Paramount Pep-O-Grams (1927)

■****. Published by and for the Members of the Paramount-Pep Club. Vol. 4 No. 11 September 11, 1928 and of course they said they just knew they were going to have the most wonderful time in the world at the Inaugural Dinner. They then went on to speak most eloquently of the candidates for election to the Club’s new administration, and commenced laying playful wagers as to whether the Club’s membership would register a one hundred percent vote on September 25th There were no wagers laid because both wanted to make the same bet. After that there was an unnatural silence for about three seconds, the Blonde’s voice breaking it when she said “Oh, but my dear, have you been down to the new barber shop yet?” And she proceeded on and on with semi-confidential matters which have no place here. Of course the Brunette-Who-Wasn’t-Always-ABrunette had her couple of words to say every once ir. a while. It seemed that she was trying to say something about an airplane ride, but as we didn’t catch all of the conversation, and didn’t even catch her name, we couldn’t add her to the list of air-minded Paramounteers. We did get the idea, though., that if Pep-O-Grams could get just one quarter of all of the potential news items which occur, but are never reported, we would be able to bring it out in five editions a day, every day, and probably pulverize the combined circulations of the New York Times, Women’s Wear and one or two other financial sheets. But before we tackle that job let us get the Anniversary Number of Pep-OGrams out of the way. It’s going through the works now, and a lot of important literary people — probable everybody with the exception of George Bernard Shaw, Gene Tunney and Harry Hershfield — have been invited to contribute articles or whatever else their facile pens contrive under the guidance of their nimble brains. We are paying for contributions this year : giving a year’s subscription to Pep-O-Grams to all contributors whose creations reach first of all the linotype machine and later on the editor's proof sheets. After such proof of magnanamity we hope never more to have it said, in disparaging voice, that our home was in the Highlands. And while we’re thinking of Europe we are reminded that the Paramount vacationists are flocking home from the Continent. Even in this issue we find news items written from the other side of the Atlantic by Pepsters who have since gotten back, dusted off the desk, and wondered how they were going to pay the light and rent bills with what was left after that Cherbourg tip. (In addition, they had to borrow money to pay taxi fare from Pier 54 in New York City: but they saw Europe — ah, how they saw it!). And when they got back what did thev find? — why they found that the good old Two-Can-Live-Cheaper-Than-One Doctrine was even more popular than the Monroe Doctrine, and on every hand and all sides the Pepsters were getting married. June it seems has been deposed by September, possibly because it is said that Canada looks her best in September. That is, if one wants to honeymoon in Canada. We heard two girls talking about this thing in the subway. We didn’t see their faces, but we are sure that they must have been Paramount-Pep Club members because each was carrying a copy of The American Mercury, and one of them had a badly dog’s-ear-marked copy of Professor Macfadden’s “Psychopathic Psychology of Neurotic Neurosis” (at least that’s what it looked like through the aroma of hamburger and limburger in the basket of the lady next to our correspondent). Then they started talking about something else before finishing their first subject, and after that something else again, after the manner of girls: and then the destination of our correspondent sidled up against the train and he left, making his way up to the Crossroads of the World, because he had copy to turn in so that Pep-O-Grams might at least startle the natives by appearing on time. There really isn’t much to this page beyond an attempt to show you just how life is. It is just what the perfect play should be like — starting in out of nowhere, and dashing off again into nowhere. It is as the words of a popular song say — “We come into this world without asking, and we leave without wanting to go.” Stories should be like this, too, and so should those things that