norris and Christian Lime and Stone Company. In 1907. he became the general sales manager of the White Sulphur Stone Company, retaining that position un- til 1915. He became secretary to Sen- ator Harding upon the latter's elec- tion to the senatorship March 4, 1915, continuing in that capacity un- til March 4, 1921, when he became secretary to’ the President. * ¥ X * MP: CHRISTIAN was appointed a B ot the Girls' Industrial Heme, at Delaware, Ohio, by Gov. George K. {Nash. He was reappointed by Gov. {Myron T. Herrick, and again reap- pointed by Gov. Judson Harmon, the latter a democrat. - He was also at one time a member of the school board at Marion. When he was nineteen years of age he Jjoined the Presbyterian Church. He is a member of the |blue Todge. council, chapter and Knights Templar of the Masonic order. He holds membership cards in the Marion Club and the Athletic Club of Columbus, Ohio. In 1897 he married Miss Stella Farrar of Shelby. Ohlo. They have two sons, one of them, Lieut. Warren W. Christian of the United States Army, is now stationed in New York, and the other, John F. Christian, is clerk of the United States Shipping Board. It was the writer's privilege, months and months before the Chi- cago convention. to sit down and discuss the probable republican can- didates with Mr. Christian. It was not a_story for publication, but a gort of informal discussion as to who would probably lead the republican party in the campaign. The quali- fications of this man and that man were discussed pro and con, his availability and desirability ' placed on the scales, analysis of his record of general fitness and his ability as a vote getter were discussed at length. The writer found that George, as his friends call him, had a compre- hensive mental index of all the men who might be candidates, and he paraded each one with a'clearness that showed that he had given much study to each prospective candidate. At the end of an hour he paused and said: “Now I will endeavor to present a few of the qualities pos. Sessed by the senator.” and I am confident that had George Christian been permitted to make the state- ment before the republican national convention that he did to me in the Fenate office building, that féwer ballots would have been necessary to choose the republican standard bear- er. With a forceful and direct man- ner of speech, he set forth many rea- sons why the senator from Ohio was the man to lead the republican party to success. While favorite sons were being groomed, while professional delegate deliverers were making hay, while old-time politicians were ~making slates, while the names of many were heing sent. humming ovar the press wircs as vrobable candidates for the % this country out of the mess that it is in. “The senator will be nominated at Chicago.” 5 * % % ¥ THE prophecy was fulfilled as to the nomination. When Christian returned to Washington the writer asked him what kind of a campaign would be made, and he said: “A front- porch campaign of honest dignity." Shortly before the notification exer- cises at Marion the writer dropped in to see him one morning at his home, next door to that of the candidate. It was no longer home, it was an admin- istration building filled with swiftly moving messengers, efficient stenog- raphers and campaign advisers, to say detailed to cover Marion for the press associations and larger papers throughout the country. Added to this assemblage of reporters were writers and near-writers for magazines and periodicals. The now secretary to the President was the same Sort of in- dividual that he was before the con- vention, and, despite the fact that be- fore him on his desk were mountains of letters and sheaves of telegrams, there was always a hearty welcome and an invitation to stay to luncheon for old friends. He hadn’t changed. Day after day and often into the wee' sma’ hours of the morning he stuck at his post until election day, when by a plurality of 7.000,000 or~so Senator Harding was elected President of the United ~ States. George Christian's fondest dream had come true. The scene shifts to St. Augustine. The President-elect was putting the fin- ishing touches to the great problem of selecting the members of his cabi- net. He was snmatching an hour in between times to take the necessary exercise to keep him physically fit for the gigantic task that confronted him. Literally, hundreds of people visited that historic old Florida town, the majority of them having some per- sonal ax to grind, and it was neces- sary that some one stand between the President and the ever-increasing throng of applicants or well wishers. The man who had been associated with Mr. Harding from the time he first came to Washington was chosen, and many of us have wondered if the President-elect did not choose George for that job to demonstrate his ability to handle the position, in order that those who sought the berth might be silenced, for there were some in the councils of the party. who felt that an older man should be selected, but Mr. Harding had made up his mind that his friend of the Marion days, his secretary during his senatorship and his personal friend.for many years would make an ideal secretary to the Presidept of the United States. In Florida George made good. * ¥ X X (Y the fourth day of March Warren / G. Harding of Marion, Ohio, took the oath of office and to the White House went with him George Busby Christian, jr., as secretary. We have read columns and columns of the characteristics and qualifications of| this official or that part of the politi- cal family, but let us study the man who 18 closer to’the President, every day, than any other citizen of the BY JOHN L. MARTE HE Roosevelt punch is with us | i | still. Col. Theodore Roosevelt, as.- sistant secretary of the Navy, has brought it with him into the gov- ernment service and it is running true to big stick form. Opportunity has smiled upon the colonel. In office just two weeks, the chance came for him to demonstrate his ability for running the entire Navy when Secretary Denby left for a. cruise to Cuban waters. He sat in the head chair, met admirals and gave orders. And the impression he has created is that he is a true Roosevelt and member of the board of trustees|nothing of the 100 or more scribes!can be depended upon to uphold the best traditions-of his illustrious fam- Every American probably has won- dered if the colonel is a “chip off the old block.” He threw considerable light on the matter when, at the Navy League banquet, in Washington, on the night following the inaugura- tion, he made a patriotic plea for a big Navy, in which he fitted gestures to ideas in peppery fashion. He had not been in office a week when he told me enthusiastically of his plan to’get the country in love with the Navy. This is his hobby. “Come in to see me in a couple of weeks and I will tell you more about it he said. I called at the time sug- gested and he was as good as his word. * *x % x The details of this plan I am not 1 at liberty to divulge, although it may be stated they are based upon a de- cision to get the country better ac- quainted with the Navy. “The only way to get the people to support the Navy properly is to make it possible for them to understand it,” he told me. “First, they should know the necessities of the Navy for purposes of defense, and that it is impossible to improvise a navy either as to materials or supplies. It is easier to acquaint the public with the material side of the problem. The personnel side presents difficulties. The average citizen does not seem to realize that John Jomes can't be made a good sailor overnight. The modern ship, is_one of the most com- plicated pieces of invention the world has ever seen. You can’t take an un- trained man, put him on a ghip and expect him to function efficiently.” At this point a messenger inter- rupted with the statement that Con- gressman So-and-so wished to speak with the secretary over the telephone. The colonel took up the instrument and put_tons of energy into a cheery “Hello, Mr. Congressman!" Evidently the connection had mot been made. Then he tried again with a “Go-od morn- ing, Congressman might have said ‘Dee-lighted.” and the colonel came back to the inter- | per cent would be left, the other 40 per cent representing men in training schools, on leave, etc. A personnel of 120,000 men would give less than 100,000 men actually at work. A parallel for this can be given by any infantry of- ficer. When a company has an average strength of 250 men it is rare to go into a fight with more than 180 men.” Col. Roosevelt then discussed the need of educatihg the public as to the peace work done by the Navy. Ho mentioned the operation of wireless communica- tions, weather bureau work and the protection given citizens against dis- orders in various parts of the world as some of the important peace functions of the Navy. Here we were interrupted again by a call from an old friend of his father. The assistant secretary bounded across thte room amd grasped his hands warmly. “L am going to be with the flcet in ten days.” he con- fided with the enthusiasm of a school- boy. “It will be great sport.” As he showed the friend out it was with a “Come back, come back, any time; the latchstring is always out. This incident convinced me that the colonel has inherited from his father the knack of getting rid of visitors quickly., but always in a manner to make them feel they have been en- tertained royally * x ¥ % When our conversation was resumed Col. Roosevelt paid his respects to those who think the air force or any other force can put the Navy out of business. “At this moment, as at all times” he said, “there are many well mean- ing persons who are proposing im- possible things for the N . There are those who wish to abolish cap- ital ships and substitute therefor an air force. The air service is essen- tially an arm of the Navy, and in my opinion will remain exactly that. ‘There always have been in every country elements who believe that some new invention spells death of either the infantry in the army or the capital ship in the navy. But both remain and will remain. There w: time when the machine gun was sup- posed to have eliminated the infantry and the Whitehead torpedo and _the submarine the capital ship. Von Tir- Ppits now says his only regret was he did not devote more time to building cauital ships. “I do not mean the airship is not of the greatest importance. But we must not be deceived by the state- ments of enthusiasts—especially as to the cost of comstruction. An ship wears out imtwo years: a ba tleship in fifteen. Therefore, the cost of building an airship should be multiplied by seven. “The people must be given facts to deal with and not fancies.” During our conversation Col. Rooseveit did not hesitate for a word or pause in a sentence. He rapidly and to the point. He with the vigorous mannerisms for which his father was famed. apd it was plain that they were natural and not affected personalities. ‘Whatever may be the length of his stay in public life, Col. Roosevelt's first month in office has convinced Just as his father|every one with whom he has come in The | contact that he will succeeded, not conversation was crisp and to the point, | bec: se he is the son of an immortal former President of the United view without having to ask me where|States, but because he has inherited he had left off. ously considering reducing the personnel of the Navy from 120,000 to 100.000 men. The average citizen might think | does this would leave 100,000 men in active [ call#b' United States. In vrder to see just how! service. As a matter of fact, about 60 in rich measure many of his father's ss,” he said, “has been seri-|qualities and characteristics. And if T see him agzin and he likes this story, surprised if he ully