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“The Magazine in Miniature”

Presenting

Dr. Clyde F. Noel
A. M. Adams
Frank Royall Wood
James A. Bains
Walter R. Davenport, D. D.
Miriam Irene Kimball
Malcolm D. Fox
Mary Morgan Ware

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Good Times for Bad: Co-operation, Not Individualism, Can End the Depression
by Dr. Clyde F. Noel

THE United States is the greatest industrial and farming country in the world today and for many years has enjoyed tremendous prosperity. During the World War and under the great stress of the emergency, the industrial machinery of the nations was doubled and tripled. With the end of the war, production on a large scale continued, surpluses mounted and finally serious financial depression engulfed the various countries and finally struck us. As we were the strongest we were able to hold off the evil effects the longest. Many remedies have been offered. Foremost is a strict regulation of all our banks. Over 2000 banks failed in the United States last year and with the depressing conditions in Canada and Great Britain we find not a single one closed their doors in 1931.

While our financiers call for less government regulation it seems much more control is our great need. Then the government thru the banking system must be able to issue additional money and credit to offset hoarding in panicky times. The government estimates that over a billion and a half is being hoarded in this country alone at present. Second, Congress must arrange reciprocal tariff laws with foreign countries to dispose of our surplus industrial farm products. If any country is willing to favor our products, then in return we must be willing to show favor for their goods. Third, as a humanitarian measure, the government must provide some form of unemployed industrial insurance. The rates to be paid by industry and the workers. The great suffering of women and children in times of unemployment must be avoided. With our great number of populous cities and millions of men made desperate by lack of employment, we are compelled to give serious thought to this problem.

Times seem destined this spring and year to greatly improve. Many great industrial and building projects are being planned. Our warehouses and shelves of our stores are without surplus goods. Let us as a nation and as individuals restore to profit this time by our hard experience. Regulation and not unbridled competition is our salvations. Co-operation and not Individualism will lead us out of the wilderness of Depression and bring us to the happy times of Plenty and Confidence.

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Too High a Price! Are We Paying Too Much for Our Civilization?
by A. M. Adams

A LOT of people are coming to the belief that the cost of what we have come to know as civilization is considerably in excess of its worth, what with practically everything done for us by machinery, except breathing, and they are now getting artificial respiration down to a point where before long everyone can afford it. An ex-governor of one of our populous states, with money in both pockets and in the bank, not long ago came to this conclusion, got a separation from his wife and went back to simple life. Of course, someone who hadn’t become surfeited with civilization stood ready to take his place, but it may be that the substitute hadn’t yet become sufficiently civilized to realize what he was letting himself in for.

Civilization has, of course, its advantages. For example, it is said that in the next war between two highly civilized powers, the one having a 24-hour start on the other will be able to release over its enemy’s territory sufficient deadly gas to snuff out the lives of the entire population of human beings and kill off the taxi-drivers, real estate men and democrats in addition. It’s going to be a great war, but there won’t be any daily news reports from the front line because the man on the front line won’t make any report. His name will appear in the casualty list along with the names of fifty or a hundred million other com- and non-combatants.

But, if we keep on getting civilized, a good dose of poison gas will be a welcome relief to all. With racketeers directing all our big industries and only the house to house canvas in the bootlegging industry open to the honest man, with airplane parts falling like leaden rain from the heavens day and night, with stark realism so rampant that we expect any day to meet the inside-out published conception of ourselves on the streets like a walking skeleton, with television an accomplished fact and in such general use that our girlfriends won’t be able to phone us from their boudoirs, and lie detectors in the hands of our wives; there’ll be harassed citizens, perfectly able to take care of themselves in the days of hand-to-hand combat, willing to sit on the top of a flag staff for weeks and weeks at a time if necessary, capable of resisting the pressure in a subway car between eight and nine in the morning, and between five and six at night, and with sufficient wont power to stand off a hold-up man or hat check girl in a night club, who will welcome the end of all things via the lethal gas route. It’ll be a darn sight pleasanter than living alongside a far less deadly gas tank on what might be referred to as the Tenth Avenue of any particular town, as so many of the present leaders in the race for civilization did in their youth.

One of the greatest difficulties with civilization is that to many persons it means more forks beside your plate at a formal dinner, more restrictions imposed by society to keep you from annoying the other fellow, shaving every morning instead of letting your whiskers grow as did pioneer ancestors, having to tip too many servitors when you stop at a hotel, putting on a tuxedo when you’d feel better in the old suit, eating pale de foie gras when you’d rather have corn beef and cabbage, professing to like paintings that you can’t understand, and music you don’t appreciate, and acting generally like as if you were something that you ain’t.

Some day civilization is likely to topple of its own weight and then, the circle being completed, the human race will start all over again and once more make the weary climb. Lindenthal, the bridge-builder, declared only a short time ago that he’d give New York city 200 years to fight Nature and be overthrown by it.

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Thorns and Roses: Without Them Life Would Be Miserable and Monotonous
by Frank Royall Wood

MEDITATION took my hand and led me to a cliff overlooking the highway of humanity. We sat together and viewed the broad, winding road, along which every man must pass. It began in the east and ended in the west. Its course was broken at regular intervals by impediments blocking the way of the wayfarer.

I saw it would require toil and patience and self-denial to pass over these obstacles and there was no other way to go. Between these spots were stretches of pleasant places filled with everything to refresh and delight the traveler.

“Indeed,” I said to Meditation, “this must be the way of life – a path of thorns and roses!”

“’Tis true,” she replied, and passing me what looked like crystal field glasses, “Look now thru the eyes of understanding, and watch closely yon approaching company.”

A mixed multitude was revealed just on the brink of a treacherous section of road. Two men were walking side by side. Upon these I fixed my attention. They were of equal build and like ability, yet distinctly marked by contrast in countenance. Altho undergoing like trials, one looked miserable, worn and disgruntled; the other seemed cheerful and courageous. Yes, there was even a vividly discernible touch of surpassing peace and happiness lighting up his face. I saw it was the kind of joy that comes only of anticipation. He was buoyed along by it. He fascinated me. These two traveled shoulder to shoulder and reached the pleasant ground.

Into the land of delight they strode, the cheerful one taking on new youth and vigor and losing himself in the pleasures about him. I was astounded to see upon the face of his companion a look of discontent. Meditation, seeing me confounded, adjusted the instrument and I understood. For deep in the unfortunate mind I saw a bed of thorns. Upon these he was thinking, despite the roses about him. Allowing his mind to dwell upon imagined difficulties to follow places of pleasure, exaggeration did its work, and left him exhausted and fearful, wholly unfit to tackle the hard places to come. It was an inspiration to see his companion refreshed and renewed in strength enter the tasks before him. On and on they journeyed, one growing weaker and more wretched, the other stronger and happier. I stood in awe at the sight, and Meditation led me away.

In parting she spoke thus to me: “The way of life is strewn with thorns and roses. Without both, life would be an unbearable monotony. The budding of the rose of life has its beginning in the mind of him who subjects matter to mind, while amid the thorns. Roses are turned to thorns for he who thinks thorns among the roses; and thorns to roses when roses are thought among thorns!”

What matters matter when the mind minds?

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The Horror-Scope
by James A. Bains

If you were unlucky enough to be born between April 20 and May 19, you were born under the zodiacal sign “Taurus,” the bull. All persons born under this sign are consequently head-strong and self willed – that is, bull-headed. Taurus people are generally bovine natured (stolid, dull) and are likely to get angry and “see red” at the slightest provocation. Girls, if your boyfriend was born under this sign, never let him see you wearing a red dress – even if the only one you have is that color. It is extremely dangerous.

Taurus rules the neck, throat and ears; therefore, persons born under this sign will be extremely able neckers, throat doctors, opera singers, gargle manufacturers and eavesdroppers.

The harmonizing colors for Taurus people are green and yellow. If you were born under this sign never wear any other colors if you would present a good personal appearance and radiate a positive personality. For instance, the men should wear a bright green suit, yellow shirt and socks, with a green and yellow striped tie; and the ladies, a yellow dress with green polka dots, yellow or pale green stockings and shoes to match.

The governing star of Taurus is Venus, the goddess of love and beauty. All Taurus girls, therefore, are extremely beautiful and lovable. They are very likely, however, to follow Venus in scornfully rejecting all who propose marriage until forced to marry the lame and deformed Vulcan. These girls and women are also very fickle in love, often deserting their husbands, as did Venus, and falling in love with Marses and Adonises in succession. Men, beware of girls born under this sign! You’re in for trouble, unless they change their birth date.

To Montpelier: Reception Committee Preparing for 57th Annual Gathering
by Walter R. Davenport, D. D.

THE next session of the National Amateur Press will be held at Montpelier, Vermont, July 4, 5, 6, 1932. The headquarters of the convention will be in the new and up-to-date Montpelier Tavern on State Street. This hostelry is conducted upon the European plan, the rooms, with or without bath, being rented at so much per day; and the meals a la carte, as one wishes. The banquet on Tuesday night will be in one of the rooms of this building. This hotel is just completed and is modern and up-to-date.

Montpelier, a beautiful city, is the heart of a state whose scenery vies with that of Switzerland in beauty and sublimity. Its residences line the streets and climb the hills, and are uniformly attractive and winsome. The sidewalks and streets are beautiful for strolls or motoring, with always something new to attract the attention.

The Capitol Building of the state is located here, and is architecturally one of the most perfect buildings in the entire country. It contains a fine museum which embraces in its curios a printing press made in England and shipped to this country for use in our earliest beginnings. Also specimens of old-time printing and binding, and files of our earliest newspapers in the State library. This library will also contain a loan collection of amateur papers and magazines, ancient and modern, well worth examination.

Montpelier has the largest co-educational school of secondary grade in all New England, and is but forty miles from the famous University of Vermont at Burlington on the North, and Norwich University at Northfield, twelve miles away on the south. This last institution is the only military school in all New England and maintains a high grade.

A million dollar insurance building is but a few blocks from our official headquarters, and the city also contains two more insurance companies. It now claims to be the insurance metropolis of northern New England, and is reaching out in other directions for distinction and usefulness.

Subsequent numbers will contain information regarding the program of exercises during the convention. Present indications are that the attendance will be unusually large, and that good speakers and reports will make the gathering one of absorbing interest. It would be a lovely motor trip here from any part of the country. Please plan to come, remember July 4-6, 1932.

* * * *

The Department of Justice, in Washington, has on file more than 2,100,000 fingerprint cards, with which it is making about 10,000 identifications a month.

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Last of Ninigrets: Coronation of Indian Queen Esther One of the Last
by Miriam I. Kimball

AROUND a large, isolated rock, that extended about three feet above the ground, a company of Indians were assembling. Among them were old men, young men, women and children; and all seemed to know exactly where they belonged. On arrival the aged men at once arranged themselves in a circle around and near the rock. The young men formed themselves in another circle outside the first; and the women and children composed still another, the third and outer. The inner circle represented the council; the second, the warriors. When all were assembled there were, perhaps, five hundred Indians present. In addition there were on the outskirts a few white people, evidently there merely out of curiosity for they took no part in the ceremony. The face of every Indian was grave and serious, and it was evident that something of importance was about to take place.

Presently a young woman, attended by about twenty armed braves, approached the rock. She was tall and straight, with eyes dark as jet, and ever alert. Slowly she advanced and with stately grace, her long black locks swaying in the breeze. She mounted the rock and there under the blue sky, like a picturesque statue, she stood, erect, dignified, firm.

When all was ready, an Indian, her nearest of kin, stepped forward and placed upon her head a crown. This was made of cloth, thickly covered with blue and white beads, the shell wampum of her race, and was not unbecoming to her dark skin. At the moment the crown was placed upon her head, the soldiers who had accompanied her to the rock fired a salute; and following this arose cheer after cheer in the Indian tongue. The soldiers then accompanied her to her home, fired a parting salute, and left her.

Such was the simple, yet interesting ceremony at the coronation of Queen Esther, one of the last of the Ninigrets, or the royal family of the Niantic Indians; and it occurred at Charlestown, Rhode Island, a few years before the breaking out of the Revolutionary War.

The tribe of Indians over which Esther was to rule was a mixture of the Niantics and Narragansetts, two peoples having allied themselves together after the Pequots had enfeebled the Niantics by taking from them much of their lands. At this time they occupied western Rhode Island, tho previous to that time their domain had extended westward to the Connecticut River.

King Tom, Esther’s brother, whom she had succeeded because he died without a direct heir, was a rather interesting character. While he was yet a child, a great religious festival took place among the Indians of that section. When Tom Ninigret, then only ten years old, succeeded to the throne, his nation sent him to England to be educated, for they wished him to be like the praying men who had brought them the gospel.

On his return, he erected a mansion for himself, after a plan bought from England. This stood not far from Coronation Rock, and here he lived until his death.

Esther’s son George was next in descent after her. Whether he was ever crowned is a point upon which there is disagreement. However, we find this record, that he was killed by a falling tree, and that with him went out the last flicker of the once proud and powerful Ninigret family.

* * * *

El Baturro, a wine-shop in Havana, is very popular with those who have a hard-to-please complex, as it has 60 barrels of different wines which you may sample free before you decide to buy.

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Death! Writer Says One Should Regard it as a Pleasant Episode
by Malcolm D. Fox

It is with Passing that they all
Regret,
But I will all, that I will
Bequeth,
Do pass to the Beyond, propitious
In Death.

I look upon Death as a pleasant episode, as a masterpiece of Nature. It is so pleasant to know that you are where the Living fear to tread.

A majority of the people look upon Death as a great loss and sorrow, but it is only an interruption in the activity of this very modern, fast moving world.

It makes most people stop and think, for it comes along to all of us sooner or later. Some never give Death a second thought. Most are frightened at the thought, afraid, for they are not ready. Some claim that they are not thru with their work on Earth. But when He is ready you must go. You go on to an everlasting, propitious Sleep from the turmoil of this modern, jazz crazy world, you find rest and Peace.

“As pleasant as this world, my health and all combined, Life and Death are as twins to me.”

Irony
by Marjorie Tullar

I wear my heart upon my sleeve,
A vivid, throbbing red.
But yet the world will not believe
It mine, but says instead,
“ ‘Tis merely a bright ornament
And only there for show,
It is not real, for if it were,
She would not wear it so. –”

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The Sea Gull Editorials

Contributions to The Sea Gull are selected without regard to the editor’s opinion, which is expressed only here or in signed articles.

April has just one meaning to most of us.
Springtime? Yes! But best of all –
It’s time for big-leaguers to sock that ol’ ball.
Just gather your friends and hop in the bus,
Dig out the cheer and the ol’ cat-call
For everyone yells when “it” goes over the wall.

Ticket Next Month

It was our original intention to come out with a ticket this month, but for certain reasons we are withholding it until next month.

Amendments

In the March number of The National Amateur appears sixty-three amendments to the constitution. Large as this number may seem, most correct inconsistencies, while a few establish new offices and do away with others.

The amendments this year were proposed solely by Edwin Hadley Smith. The first major change is the proposed reduction of dues from $1.50 to $1.00. This change, according to the sponsor of the amendments, can safely be made at this time because of the financial support from the Alumni Association of Amateur Journalism. This amendment is quite advisable, and undoubtedly the members will “take to it.” The second amendment, which abolishes the alumni membership is merely a formality. The alumni has developed into the A. A. of A. J.

The proposed changes in offices, also advisable. The second vice-president is abolished in favor of a Manuscript Recorder which explains his duties. The Secretary of Publicity is changed to the Recruiting Chairman. The Publicity Director is a new office to get the association acquainted to the public thru the professional press. The historian, the recruiting chairman, the club promoter, the manuscript recorder and the publicity director are made elective offices. The publicity director is given a hard task, he is to get news and articles about the N.A.P.A. in the professional press. Perhaps it would be easier if the association chooses a member that is already connected with a newspaper.

Another amendment abolishes duplicate ballots. This will effect a saving for the association on an unnecessary item.

Vote “Yes” on the 63 amendments – they are for the good of the association.

Editorial Notes

One hundred extra copies of this issue were printed especially for N.A.P.A. publicity purposes. * * * We “new” members of the National certainly appreciate the gigantic number if Amateur Affairs. We were beginning to wonder if there was really a constitution. * * * What makes the Mailing Bureau’s bundle so late? It’s March 21, and they haven’t come yet. * * * The next meeting of the Amateur Printers Club will be held April 10 at this writer’s house. All interested are inviting to attend. * * * Mr. Editor’s Shadow had an argument with the editor and is hunting for another paper. If you want him back, write us. His column appeared in 22 consecutive numbers of this paper previous to this month.

* * * *

Radium, the costliest thing in the world because only one gram is extracted from 10,000,000 grams of uranium ore, emits gamma rays that are ten times more penetrating than X-rays and capable of passing thru at least three inches of lead.

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Chatter
by Harold Segal

This column is to appear every now and then whenever there is room to fill up. The main reason for its appearance is because our readers are clamoring for more of our personality. Well, I haven’t any of that stuff, but I’ve got plenty of “poison-ality” so I’ll give you a load of that. First, tho, you have to excuse my bad habit of using the plural when talking about myself. Excused? Thanks. This column will be a cocktail of random thoughts, case notes, short shavings and a lot of other stuff.

When I was thinking about this column I had to put in it, but now that I’ve sat to write it, I can’t think of a thing. I guess I’m the laziest guy that ever was. My secret ambition is to be a beach-comber. A beach-comber is a guy who lives on the beach down in some warm clime. Watta life! Bay-bee! That’s my idea of living. Eddie Cantor is my choice for president. Hope George A. Thomson isn’t a gangster. He signs postcards ‘GAT.’ My favorite radio programs are Amos ‘n’ Andy, Colonel Stoopnagel and Budd and Sherlock Holmes. I get a big kick out of reading out-of-town newspapers.

She is only so high. She is jet black, has the Ace of Spades beat a mile. Funny brown eyes. Big long ears. Her nose is as wet as a boarding house bath tub on Saturday night. She’s just right, just like any of her kind should be, and she understands a guy, too. Who? Our little black Spaniel, Topsy. When she looks in your eye – Gosh!

Here are some things you can dream about (play this on your radio): Kate Smith gives a talk on reducing. Bill Hays forgets to brush his teeth. Walter Winchell lights a “Camel.” George Jessel drinks tea. Morton Downey smokes a cigar. Rudy Vallee, Russ Columbo and Bing Crosby before the firing squad. Ben Bernie takes buttermilk. GraHAM MacNamee and Ted Husing play dominoes.

Now it’s time to blow, and hold your breath ‘till we meet again ‘cause a flock of Broadway columnists are loose.

Ink-Slings
by Mary Morgan Ware

“They say” noiseless and odorless shooting galleries have made their appearance. That will no doubt be agreeable to those concerned. Now if “they” make accidental shooting painless that will be another step up, or down.

“For the love of Mike” must have been another shadow of coming events because it might very well refer to the microphone.

Well, well, even the grapefruit must succumb to the mania for color. Soon we shall have rainbow colors for our rainbow teas and luncheons.

“Ain’t it the truth” that when people take themselves too seriously they appear ludicrous to others? Some people magnify their importance unduly, for the world still revolves when they are gone. Someone else steps right up and takes their place.

When a nation ceases to be a nation in the making it is in a decline. When anything ceases to grow it is ready for the toboggan, and how fast it slides!

Deliver us from the talking clock. Too much talkie now.

Latest Political News

Trainer Nominates Thompson:

Maspeth, N. Y., March 14. – (Amateur Associated Press) – Friends of Official Editor George A. Thomson, of Fairhaven, Mass., today removed his “fedora” and flipped it into the N.A.P.A. political ring. Thomson will have to go in after it now, they said.

Thomson Pulls an “Al Smith”:

Fairhaven, Mass., March 15 – (Special). – The Monanock has issued the call to “Rally ‘round the flag, boys.”

“In the interest of the ‘Grand Old National’ and progress under Law and Order, I will now accept the nomination for the N.A.P.A. presidency if sufficient endorsements are received,” Thomson was quoted as saying.

Amateur Press Meets in Vermont
– from the New Bedford (Mass.) Evening Standard, March 8, 1932

“The current number of The National Amateur, official organ of the National Amateur Press Association, edited by George A. Thomson, Fairhaven, announces that the 57th annual convention of the association will be held in Montpelier, Vt. On July 4, 5 and 6.

“The following laureate judges have been appointed: Story, Mrs. Stella Truman Rhinehart: essay, Mrs. Mary Dix Weidner; poem. Mrs. Marjorie Outwater Ellis; history, Mrs. Leola White Nixon. Their decisions will be announced at the convention banquet.

“The proposed amendments to the constitution are in this issue and will be part of the big business at the annual gathering in July.

“This is the first time the association has decided to convene in the Green Mountain State. Vermont is one of the most active centers in amateurdom, and a successful conclave is assured….”

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The Sea Gull
“The Magazine in Miniature”

Awarded N.A.P.A. Editorial Laureateship at St. Louis Convention July, 1931.

An amateur magazine published monthly in the interest of amateur journalism at Phila., Pa. Affiliated with both the National and the United Amateur Press Associations.

Harold Segal… Editor and Publisher

Subscription rates: $.75 a year, gratis to N.A.P.A. and U.A.P.A. publishers.

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