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68 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST February .3,1940 Pluto Made a Lamb Out of a Lion ... in ONE HOUR! BILL: Let's call it off! I feel like something MARY: Simmer down, dear.We still have two the cat dragged in...and this jungle getup hours before we have to leave. And a Pluto doesn't make me feel any better. highball will have you feeling worlds BILL: A laxative! One hour? Are you sure ? Remember . . . this is a masquerade we're going to. MARY: Yes, just give Pluto one hour and the rest of the evening will be yours. You'll see. MARY: Mr. Lion, you're having the time BILL: Mr. Lamb to you, darling. And you're Make a Quick Comeback... TAKE A i/EALTII HOLIDAY! AT FRENCH LICK SPRINGS HOTEL Amazingly low rate gives you meals, room with bath, daily 7 DAYS health bath, recreational ONLY privileges, and famous Pluto Water at its source. $4900 For a limited time only. Write today for details. FRENCH LICK SPRINGS HOTEL FRENCH LICK, IND. • T. D. TAGGART, Pres. Served by the Monon and Baltimore & Ohio Railroads Home of Pluto Water better in one hour. of your life. right. never let constipation slow me down again—now that I know about one- hour relief. Get Pluto Water at your druggist's today for real one-hour relief whenever you need a laxative. Two sizes, 25c and 50c; at soda fountains and bars ask for a Pluto Highball, 10c (2 ounces in a glass and add plain water). PLUTO Water From Famous French Lick Springs WHEN NATURE WON'T ... PLUTO WILL! THE W LIES N L UGHS (Continued from Page 17) because, after closing hours, the darkened interior of the pub gave forth Lord Hawhaw's painfully British voice saying: "Come, you chaps; let's have one for the road." Lord Hawhaw goes just about that far in his attempts to get clubby with his listeners. It has been reported, denied, and reported again that Lord Hawhaw is "the Officer in the Tower," Baillie- Stewart, a subaltern of proud lineage who was convicted of selling military secrets and imprisoned in .the Tower of London. After serving his time, Baillie-Stewart left England, and his whereabouts has been a mystery. Others insist that Lord Hawhaw is an expatriate member of Mosley's English Black Shirts. Whoever he is, the English consider him a good joke. They recently decided a Soviet mouthpiece was a fit companion for him in his peculiar peerage. This is Lord Booboo, also an Oxford-accented propagandist. Booboo specializes on Communist-angled news from Moscow. Apparently, the hope is that English Communists will rally around Booboo's bellowings. On this side, German-Americans of the kind who sign up with Fritz Kuhn's Bund probably listen religiously to the special programs which Berlin beams at Yorkville and points west. Certainly ardent Communists insist on getting the straight dope from the Soviet short wave, when they can. But, although 40 per cent of American radio sets have short-wave pickups, the general picture here is discouraging to the hard-working propagandists abroad. North Atlantic weather is their headache. When crack receivers with expert staffs, working for broadcasting companies, have trouble getting clear short-wave voice reception from abroad for days on end, what can the man in the average living room expect? Annoyed by the fact that only a delicate, elusive hairbreadth on the dial separates Berlin from Bedlam, he is likely to revert to Charlie McCarthy. The Happy Hunting Ground But where big-time newspapers are scarce and broadcasting scanty, propagandists abroad are likely to find a happy hunting ground. Although the Italians, the English and others worked on South America, the Germans have worked overtime there—and still do. Many small Latin-American newspapers, unable to afford international wire services, developed the technique of getting about half the front Page off the short waves from Europe — which was propaganda pie for the Nazis, of course. German broadcasts mix such items as the flag being half-masted on the Reichstag, because of the death of the president of Ecuador, with forebodings about the menace of the German-Jewish immigration to Brazil. The Nazi broadcasts also disparage the United States, whenever possible. However, since big-time American broadcasters began pouring very-highquality, short-wave news and entertainment in all directions and six languages, German short-wave stock in South America has slumped. The timeliness of American news broadcasts, whose short-wave staffs are made up of high-caliber newspapermen trained to city-room speed, is a great asset. The American companies separate en- tertainment and newscasts, playing square with listeners. News is broadcast objectively, with obvious propaganda peeled from it. Since the war has messed up the short wave from Europe, American broadcasts are highly valued. The National Broadcasting Company is especially proud of the fact that of the 4000 letters its short wave brings in each month, 2000 come from South America, where the radio shoe used to pinch Uncle Sam hardest. And that a fellow with a wooden leg in Portuguese East Africa walks three kilometers every evening to hear American broadcast news. Radio's Listening Post All such short-wave handouts get close and steady attention from governments, news commentators, internationally minded brainsmen in general. Alterations in the tone of radio propaganda often tell which way the international cat will jump well in advance of any other hints. When German short-wave abuse of Holland stopped short last November, while all other signs still pointed to imminent invasion, it was a good guess that the party was off. It probably means something that although Franco is supposed to be so sore about the Nazi-Soviet entente, Spanish radio propaganda is still violently kperoep-Nupazi. with war of lies and laughs, the Columbia Broadcasting System maintains a twenty-four-hour-a-day listening outpost, with crack linguists working in shifts to take down rough translations and summaries of the broadcasts in five or six languages. In a shack on a heavily wooded tract near Roosevelt, Long Island, a staff of technicians— Carl Schutzman, Edward Wolfe, Eugene Fubini, William Whitford and Robert G. Thompson, supervising engineer— operates in hermitlike isolation. The idea of isolation was to get away from the interference caused by New York City's noise and electrically operated machinery. It happened that Jack Norton, CBS assistant supervisor of master control, owned the wooded waste ideal for the purpose. A v-beam antenna that can be tuned to any frequency of a foreignstation broadcast, an RCA spider-web antenna, and an eleven-megacycle doublet have been erected on Norton's property. With this combination, the technicians, earphones clamped to their heads, can tune in on London, Paris, Berlin, Tokyo, or wherever. The New York Times, the New York Herald-Tribune, and the New York Daily News also maintain their own independent listening posts. Little goes out over the air from Europe without having been subtly or flagrantly angled to suit by expert warpers and twisters. This radio war is a battle royal, no holds barred, no fouls called. Each belligerent gouges the enemy with one hand while dragging neutrals in on his side with the other. Each neutral alternately takes a swift kick at a belligerent he dislikes and tries to wrench loose from the tooloving embrace of another belligerent whom he considers less hostile. That, of course, is a good description of the war in general. But its goofy and sinister qualities are clearest over the air, where issues are treated without having to filter through rewrite men and,


The_War_of_Lies_and_Laughs
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