Front Cover

Amateur Activities
As Reviewed by the Editor

WITH this issue we present for the first time our new Sports Commentator, Jack Bond. Pensacola, Florida, is Jack’s home, and he has been as fruitful an amateur journalist as can be expected from that State. He joined the National Amateur Press Association in 1933, and in 1934 was Manuscript Recorder for that organization. In 1935 he was elected to the Vice-Presidency, and shortly thereafter issued the first number of The Southern Amateur. This splendid journal will continue to be Jack’s major contribution to journalistic activity, but he intends to keep on writing every other type of material for other journals, but no poetry.

Political article of this issue is Verne Robinson’s informative piece on the Versailles Treaty. One-time co-editor of The Yankee, Verne is one of amateurdom’s best, contributing to many of the leading journals each month. His bold analysis in this number is a fair example of his ability.

Norval Howe, fourteen-year-old amateur from Stewartville, Minn., will soon be by-lined on the pages of The Yankee. For a youngster, he’s going places; in the sixth grade he won first prize in an essay contest. His many interests include aviation, boats, motorcycles, camping and nature.

Excuse us if we quote a few comments from our readers. Ida Costello Beverage: “I enjoyed reading every page… Your magazine is made up so nicely, and the contents are the very best.” Earl Henry: “I have enjoyed two issues of The Yankee. The February number was especially good.” Ben Webb: “Received The Yankee today, a very neat one, too. I’m glad I subscribed for it.” Verne Robinson: “If the January and February issues of The Yankee pleased me, the issue just received certainly is worthy of highest commendation. It is an excellent piece of work.” We don’t know exactly why we were so bold as to put this paragraph in, but we feel so good and proud about it, that we couldn’t resist. Forgive us, will you?

The following officers were elected at the convention of The New England Amateur Press Club, held in Boston, Mass., on May 30: President, Edgar Handson; Vice-President, Clarence Chandler, Jr.; Secretary-Treasurer, Verne Robinson; Official Editor, John Coolidge, 3rd; Directors, David Meskill, Jr., Francis Miller, Charles Parker, Sr. The new president appointed Charles Parker, Jr. to the office of Mailing Manager, and George Thomson to the Manuscript Manager’s office.

Page 1

Traveling the World
by Maurice Grimwood

I ask you, who can resist the attraction of new territories? I think of all the places one can visit.

Paris – fascinating, captivating. From all over the world men and women come to it. There they may be happy – successful or vanquished they will leave with but love for this city.

London – Its smells, coal, leather, tobacco. Its fogs, and suddenly on the Thames, the happy youth of England, muscles, sunshine, all pass.

Gaze on America, the United States, where with wonderment the eyes have to readjust themselves to the height of buildings, undreamt of. A grateful thought… of people so bent on giving you a wonderful time.

Ceylon – all the bright postcards one sees of this island make one think this a marvelous place.

Australia – the smallest continent, the biggest island. Unexpected civilization at the End of the Earth. Glorious sunshine, bronzed happy manhood. Melbourne, a beautiful city, and then the eternal Sydney question, “Have you seen our bridge?”

All the world is a pageant, thoughts are many.

Reunion
by Norman Hathaway

“Time has passed since you left us, Tommy, but your memory lingers with the passing of each day. And in the passing of that time my heart has never healed from the searing pain caused by your departure. Outwardly, I remain the same old lady, a few more grey hairs perhaps, but still the same.

“But inwardly only God and I know how much my heart was broken on the night that you passed into His care.

“And so, Tommy boy, as I place this wreath on the place where your body lies, I feel that it will not be long before there are two mounds instead of one, and that we shall be reunited once again.”

As the little, old lady slowly walked from her son’s final resting place, unaware that I was near, I felt a tingle of happiness at the thought of the reunion that was to take place. The air seemed filled with buoyancy; the trees seemed to rustle in happiness; the flowers threw their perfume to the winds in celebration; and as the grey-haired lady in her somber, black coat passed through the gate and out into the city’s life, the whole world seemed to sing and dance in happy tearfulness at the thought of that reunion.

Page 2 and 3

Jack Bond’s Sport Slants
by Jack Bond

Who is the greater sport, the amateur or the professional? There is much to be said for each, but most of us will agree that for the sake of pure sportsmanship, and for the love of a game for itself and not for what he gets out of it, the amateur is by far the more outstanding of the two classes.

One can find no better proof of this statement than by attending an amateur boxing card. Here are young – battling each other for the fun of it, punching each other around the arena because they like the sport and truly enjoy fighting. No listless, heartless shifting about here; no “put up” jobs as are frequently found in the professional wrestling and prize fight game. This is all above-board, and the boys fight as though their very lives depended upon a victory. It’s like amateur journalism or amateur tennis – the participants aren’t remunerated in terms of dollars and cents, but are repaid for their activity through the moulding of character and mind.

Incidentally, if you have not yet become acquainted with amateur boxing, you should do so the next time the Golden Gloves or A.A.U. tournaments are held in your vicinity. Sponsored by newspapers, the Golden Gloves tournaments are elimination affairs conducted for the purpose of selecting the best boxers in each weight division, to represent their home teams at the finals in New York, Chicago, and other centers.

Last February 182 pairs of regional finalists from sixteen States squared off in Chicago Stadium in an effort to reach the Chicago finals through a string of nightly victories. These young scrappers fought hard, three rounds per bout, and it was strictly a matter of survival of the fittest. From this maelstrom of pumping fists finally emerged eight divisional champions, who were allowed only about two weeks’ rest before they were sent on to New York to meet that city’s champs at Madison Square Garden.

And what did these eight young men receive for their many nights of hard-fought pugilistic encounter? Their expenses and a gilded little trophy representing a pair of boxing gloves. Satisfied? Next February these same boys – 364 of them – will square off in their home towns again in hopes of attaining the glory that is theirs if they reach Chicago or New York.

Similar tournaments are conducted annually by the American Amateur Athletic Unions, this year the victors having a chance at the Olympics.

This is sport for the love of sport, and you’ll find thousands of such addicts in any sporting field you care to investigate, whether it be tennis, hockey, baseball or bowling.

Men Behind the Pen
by Santo Giampapa

In the first article of this series we presented a few sidelights on the career of Percy L. Crosby, creator of Skippy. The second article is a short sketch about Carl Ed, father of the Harold Teen strip.

Carl Ed figured first in the census of 1890, and made his abode in the town of Wheaton, Ill., which also boasts of the famous pigskin player, Red Grange.

When only twenty-two, Carl began to write sport items for The Argus of Rock Island, Ill. In his spare moments Carl drew cartoons for a small-time syndicate situated nearby. He continued this work for six years, then decided to pack his trunks and try his luck elsewhere – finally landing in Chicago. He was hired as a cartoonist on one of the small papers, but after a year he moved his drawing board to the Chicago Tribune.

While working there Carl created his famous character, Harold Teen, who with the aid of his friends Horace, Beezie, Gramps, Cissie, Poison Pembrook, Lillums, Josie, and others, depicts the antics of modern youth. Carl’s comicstrip was an immediate success, primarily because of its theme.

It is doubtful if anyone has influenced the fads of American youth as much as Carl Ed. He was responsible for the craze of scribbled witticisms on broken-down cars and also for those cartooned and autographed raincoats and slickers.

Carl Ed lives in a college town to be near his subject, living in Covina, Cal., scene of the comicstrip itself!

Page 4 and 5

The Man from Tarzana
by Dean Broome

Over in California there is a town that goes by the name of Tarzana. It is the home of the man who wrote one of the widest-selling adventure books on the market – Tarzan of the Apes. The man is Edgar Rice Burroughs, and he has netted a small fortune thru his imaginative pen since he wrote and sold his first story back in 1911.

Mr. Burroughs says that he started writing for economic reasons. He was either a natural writer from the start, or he was lucky – or both – for the first story he ever tried to write sold to All-Story Weekly. This spurred him to greater heights. In 1914 he finished the book that has made him famous, Tarzan of the Apes. It was published on a royalty basis.

There have been forty-four books in all since then. The stories have ranged in idea from the strange, weird loves and adventures of creatures on Mars and other planets, to the story of the ape-man that has proved most popular and is syndicated in strip form in a number of papers in the United States. The giant white lad who fought off the jungle for a living has become very popular among lovers of adventure stories.

Edgar Rice Burroughs never wrote in his younger days. He says he does not know what he would have been if he had not taken up writing. He began to write at the age of thirty-five. He is sixty-one now.

His advice to young writers is as follows: “Write the sort of story you like to read; submit them to editors of magazines publishing stories of similar types. Do not ask anyone but the editor to whom you submit your manuscript to read it or comment on it.”

Burroughs writes but two novels a year now. His latest ones are Tarzan and the Leopard Men and Swords of Mars. Among the magazines he has written for are All-Story, Argosy, Red-Book, Blue Book, Liberty and others. He never wrote short stories.

Motoring, horseback riding, tennis and bridge, Mr. Burroughs lists as his favorite hobbies. Among his favorite authors he lists Dumas, Mark Twain, Kipling, Tarkington, Mary Roberts Rinehart, E. Phillips Oppenheim, and others.

An interesting personage is the highly imaginative Mr. Burroughs.

Forget!
by Jaroslav Chmelicek

Flinging the useless torch from me with a sob of despair I crept on more cautiously. Why had not the air, bad as it was, not already claimed me? Quickening my progress, I stumbled forward, and off over the end of the ledge. Letting out a hysterical cry, I tried to stop my fall, but that was useless. Down I fell, my body gathering terrific speed. The end was near, my life would be crushed out like an egg-shell. Death… that was the last thought I had, except for a vague sound, as if somewhere muffled drums were beating rhythmically, monotonously. Blackness claimed me then for its own.

How long I had been unconscious I can never tell. When I suddenly awoke, I found myself lying on a soft bunk, a strange, indescribable taste in my mouth.

“Easy there, take it very easy,” someone cautioned me in a tense voice. I turned my head, finding it pained me to do so. An elderly man stood by my side.

“Feel any better, my lad?” he inquired.

“Yes,” I answered, astounded at the sound of my own voice, “where am I, and who are you?”

“Well, you’re aboard the Neptune,” replied the man gently. “Bound for America.” Then the man introduced himself as Track Mason.

“How did I get here?” I resumed, my eyes roving over the room.

“Why, your friend brought you here,” was the startling answer.

“My – friend?” I gasped, “please tell me everything you know… about my being here.”

“Very well,” replied Mason wonderingly. “Do you think you are in a condition to…”

“Yes,” I assured him hastily, “go on.”

“Well then, we were docked at Cairo, taking on quite a few passengers. I was taking the tickets… that’s my usual job… and as we shoved off the most extraordinary thing occurred. I turned around swiftly, feeling eyes boring into me. I saw no one who could have been watching me as all eyes were drawn to the shoreline fast disappearing behind us.”

Don’t fail to read the amazing conclusion of this serial in the July number of The Yankee.

Page 6 and 7

An Unreasonable Treaty
by Verne W. Robinson

When the Treaty of Versailles was drawn up at the close of the Great War, France was still vainly trying to patch up a sadly devastated nation. As France was the battlefield of the World War, her agriculture, her towns and cities, and her beautiful buildings, all suffered from the fire from two sides. The French people were still sore from the wounds the war had inflicted upon them, and they therefore introduced into the treaty, provisions that were unfair and cruel to the defeated Germany. Had the French people been living in normal times and under normal conditions instead of the chaos of post-war Europe, they would never have insisted that these unreasonable conditions be imposed upon the German people.

At this writing, Hitler has just completed his action in sending troops into the Rhineland, a thirty-one mile wide strip of German territory on the banks of the Rhine which was demilitarized by the Versailles Treaty. France has accused Hitler of breaking the terms of the treaty and also the terms of the Locarno Pact. In this action France is correct: Hitler has violated the terms of the treaties, but, and this fact is indeed of importance, France herself only a few weeks before had signed treaties with Russia, mutual assistance treaties, in violation of the Versailles Treaty. Evidently France prefers to close her eyes to this fact.

It is not difficult to see that Europe is ready to engage in war at the drop of a handkerchief. The question seems to be: Who will drop the handkerchief, France, Germany, or Italy? From the fact that practically every nation on the continent hastened to jump to either the side of France or that of Germany at the moment trouble loomed, shows that in the event of war in Europe no country will be a disinterested party. There are three spots in the Old World that will bear watching during the next six months: Central Europe, Africa, and the eastern boundary of Russia. In one of these hot-spots the trouble will begin.

Here in America we can only watch, and pray that in the event of war in Europe, public opinion will offset the desire for war entertained by radicals, munitions firms, and the feeble-minded.

Excruciation
by Ida Costello Beverage

I sought a wooded vale nearby,
Away from summer’s heat;
Never meaning to lose my heart
Within that cool retreat.
Again I seek the wooded vale –
So chill, my heart, today;
Only the ghost-like shadows loom
Where I would stop to pray.

The Boys’ Light, a bi-monthly journal, offers short stories, articles, regular columns of real interest, and other features of particular appeal to boys. Yearly subscriptions, 15c. Send stamped envelope for sample copy.

Norman Manheim
P. O. Box 431, Detroit, Mich.

BOYS!! If you want thrills, chills, laughs and excitement, Hash will furnish them in 12 big packages a year. Send for a sample copy.

Norman Hathaway, 3761 Paseo
Kansas City, Mo.

To a Bird
by Ben Webb

Why are you so happy
When the whole world is sad?
You are always singing,
Trying to make me glad.
You might know my feelings
And sing your sweet song,
Trying to coax me with you
And I tarry along.
How can you be happy
When all the world is blue?
I wish I could be happy
And sing sweet songs like you.

Page 8

The Yankee
The Monthly American Amateur Magazine

Edited and published on the fifteenth of every month by William Haywood, New York, N. Y., to whom all manuscripts and correspondence should be addressed. Contributions are entirely the work of amateurs, for whose benefit this journal is published. Subscription rates are 50 cents per year, 25 cents for six months. Advertising rates on request.

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