FROM THE WATCH TOWER

Sun (Auckland), Volume IV, Issue 1024, 15 July 1930, Page 8

FROM THE WATCH TOWER

By

“THE LOOK-OUT MAN.”

THE SILVER FIXING: We hear that across in Australia Affairs are beginning to droop. The Budget’s a bit of a failure: They’re up to their necks in the soup. Their spell of prosperity’s going; Financial distress is at hand. The deficit that they are showing Is all that the country can stand. A general gloom and depression Hangs o’er them from Sydney to Perth, And Parliament passes its session In looking like nothing on earth. But why should the Aussies be frantic, For what have they got to deplore. When Smithy can fly the Atlantic And Bradman is three thirty four? * * m PAKITI. HE FEARS MICE! Every man lias his particular hvtc noire. One writhes at the sound of a squeaky slate pencil, another is filled with horror at the sight of a spider or snake. Napoleon loathed cats, and the L.O.M. shudders at the sound of a child’s bare foot scraping on sandy asphalt. There are numberless examples of like peculiarities among great men, but the one that inspired this paragraph concerns Mr. Tom Alley. He fears and abominates rats and mice. If a rat or a mouse entered a ring wherein Alley was wrestling he would forget all about the light-heavyweight championship of the wrestling world that he holds. He Avould drop his opponent and fly for safety. He admits llt is himself. Once when Alley was staying at a certain hotel he was found standing on a chair in his room with the cuffs of his trousers hoisted high on his brawny legs. He asserted that he had seen a mouse under the bed. A search was made but the “mouse” turned out 10 be a grey feather that had moved in the draught from the door! m * • WRESTUNG TilClearly any prospective opponent of Mr. Alley can profit from this information. All lie needs is a couple of mice and a rat or so tucked in his belt and the bout would be his. At awkward moments the creatures could he released one by one and placed on the floor near Alley's face. This deadly aversion on the champion’s part is by no means merely a temperamental whim. When a boy he was severely bitten by a large rat that ran up one leg of his wide American overalls. His brother followed the rat with a clutching hand and grasped it. by (lie tail, but pulled so hard that the tail broke! After several exciting and painful minutes the boys managed to crush the intruder between Alley’s leg and a nearby wall, but the Incident made so deep an impression on his mind and. incidentally, liis leg that a rat or a mouse ever after remained and still remains anathema to him. 1 LIBRARY ISOOKKHELF On an obscure corner shelf in a certain city lending library stands a row of five dusty monuments to the fickleness of the reading public. For months they have stood there untouched. Each is labelled neatly: “All i Quiet on the Western Front."' When the "All Quiet” boom was heard in I Auckland, magnified by a City Coun-' cil ban. private libraries were inundated with demands for this war story. People visited the larger shops in droves, and all that many of them said was: “I want the banned book." Young men and old men; young women and old women; wise people and ignorant people—all wanted the "banned book." Doubtless the shops are still selling copies at the normal rate of book sales hut. in the lending libraries, the vogue has passed. All is indeed quiet on the shelf of the library that, last year, had difficulty in meeting the demand, even with five' copies in circulation. CENSOR'S DECISION On the other baud all is not quiet lit cinematograph circles to which the banning of the film version of Remarque’s novel has come as a bombshell. "All Quiet on the Western Front” in talking picture form may or may not be suitable entertainment, but the decision of Mr. W. A. Tanner, appointed guardian of the cinemagoing public’s morals, raises once more an interesting question. On what does Mr. Tanner base his code of censorship? Does he possess a more or less official list of "must nots” with which to check a film as It is being shown, or does he view a film in its entirety and then say to himself- "X don’t think I liked that at all 1 shall ban it”? In the silent film days the censor analysed his emotions as the reels unwound and whenever he saw a scene to which lie took exception ho l-aised his hand, whereupon the operator slipped a tab of paper in the winding spool. At the end of the picture the film was cut at each point so marked. A peculiar occupation, film censoring. It is like taking a forbidden plaything from a baby. It is easy to do, and you feel quite important doing it, but you must remember that the .baby’s subsequent howl can become embarrassing.