Evening Star Newspaper, September 19, 1926, Page 79

MAGAZINE SECTION ILLUSTRATED FICTION AND FEATURES Part 5—8 Pages Nowhere BY THOMAS R. HENRY. TIPSY half-moon hung low in the sky Kenilworth last Tuesday night. There was a whiff of cider in the September air. The usually early-to-bed little suburb of the National Cap. S0 Sloden that it can run and hide under the skirts of Maryland when it is caught at any miscniet, was the scene of un- usual aciivity. This was the night of the weekly boxing shows. in the open- air arena just over the State line, which alone bring the name of the village into the newspapers and give its worthy inhabitants a delightful thrill. All the small boys were on hand. Yards were converted into parking areas. Powerful cars and puffing flivvers stirred up the dust of the shaded streets. upon a ecircular structure barel across the line—Liers of seais, canopied by the sky, surrounding a square. Outside the crowd milled in Washington is there a crowd. Boxing is the sorts of persons. It draws i devoiees from the mansions of upper Sixieenth street and the poolrooms along Seventh sireet. A Salvauon Army worker with a tambourine moves among them, seeking to collect Heaven’s tax on the unrighteous. The village constable, his club hidden under his vest, watches them muldly and curiously and tells of his hard Iot. Too much night work! Most of the men wear caps. The cap is the uniform of the ringside. Look at old wood cuts of the forgotten battles ot Yankee Suilivan, John Morrissey and John Heenan or pic- tures of the well rememoered bouts of John L. Sullivan or Corbett. They all wear caps. It is an orderly, good-natured crowd—distinctly different in make- up from the crowd at a base ball game, a little tougher, perhaps, but Just as likable. The men are out for a thrill. There is no betting—so far as the Kenilworth matches are con- cerned, there is nothing to bet on or- dinarilv. When some particular at- traction is staged, of course, money changes hands. but not on the rank and file of the fighters. It is a clean crowd. There ar plenty of oaths but no fiith. Fighte: and fight followers usually are rough- cut gentlemen, but gentlemen the less. There is a sprinkling of women among them whose red hats give a bit of color to the assembly. ‘They do not seem out of place. No- ‘where will men be more courteous to women than at a fight. 2 INALLY everybody is seated. Col- ored bo) selling peanuts and pop, stumble through the tiers, tram- pling on everybody's toes. A slim, smiling young fellow in evening clothes steps into the ring. Evening clothes are as essential to the scenery a fight as green togs. Here is another point where fighting differs every other sport. There is a HE FOUGHT IN THE CIVIL WAR FIGHT over the village of | The crowd converged | canvas | none | One of the headliners for the next preliminary hasn't shown up. Fight- ers have a most disconcerting habit 1 of not showing up. The life of a matchmaker is one long serfes of worries. A substitute is introduced. He is ambitious. He dances about the ring. swinging his gloves wildly. | Tn other fellow is mad at being maiched with such an obvious ama- teur. It hurts his feelings. Just be- fore the bell rings which would have ended the first round he places a neat punch against the stranger’s chin and the boy goes down for the count. After all, a knockout is what the crowd wants. They haven't seen a fight, but they have got their money’s worth. The boy recovers from the punch and staggers out of the ring. x ok k% THE.\' comes the semi-final—a fast little Filipino for all the world a gamecock, matched against white-headed, peaceable-looking Scotchman. The Oriental can hit two hows to the Scotchman's one, but there isn’t much force in his brown larms. a knockout as his enly chance of win- | ning the decision. But he can’t land a hard enough blow in the right place. |Once or twice he hurts the Oriental, but not badly enough. There is 10 question about the de- cision for the Manila boy. Both fighters seem to think it 1s fair enough land they shake hands like the best of | friends when it is all over. Fighting brings strange bedmates—the High- lands and the South Seas, the son of a Methodist evangelist and Galves- ton’s black stevedore, Algeria and Ire- land. A man’'s color or his race doesn‘t count much. Here is the art of individualism, not a matter of so- cial proprieties. * K ok ok VERYBODY has come to see the < last fight. The lightweight cham- pion of Germany is to fight Buzz Saw Sweeney of Fort Myer for 12 rounds. But the lightweight champion of Ger- many is unavoidably detained. The crowd senses that he will not appear. The announcer, in evening clothes, appears in the ring, a shame- faced smile on his face, like a bad little boy caught stealing the jam. Doubtless he'd far rather fight Young Drako himself than tell this crowd that the German will not appear. It's unfair. Young Drako should be forced to do his own announcing. “We're sorry for you, Muggsy.” “Let's get Muggsy All over the arena the cries arise. Muggsy in vain appeals for silence. But when the news is finally out and the substitute in the.ring, it isn’'t so bad after all, and Buzz Saw Sweeney, the Fort Myer soldier, with his hair cut like Hindenburg’s, has all he can do to hold his own. He finally fights his way to a victory, however, and the bouts are over until next week. Now for the philosophy of the scrap. In my own peculiar, unholy philos- ophy, have long ranked prize fighting as _one of the fine arts. If I could establish an order of ke AND HAS NEVER MISSED A SINCE. certain gentlemanly tradition about it which never is lost sight of. An an- nouncer would no more think of ap- pearing without a white front than a lecturer at the Cosmos Club or a waiter at the Mayflower. The others are just games—but fighting has its tinge of artistry which demands the sort of clothes men wear at artistic functions. The first match comes on—a couple of ambitious local boys who swing wildly at each other for three rounds They know nothing of fighting, but they are willing enough. Few biows land. It is the comedy prelude and the crowd roars. Finally blackhead lands a blow just eve and cuts a gash. Blood flows what is the comedy of the ring with out a little blood? But whitehead's seconds decide that it jsn't up blackhead's glove. He struts out of the arena, dreaming of the day when he will fight for purses of thousands. Real fighters are scheduled for the next match—six rounds. One is a Baltimore boy, another whitehead. The other is a Fort Myer artiller: man. Soldiers are conspicuous per- formers at Kenfiworth. Fighting is their business—but not this kind of fighting. This simply gives them & chance to relieve their feelings. A poor, bedeviled, enlisted man can punch off the fever of weeks in a few minutes in the rin Here he 18 an individual, thinking for himself and important for himself—not just a bit of machinery But the soldier gets the worst of it. Hes hasn't the skill of the other fel- Jo%. His blows go wild. His nose bleeds. After six rounds the civilian's xlave g held up to indicate his vic t . Both bhovs have fought and both are cheered as they leave the rihg. A fight crows consists of good £ports—no crowing over a man who has gene down to defeat courageous- over whitehead's | safe for | him to continue and the referee holds | | individualism. precedence, I would set it just be- low music, poetry and painting, and well above acting, dancing and ora- tory. It is the one means of adequate expression afforded man for some of the most dominant passions of his na- ture. It enables the artist to probe in the colorful romantic days.of the race when it was furry and tailed The true master of this art can inter- pret the soul of Pithecanthropus Erectus, just as the composer can in | terpret the soul of Shelley. Since there is more of Pithecan- thropus Erectus than of Shelley in mt of us. it follows naturally that pugilism is the more popular art. Even to watch two truly inspired maulers gives us an outlet for the | hates that are burning our lives out. It is an expression of the return to the primitive, to the intense individualism of the Neanderthaler and the lion, and away from the unnatural social organism into which human society has been made. Other athletic contests are just sports—not arts. War is just a nasty mess—not an art. They demand teamwork, which is the negative of Compared to pugilism. base ball, foot ball, basket ball and the rest are like penmanship com- pared to verse. The great trouble is that we are now in a classical age of prize fighting—an age when more attention is given to the form than the spirit of the production. We have passed out of the days of the Shakespeare of the ring and into the decadent times of the poetasters. There are certain human emotions that can't be expressed other than by blows and blood. I venture to say every normal man living has just such emotions once or twice every day— burning desires to maul somebody. They are inheritances, Dr. Hrdlicka would say. Every time you and I are snubbed, The Scotchman is playing for | Che Sunday Stae | ” D. C., SUNDAY MORNING, S 1926. Washington Has Its Own Exhibitions by Ambitious Boxers, Who Seek Some Sort of Fame in Open-Air Arena Just Over District Line in Village of Kenilworth, Which Regularly Becomes Mecca of Sports of Every Description—How the Prac- tice of Self-Defense Appeals to Observers as a Branch of Genuine Art—Individual- ism as a Philosophy for Fight-Loving People. JUST A FEW OF THE RINGSIDE FACES, are so veneered—even the worst of us—with culture that the impulse may be subconscious. In most cases we never know we have it. It is a part of the dead time. In the case of Pithecanthropus Erectus there was no blanket of culture to smother the im- pulse. We can't express the thing in words. Our ancient ancestors were wordless. Their only mediums of ex- pression were their fists, their claws and their teeth. These remain today the only medium for expressing such passions. The District of Columbia, probably wisely, prohibits the practice of this art within its borders. Most of the States have so entangled it in regula- tions that no great work of art is likely-in this generation—nothing like the 120-round fight between Chris Lilly and Tom McCoy in the days of our grandfathers, when the two men battled under a blazing sun for 120 rounds, the affair ending only when McCoy dropped dead in the ring. * % % ¥ FTER all, pugilism is the art of the uncivilized. We are getting more and more civilized every d Prize fights attract rough crow lower fringe of society, who ha fully absorbed the civilization and aren't as far advanced from Pithe- canthropus Erectus as most of us. Whatever can be said about this art, it is essentially a clean medium of expression. Fundamentally it is direct, sincere and decent. The things it is fitted to express are direct, sincere and decent. , There can never be any honest protest over the moral decadence of the prize ring, as there is over the stage or current fiction or | jazz music. | Of course, fights often are crooked. There is betting—not at Kenilworth —and there is irritability. Doubtless the animal passions are aroused in man after all the long efforts of churches and schools to subdue them. But, after all, these things are only superficial indecencies. They don't filter down to contaminate the funda- mental decencies involved in an in- dividual, self-reliant, clash of fists. At Kenilworth. insignificant as it may be in the whole field of puzilism, you meet raw men. Some say you meet them in war. Nonsense. where else in the world is man so dependent, so individually a coward, as in the battle line. Cer- tainly you don’'t meet them in base ball or foot ball, where the individual must absorb himself in the mixture of the team. Man is elementally self- ish, impulsive, full of hate, full of egotism. Perhaps the one elemental man left in our civilization is the prize fighter. x % ARTISTS long have sought expres- sions of primitive emotion in varfous dances. The prize fight is the highest form of dance—a million times nearer reality than your Charleston cor your Valencia. IN THE FRONT ROW AT KENILWORTH. Undeserving as I am, I beseech— since eternity is so long and time so short—that I be granted several in- carnations. I want one incarnation as a prize fighter. store prize fighting to its truly classic age before governments stepped in with their restrictions, which prevent the highest type of manliness in the ring. T would go back to the days of Yankee Sullivan. T kR T'S a long call from Yankee Sullivan to Jack Dempsey. Eighty years of bruisers and maulers have intervened between these two heavyweight cham- pions of the world, and prize fighting has evolved into a polite pastime, not to mention the frequently stressed re- munerative advances. This _Yankee Sullivan is the first real all-American fighter to emerge out of the mists of pugilism’s infancy. He was king of the New York saloons in that nondescript period immediately after the Mexican war. Before his ad- vent there had been plenty of local talent, but no single individual to whom the entire Nation could point as its champion. He found boxing the sport of drunken ruffians, with pifiing side bets of $50 or g0 on the outcome of encounters behind the barroom. He left it the sport of business men. Not that poor old Yankee Sullivan made much money out of his fights. I would try to re- | When he is about 30 he disappears from history—an impoverished, broken old man. The role he played was that of such an outstanding, colorful per- former that the showmen realized that they were passing up a good bet by not capitalizing on these whisky-fumed battles. Yankee Sullivan was not only the champion bruiser, but one of the champion whisky drinkers in New York. His life was divided between three things—fizhting, drinking and sleeping. He slept only when he was too drunk to stand at the bar any longer, and there were plenty of swigs between rounds in his fights to keep him cheerful. Compared to the Yankee, from all accounts, his illustrious namesake of late years, the great John L., was a rather mild, meek gen- tleman. This first of the great fistic masters of America fought as a violin player fiddles—with some primal, in- spiring urge for expression within him. His great rival, Tom Hyer. was much the same sort of character. A scrap between these men in a back lot—there was no admission charged— sometimes would draw as many as 2,000 fanatical spectators. Hyer was the younger man. He emerges from obscurity as Yankee Sullivan drops out of sight—inheritor of his veteran enemy’s crown. Neither Hyer nor Sullivan made much from their fights. They had side bets—each man put up $5,000 at one time—but the probability is that most of this money was made up by thelr respective favorite saloonkeepers and the bruisers themselves got little of the proceeds. They didn’t expect it and didn’t need it. There wasn't a saloonkeeper in town who would have thought of refusing either of them all he wanted to drink, generous free lunches and a place behind the bar to sleep off his drunks. What more could any honest pugilist have asked in the good old days when Gen. Sanmta Ana was the object of the Nation's curses and the boys just back from Mexico were complaining because slackers had got their jobs while they were at war. Hyer and Sullivan would turn over in their graves if the enormous purses paid Dempsey and Tunney were com- municated to them. They hated each other. There were no long extended formalities before one of their matches and no exchange of courtesies. There were few rulds, and what there were were not observed. Biting, kicking and gouging, of course, were pro- hibited, but the referee wasn't apt to see it, and he never called fouls. * ok K % HERE is the challenge issued by Yankee Sullivan to Hyer for their greatest fight—that of June, 1848. There is some question, as H. G. Wells would say, whether Sullivan could write or Hyer read, but in those days there were certain formalities. “About six weeks ago,” reads the challenge, “I was in a saloon at Park place and Broadway, in a condition rendering me unable to defend myself from any attack. While thus inca- pacitated I was assailed in the most cowardly manner by a man by the name of Hyer. If I had been worsted in a fair fight by a man who knew anything about fighting or had the courage to enter a fair fight, like a man, I would have taken no further notice of this event. “I want to serve notice that I am no Irish braggart, as Hyer says. As for Hyer, I don't think there is any question but that I can flax him out without any exertion. “JAMES SULLIVAN." On this particular occasion he did “flax out” Hyer, but a few months later he was himself “flaxed out,” and drops from the history of American pugilem.” One of Tankee Sullivan's greatest fights was staged near Harpers Ferry in 1842. The bruiser was in bad graces in New York just at that time, and there was nation-wide interest in his bout with Robert Cault for the un- heard-of side bet, at that time, of $1,000. The Virginia town was se. lected because the backers considered Around the Worl ODERN prototypes of the char- acters in Jules Verne's novel, “Twenty Thousand Leagues Under Sea.” Duteh argonauts are traveling more than two-thirds of the way around the globe in a scientifically squipped submarine, with the view of determining the relative effect of gravity at varying depths of all the oceans and in widely scattered sec- tions of the globe. Headed by Dr. F. A. Vening Meinesz, engineer of the Dutch Geodetic Commission, the crew of the undersea boat is now en route to Java via the Panama Canal. Eleven gravity observations have been made to date in the journey across the spaces of the Atlantic, and before the sub goes through the canal she will ‘make a stop at Curacao, Dutch West Indies. From Curacao the party will proceed through the canal, visiting Colon and Panama, thence via Mazatlan, on the west coast of Mexico, to San Francisco, where nearly two weeks will be spent in preparing for the trip across the rolling reaches of the Pacific ocean. Dr. Meinesz and his scientific as- sociates expect to leave San Fran- cisco some time this month, visiting Honolulu and the island of Guam on their journey across the western ocean. The submarine, with its pre- cious cargo of invaluable scientific documents, is expected to reach Sura- baya, Java, in the Dutch East In- dies, about the middle of December. The present trip is not the first Dr. hurt, bested in an argument or other- wise roused to wrath I we 1y, such as sometimes is seen at the ball park. must all admit this primal urge. We A Meinesz has made in a submarine more than nalf way around the globe in, search of sclentific - information. He has made one previous trip from Holland to Java and another from Holland to Port Said. The K-XIII, his present craft, is completely equipped with apparatus and m chinery developed on previous vo ages. The apparatus is the on equipment which has been success: fully used in the determination of gravities at sea with an accuracy comparable to the results achieved with the pendulum apparatus on land. While the gravity observations are being made the submarine is sub- merged to such a depth that surface waves and surface commotions have no effect on the gravity apparatus. While the surface of the ocean may be turbulent, with giant waves sweep- ing across it to all points of the com- pass, 50 and 75 feet deep in the green depths the water is calm and untroubled. These depths the sub- marine has reached and will reach in, the gravity observations. It is impossible to make accurate observa- tions while the submarine is at the surface and subject to the twin in- fluence of wind and waves. When under water, with the scientific staff taking observations, she proceeds at a very slow speed. Scientific apparatus developed in Washington is playing a large part in the epochal journey two-thirds of the way around the perimeter of the globe. ~ A radio receiving set with an automatic recording device, de- signed at the Commerce Department’s Bureau of Standards for the Coast and Geodetic Survey, has been loaned to Dr. Meinesz.. A similar set d In a Submarine has been successfully used by the Coast Survey in the determination of differences in longitude and of the value of gravity. The Navy Department’'s powerful high-frequency radio station at An- napolis is one of the radio stations whose time signals will be checked against the observations of the ex- pedition while the submarine is within_its_transmitting range. But after Dr. Meinesz gets out of range of Annapolis, he will be able to pick up the high-power signals sent from other places on the globe. From mid- Atlantic to San Francisco he will use the Annapolis signals. Explaining the method by which the effect of gravity in mid-ocean is computed, experts of the Coast and Geodetic Survey say that as gravity is the downward pull on any object, the gravity observations are made by timing the dead pendulum swings and comparing them with data ob- tained at various other points. This will show the gravity difference be- tween points, and, indirectly, the dif- ferences in the density of the earth's crust, aiding science materially in a study of the interior of the earth. Some valuable data may be obtained as to whether the crust of the earth is, as popularly supposed, quite thin at great depths in the oceans of the world. Because it is impossible to leave a permanent mark to indicate the posi- tion of a marine gravity station as is done with similar stations on land, the latitude and longitude are eare- fully observed at each point where gravity readings are made on the, sub. It is then possible to plot the mid-ocean station accurately on a chart covering the region where the observation was made. Latitude is determined by observations from the stars in exactly the same manner as that used for centuries by sailing vessels. The longitude is secured by comparing the time, as recorded by the submarine's chronometer with the wireless time signals sent out by a station within range of the under- sea boat. - In the gravity observations ‘the chronometer at the gravity station is compared with the radio time signals in order to learn the exact rate of the chronometer. A comparison of the swinging pendulum with the chronom- eter then gives exactly the time of oscillation of the pendulum and con- sequently the gravity readings. ‘The difference in the value of grav- ity at two stations can be easily deter- mined when the time of oscillation of the pendulum is known at each sta- tion. In making gravity determina- tions. whether on land or water, the pendulum is first swung at a base sta- tion where the value of gravity is known and the period of oscillation of the pendulum is observed. This pe- riod is then compared with the period of the outside stations, and thus the difference in gravity becomes estab: lished. Several other scientific observations are being taken by Dr.. Meinesz and his party. Officials of the Coast and Geodetic Survey are greatly interested in the data to be made known on the return of the Dutch party. it would be reasonably safe from the | authorities. When they set up their camp there, however, they were in- formed by the officials of Jefferson County that the fight could not go on. They simply crossed the Shenandoah to Loudoun County, where the sheriff was more liberal and where a “beau- tiful meadow at the foot of the moun- tains” was selected. There was an enormous crowd from the surrounding count as well as from Baltimore and Washington. The mountainside was covered with spectators, including many good Vir- ginia and Maryland people who ‘would not risk their prestige by appearing at the ringside. The sheriff of Lou- doun Coungy was among them—a man described &t the time as ‘“much in- terested in the new sclence of fisti- cuffs.” Betting was 10 to 4 in favor of Sul- livan. At the end of the first round it was 10 to 1. The “Yankee” weighed in at 150 pounds and Cault at 164, but despite the difference in weight it was a most unequal encounter. It was short and sweet. Seven rounds were fought in 12 minutes. In the first round the heavier Cault appeared to have some advantage. Sulllvan overcame this by hooking his arm around his hip and throwing him so hard that it took his breath away. Cault was done after that, and a; knockout was only a matter of time. He went down for the count after 12'minutes. Fighting wasn't easy money in those heroic days. The scrappers earned every cent of their pittance. Take the battle this Tom Hyer waged with Country MacCallester at Caldwells Landing, N. Y., in 1849. They fought in a field at Caldwells Landing, under a burning July sun, for 101 rounds. After 2 hours and 55 minutes of maul- ing, both men were so near collapse that the referee stopped the fight, and the decision was awarded to Hyer, who had carried the fight most of the way, although MacCallester’s sec- onds insisted he could have won if they had let the scrap go 40 or 50 rounds more. The winner got $500. Yankee Sullivan fought Tom Secor at Staten Island in 1842 for $300. The | affray ended in a knockout in the six- | ty-seventh round, after the men had fought for 1 hour and 3 minutes. It is likely, however, that there was a good deal of stalling in these epic bat- tles, and they probably were far less interesting to watch than the short, flerce fights of today. The few rules gave the fighters plenty of opportunity to get a breathing spell by clinching, and when they felt like wrestling to relieve the monotony there were no serious objections. Spectators went to a fight as Englishmen go to cricket games—for a day's sport—and they carried their lunches with them. The boxer who ended his battles quickly would soon have become unnopular. The longest scrap on record is that of Chris Lilly and Tom McCoy, on September 13, 1842, at Hastings, on the North River. It went flercely for 120 rounds. Then McCoy ended the day’s sport by dropping dead in the ring. * ok k% IGHTING as a sport, rather than purely as a method of settling personal grudges, dates back to about 1816 in the United States. In HUMOR No Crowds So Democratic as Those Drawn by Fistic Battles ford fled when the officers broke into the ring, leaving Hammond, who had been getting the worst of it up to that time, the complete victory at the price of being arrested. This same Sanford defended his claim to the title against Bill Hat- field at a dive known as “Brandy Muley” on the Hudson in 1825. The battle went for 37 rounds and the veteran won despite the years that had elapsed since he was beaten by the timely arrival ef the sheriff. Ned Hammond was still active in the ring until 1826. In that year he fought George Kensett in a 40-round bout at Coney Island. Hammond was knocked out. There was one famous fight near Newark, N. J., in 1832, between Pat O'Donnell and Jim O'Hagan. It con- tinued without much advantage for either side through 100 rounds, when the factions among the spectators began fighting, surged over the ring in the general melee, and rendered both contestants unable to continue the battle. In the same year, Willlam Hasr and Andy McLane fought just out. side Baltimore for a side bet of $500. The fight was broken up by the police. Both claimed they were ahead when the interruption came and fought the match over again for the fun of it at Hoboken the next year. Harr won. Andy McLane fought Jim Reed at Elizabethtown, N. J., in 1834. Thers was heavy betting on the match and it went only 30 rounds, when McLane was knocked out. He “laid down.” according to the chronicler of the time, and from then on was out of the fight game. Reed's victory was clouded. He enlisted in the Army, was sent to Mexico, deserted. was sentenced to be shot when captured, but escaped and disappeared from the history of pugilism. The next real fighter to appear on the hori- zon is Yankee Sullivan. Fighting was at a low ebb between the decline of Sullivan and Hyer and the appearance out of the West of John C. Heenan. Heenan, the Benicia boy, was a California black- smith who built up a big reputa- tion as a bully on the Pacific Coast and was induced to come East. His great enemy was John Morrissey. These two kept fighting interest in the United States alive up to the time of the Civil War. Heenan was the first American world champion. The others had confined thefr activities to this side of the Atlantic. After a long string of victories the Benicia boy fought the heavyweight champion of Eng- land, Tom Sayre, for 42 rounds, at Farnsboro. At the end of 2 hours and 20 minutes of fighting, the Eng- lishman, in his 30’s, while Heenan was only 22, was unable to rise from the canvas. The blacksmith returned to Amer- ica after this fight, staged in 1860, a national hero and continued his battles with Morrissey and other aspirants. In 1863 he again invaded England and lost the_title to Tom King in 19 rounds. The American was so badly battered that his sec- onds threw in the sponge. He after- ward claimed that he was doped. Then came the Civil War when there wag no time for prize fighting. THE PEANUT VENDERS ADD CONSIDERABLE TO THE DIN OF KENILWORTH. England it is centuries older, but the custom does not appear to have crossed the Atlantic. The popula- tion was too scattered to enable big crowds to attend a bout, no matter how celebrated the contestants. In 1816 Jim Sanford and Ned Hammond fought a title bout in New York City. It was ended by the sheriff. San- AND MORE BLOOD RE- BLOOD - QUIRED BY THIS FIGHT FAN, When the pugilist appears again on the horizon we are in the age of the moderns and only a step from John L. Sullivan. e Switch Controls Lights. 'LECTRIC lights in a show window or outside a store can be turned on or off automatically at any time desired by means of -a time-switch clock recently put on the market. This clock has a standard eight-day move- ment with 12-inch dial for time- keeping purposes and is provided with a special switch attachment by which night lights are controlled without re- quiring the services of an attendant. To operate, the indicators of a small dial on the face of the clock are set at the respective hours at which the lights are to be turned on and off each night. The switch then works automatically, operating at the same hours each night until the indicators are changed. Track-Grading Machine. 'HERE has been devised a large track-grading machine that has, it is reported, in a large measure revo- lutionized the operations of contrac- tors. The purpose of this machine is to grade and ballast track, doing the work of the lifting jacks and gings of shovelers and tampers. It is de- signed to build embankments without the use of trestles. The general plan of its operation is that it runs on a temporary track laid on the fill, picks up a section of track, draws earth in from the sides of the roadbed beneath the ties and tamps it there. It then backs to raise another section, and 80 proceeds to raise the track by stages, going back and forth over the same ground until the proper eleva. tion has been reached. « PR