FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume II, Issue 617, 20 March 1929, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

| CLOCKS ARE BACK Note Summer's legal span has reached, its 'bourne ! And daylight fades soon after 6 p.m. — A doleful circumstance that I must Those Summer days! How T remember them ! yet, ’tis an ill wind that blows a man no good, One boon remains when Summertime has spedj 1 would not miss its pleasures if J could; How sioeet the extra half-an-hour in bed ! SLEEPY SOL. GO GETTER* A prominent delegate at the Commercial Travellers’ Conference at Wellington was a Mr. Hustler-Smith. And yet they ask what's in a name! THE SEVEN SEAS * “Another Shellback” (Grey Lynn) weighs in: In reference to “Old Shell Back’s” query on the definition of the Seven Seas as it appears in the columns of The Sun shipping news, my contention is not North or South Atlantic or Pacific, as these are the same oceans. I would name them as follows: Atlantic, Pacific, Arctic, Antarctic, Indian, China and Mediterranean, as I know them.

WRESTLER'S CAR

A seven-seater Hudson motor-car belonging to Mr. Isaac Robin, of Hastings, was stolen from Ngaruawahia during the week-end. Thus, among yesterday’s minor news items, was conveyed the information that even a champion wrestler is not immune from the attentions of the light-fingered or persons similarly inclined. “Ike” Robin, gentle giant except when massaging some hapless opponent into submission in the ring, took a unique place in the sporting world when it was found that he was both a wrestler and a lay preacher. Should he find the man who took his car, the culprit will no doubt be “on the mat” in more senses than one.

BEAT THIS ONE!

The seasoned angler pondered long over the claim of Mr. Joseph Kuljis, a Greek visitor, who claims that he can determine the age, weight, sex and disposition of sardines by means of friction on a line, or words to that effect, and then said enviously: “Well, I suppose I could tell as good a one as that if I were to speak through an interpreter. It must be a distinct advantage.” He fell again into a reverie, from which he emerged to make the following remarks: “It makes me wonder if you have heard the latest exploit of our old friend, Ananias Whlton. His party having struck a new fishing ground off Cape Brett, he got a bite from some monster which darted across the Pacific at a speed which made him think he had hooked a submarine with Segrave in charge. New Zealand had sunk beneath the horizon astern, and the mountains of foam ahead gave them no chance of seeing the Andes, when the line parted. ‘Perhaps it was a whale,’ someone ventured. ‘Whale, be blowed!’ snorted Ananias. ‘We was baitin’ with whales.’ ”

IN TIN PAN ALLEY Few writers of popular songs these days have the bad luck of Alexander Melville, who after writing some of Sir Harry Lauder’s best “hits” has just died in London in poverty. The modern way is for the man who can catch the public fancy to earn handsome royalties, invest them in sound stocks, and become something of a bloated capitalist. Irving Berlin, the one-time newsboy who married a millionaire’s daughter, and wrote “All Alone” and a lot of other sentimental masterpieces, has composed several 100,000 dollar songs. Jerome Kern (“Who,” “Kalua,” “Old Man - River”) has a collection of hooks alone worth over half a million pounds, and he is only 42 years of age! Rudolf Friml (“Rose Marie,” "The Vagabond King”) and Sigmund Romberg (“The Student Prince”) are both in the millionaire class. "Yes, We Have No Bananas,” earned over £25,000 for its author, but only after it had languished unpublished for months. Not all the big money is made in America, either, as “Valencia,” which broke records in all continents, demonstrated very effectively. But Melville, who wrote only Scottish songs, laboured under two misfortunes. The second one was that he did not write jazz.