Swing (Feb-Dec 1951)

Record Details:

Something wrong or inaccurate about this page? Let us Know!

Thanks for helping us continually improve the quality of the Lantern search engine for all of our users! We have millions of scanned pages, so user reports are incredibly helpful for us to identify places where we can improve and update the metadata.

Please describe the issue below, and click "Submit" to send your comments to our team! If you'd prefer, you can also send us an email to mhdl@commarts.wisc.edu with your comments.




We use Optical Character Recognition (OCR) during our scanning and processing workflow to make the content of each page searchable. You can view the automatically generated text below as well as copy and paste individual pieces of text to quote in your own work.

Text recognition is never 100% accurate. Many parts of the scanned page may not be reflected in the OCR text output, including: images, page layout, certain fonts or handwriting.

380 MAN OF THE MONTH {Continued from Page 371) man who, as Elmer Davis said, "had seen poHtics, and politicians, in ac tion." Mr. Haskell knew all the tricks of the trade, as no ivory-tower scholar could ever know them. Fm glad that Agnes Lee Haskell traveled every step of the way with her editor 'husband, from their first glimpse of the Pont du Gard at Nimes, where the adventure began, through the presentation of "modern politics in a Roman Toga." It was a noteworthy companionship. Mrs. Haskell's death occurred in 1946. I CALLED on Mr. Haskell, one evening in June, thinking it would help me in the writing of this article. I did not consider this an interview. I knew better. You would get about as far as in those verses the Knave of Hearts said he didn't write. Mr. Haskell "gave me a good character, but said I couldn't swim;" or words to that effect. My escorts were two young men, friends since their days in the Na\'y. We sat a while in the living-room, waiting for the return of Mr. Haskell and his out-of-town guests. We admired the Siamese gold and black cabinet in one corner of the room, the 18th century breakfront in another; and identified from a safe distance some of the Spode and Lowestoft. We enjoyed the photographs on the piano; a large one of Mr. Nelson and a slightly smaller one of Andy, the Scottie, who romps through paragraphs of Mr. Haskell's Random Thoughts, which since 1932 have been our Sunday morning treat. (Aside to August, 1931 Mr. Haskell: It was Tom Masson who told the story which ended with the comforting words, "No, young man, you have done quite enough." ni recite it, next time we meet.) "Let us go into the library," said Mr. Haskell, on his return; and we entered that friendly room. We saw pictures of the editors who have been Mr. Haskell's friends. We were shown treasures and possessions. The Swiss typewriter, on which he wrote The Hew Deal in Old Rome. (I picked out for my own private enjoyment four tiny Roman soldiers, each horse and rider mounted on a little block; the letters spelled ROME.) An early 19th century silhouette of a Haskell grand-uncle (I think). A scholarly working library for the book on Cicero, including the 17 biographies of Cicero which preceded Mr. Haskell's: a row of volumes collected with something of the toil Virgil claimed for the founding of the Roman line. The two massive volumes of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, each one adorned with the postagestamp Haskell bookplate. A quick turning of pages gave us a chance to read the famous definition of "oats." Mr. Haskell wore his usual muted gray; his necktie had a narrow diagonal stripe of red. Books were everywhere. Our host moved about his special domain, with me wondering how I could remember all the delightful details and knowing that I couldn't; and my escorts silently absorbing as much as they could. None of the things we saw (except the 17 biographies of Cicero, cherished like a string of matched pearls) (Continued on Page 384)