FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 320, 3 April 1928, Page 10

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

THE "FREE" OPEN SPACES Dear L.O.M..—The garaged car may be 0.K.. but motorists love the “free,” i open spaces. Look at Albert Street! —M.O. OUR COOP AUCKLAND With all due respect to the Commissioner of Police, has Mr. Mcllveney noted the quarter's return of I “crime” in Auckland? In 91 days there were 68 cases of theft, mostly of a trifling • character; 4S unfortu- ; nates (the majority of a harmless type) were charged with vagrancy; there were 24 assault cases (few of a serious character), and only 99 cases of drunkenness. A most alarming absence of burglars impels us to ask what shall we do with our police. When fewer than a hundred cases of drunkenness engage the attention | of the Police Court in 91 days, Auckland is losing its name as a wild and wicked city. PACKWOOD PACKS UP The engineer in charge of the construction of the Westfield railway deviation, Mr. R. H. Packwood, is packing up to superintend another important job, having well and truly done his part here. He goes to take charge of the construction of the new Waitaki hydro-electric scheme at Kurow, South Canterbury. Though but a young man, and as unassuming as he is capable, Mr. Packwood has directed numerous public works with conspicuous success, and is recognised as an engineer of great ability. Educated at Christchurch and Wellington, he joined the P.W.D. as an eni gineering cadet 20 years ago, and has j climbed high up the professional tree |by sheer ability—another tribute to | the worth of New Zealand brains and j energy. * * * SYDNEY SHOW Although there has been much pub- j licity anent floods, bush fires and i droughts in New South Wales, where, I we are informed, hordes of mosquitoes are “biting” dogs and stock to death, Sydney Show, which opened yesterday, establishes a fresh record in entries, “as the result of a good season.” Gay Sydney is crowded to bursting point, among the visitors being many New Zealanders. During Show Week the Spirit of Carnival rules the great metropolis; it is Sydney’s week out, and a most amazing experience to the scores of thousands of people who come down from the country. Then it is that the showman (and the confidence trickster) reaps a fine harvest. The greatest Show attendance is reached on Good Friday. Several attempts have been made to have the Show closed on that day; but as well try and stop the Pacific billows from rolling on Bondi Beach. For Sydney people, Good Friday is a i for an outing, and, given fine weather, almost a million people are abroad. There are few absent Sydneyites who do not think of their city and its great Show during the first week in April.

IS DOG-RACING DOOMED » A first and not unexpected hammerblow has fallen on greyhound racing. It is the target of a solemn warning from headquarters, and presumably there is something behind it (says a recent issue of the Glasgow “Weekly Herald”). The phenomenal success of the new sport threatens to prove the rock on which it will founder. It has myriads of enemies—not all of them by any means disinterested. Many business and entertainment concerns have been badly hit by these oftrecurring evening race meetings, and naturally their owners have joined I issue with those whose objections are ' based on public morality and private amenity. The position of things is strange and well-nigh unique, and certainly without parallel in the long history of financial undertakings. Fully three millions sterling have | already been invested in greyhound ventures, and handsome dividends were promised and practically assured. The public took to the sport with a thoroughness which surprised the promoters as much as it confounded the | critics. The prophets who promised an early cooling-off in the public ardour had fain to admit a flaw in their prediction when 80.000 persons on a bitter mid-winter night journeyed 15 miles into the outskirts of London to attend a greyhound meet. This, then, is the sport which many people rejoice—and many fear —is in its last ditch, killed not by public apathy but : by sheer popularity—ruined by a surfeit of courses and a poverty of conj trol. k