WITHOUT PREJUDICE

Dominion, Volume 21, Issue 114, 11 February 1928, Page 8

WITHOUT PREJUDICE

NOTES AT RANDOM (During the absence on holiday of “T.D.H.,” “Notes at Random” will be contributed by “Wi.”J Remarking that Big Bill Thompson, of Chicago, is reaching out for the Presidential nomination, on the grounds that he is for America first, farm relief, water-ways, and flood control, the Chicago “Tribune” remarks that nobody can beat that, unless he adds the Ten Commandments and the multiplication table. Fisherman’s Luck: “I think the man you married is a fine-looking fellow.” “Ah, but you should have seen the one that got away.” The American Press stories of the Tunney-Dempsey fight make rather amusing reading. Here is a typical survey of what might be called the repercussions of the fray:— “Eleven light fans died, and one swallowed a toothpick. Such, we gather, were the principal casualties scored by the accomplished Mr. Graham McNamee in broadcasting his breathless and sometimes almost choking description of the eventful fracas between Mr. Tunney and Mr. Dempsey. Then we read of a chauffeur of a Hollywood family—one not unconnected with the prize-ring and the movies—who wagered all he owned, plus his employer’s car, on a Dempsey victory. /Also of a New York boy who abstracted a sizable sum from his father’s exchequer to go to Chicagov to see the fight. Also of a man named Tunney, who got into a damaging fight with a clitic of his namesake’s victory. One of the fatalities, by the way, was that of a Dempsey, of Detroit, who ‘died in heated defence of his namestake’s prowess after the decision had been announced.' According to the Associated Press, which compiled the casualty list, three of the deaths occurred to radio fans whose hearts could not surmount the excitement of the seventh round, when Mr. Tunney was on the floor, taking a count of nine, while Mr. McNamee, through millions of loud-speak-ers, almost threw a fit. Other victims in various parts of the country survived the terrible seventh, only to succumb at the end of the furious tenth, when the referee’s decision came through. Such were some of the incidents connected with an event which the Albany 'Knickerbocker Press’ calls ‘a public debauch’ and ‘a Neronic monstrosity.’ ” • * • Another paper related: At least one regular church attendant has been made as a result of Gene Tunney’s victory over Jack Dempsey. The Rev. Samuel Sutcliffe, pastor of ■ St. Mark’s Episcopal Church here, expected the marine to win, and was willing to back his expectations with money. Harry Blews, proprietor of a refreshment store, expected Dempsey to win, and had the time to back his opinions. So an agreement was reached. If Dempsey won, the minister was to spend at least five cents each day for 365 days in the refreshment store, while if Tunney won, Blews was to attend Mr. Sutcliffe’s church each Sunday for fifty-two weeks. Blews will start paying his bet to-mor-row morning. Yesterdav we set out to relate the interesting ceremonies connected with the recent arrival at the Siamese capital of a babv white elephant, but the printer only let us get as far as the introductory paragraph recording the event. Here is the rest of the story: In the past, when Siam was still entirely a country of waterways, a newlycaptured white elephant was floated down by river on a decorated raft to the capital. But the present baby created a new tradition by coming by railwav. A railway wagon, padded and provided with electric fans and a shower bath, was specially built for the journey of the baby and his mother, who travelled together with a white monkey and a white crow. The mother is a grev and plebeian animal, and will return later on to her normal occupation of hauling teak logs. The elephant train came down slowly, stopping at various towns on the way, and arrived in Bangkok on November 15 at the Royal station. At the station the babv was received by the King, and greeted the senior white elephant of the kingdom bv twining trunks with him. He then passed under an archway decorated with whole trees, his “goodbye to the forest,” and took b's place with his mother in a procession preceded bv three tusker white elephants and native bands in traditional costume. The procession passed to the Dusit Palace of the King, where the new white elephant was led into a richly-decorated pavilion, which is to be his future home. Here in the presence of the King and Oueen Brahmin priests chanted a long, soothing lullabv extolling his grace and beautv, while he recovered from the fatigue of the journey.

The next dav at twenty-six minutes and twenty-four seconds past nine m the morning—an auspicious time calculated bv 'the Court astrologer—the King anointed the baby elephant with lustral waters as a sign of purification, to a triumphant discord of reed pipes, gongs, conch shells, drums, and cymbals verv much as the King is anointed himself at his coronation. There followed the naming ceremony, _ m which the King pronounced his rule “P’ra Sawate Kojadej Dilok— Most Magnificent White Elephant Lord, and gave him pieces of fine red sugar cane to eat on which this name was inscribed. After this he was dressed in robes suitable to his loftv rank and stiff with jewels, and a gold pendant was clasped round his neck. All this in the 20th century! Neighbour.—“Yes, but I ’ad the last word wiv him. I sez to ’im, I sez, ‘You’re as ugly as if you’d been measured for it’.” One of the officers of the American Legion, which was recently feted in Paris, remarked: “It is a splendid sight to see Europe at peace.” It isn t( but it would be. OF WELLINGTON. David McKee Wright, erstwhile of Nelson and Wellington, died in Sydney’ this week. This is what he sung of Wellington:— , . # Rugged she stands, no garlands ot bright flowers Bind her swart brows; no pleasant forest shades Mantle with twining branches her high hills, . No leaping brooks fall singing to her sea. Hers are no meadows green, nor ordered parks; Not hers the gladness nor the lignt of song, . . Nor cares she for my singing. Rudely scarred Her guardian encircle her pent streets. Loud with the voices and the steps of trade; . . And in her bay the ships of east and west Meet and cast anchor. Hers the pride of place In shon and mart; no languid beauty she, . Spreading her soft limbs among the dreaming flowers; But rough and strenuous, red with rudest health. . Tossing her blown hair from her eager eves . « - That look afar, filled with the gleam of power, . She stands, the strong queen city of the Souths