• U.S.

Miscellany, Dec. 6, 1937

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In Wenatchee, Wash., Reporter Lynn Leonard signed up subscribers to a fund for the benefit of “the widow of the Unknown Soldier.” He had difficulty in persuading several not to force cash upon him at once.


In a Manhattan show of the Empire Cat Club, the Siamese Cat Society of America, and the American Mouse Fanciers’ Club, cats, mice and rats were reduced to an uncomfortable common denominator. To naive news reporters who supposed the show would be a one-sided Saturnalian feast, Rev. R. W. Ferrier of Stockport, N. Y., moving spirit of the Mouse Fanciers, boasted: “The rats and mice in this show aren’t nervous, as you sentimentally suppose.”

The show, however, had one crisis. From among 75 black, blue, red, chocolate, cinnamon, silver, champagne, fawn, and agouti-colored rats & mice, and from 150 white, blue-cream, smoke, red tabby, and tortoise-shell cats, a Siamese named Marvella and a fancy rat named Minnie were chosen to appear together in an amicable picture. When Cat Marvella reached out a tentative paw of friendship. Rat Minnie flew into a huff, sank her sharp teeth into the paw. Marvella whimpered, withdrew her foot.


After eight weeks of striking, during which they made bishops attending an Episcopal convention go without clean linen, laundrymen in Cincinnati hit upon a new weapon to bring their bosses to terms: they opened two co-operative laundries.


In 1923. Publisher Joseph Hamblen Sears (president, 1904-18, of D. Appleton & Co.. later head of his own firm) desiring a chef, saw an advertisement, called at the address given, met a short, stocky, quiet, efficient-looking servant, whom he hired on the spot. For 14 years in Mr. Sears’ Oyster Bay, L. I. home, Alfred Grouard was a faultless chef who in spare time read religious works, prayed, but never left the estate, never received a letter, visitor, telegram, telephone call. Year ago Alfred Grouard’s health failed, but when Mr. Sears called a doctor, Grouard refused to be examined. Last February. Mr. Sears rented a room for his servant in a boarding house nearby sent Grouard there for “a good rest ” Grouard never left the room. Last week when Landlady Theresa Harr found her boarder unconscious, she called two doctors: they told her that Alfred Grouard was: 1) dying. 2) a woman. Police identified her as one Lucy Hall, but no one knew what had become of the $16,000 Sears had paid her in 14 years.

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