Page:The New Yorker 0003, 1925-03-07.pdf/7

THE NEW YORKER Our Dr. Fosdick has been giving radio talks. The embattled Presbyterians fired the minister heard round the world.

Cracksmen drilled a hole two feet square through a ten-inch brick wall in the Bronx only to learn that they had entered a hardware store. Undismayed, they dug a four-foot tunnel into a jewelry store and got $25,000 worth of goods. A triumph of perseverance over mere intelligence, of brute force over science the stuff of which American Magazine heroes are made.

Apropos of the Higher Education and Professor Baker's recent take-off in the drama at Yale, the Sun tells us :

When Marilyn Miller plays "Peter Pan" in New Haven, Prof. Baker's Drama Class at Yale will give a special tea in her honor, What price drama at Harvard now?

At the rate the newer fiction has been making illicit love (as Mister Hearst's bright young editors used to call it) the conventional thing, those old stories at the ends of which He and She start off on a wedding trip, seem almost too shocking to read.

Mr. Brisbane, that misplaced and vastly salaried Christian martyr, drew for us the other day the touching picture of the Missouri sow which begat one hundred offspring. He then deduced this Moral Lesson: "That proud mother of one hundred little pigs in five years never smoked cigarettes or drank cocktails, and the father or fathers did not set before their sons the example of bootleg law breaking and contempt for the Constitution."

Younger Generation, take heed! Let every little flapper and every little sheik lay off the stuff, and in five years

The New Yorker

clothing best described as natty and a diamond ring Julia Hoyt possesses those qualities which make for a successful goddess: Beauty of face and form, an enigmatic smile and an infinite capacity

for inhaling without coughing the incense burned before her.

Julia Hoyt

No primrose by the river's brim is she, but a carefully cultured orchid, determinedly beautiful; a stately, graceful, esoteric bloom.

Seeing her abroad at first nights, one might be forgiven imagining that in another day she would have given Mary Stuart a run for the favors of contemporaneous gallants. But Elizabeth would have been too much for her, too.

It is no secret to readers of the abbreviated press that Mrs. Hoyt forsook Society for a Career. She has passed by langorous steps from the Advertising Testimonial Shrine into the Temple of Thespis, which at the moment she adorns as "The Virgin of Bethulia," the whole production under the personal direction of Mr. Shubert.

At fourteen Willie Hoppe was the boy wonder of billiards. At thirty-eight, he still is. It all goes to show how we cling to the old, old traditions.

He inclines to rotundity now, but

Willie Hoppe

his life-long training as a boy wonder is reflected in his face, which, alsı, round, is sufficiently angelic to serve photographically, above a surplice, for an Easter card. His complexion is fair, his hair light, his smile pleasant enough. Middle height, which stirs one to reflect that King George hasn't been wearing his crown much lately—there you have the surface aspects of the perennial billiard champion who has ventured lately to the Friars' Club, of all places, for new worlds to conquer; the three-cushion world, in this instance.

Mentally? Well, he takes billiards seriously, just a boy wonder at heart.

It is fitting that the District Attorney of New York County should be a native Texan; and it is more than fitting that this Texan should deem Eugene O'Neill a damned fool.

Joab Banton

The disconcerting fact is that Joah H. Banton believes the District Attorney of New York County should act the gentleman. Remembering such former stars as Bill Jerome and Charlie Whitman, one perceives that the present incumbent has but a limited conception of the role.

It has always been a question why Murphy nominated him, the casual explanation of the Faithful being that Tammany needed for the balancing of its ticket a Biblical name without an Old Testament connotation.

At any rate, he presides over the Criminal Courts Building, courteous, kindly disposed toward all and grave as a backwoods teacher, with the shrewd horse sense of the class as to commonplace concerns, but with its native incapacity for comprehending the stirrings of any larger and freer life in the world outside.