Radio Digest (Nov 1930-Nov 1931)

Real Gypsy of the Tribe is arry ffoxXiok Famous A &f P Chief Knows His Romany Rovers Through Actual Personal Experience as Refugee from the Bolsheviks — Once His Violin Saved His Life as unruly Mob distrusted His Loyalty rHE streets of Petrograd were white with the deepest snow of winter. The dreamy old city lay under a fleecy blanket, quiet in I coma of hibernation. Peace there was, ■ rid hush, then out of the stillness the „ lany-echoed reports of guns, screams of i orror, rapine and murder! And the hite snow turned a brilliant red from Jie blood spilled in the name of Revo\ Jtion . I A regiment of soldiers had recently leen quartered in the city. Weary and figged from fighting the Turks in hisloric Crimea, they were now to have a law weeks respite. But at the clarion I all of Bolshevism they turned against le Czar they had been fighting for, and jok a lustful revenge from the Aristockv which had made them slaves. Restraint is not an easy lesson to learn, specially when a new world is to be had or the taking. The wild-eyed revoluionists saw freedom, and in the sweep nward painted the way with the blood f their victims and sang to the torured shrieks of the unfortunates who ell into their hands. Many were the deserters then; men ho had joined the Revolution because f ideals, but whose Utopian hopes had Don been shattered. A young soldier ■ as one of these; a music student from he Caucasus Mountain city of Tiflis. le had fought for the Czar, gladly joined he revolutionists and had been horrortricken at the wholesale bloodshed. )eath loomed ahead for deserters such s he, whether against the wall by a quad of comrades, or by the chill cold f that Russian winter. But, thought he dark haired, dark eyed youth, better :eath than such existence. On to Contantinople — on to freedom! The youth <By TED DEGLIN endured extreme suffering and privation, but was befriended by a band of Gypsies, and with their help finally made his way to freedom. The American Consul in Constantinople took an interest in the young man. Perhaps it was because he heard him play his violin in a cafe there. Perhaps it was the certain fire in this young man's eyes. At any rate, the Consul helped the deserting soldier achieve a lasting freedom by arranging for his passage to the United States. And now the dark eyed youth immersed himself entirely in music. The haunting memories of the months spent with the Gypsies, months of wanderings to the accompaniment of soul-stirring songs and dances, blended with the memory of hisstudies at the Conservatory at Tiflis. He created melody and introduced a new spirit to the country. People began hearing of him. Now millions know him and listen to the orchestra he directs over the NBC network. Harry Horlick, former soldier of the Imperial Russian Army, revolutionist and gypsy, has achieved tremendous success. ToDAY, as director of the A & P Gypsies, he is secure and firmly established, but the thought of those days of horror still remains with him. One incident he recalls with mingled emotions of pride and fear. One of the comrades, drunk, and lusting for the sight of more blood flowing in the "Cause of Freedom", questioned Horlick's loyalty to the new order. He called the young soldier an aristocrat because he always withdrew from the blood-spilling adventures. A few others of the ragged, dirty horde began muttering to themselves. It was a bitterly cold night, but a night without a breeze. The men were huddled about a fire fed with wood from the demolished palaces. Horlick knew his danger— these were creatures of instinct. Let the cry be taken up, and he was a doomed man. He admits that he was terror-stricken, but some instinct showed him the path to deliverance. Calmly, as though nothing were amiss, he took his violin which he had kept carefully wrapped in a dirty blanket, and began playing the folk-songs dear to the heart of every Russian. He motioned to a friend to start singing. All of the men were homesick to some degree, and the sound of familiar melodies caused a wave of feeling to come over them. One by one they joined in the song, and soon the entire encampment had taken up the tune. And Harry Horlick played his violin in tremulous happiness, blessing the instrument that had saved his life. A thrilling story it makes. Harry Horlick likes to reminisce of his adventures in Russia with the soldiers of the Czar; as a Comrade of the Revolution; with the peasants of South Russia; of his stay in Constantinople. Weekly he tells a new story, and he tells it with the words of music. As he directs the A & P Gypsy orchestra he tells of those bitterly cold nights around the Bolshevik camp fire. He tells of desperate encounters with the Turk. His orchestra repeats