Sport: Antique Legs

Southern California. The train escapes from bleak Nevada, climbs through red, grey, brown, purple mountains, drops gently into a valley, slides toward the Pacific. The air becomes mysteriously, sensually warm. Orange groves, green and gold, line the way. Umbrellas are stuffed under berths. Overcoats are donated to porters. Crutches are flung from car windows. Passengers stand and sing praise, a queer glint in their eyes. It is the air of Southern California.

Last week a cinema actor* crouched on a cinder track at Pomona, Calif. He had been called the world’s fastest human. A former Olympic star, he had burnt out, they said. Burnt or no, he would try again. Revolver barked; the cinemaman, sprang, antique legs hurled him onward. Paced by college lads he ran. Presently, head back, teeth set, he leaped through a tape. Timers announced that Charles Paddock (30-odd) had brought the world’s record for 250 metres from 31.2 seconds down to 27.6. Southern Californians were pleased. “It’s the air,” they explained.

*Recently co-star with romping cinema actress Bebe Daniels.