CURRENT TOPICS

Manawatu Standard, Volume LV, Issue 258, 28 September 1935, Page 8

CURRENT TOPICS

(Bv “Wavfarer.”! “Nothing of any good is done ia this world without hard work, and you value all the more what has cost you effort.” —Sir Josiah Stamp. * * » * * From Wilder (Idaho) Senator Borah has seen fit to speak in angry terms of the members of the League of Nations, which he alleged had become “a screen for hypocrites.” One feels tempted to suggest that it were well the fiery Senator had not been in residence at. Death Valley (Nevada) when making his pronouncement lest the environment lead him to still stronger language, though had he been a tempoiary resident of Medicine Hat (north of the Missouri) he might have suggested a remedy! , ' « The 221st. annual race for Doggett’a Coat and Badge was held last month on the Thames and was won by Allred Edward Gobbett (Blackwall) by a good margin. The contest is the > oldest sculling event in the world, having been founded in 1775 by the Drurv Lane actor Thomas Doggett, who, in admiration for the House of Ilanover offered s cofi-t and badge to bo raced for by six young watermen in honour of the first anniversary of the accession of George I to the Throne. At his death Doggett bequeathed a sum of money in trust of the Fishmongers’ Company', under whose management the race is still held, to provide annually a Coat and Badge for the best of six young watermen m the first year of taking their ireedomship of the Thames in a match over a course of 4} miles from London Bridge to Chelsea. Several winners of the world’s sculling championship have won the prize. ■ t

Radio announcing is apt to be rather a trying job at times. One of the Empire announcers was recently presented with a news item about a race which was won by a horse named “Gonedry.” The question of the proper pronunciation of the name had to be settled instantly. “Go-Nedry” or “Gon-edry?” It was rather galling to learn afterwards that the name was “Gone-dry”! In recent times tho colds or coughs of illustrious statesmen have been diplomatic events of the highest importance. But the cough or cold of an Empire announcer appears to be also a matter of wide interest. A Nigerian listener wrote recently to say that he had had a large party of natives listening to an Empire transmission. They were not greatly interested until “the announcer cleared his throat, then a scream of approbation arose from the audience.” A planter in Assam had the same experience with a group of head hunters. “The announcer clearing his throat made them wriggle with excitement.” A Tanganyika listener wrote: ‘ ‘lt is odd what a friendly feeling one gets towards the announcers and how one chats back to them. It is a real treat to hear their voices and to listen to their ‘Goodnight, Everybody.’ I wonder if they realise how many good-nights are said in reply. They have all been given names and have had individualities built around tlieir voices.”

A true fish story is like a white blackbird. If either exists, it is as rare a specimen as “the one that got away,” says the Christian Science Monitor. Yet, several stories to do with fish and fishermen have been dignified with the appearance of news in the last few days. In keeping with the ironies of “fisherman’s luck,” the biggest fish —a whale—figured in the smaller story, which concerned the appearance of a son of Moby Dick off Montauk Point, Long Island. Cavorting close to a party out to catch tuna, this shrewd fellow so distracted the fishermen with his antics that they seemed to forget about fishing and headed homeward at the close of liis performance. It is expected that the entire fishing party will have to be laid end to end to illustrate the size of the whale that got away. Opt of New Bedford comes a report that lives up to Charles A. Dana’s famous definition of news, which required not that the dog bite the man but that the man bite the dog. A fisherman, having harpooned a swordfish, caught his foot in the line and was towed almost to the ocean bottom before he was able to cut himself loose. In this instance it was the fisherman who got away. In fact, it seems that the vogue this year inclines rather to the of men from fish than vice versa. Nine men with a net recently made such a heavy catch that they had to be rescued from their captives which, with all the precision of a military machine, did an about-face and started to take the fishermen home to a fish’s fireside. Bathers near Atlantic City also were forced to flee from fish that invaded waters aloivr the shore. These stories differ sufficiently from the ordinary brand to allow them to pass as true. Yet there is always the possibility that they are just examples of the “whoppers” that the fish tell. * * -V * * * 111 the had old days, when the British Post Office was entangled in red tape, seekers after information were accustomed to wait indefinitely for answers to tlieir inquiries. Au overworked staff, as likely as not, looked upon representatives of tile public as interlopers and nuisances, and treated them accordingly. Civility was at a premium and efficiency was often conspicuous by its absence, / Ji How different are the conditions m London to-day! If you want- to know anything about maiis or telegrams or parcels you are answered immediately either by ri human “live-wire” or a machine (writes a correspondent). At the Charing Cross Post Office there is a robot that will tell you the most amazing things. Should you be torn with sudden doubt as to the postage rate to • Jamaica, or the regulation size of a registered letter, all you liave to do is to press down a key, rather like a typewriter key, and 10, the information appears before you in plain print. It depends upon the button you touch whether you discover the price of a trunk call to Budapest, the telephone number of your worst enemy, or the fact that a savings back account “may be opened by anyone over seven years of age.” There is hardly 7 a detail connected with the varied work of the G.P.O. which is not at your command. This .wonderful machine —it is said to be the only one of Its kind in the world—is somewhat similar to those weird contraptions which adorn the pleasure piers of our seaside resorts. It stands over six feet in height and has a keyboard. /But whereas, at the seaside, you can place a penny in the slot, and see an execution or “The Drunkard’s Dream,” the Charing Cross automaton dispenses really usolul knowledge for nothing at all. The chief difficulty 7 at the moment is that the bona-fide inquirer is prevented from pursuing his investigations by 7 relays of small boy 7 s who derive endless amusement from tlieir orgies of button-pressing. Perhaps, when the juvenile element tires of this exciting occupation, the machine will be incepted at its true value, though, to be sure, it is only a postal and not a general adviser. It will not, for example, tell you the date of Julius Caesar’s death, or the name of th® win of the 1888 Derby.