The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET. AUCKLAND SATURDAY, MAY 3, 1930 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 962, 3 May 1930, Page 10

The Sun 42 WYNDHAM STREET. AUCKLAND SATURDAY, MAY 3, 1930 THE SPIRIT OF THE AGE

IS it better to be a dishonest rogue given to generous charity “ than an honest man as mean as Scrooge before a ghost frightened him into munificent goodness? This question has been hurtling from sunrise to sunset throughout the United States and decorating the newspapers with headlines and piquant philosophy. So far, the answers, though inclined toward honesty, have not been conclusive. That there should he any doubt at all is probably attributable to the influence of the spirit of the age and the glamour of successful dishonesty which, in America, as everywhere else, finds much favour. The poser has been raised by the adulation bestowed on the most populajj idol of Chicago. This is a gentleman of adventure with the esoteric name of Alphonse Capone, but exotically known as “Scarface Ah” Mr. Capone is a prince of the royal blood in the underworld of a city that has become notorious for gunmen and a democratic mayor with the biggest mouth in all the Americas. The amazing rascal began his career as the keeper of a house of ill-fame, rather a sordid beginning for a wealthy crook who has become the central figure in a new philosophy. Some time ago he was released from a ten-months’ residence in the Eastern Penitentiary at Philadelphia, where, in rare comfort, he enjoyed sanctuary from the guns of inhospitable gangsters. Scarface relished imprisonment, and made good use of the period of refuge. In the summer lie played baseball in the yard and improved physically by the exercise. During incarceration the flashy criminal acquired some fame for his open-handed generosity. He gave away to charity the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars. In any case, when the time came for Scarface Al’s release, a multitude of citizens-besieged the prison-door in the hope of seeing a real bad man. The good citizens of Philadelphia were disappointed. Mr. Capone was smuggled out to freedom and a blaze of publicity that might well have been envied by the brightest stars at Hollywood. He returned in triumph to Chicago, where he was welcomed as a rich business man, “who wears clean linen, rides in a Lincoln ear, leaves acts of violence to hirelings, and dotes on a youthful heir noted for his gentlemanly manners.” Such is the Big Fellow whose confederates can brag of possessing a nine-hole golf course, a club “that sleeps twenty-six gentlemen,” a fleet of Rolls-Royces, and can afford on occasions, when a rival gangster shoots one of them into a worse world, to furnish the coffin with a fifteen thousand dollar spread of orchids. Perhaps it is not surprising that the good people who still dwell in the United States are wondering whether honesty, after all, is really the best policy, and whether there is more fame and fortune to be gained in crime than in preaching idealism and creating world peace pacts. There is neither doubt nor dismay in Scarface Al’s philosophy. In his own cynical phrase, “it’s bootleg when it’s on the trucks, but when your host hands it to you on a silver tray, it’s hospitality.” By the practice of that cynicism, in which unfortunately there is too much truth, he has amassed a fortune. His income has, become the subject of scrutiny by the taxation authorities. Where the carcase is there will the vultures be gathered together. He is a conspicuous mark for an adoring country, being described as a sporty dresser wearing flashy diamonds, and a rose in his lapel. Moreover, he rarely ever travels alone. A swarthy Sicilian bodyguard is never far away from the man who bestows twenty-dollar tips on tradesmen. With the exception of one slip—the minor offence of packing a gun—the generous owner of a white house with a nile-green tiled roof always has been able to evade the brand of legal guilt. The spirit of the age may be assailing the merit of honesty, but it need not yet be feared that it will succeed in making dishonesty the best policy. There always has been a sneaking fondness for the triumphant criminal who gets away with a fortune, and there also ever has been a sentimental admiration for the generous bandit. This world appears to have succeeded in eliminating hell from the next, but it is not yet too sure about the nature of punishment that may await so many hypocrites and evil-doers. Since Socrates has been given a prominence by politicians in the Parnell political gun-fight perhaps his philosophy should be pondered by bad men. Just before the Grecian sage drank the cupful of poison he said: “I am persuaded that my death, which is now just coming, will conduct me into the presence of the gods, who are the most righteous governors, and into the society of just and good men; and I derive confidence from the hope that something of man remains after death, and that the condition of good men will then be much better than that of the bad.” No doubt about it; Socrates still is a wiser philosopher than “Scarface Al.”