Life — March 15, 1929 — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Steichen \aghters in Case, that mirror the moods of genius What finesse in artistry these new Douglasses show! Slim Silhouettes, this one fashioned in chaste severity, that one deftly etched with traceries to catch the sunbeams. In sterling, in yellow and green gold, 14K filled—turned by Wadsworth whose craftsmanship brought watchcases a thousand new charms. In enamels, inlaid; in odd leathers, breath-taking things to see! There are a dozen or more such Doug- lass Lighters—automatic in action, of course, and matching in their new me- chanical perfection the genius their cases show. They are in your stores, An offering to those who, knowing Douglass use- fulness and Douglass precision, seek now the beauty that fine personal things should possess. The Rescue That Went Wrong Through the shriek of the wind, the pounding of the seas and the thousand hellish noises of the gale came the faint buzzing that meant the doom of an. other ship, “Steamer Wapatomag, lati- tude 257 north 752 south disabled and sinking come quick.” The message was caught by the wire. less operator of the American tanker Spumoni and at once her captain, who prefers to remain anonymous, gave the order “full speed ahead” on a course which would bring her in fifteen hours, weather permitting, to the side of the sinking Wapatomac. In the wireless room Chief Opera. tor Jones (a nom de broadcast used 21 his request) kept earphones and trans. mitter key red hot maintaining con stant communication with the doomed vessel. The first officer (name with held by request) was busy with a picked crew preparing the lifeboat for launching, a task which the wild pitch ing of the vessel and the poor catch ing of Father Neptune rendered well nigh impossible. At last a green light became faintly visible on the Spumoni’s starboard bow. “Thar she blows!” hailed Seaman Njordstrom (name assumed) from the crowsnest. In half an hour they would be ina position to put the lifeboat overside. Everything being ready, the first of- | ficer was drawing his first long breath in twelve eternal hours. “Well, captain,” he said, turning t | his anxious chief, “I s’pose it'll be the | same old thing after we get these peo- | ple off.” “What do you mean?” inquired the captain, whose wish for anonymity shall be respected at any cost. “Why, the welcome stuff, of course!” was the surprised reply. “Mayor's committee, speeches of welcome, free dom of the city, broadcasting, getting testimonials, automobile rides, recep tions, dinners, more speeches, 10 sleep—” . “*Senough!” snapped the captain, whose face during the mate’s speech had assumed the various expressions of alarm, disgust, realization and grim purpose. He had made six rescues and recognized the truth of what his of ficer was saying. “*Senough! The hell with it! Le ‘em drown!” And with three short farewell toots of his whistle he sheered off to pot and headed away on his origind courses Baron Ireland. The film “Napoleon’s Barber” is de scribed as being a very realistic ont. DOUGLASS ress the trigger, theres your tight / THE DOUGLASS CO, WATERBURY, CONN.; SAN FRANCISCO. A W. W. KYLE CO, MONTREAL. That may be because it’s a talkie. —Everybody’s Weekly. comicbooks.com