Exhibitors Herald and Moving Picture World (Apr-Jun 1930)

jne 7, 1930 EXHIBITORS HERALD-WORLD 91 OBERLIN, 0. DEAR HERALD-WORLD: This is the town that used to be known as the Northern terminal of the “underground railroad” and it was to this town that the colored people of the south wanted to get before the Emancipation Proclamation. You will recall that Eliza Harris was trying to get to this railroad that time when Simon Legree’s bulldogs chased her across the Ohio river on floating cakes of ice. We never had any use for that Simon Legree. He always impressed us as a pretty low-down, pusillanimous pup, and we never could understand why Harriet Beecher Stowe permitted that whelp to get into Uncle Tom's Cabin and mess things up as he did, but that wasn't what we wanted to tell you. This is the town where the Congregational college is located, and if Marjorie were here tonight she would likely say, “Come on, Dad, I want to take you over to the Campus Ice Cream Parlor and show you where I used to shoot a lot of your dough when I should have been working logarithms or trying to find out why I should be trying to learn Dutch and Latin.” From what we can learn, after putting 17 and 26 together and getting 64 as a result, her long suit was rooting for the home team at the football games. And how she used to shock the delicate sensibilities of the staid matrons of the college when she would rare up in the grandstand and yell, “Hold ’em, Oberlin, hold ’em! Hit ’em low and hit 'em hard!” And, “Come on, you dough-faced babies from Notre Dame and try and give our boys a workout!” And how it would amuse her to hear her prim and precise teachers say “My, my, her conduct is perfectly shocking. We must chide her for such boisterousness. She must be one of those cowgirls from out West that we read about.” * & * Yesterday we called on a theatreman in a town of 18,000 population where there are only three theatres in operation, one of which is open only on Saturdays and Sundays. This man’s theatre was located right in the heart of the business district. He showed us his books for the past njonth and there were only two days that showed a profit, not counting a salary for himself nor his wife. One day showed a profit of 95 cents and the other day $3.15. The balance of the month showed a loss of from $7.50 to as high as $35 for each day. Either business is bad or his books are liars. We are taking the books for it. When we get back home we are going to buy 300 pounds of Nebraska sowbelly, two bushels of beans and ten bushels of potatoes and tell our wife and Ruth that they will have to try and worry along with those until business picks up. There is one consolation about these hard times: It doesn’t affect the bullhead fishing, and this ought to satisfy Elmer Gailey at Wayne, and Andy Anderson at Detroit Lakes. The balance of us will have to be content with walleyed pike, black bass and trout. If we could take our fishing pole Back to “the dear ole swimmin hole,” We’d be as happy as a clam. For these hard times that make us blue (We feel quite free to say to you) We wouldn’t giveadam. * * * It just beats all what progress this country has made in the past few years. Not so very long ago the saloons had provided for their patrons what was known as the “family entrance,” but now all the family needs is the telephone number of the bootlegger. You can’t beat this country for progress, no way you can fix it. * * * We note that one of the big producing companies has had printed and is circulating a copy of what we said recently in this Colyum about one of their pictures. This is perfectly all right with us and we hope it does them some good, but so far as we know they have not thanked the HERALD-WORLD for it, nor written us and told us to go jump in the lake. Over at Niles, Mich., wq received a very nice letter from Miss Irene Rich, thanking us profusely for our comments on her picture, “They Had to See Paris,” whieh goes to show that there is as much difference in people as there is between the Republicans and Democrats. A1 Christie has never as much as said “Boo” to us for telling him how to get rid of the fleas on his airedale, and Tay Garnett hasn’t even thanked us for telling him how much hops and malts to use in five gallons of water. It seems that the more you do for SOME people the more apt you are to catch the itch. * * * We note that the Senate has placed a ban on the importation of obscene literature. This ought to stimulate considerable activity among the local talent out in Hollywood. * * * Isn't it a grand and glorious feeling to sit down to read Arthur Brisbane’s column and have someone turn on the radio and hear some yap say, “Good evening, friends. This is the Royal Salsoda hour for which you have no doubt been waiting, and the Royal Salsoda Silver Tongue Quartet will favor you with a most delightful program, but before they do we want to call your attention to the superior qualities of our Royal Salsoda as being superior to any other washing compound, etc., etc.” And, “If your grocer does not handle it you will be conferring a favor on him if you will kindly send us his name, etc., etc., etc.” Then the Royal Salsoda Silver Tongue Quartet sings, “Let My Love Be Your Garden of Roses” by that famous song writer, Ikey Reubenstein. We have always been considered as having a very mild and lamblike disposition but, by gosh, we have come to think that there is such a thing as justifiable homicide. And if we are ever called on a jury and they bring one of these Salsoda announcers or a dizzy song writer before us, it is just going to be too badi for him. * * * We have just come from a stroll on the campus and the intelligent looking young men and young women we met have made us wonder how long it would be until this country would be on a par with Russia were it not for the influence of our Christian colleges. The country that doesn’t pin its faith in, and trust its destiny to, some kind of a Supreme Being is doomed to disaster. This isn’t a sermon, it’s just a little good, hard sense. Think it over. * * * The guy who said there should be a law defining who was really the head of the family certainly hasn’t been a student of human nature. That question was settled when Eve made the mistake that has kept us in hot water ever since. Nobody questions it around our house. If Lady Godiva should walk down the streets of any of our towns now she would wonder why she maintained such an expensive wardrobe. Don't forget to run in that Abe Martin picture, George. J. C. JENKINS, The HERALD-WORLD man. P. S.— The HERALD-WORLD COVERS the field LIKE an APRIL shower.