Coral Gables Riviera-Times

Tuesday, December 30, 1947, page 4 (of 8)

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Coral Gables Riviera-Times

PAGE FOUR RIVIERA-TIMES TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 1947 Coral Gables Riviera-Times Published Monday through Friday afternoons by the Riviera Publishing Co., 206 Avenue Aragon, Coral Gables, 34, Fla. Established as a weekly newspaper January, 1926; combined with the Dade County & Coconut Grove Times 1930. Entered as sec-ond-class matter at Post Office Coral Gables, Fla. MEMBER, NATIONAL EDITORIAL ASSOCIATION, FLORIDA PRESS ASSOCIATION AND CORAL GA-BLES CHAMBER OF COMMERCE ALBERT E. HARUM W. L. HARUM Editor and Publisher Business Manager JAMES B. MOORE WALTER T. KRAM Managing Editor Circulation Manager HELEN REYNOLDS DON CUDDY Society Editor Sports Editor JULIA D. HARUM PEGGY NORTH Women's Page Editor Classified Manager THEIS & SIMPSON, National Advertising Representatives New York Chicago Atlanta Detroit MEMBER, AUDIT BUREAU OF CIRCULATIONS FULL LEASED WIRE, UNITED PRESS ASSOCIATIONS SUBSCRIPTION RATES One week... 20 Three Months... $2.00 One month... .85 Six Months... 3.50 Three months... 2.00 Three Months... 2.00 Six months... 3.50 Six months... 3.50 One year... 12.00 One year... 12.00 By Mail outside of the state: One year... $5.00 Mailing address: P. O. Box 6978 Coral Gables, 34, Fla. Telephone: 4-1634 Classified Department: 48-2641 RIVIERA 26 The Coral Gables Riviera-Times is liable for errors in advertising only to the extent of the space in which the advertisement appears.

All in a Day

By GEORGE McNEILL RAY I like the way Prox play golf, yet when all is said and done, my game isn't so far wrong after all. When you compare the number of irons and woods they use with the startling few I use, you'll see what I mean. For instance, the Prox have got everything in their bags, and several items dangling from without, which I think are entirely unnecessary, when you bring it all down to the last analysis. When I go out for a friendly game of golf I never use but three sticks. Prox is, used to that. Namely, the two wood, the seven iron and my rust-studded putter. Not until lately did I add another member to my small family. I refer to this addition, lovingly and ador-ingly, as the Jungle Stick! I've come to re-spect and honor this late arrival as much as that rusty-trusty putter. Frankly, I place it much higher than my putter. Brother, if I could gather under my wing vast gal-leries of golf fans, and have Bill Stern de-scribe the way I use this Stick I guess the Masters would green with envy, and hon-estly, I couldn't blame them one whit be-cause it is a sweet picture to see, if I do appear over-confident and must say so! Just between us golfers, I maintain that the equipment doesn't make the golfer. I know! If it did, you'd certainly see me over-lapping the bag on golf days. Confidential-ly, five years ago I would stuff everything I could find into the bag, and away I'd go to smack of a great ghost. It sorta reminds me of the Indian Days with quivers chock-ed full with arrows. But enough of sound advice and instruc-tion! Let me introduce you to the sweetest thing in golfdom today, according to my game, that is! My joy Jungle Stick. It has the contours of an educated shovel; the usual pick-up of a high-priced scoop; a handle that fits snug-tight into the palm, with a neat groove, curved to fit the grip; comfortable, convenient and congenial to the full, half or chop shot—yea even, to the chop-cut which is so necessary for ap-proaching the green from a precarious position. It's the sort of a stick that sticks closer than a brother. It keeps your chin up and a gleam of pride in your heaven-ly cast eyes, and brother, I'm for that! It takes your mind off self and keeps the wor-ries of business life at a distance! In fact, it makes no difference where the ball has stopped, Calmly, you reach back in your quiver with delight, dig you know what's there all snug and nestled among the ar-rows. That sweet little life saver, the Jungle Stick. Sometimes I slice into the rough on purpose just to get a chance to show the prowess of that little piece of deviltry! Now and then an opponent of mine yells out from across the ways, hidden from view, shouting for dear help. I know what he wants, I take him my pride and joy. I'm not the selfish type golfer at all, especially when a fellow-golfer needs relief. I have, I don't usually turn this Stick over to just anyone, however. Not until one has really caught jungle fever do I come through with my generous spirit of help. It's really a great little stick, believe me! From 101 to 81 isn't bad playing is it? Mr. Jungle Stick means the difference!

REVIEWING THE NEW BOOKS

By UNITED PRESS Everyone knows about Ben Hur but the general public today knows little about the author of that famous best-seller. Irvine McKee has undertaken to correct that situ-ation with Ben-Hur Wallace (U. of Cali-fornia, $4). This biography of Indiana's Lew Wallace is in the vein of a scholarly work rather than in the semi-fictionized form that has been popular in recent years, but it is a readable work for all its definite flavor. It shows Wallace with all his vir-tues and faults in his richly full life as soldier, politician, diplomat and writer. Erich Fromm's Man for Himself (Rine-hart, $3) is "an inquiry into the psychology of ethics." The author's point is that to-day's moral problem is man's indifference to himself. The trouble is that we have lost the sense of the significance and unique-ness of the individual. Ours is a period of big changes. Neither the good nor the evil outcome is automatic. The decision rests with man. It rests upon his ability to take himself, his life and his happiness seriously. And on his willingness to face his and his society's moral problem.

OUR TOWN Reminders

—By Jim Moore— I suppose that we the people of Coral Gables should feel humbly grateful that the national picture magazine Life deigned this week to mention our community in an ar-ticle entitled, "Miami—Babylon, U. S. A. It's set for its hectic hun-dred days." Actually, the rather unin-formed Life researcher did not write about Miami at all, but confined his words to snide remarks about the privileged rich enjoying their privileges on Cusk Miami Beach and profusely illustrated his story with JIM MOORE color photographs. Coral Gables' Corrine Gustafson was used as the Life cover girl for this issue, for which the Yount Center got some dubious credit in six point type underneath the in-dex. There was nothing really very wrong or very good about that. But in the story itself, Coral Gables again came in for a mention that to me would indicate that the Life reporter saw this municipality only as a dot on a map. "To winterbound Northerners," said the writer, "Miami is more than a specific municipality—it is a sprawling tropical El-dorado whose boundaries, fixed more by emotion than geography, range from Coral Gables on the south to Hialeah on the north." Now if he had taken the trouble to ex-plain that once you crossed that southern boundary and entered into the city of Coral Gables you found that something entirely different from the "profligacy, ostentation and venality" he attributes to Miami and Miami Beach, then mention of our com-munity in his story might have been ac-ceptable. But as it stands, I would have preferred that he not mention us in the same breath with his "Sodoms and Gomor-rahs." Perhaps our boundary is fixed more by emotion than by geography—but fixed it is and if the people of Coral Gables have anything to do with it, it will be fixed for-ever. We have a lot of emotion about the boundaries that separate Coral Gables from the rest of the Miami area; and a lot of good common sense about them too. To us, Coral Gables is a decent city dedi-cated to graceful living—far removed from the things that make the neighboring com-munities a target for barbs from northern writers. We are emotional about it because we have seen the dreams of men who plan-ned a perfect city, near fulfillment. We are practical about it too, because we rea-lize that if our boundary is ever dissolved we will rapidly lose the advantages we have safeguarded here, and we too will become a part of a sprawling Eldorado. If Life magazine really wants to make its research complete, we can offer a study in contrasts that should make interesting reading and show why we insist that there be boundaries—both emotional and legal.

UP AND DOWN BROADWAY

By JACK GAVER UP Staff Correspondent NEW YORK (UP)—One of the rackets to which out-of-towners are susceptible when they stop in New York hotels, is the "phony photographer" scheme. Hotels are constantly on the watch against it, but occasionally someone gets "taken". Jack Gaver This is the way it works. A guest will be visited by a man with a camera who says he wants to take a photograph to be published in the hometown newspaper. Usually the flat-tered guest consents, the photograph is taken and the guest signs a "release" which the photographer produces. An hour later another man will show up with a dozen proofs or so for which the guest is asked to pay. When he protests, the man reveals that the "release" signed actually was a purchase contract. The Hotel New Yorker, for one, has placed warning cards about the racket in all its rooms. It is one of the bellman's jobs to point out the card when he is placing a guest in a room. When Ian Campbell Martin makes up for the role of Finian McLonergan in "Finian's Rainbow," he has to get to the theater a couple of hours early. The reason is that he is only 35 years old and Finian is a man of about 60. The makeup takes time. Martin didn't create the role, but went into the show last summer after experi-ments with older men failed to pan out properly. Although he has played stock off and on for 15 years, this was only his second Broadway role and the first of any consequence. By right of birth he ought to be play-ing in "Brigadoon" instead of "Finian's Rainbow" because he was born a Scot and the former show is full of Scottish char-acters. However, he didn't find too dif-ficult to slip into the Irish brogue because there are similarities in Scotch and Irish talk. Besides, Martin has played so many types in scores of radio programs over the years that he can adapt himself easily to almost any kind of speech. The most fascinating play title of the season has been announced by producer William R. Katzell. It belongs to a comedy by Oliver Crawford and the title is "E Pluri-bus Benny." Even if the things were put into English it wouldn't be bad—"Benny from Many."