The international photographer (Feb-Dec 1929)

The INTERNATIONAL PHOTOGRAPHER Thirty-nine ocle, was rather drab, there seems to be no dearth of "characters" in the Socialist one. There is, to begin with, Thomas, whose blatantly plebeian outlines, unconcealed by the inevitable dress suit, are to the cartoonist an inexhaustible source of mirth. Thomas, who is said to have told an after-dinner audience how the policeman on duty in Downing Street took him for a plumber instead of his Majesty's Home Secretary, appears even funnier now, decked out with feudal title of Lord Privy Seal. He is, incidentally, one of the best after-dinner story tellers in England, and at his best when the laugh is on himself. The expensive cigar is as much of a trade mark with him as the homely pipe is with Baldwin. He doesn't mind being taken for a plutocrat or even a parvenu. Clynes is the opposite type of self-made man — the class-conscious type. This little man, white-haired and white-mustached, bristles with importance and with zeal for his own kind. He was one of seven children of an Irish laborer in the Oldham slums, and the outstanding memory of his youth is how he spent six cents a week on candles learning words out of the dictionary. He organized the Lancashire Gas Workers' Union and is still president of the National Union of Municipal Workers. He is fond of uttering weighty epigrams like "Life is higher than constitutions and constitutions must be adapted to preserve it," but manages to get himself taken seriously most of the time. His self-sacrifice in favor of party peace, which raised MacDonald to undisputed leadership, has earned him the undying gratitude of the party. Tom Shaw, the new Secretary for War, is hardly less picturesque than Thomas. He is a large, burly North Country man with a big, booming voice. As organizer of the textile workers he is primarily interested in his own kind, but he has an international outlook and is a favorite in the House. When he was Labor Minister in the last Socialist Government he countered criticism with the remark: "I can't produce rabbits out of a hat." Another real "character" is that new recruit to the party, Lord Justice Sankey, now Lord Chancellor. He is a bachelor, aged sixty-two, and has been a lawyer and a judge all his life. He never bothered about politics and spends his spare time tramping over the Surrey Downs, of which he knows every inch. His dress suggests a tramp rather than a High Court judge. When on assizes he was always known to walk into town, having got off the train eight or ten miles out. He is never in a hurry but always on time. Sankey came into national prominence as chairman of the National Coal Commission of 1919 and showed his independence by rendering a minority report signed only by himself. It advocated the nationalization of the mines. A Leader of the Bar In violent contrast to him is that other recruit to Socialism, W. A. Jowitt, the new Attorney General. At forty-four Jowitt is not only the acknowledged leader of the English bar but its handsomest ornament. He is one of those creatures on whom the gods shower all their gifts — beauty, wisdom and wealth. The prequisites of the Attorney General's office are in the neighborhood of $200,000 a year, yet Mr. Jowitt is said to be "sacrificing" a more lucrative practice to his political career. He is probably the subtlest cross-examiner in Britain, and his selection as the Crown's chief advocate is a very popular move. Incidentally, he will give the Tory debaters in the House their money's worth. The oldest member of the new Government is Sidney Webb, one of the pioneers of English Socialism and the party's great theorist. He and his wife, Beatrice Webb, the "ideal couple" of politics, who alreadyfigured prominently in H. G. Wells' novel, "The New Machiavelli," personify the intellectual side of England's radical movements during the last fifty years. Thev are so inseparable that somebody suggested that Webb's title, when raised to the peerage (as he will be), should be Lord Sidney of Beatrice. The seat, at any rate, will be occupied by "the Webbs." The two "swells" of the Government who carry their past most lightly — almost flippantly — are Lord Thomson and Sir Oswald Mosley, husband of Lady Cynthia and one of the richest men in the House. Lord Thomson was a brigadier general, and his father was a prominent soldier before him. He comes of died-inthe-wool Tory stock and finds zest in living it down. He smiles — or winks — whenever he is addressed as "my Lord" and takes particular pleasure telling about the snobs who simply won't understand that "I'm no blooming, bloodv lord." Oswald Mosley, who once said he wouldn't use his title when he got it, is now always ostentatiously referred to as "Sir Oswald Mosley, Bart." With his thirty-two years, his slender figure and fetching little mustache, he is sure to be one of the brightest ornaments of the front bench, and in the ornamental office of Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster he is not likely to have to stand much cross-fire from the Tory questioners. Not that he couldn't. He and Lady Cynthia will be the cleverest as well as the handsomest couple in Parliament. The first and only woman in the Cabinet, Miss Margaret Bondfield, a kindly, motherly looking woman of fifty-six, is sure to come in for a lot of this criticism and questioning, and it will be difficult for cartoonists to resist the gibes that the unprecedented figure of a lady Privy Councilor suggests. Already they are busy suggesting a female uniform which will be in line with the traditional cocked hat, gold-incrusted tail-coat and knee breeches of that ancient dignity. What is to be done? But Margaret Bondfield in Downing Street is worrying about other things. On her first day of office she surprised the permanent officials and clerks by getting down to work before they had arrived, and within two days she had sent orders to Geneva to ratify the Washington eight-hour convention, held up by the Conservatives for years. Margaret Bondfield started life as a store clerk and continued to be one for eleven years. But during that time she organized the store clerks of Britain into a big union and soon figured as labor delegate to the United States, France and Russia. Of all the people at the Labor Ministry she knows what labor is. A simple, shy, homely, businesslike woman. Sports of 659 GOLF TOURNAMENT SET FOR SEPTEMBER 8 BIGGEST EVENT IN HISTORY OF LOCAL EVERYBODY ENTERING— WONDERFUL PRIZES WATCH SCHWAB'S SHOW WINDOW All right boys, here's the dope I promised in last issue about this Golf Tournament of ours. Believe me, the prizes are just rolling in and it does my heart good to see how everyone is taking to it. I don't believe we are going to have a slacker in the organization and, to make a huge success of this annual pastime, a lot of boys are starting to handle golf clubs that never had one in their hands before. In all seriousness this is going to be one of the greatest events in the life of Local No. 659, that is, in the sports line. Now, as to the prizes, I'm not permitted to tell just what they all are at present, but I'll mention one or two just to make things interesting. As to Low Gross prize I might state that a beautiful perpetual trophy will hang on the walls of the organization from now on and the name of the winner of each annual tournament will be inscribed thereon. That is just a feeler for you to go on. Also, some beautiful prizes from E. O. Blackburn, of J. E. Brulatour, Inc., Eastman distributor; Smith & Aller, Dupont distributors; King Charney, Agfa distributor; Dore Schwab Clothing Store; Mitchell Camera Company; Roy Davidge Film Laboratories, and many other firms of Hollywood. All prizes will be on display, thanks to Mr. Schwab, in the Schwab Clothing Store window, the week prior to September 8, the date set for the tournament. Oh, yes, I forgot to tell you the date has been advanced by the golf committee on account of Labor Day being a double holiday. Now listen fellows, I'm going to let you in a little secret, and don't want you to tell a soul. King Charney, of Agfa; Wesley Smith, of Dupont; E. O. Blackburn, of Eastman, are going to play in a foursome with the other member, a 659 man, to see that these three worthies do not fail to count any strokes and to see they play according to rules. I'm sure these gentlemen are friends now and we want them to continue to be so. Now here's the gag. The loser of this match is to pay for the refreshments and lunch. How's that? In speaking of these players I know that Blackburn and Smith both play a mean game of golf, but I'm figuring Charney as a winner. Of course this is very confidential so don't breathe it to a soul. There will be boys around the studios with blanks to fill out for entries and handicapping to take care of the boys who have not had the chance to get in to the office. Here's to the success of our first annual tournament. P. S. — (Pretty swell). All about baseball in the next issue.