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THE SUN, NEWBERRY. S. CL FRIDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1938 Their Political Fate in Hands of Voters r Communism, 1938 Variety National interest is centered on these men who seek the voters’ approval in hotly contested elections November 8. TOP ROW, left to right, Thomas E. Dewey, Republican district attorney of New York, pitted against Gov. Herbert Lehman, Democrat, in race for governor’s chair; Gov. George H. Earle of Pennsyl vania, ardent New Dealer aspiring to the senate, faces a stiff fight against a revitalized Republican machine; Californians chose Sheridan Downey as Democratic naminee for U. S. senator on the strength of his “$30 every Thursday” pension plan which, under political pressure, he later soft-pedaled. BOTTOM ROW, left to right, Leverett Saltonstall, Republican, opposes James M. Curley, Democratic nominee and former incum bent, for governorship of Massachusetts; Gov. Elmer Benson of Minnesota, Farmer-Labor champion, is op posed for re-election by Harold Stassen, Republican “left-of-center” candidate; Wisconsin’s Gov. Philip La Follette gives his new third party movement its first test at the polls when he comes up for re-election, with Republican opposition from Julius Heil. President’s Dream House Nears Completion Arriving at New York, John Strachey, leading British writer on communism, was notified that the state department had cancelled the visa he obtained before sailing from England to lecture in this country on socialism and communism. H< was not allowed to leave his ship. - American Commu nism of 1938 is less red-bearded than a decade ago, more over is a far less threat to national se curity than popularly supposed. But this does not minimise its importance in the American scene, as shown currently by the Dies congres sional committee’s investigation. To visit the stronghold of this party, one goes through the door at the left, seeing first a portrait of Lenin. Communism’s headquarters are in an unimposing ISete York building on Union square, where the party’s ranking officers preside, where communistic literature is published, where one tnay buy buttons and emblems. In the same neighborhood is the national Socialist party, bitter rival of the “hammer and sickle” fraternity. Above: files in Communism’s headquarters where are stored pam phlets on party, labor, peace, tear and other subjects. “Mother” of American Communism is Ella Reeve Bloor (left), who was the daughter of “a rich old Republican,” who began her career as a follower of Eugene Debs. Since then she has known picket lines from coast to coast, has been through some of industry’s bitterest strikes. General secretary of Communism is Earl Browder (right), who not only maintains his organisation, but strives to win new members. When not out of New York, he lives in Yonkers with his Russian wife and their three children. m&a Communists make much fun of the Dies investigation, which attempted to show America teas undermined by this menace. When the committee moved from Washington to New York, pretty girl communists chided congress men for believing a charge that Shirley Temple was innocently supporting Communism. When their pictures are taken, ardent Communists give the salute, as did Benjamin Sobel (left) when he told the Dies committee about his service with Spain’s loytdist army. Communism barks loudly, as shown by its many oublications. A Modem Para dise Regained 1 By eluott bhown © D. J. Walsh—WNU Service. I T WASN’T much of a quarrel- just a few bitter words strung together in angry haste; all about the bedroom walls. “Only forty dollars for such lovely paper; and it’s impossible the way it is!” “Forty dollars is too much; you’re paying for the man’s reputation!” “But any paper hanger would charge twenty-five—” “Well—I was brought up to realize that fifteen dollars was worth sav ing!” That was the beginning. As Ralph Brown, husband, closed the door, his ears were assaulted with this last Parthian shot: “If you are too stingy to support me in decency. I’ll go home!" The poison of the thing got into his system. He never used to wrangle with anyone. Since his marriage, a year ago, there had been too much of it; maybe, after all, fifteen dollars was a small con cession, but it was the principle of the thing! Barbara and he had different standards where money was con cerned. She wanted the best—or nothing. He would compromise by enjoying next-best! The word “stingy” in her ringing tones heckled him through his morning's work. He worried through till lunchtime. A bowl of delicious soup, a cool, refreshing salad perfectly served at his favorite restaurant, SHORT SHORT STORY Complete in This issue swept away the cobwebs. He would telephone Babs and tell her to order the paper. He would demonstrate that he wasn’t "stingy!” Whereupon, puffing at his good cigar, he reached for the telephone and then remembered that Barbara was due at a luncheon and bridge at one. He went back to the office with his peace of mind almost re stored. A client detained him and it was late when he got away. When he reached home the house was unlighted. He left the car in front and entered with his latchkey. Silence. Switching on the lights, he made his way to the kitchen. Or der prevailed. At this time of day he was accustomed to the inter esting clutter of a meal in the mak ing, to Barbara’s slender figure en veloped in cretonne over her pret ty dress, her bright head bent over some homely task, and to the sweet freshness of her kiss as she lifted her lips to his. She was always home before him. Ralph had a slight chill. He called her name loudly. Silence. Then, like an evil flash, came her Par thian shot and its concluding, “I’ll go home, Ralph Brown!” “Nonsense,” he exploded to the blank, listening walls. He went into the living room and tried to read. Impossible. Seven-thirty. Eight o’clock. Cast ing aside his pride, ha went to the telephone and called her nearest friend. “Selma, this is Ralph. What time did Barbara leave the bridge party today?” “Why, Ralph, I’ve been trying to get her all afterhoon. She wasn’t there.” Ralph hung up the receiv er with a terrible goneness in the pit of his stomach. Barbara had gone; her folks lived upstate—she had probably gone home. He couldn’t telephone them —his pride forbade. He must let her go. He sank into a chintz-cov ered chair and buried his face in one of her hand-made pillows. • Life without her unrolled before him like a distorted film. He finally arose and restored the room to such order as his clumsy masculine methods and nervous fingers would allow. She must have been in a ter rific hurry to get away, once she had decided to go. Probably rushed to get a trajn—or maybe she had driven all the way. He would go around to the garage and see if her car was gone. Bareheaded he ran out into the stygian darkness. “Oh, Lord,” he prayed, “send her back to me and I’ll never oppose her again!” which was a large order but came from the depths of his sick soul. He was about to retrace his steps, when a muffled sound and a slight creaking of the car body made him pause. Something was agitating it with a slight motion. Quickly he stepped inside, flashed on the lights and opened the car door. There lay Barbara, bound hand and foot with an oily rag gag ging her. \ A few seconds later she lay in his arms telling him in jerky sen tences about the ugly tramp that had lain in wait for her in the garage. “He took my keys and, oh Ralph, my lovely necklace,” she wailed. And the husband who, only a few hours before, had balked at $15, re plied lightly: “Pooh! What’s a diamond neck lace! I’ll buy you another tomor row with a giant police dog thrown in for good measure.” A hand-knit spread—a priceless gem! Here’s one of squares, so easy, anyone can knit it. Done on 2 large needles with 2 strands of string, there’s no increasing or de creasing. You’ll be pleased with it! Pattern 1820 contains direc tions for making the square; il lustrations of it and of stitches; materials required; photograph of square. Send 15 cents in stamps or coins (coins preferred) for this pattern to The Sewing Circle, Needlecraft Dept., 82 Eighth Ave., New York, N. Y. Please write your name, ad dress and pattern number plainly. Car of Death The automobile in which Arch duke Francis Ferdinand and his wife were assassinated in Saraje vo, Bosnia, in June, 1914, was in strumental in the death of 13 per sons in 12 years, finally being smashed beyond repair in Cluj, Rumania, in 1926. — Collier’s Weekly. No matter how many you have tried for your common cough, chest cold, or bronchial 1 . . . frrW tation, you may get relief now with Creomulsion. Serious trouble may be brewing and you cannot afford to take a chance with any r ' nature to soothe and heal the Inflamed mucous membranes and to don’t be discouraged, try Creomul sion. Your druggist is authorized to refund your money if you are not thoroughly satisfied with the bene fits obtained. 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