Miscellany: Feb. 3, 1930

“TIME brings all things.”

Poor

To Cincinnati, Miss Florence E. Weaver bequeathed her estate of $609,000 providing that it first be held at accrued interest for 500 years. The eventual amount: 24 quadrillion dollars. The purpose: to house crippled children, build parks, aid “the poor of the Caucasian race.”

He-Locust

In Berlin last week an amorous he-locust was allowed to utter his mating call in front of a radio microphone. In another room the delicate sound was so perfectly reproduced and broadcast that a she-locust, duped, at once took wing, flew into the loudspeaker, bumped her head.

Bowler

In Milwaukee, one George Kinder began bowling in an alley. He bowled for 50 hours and 28 minutes, bowled 362 games, bowled 907 strikes, lifted 53 tons of balls, bowled an average score of 149 each game, beat the previous endurance bowling record by 31 hours, became World’s Marathon Bowling Champion.

Apology

In Manhattan, on the outside of an unfinished building, a mauve sign appeared inscribed with these words:

Our Sincere Apologies

To Our Neighbors

For the Unavoidable Annoyance

This Hammering Must Occasion

Tack

In Mount Morris, N. Y., a joker put a tack on the chair of Angelina Ceronit, who sat on the tack, squeaked, contracted blood poisoning, died.

Bass

In Santa Monica, Calif., swimming about in the surf, Albert Fuchs managed to catch with his hands and lug ashore a ten-pound, live silver-bass.

Journey

In Manhattan, 560-lb. Catherine Smith fell ill. She giggled when eight men carried her from her house, squealed when pinched in the entrance to an ambulance, grew morose when requested to sit on the floor of an emergency wagon, was carted to a hospital on the laps of two policemen.

Something

In Brooklyn, a vague person telephoned police headquarters. “There is something going on here,” he said.

Six plain-clothes detectives and four patrolmen went to investigate. Presently the vague person again telephoned police headquarters. “You’d better send more policemen,” he said, “there are a lot of men in the yard and they’ve got flashlights.” “They’re policemen,” he was told. “They’re not,” he retorted. “I can’t see any uniforms.” The detectives failed to discover “something going on.”