Exhibitors Herald World (Oct-Dec 1930)

November 29, 1930 EXHIBITORS HERALD -WORLD 3S J. C. Jenkins — His Colyum GOODLAND, KAN. DEAR HERALD-WORLD: Say, what day of the month docs Christmas come on this year? We have been away from home so many times on Christmas that we have come to wonder if there is such a thing as Christmas anymore, and if we have a home. The reason we want to know about this is that we have a dozen or so big, fat mallard ducks in cold storge up in our town, and roast ducks on Christmas have got a turkey pushed clear off the roost, and the way our wife can roast mallard ducks is nobody's business. Now all of you boys who can keep sober on Christmas are invited to a roast duck dinner, and this includes the HERALD-WORLD staff and Doug Hodges, Larry Urback and Norm Krasna out in Hollywood, but you will all have to agree to stay out of our cellar. If the Hollywood boys will bring along our two good friends, Louise Fazenda and Irene Rich, it will suit us fine. And if the boys don't think the party will be lively enough, they might bring Polly and Marie, and if they don't like roast duck we will give them an Irish stew. Now, don't say you haven't been invited, and if you can't come you can send the money. That's fair enough, isn't it? * * * Norton, Kan., had the biggest day yesterday in her history, the occasion being the national corn husking contest, and it was reported that 30,000 people were in attendance. The newsreel boys were on hand with their cameras, and you will soon be showing pictures of this contest on your screens. We are sorry we were not in that contest, for we would like for you boys to have had a chance to see us throw corn. Back in Newton county, Indiana, in our palmy days, we were considered some corn husker. If we got an early start, we could always husk enough corn to feed the team at noon. A man couldn't get a room in Norton for love or money. We had to drive to Oberlin, 30 miles away, to find a room. A few days ago we fell in with Bob Ringler, who sells for United Artists. At Oberlin they put a cot in our room for Bob, and the next morning Bob said he liked to occupy the same room with us because it made him think of home. He said our snoring reminded him of the switch engine that makes up trains in the yard right by his residence. We tried to kick Bob in the stomach but he dodged us. As soon as we got over here to Goodland, Bob and Sprague went into executive session on United Artists service, and while Bob was drawing up a quitclaim deed for the Sherman theatre, Sprague was moving the furniture out of the United Artists exchange office preparatory to moving in. The battle was fast and furious, nothing but heavy artillery being used on either side, and it raged far into the night. We acted as chaplain and assistant stretcher bearer and powder monkey for both parties, and before the battle was over we hoped to be able to bury both of 'em. At 12:30 a. m., Sprague ran up the white flag, the firing ceased and an armistice was declared, and to celebrate the event, we went out and bought three amber-colored drinks (all soft), and then we all sang "Blest Be the Tie That Binds," and Sprague said "It will bind all right." We have mingled with these film hounds and exhibitors so long that we have reached a point where we don't know whether it is best to try and tell the truth or keep our mouth shut. But we have arrived at one conclusion, that old Ananias was a film hound, an ex hibitor, or a column writer for some magazine. We will bet a hundred dollars against Crocket Brown's bullfoundland pup, or Al Christie's skyoodle, that we are snowed in here for a week. There is a blizzard raging here this morning and we can hardly see across the street, and Myrtle, if you think we are going to buck snowdrifts without a snowplow on April Shower, you've stepped into the wrong garments. It's just our luck to be going wrong-end-to all the while, and yet some people say they would like to be a rambling correspondent. There's one born every minute. * % % Sprague recently returned from Denver, where a blacksmith took a pair of tongs and removed his tonsils. He had been told that a tonsil operation was synonomous to a Fourth of July celebration with ice cream, bands, fire-crackers 'n' everything, and he looked forward to the operation with much joy. But now he looks back with much murder in his heart. His description of his experience, as recited in an editorial in the Sherman Theatre Post, a house organ, reminds us very much of a fellow we once took through the Encampment degree. This chap was pretty nervous and was about to back out, but the boys told us to go out in the anteroom and quiet him down. We went out and asked him what was the matter, and he said he was not feeling very well and guessed he'd go home and come back some other time. We asked him if he had taken the Rebekah degree, and he said he had. Then we said, "Well, there's but very little difference. It's just about like that degree, and besides that, you needn't be afraid, for we will stay right by you all the while. And so we persuaded him to go ahead. After it was all over and we were in the anteroom taking off our regalia, this chap came out there and he looked at us like he wanted to shoot us, then he said, "Just like the Rebekah degree, eh? You stayed right with me all right, you — pusillanimous reprobate." Sprague's description of his tonsil operation has got Irwin Cobb's "SPEAKING OF OPERATIONS" looking like a Sunday school leaflet. He says that they X-rayed him from head to foot, and he says he is glad they did this because the X-ray disproved a commonly accepted notion with Sherman county people, that his gourd was solid ivory between the ears. He also says that the X-ray disclosed a lot of wheels, carburetors, spark plugs and emergency brakes that he didn't know he had. He says it also settled the question as to his politics, that since he saw what was inside of him he found he had been voting the wrong ticket. * * * Every once in a while we run into a real surprise in this business. We drove into Almena to call on Rabourn & Bennie, and they ushered us into the finest decorated theatre we have ever seen in any town of less population than 10,000. The Rabourn seats about 300, and that is about one-third of the population of Almena. If you want to see what a swell theatre looks like, it will pay you to drive to Almena and look this one over. The house has DeForest equipment, which is giving excellent results, and the theatre is enjoying good business, which proves what can be done with a small town theatre if properly equipped and properly handled. The reputation of the Rabourn is far from being local, as it draws patronage for miles around. * * * A couple of old-time scouts whom we list among our friends, are still operating the theatre at Oberlin. Beardsley & Stephenson enjoy the confidence of the community because of the splendid service they are rendering. Their sound equipment is giving universal satisfaction, as is evident at the box office. Oberlin has a new hotel and we are glad of it, because the other one burned a few years ago while we were asleep in it, and the next morning we went out and played golf with Stephenson and he beat us. j_ q JENKINS The HERALD-WORLD man. P. S.— The HERALD-WORLD covers the field LIKE AN APRIL SHOWER. I Skfm