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11'1'14'1,ESLOGAN CLENDENING

LOUIS ZARAJOHN KOBLER

HARRY SALPETER0. ARRINGTONJOHN R. WATT

MILTON S. MAYERJAMES SMITHSON

CHARLES J. DUTTON

F14"114INMANUEL KOMROFF

JESSE STUARTARTHUR DAVISON FICKE

LYNN MONTROSSMICHAEL FESSIER

WILL GIBSONHARRY SYIVESTER

GROSVENOR CROSSTIM PRIDGEN

THOMPSON YOUNG

'F'

PAUL CADMUSMAHMOUD 5rAID BEY

SAT' ELOUIS PAUL

PARKE CUMMINGSBERNARD KELLY

I'D ET It IVWILBERT SNOW

S ICI'SMILTON HOLMES

LEO FISCHEREDW. C. CROSSMANCHARLES 6. ROTH

DEPARTMENTSGEORGE JEAN NATHAN

GILBERT SELDrSBURTON RASCOECARLETON SMITH

MEYER LEg1:1MURDOCK PEMBER ONA. de SAKHNOFFL":Y

4' 111'410:NSE. SIMMS CAMPBELL

GILBERT 3UNDYGEORGE PETTYJARO FABRY

McKAYHOWARD BAER

PAUL WEBR.ABNER DEAI. SHERMUND

ROBERT HOLLEYRODNEY de SARRO

A. VON FRANKENBER!COVEN,

:NDEX Or PAGE 5

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Ialy. 1937

Editedby

ARNOLD GINGRICH T II E M A 4: .% ZINE FOR MENPublishers:

DAVID A. SMARTWu. H. WEINTRAUB

.T

Reproduction or use, without express permission, of editorial or pictorial content, in any manner, is prohibited.Entire Contents Copyright 1937 by Esquire, Inc., in the United St nd Canada. All Rights R d. Title Registered U. S. Pat. Off.

Contents forARTICLES Page

July. 1937PERSONALITIES Page

The Facts of Life Anonymous 35 Mussolini of Music (James Petrillo) Milton S. Mayer 60The Uses of Exercise Logan Clendening 42 Paul Cadmus: Enfant Terrible Harry Salpeter 105Why Have Chaperones? Anonymous 51Wholesale Poisoner Charles J. Dutton 58Murder Is a Minstrel John Kobler 63 PICTORIAL FEATURESRattlesnakes in the Bag 0 Arrington 66Is the Wind Not Free? John R. WattAssistance Flight James SmithsonThe Flying Codonas Louis Zara

707494

Cover Design A. Von Frankenberg(Direct Color Process by Rosenow)

Women of Egypt Paintings by Mahmoud Said Bey 55The Phantom Corsair Designed by Rust Heinz 84Jean Parker Photograph by Hurrell 95Claire Dodd Photograph by Hurrell 96Paintings and Etchings by Paul Cadmus 106

DEPARTMENTSCorrespondence: The Sound and The Fury 10 POETRYContributors: Backstage with Esquire 22The Lively Arts: That Was Woollcott Speaking...Gilbert Seldes 79 Cod -Fishing Wilbert Snow 68Music: Roulades and Cadenzas Carleton Smith 82 (Drawing by Eric Lundgren)

Books: Esquire's Five -Minute Shelf Burton Rascoe 87Movies: The Candid Cameraman Meyer Levin 97 SATIREPotables: Punch and Duty Murdock Pemberton 98Theatre: First Nights & Passing Judgments George Jean Nathan 101 I Ain't No 0. Henry Louis Paul 39

Technical Fashions: Modern Swimming Pool A. de Sakhnoffsky 114 The Old Raid Mule John Bell Clayton 47Color Rides the River Parke Cummings 76The Lone Black Ball Bernard Kelly 88

FICTIONThe War and Cousin Lum Jesse Stuart 36

SPORTSA Wife's Tale Will Gibson 40 Tennis from Bustles to Shorts Milton Holmes 54The Whole World Is Outside Manuel Komroff 45 Not So Soft Ball Leo Fischer 73Beauty at Tea -Time Arthur Davison Ficke 48 Your Hunting Rifle Capt. Edw. C. Crossman 85Sob Story's Progress Michael Fessier 52 Keep the tamp Fires Burning Charles B. Roth 91Everyone's a Suspect Tim Pridgen 57One -Eyed Jacks Wild Lynn Montross 64Portrait of an Artist Thompson Young 69 TRENDS IN DRESSI Won't Do No Dive Harry Sylvester 80 Picturing the New Clothes and Accessories in SketchesA Doctor's Story Grosvenor M. Cross 92 by Peters, Saalburg, (lrafstrom, and Fellows beginning on page 124

Art Directors: ERIC LUNDGREN, TONY PALAZZO

Use of any person's name i n fiction, semi -fictional articles or humorous features is to be regarded as a coincidence and not as the responsibility of Esquire. It is ncier done knowingly.

Sing a songof summer time

This is ESQUIRE'S fourthJuly. In July a measurableproportion of advertiserstake to the tall timber,

not to come out into the open again until theleaves begin to turn, and most magazines enterthe summer of their discontent with the editorialmenu reduced to famine porportions, resulting insummer editions so light that they could hardlyserve as paperweights. Not so with this one. Youcould use this issue as a doorstop. This July forthe fourth time, our song of the season is Keepthe Quantity Up.

Thought flieseast of Miami

Speaking of songs of the sea-son, two words in this month'sfashion pages tickle the solesof our feet, and set us dancing

with that old itch to get away from it all. Thosetwo little words are Bimini Blue. Boy, to be inBimini, now that July is here. That's when thebig ones come to Bimini. And they don't comeany bigger anywhere. Bimini Blues by the gospelof pages 124 and 170 is the color of a dinghy suit,a jumper affair resembling abbreviated pajamas,and very nice, too, for lounging about the beachor boat or boardwalk. But Bimini Blue in ourmemory book means blue water, bluer thanyou've ever seen anywhere, and blue marlin, big-ger and blacker than you'd believe. They lookthe size of tank cars when they first clear thewater after they've been hooked. Kip Farringtonsays there'll be more record fish taken there inthe next ten years than anywhere else in theworld. We couldn't know about that, becausethe best we've done so far is lose them. Butseeing them come out of the water like flyingsubmarines is thrill enough. And it's better to

lose 'em in Bimini than catch 'em anywhere else.

Getting at thefacts of life

To get our minds back onour work, we recommend toyour considered and carefulattention the thesis in this

issue, beginning on page 35, devoted to a seriousthough far from solemn study of The Facts of Life.Don't let the forbiddingly scientific aspect of thecharts scare you off this piece of homework. Ifyou persist and follow the results of the researchdone by this anonymous (for darn good reasons)author, as developed out of statistical tabulationof 138 case histories, you will learn, perhaps toyour surprise, that "the average girl goes on herfirst date when she is fifteen years old. She iskissed for the first time within a very few months,and receives her first proposal at eighteen, eitherin an automobile or in a living room. The pro-posal occurs in the spring of the year at ten o'clockin the evening. She is married at twenty-three.Three times out of four, she is not a virgin, havingbeen seduced at the age of seventeen by a man oftwenty-five whom she had known less than a year,as the result of a heated petting -party stimulatedby liquor. Her seduction took place in the spring,at eleven p. m., in an automobile or a living room.If she was never subjected to any penalty, thechances are that she never regretted her seduction,and the probability is that she remained faithfulafter marriage, except for one or two missteps."

Life and death And now, please, may wehere flatly and finally denythat the first issue of ESQUIREis worth three thousand dol-

lars? May we also, while we are at it, deny that

of two rumors

the first issue of CORONET IS worth three hundreddollars? Hardly a day goes by that we don't getletters, a week that we don't get telegrams, tendays that we don't get long distance calls, all inexcited inquiry about these two perennial rumors.When we explain that the sale of the first issue ofESQUIRE exceeded a hundred thousand copies,and most people saved 'em, you can readily seehow stupid the three thousand dollar a copylegend is. Assuming that only half of them arestill in existence after three and a half years, thatwould still mean a total valuation of $150,000,000.The putative three hundred dollar a copy valua-tion of the first issue of CORONET is equally cock-eyed, as there were well over a quarter of a millionof those sold, and after a mere eight months theremight easily be two hundred thousand still ex-tant. Ergo, a $60,000,000 total price tag on thatitem. Now as far as we know there's no first issueof any magazine worth more, as a collector's itemat today's prices, than around seventy-five dol-lars. Yet we have heard in recent months ofcopies of the first issue of ESQUIRE being sold foras high as a hundred and fifty. The only possibleexplanation is that somebody, banking on thatnine -lived rumor about the three thousand dollarvalue, was willing to go as high as a hundred andfifty only because he was sure he was putting overa fast one and could turn over the deal at a profitof $2,850. Here's hoping that all such purchasershave to eat their copies to get rid of them. Thevalue of a copy of the first issue of ESQUIRE, as acollector's item, is actually about twelve dollarsand a half. About two years ago, when it washovering around five dollars, we bought up a suf-ficiency of those copies, for file and binding pur-poses, at that price. We don't want any more, noteven for nothing. We're sick of the whole sillybusiness.

ESQUIREJuly, 1937

T. 34.Res.

ESQUIRE is published monthly by Esquire. Inc. David A. Smart. President; Arnold Gingrich, Vice -President; Alfred Smart. Secretary and Treasurer. Editorial. Cir- Vol.VIII.No.1culation. Business and Production Departments. 919 North Michigan Avenue, Chicago, Illinois. Entered as second class matter at Post Office at Chicago, Illinois. Whole No. 44Dec. 15th. 1933. under the Act of March 3rd, 1879. Manuscripts and drawings must be accompanied by postage or by provision for payment of carrying charges if theirreturn is desired in the event of non -purchase, but no responsibility will be assumed for loss or damage to unsolicited materials. Advertising offices. 366 Madison T. M.Avenue, New York, N. V. Subscriptions for one year payable in advance, in the United States and possessions. Cuba. Mexico. Central America and South America. $5.00; ReCanada, $5.50; elsewhere. $7.50. Notices of changes of address must be received one month before they are to take effect. Both old and new addressesshould be given. -'

60 ESQUIRE

Mussolini of MusicLocal Union No. ID wagsbait a club till .linens

nothing,Petrillo

seen an opening for a mitart iii

by MILTON S. MAYER

TIMMY PETRILLO sat behind his Florentinedesk in his bullet-proof office and ex-

plained his new ruling. Hereafter, said Jim-my, no radio station may broadcast anyrecording made by members of the ChicagoFederation of Musicians without paying asmany musicians as were used to make therecord. And the Federation's board of direc-tors-which is Jimmy-is prepared to en-l'orce the ruling.

"It's this way," saidJimmy. "The averageband receives in theneighborhood of $1,500for a recording. By thetime the record has beendiscarded it has wiped outaround $1,500,000 worthof business for livingmusicians. Can anyoneexplain why musiciansshould help destroy them-selves? Hey?"

When Jimmy gets goingon the subject of record-ings, explaining is out ofthe question. "Mr. Canned Music" (Jim-my's own phrase) is the red devil that put35,000 musicians out of work. Radio stationsmay fox Jimmy by getting their recordingsmade by the members of other (and weaker)locals of the American Federation of Musi-cians. Sooner or later, though, the A. F. ofM. will adopt Jimmy's ruling. The A. F. ofM. adopts all of Jimmy's rulings. Not thatJimmy's the boss. Old Joe Weber, presi-dent of the New York local, is the boss. Joemerely takes Jimmy's advice.

Jimmy figures that the radio stations willpay his living musicians $1,500,000 for theuse of a record that cost $1,500 to make. Afair share of the $1,500,000 (or less) will gointo the union's unemployment fund, whichJimmy administers scrupulously in his los-ing war with progress. The fewer musiciansemployed, the more money Jimmy getsthem. It won't last forever, but while itdoes, Jimmy, like Father Divine, is trulywonderful.

For fifteen years Jimmy Petrillo's one-man union has had Chicago by the-we'llsay ears; Jimmy would use the purer idiom.He has a revolver in his desk-drawer-whichhas a habit of being open-and five body-guards to keep him company. The secret,not of his success, but of his being alive, isthat he's honest. No one has anything onhim, and it's not because no one has triedto get anything on him. "You just can'tbuy him," the biggest amusement man inChicago told me. "I know. I've tried it foryears."

Let's say that you're a museler-in. Most

%111-1411.1.:

small unions-and some big ones-haveyielded you a nice profit in their time. Youcall on Jimmy Petrillo. Jimmy knows whoyou are, but he presses the button under hisdesk and the door to his office opens. Therehe sits-alone. You and your friends sitdown in the overstuffed sofa and Jimmypulls open the top right-hand drawer of hisoverearved desk. When Jimmy is satisfied

that you have identified theblue -steel object in the draw-er, he swings back in his chairand grins at you between hisjowls and says:

"Well, gents, what can I dofor you?"

If you and your friends aresmart, you will explain thatyou have the wrong addressand bow yourselves out. If youare not smart, and the chancesare you are not, you will offerto put the Musicians' Unionon a paying basis. Jimmy willwait until you get through,then he'll say:

"The Musicians' Union has $10,000 in asafety deposit box that can't be touched ex-cept for one purpose-to get the guy whogets Petrillo. Get out." Only he doesn't say,"Get out." He says, "Get out, you sons -of -bitches." Jimmy is a plain-spoken man.

He has never sold out to anyone, and hehas licked not only the racketeers, but theradio stations, the movie houses, the theat-rical producers, the opera crowd, and theChicago Symphony Association. and whilemusicians all over the country are playingfor their supper, Petrillo's boys have hadtheir wages increased 400% since he joinedthe union in 1917. Today they are the high-est paid union laborers in the world. (Themusicians in the Chicago studios of NBCget $140 for a 30 -hour week.)

Local No. 10 was a typical musicians'union, with a rabbit hutch for its headquar-ters, when Jimmy Petrillo first appeared onthe scene. The musician traditionally per-forms for what he can get. There are toomany of him and he is fit for nothing else.In 1917 Joe Winkler had been president ofLocal No. 10 since Little David played onhis harp. Joe was a nice guy and a prettygood cornetist. But the union was nothingbut a club. As Petrillo blandly admits, "Iseen an opening for a smart guy."

Jimmy got hold of a trombone (his fatherwas a scavenger) at an early age, and whenhe was eight years old he was playing in theChicago Daily News band. He was nodreamy -eyed musician. He was, as he recalls,"a tough little bozo runnin' around destreets." And the streets were Taylor and

Halsted-one of the toughest intersectionsin town. Jimmy went to grammar school longenough to learn that he could learn just asmuch in and around the saloons at Taylorand Halsted. He was small and hard andfast, and a fighter. And he wasn't a musician.When he joined the union twenty years afterhis debut with the Daily News band, hefound he wasn't so hot on the trombone.He sat around the clubrooms with the restof the boys who weren't so hot, and after awhile he decided he was a business man.

He was boisterous and aggressive, and hehad a lot of humor. At the weekly meetingshe made speeches. His speeches were un-grammatical, oratorical, inflammatory; theburden of all of them was that the man onthe floor was oppressed by the employersand the union wasn't doing anything aboutit. Look at the teamsters. Look at the jan-itors. Jimmy was right. Prohibition cameand the musicians were turned out of thebeerhalls and cafes. In 1919 Jimmy waselected vice-president of Local No. 10. In1922 he took the union away from JoeWinkler and he's been president ever since.

The first thing he did was abolish allmeetings. Then he told the men that con-tracts could be made only with the union'ssanction. Then he began raising the wagescale. The union's membership mounted to8,000 by 1925 and remained there through-out the depression. The men knew thatJimmy was square and they knew he wassmart. If Jimmy called them out on strike.out they went. Sooner or later they returnedto work with a 10 per cent raise. Jimmy wasa despot, a benevolent despot. You couldn'ttake care of yourself, so you paid your $16 ayear dues and Jimmy took care of you. Be-fore long the musicians of the city discov-ered that if they didn't join the union theycouldn't get work. Chicago had become a"closed" town.

Jimmy's idea of an administrator is Mus-solini. Or rather, was. Their close relation-ship (of which Mussolini was unaware) cameto a bitter end a few years ago. It seems thatSig. Giuseppe Castruccio, the Italian con-sul, invited the local Italian societies toparticipate in an International Jubilee to beheld in Chicago. Now the Italians, with theexception of Jimmy Petrillo, are a musicallot, and every second one of them tootssomething on Sundays. On week -days theyare vegetable purveyors, waiters, half -sole -and -heelers, etc. Naturally, they are notmembers of the Musicians' Union. WhenPetrillo discovered the Italian societies weregoing to jubilate with nonunion bands, hecalled Castruccio in some heat. Giuseppetried to pacify Jimmy by reminding him-in Italian-that after all they were com-

Continued on page 171

4.11g. 1937 I7I

'Mussolini of MusicCon t' d front page 60

patriots, that their common an-cestors had snagged catfish in theBay of Naples, that-

"Say," roared Jimmy into thetelephone, "do you understandEnglish?"

"Why, yes, indeed, to be sure,"said Giuseppe, in English.

"Well," roared Jimmy, in Eng-lish, "you can go -- yourself."

Jimmy's temper, notoriouslyshort, was well out of hand bythis time. He decided that he andMussolini had stood about enoughfrom Giuseppe. So he sent a cablemessage-costing the union $175-to Il Duce:

"Of the many consuls in thiscity (it said in part) the Italianconsul, I regret to say, is the onlyone with whom we have ever hada dispute. In every instance thedisputes are the result of Sig.Castruccio's determination to usenonprofessional musicians for so-cial and state functions. I feelsure that you will not approve ofwhat your Chicago representa-tive is doing in this matter."

Jimmy was amazed when hefound out the cost of sending thecable. "Why," he whistled, "itcosts $16 to call that guy by hisfull name." He waited for his palin Rome to give Giuseppe theworks, but nothing happened.There was no reply. (Meanwhilethe jubilee had been called off.)Jimmy remarked ruefully that heought to have something comingfor them 175 coconuts. But theMan on Horseback was silent.Tne 175 coconuts never bore fruit.

That was the only licking Jim-my has ever taken in a major en-gagement-and it took Mussolinito do it. But Jimmy isn't sore atBenito. He holds no grudges. Hisdaily life is composed entirely ofdisputes, and when they are set-tled, they are forgotten. Businessis business. Both of the grand oldparties have courted him becauseof his influence among the Ital-ians, but when duty has called hehas taken up the cudgel againstDemocrats and Republicans,licked them, and then forgottenabout it.

When Big Bill Thompson wasrunning for re-election againstTony Cermak, Petrillo notifiedthe radio stations that the Repub-lican Party was about to be puton the unfair list for using phono-graph music on sound trucks.This was "canned music"-Jim-my's No. 1 phobia. He announced,further, that 1,000 union musi-cians, paid by the union, wouldparade through the downtownstreets advocating the election ofall Democrats-unless the Repub-licans hired living musicians. TheRepublicans tried to compromise.They made Jimmy such offers asthe Republican Party has beenknown to make before. But Jim-my wasn't interested. They wouldhire union musicians at $11 apieceor off the air they would go. With-in twelve hours the party of Abra-ham Lincoln had capitulated toJ. Petrillo.

Cermak was elected and ap-pointed Jimmy commissioner ofthe West Side parks. But whenJimmy got wind of Tony's plan tohave a high school band broad-cast at his inauguraticn, he in-formed the radio stations thatHis Honor the Mayor was aboutto be placed on the unfair list.Cermak protested to Petrillo thathe had spent $11,000 on unionmusicians during his campaignand simply wanted the high schoolband to have the honor of par-ticipating in the glonous cere-mony. Jimmy said he cidn't careif Tony had spent $11.000,000-there wasn't going to be no broad-casting by nonunion musicianswhile union musicians were starv-ing. So the high school band wastold off, and Cermak, with achingheart, hired fifty union musicians"out of my own pocket."

A couple of years later, Cermaklay dangling on death's edge inMiami while the Chicago Federa-tion of Musicians dedicated itsnew $100,000 building with a fan-fare befitting the occasion, Jimmystepped up to the microphone(the radio stations saw to it thatcommercial programs didn't in-terfere with that broadcast) andsaid, "I set the dedication of thisbuilding for the 28th because mygood friend Mayor Cermak saidhe could attend that night." AndJimmy's tears rolled out into theether.

Petrillo's first act as park com-missioner (after accepting a dia-mond -studded star from LocalNo. 10) was to announce that theeighteen recreation halls in thepark system would be closed tononunion musicians - includinghigh school bands. As usual, theChicago press-Petrillo's peons,since the papers all owned radiostations-rose to the o3casion andsaid nothing, except fcr the DailyNews, which had just sold its sta-tion to NBC. The News smote"the dictator" hip and thigh. Theorder stood. Clubwomen floodedthe governor with letters of pro-test. "- them clubwomen,"said Commissioner Pe:rillo, lacon-ically. "Every time you take a

they write to the governor."The order stands to this day.

Two years ago the Chicagopark systems were consolidated,and Mayor Kelly appointed Jim-my one of five commissioners ofthe entire system with its$50,000,000 budget. In 1935 Jim-my built a bandshell in GrantPark, on the lake front, and theunion paid for a summer of freenightly concerts. They were a tre-mendous success; almost 2,000,000people attended. Last year thepark system appropriated $50,000to cover the cost of the summerconcerts, and 3,000,000 Chicago-ans attended. Everybody-notthe least of whom a::e the musi-cians who were given work-agrees that the Grar_t Park con-certs are one of the best thingsthat ever happened to Chicago.

The Italian consul the Repub-Continued on page 172

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IT'S SMART . . . TO USE QUAKER STATE

172 ESQUIRE

here's authentic advice to the fun -bound -

4V

:4

Right now or in the next few weeks, the great

American Public will make some great American deci-

sions testing whether this family or that family will take

to the mountains or the sea -shore, to a ship or the rails

or the car or the air and whether their vacation period

this summer will be spent in hunting, fishing, golf,tennis, bathing or just sitting...or perhaps a combination

of all activities.

Then come the questions of where to go, what

to wear, what to take along and what to do when you

get there. Don't be alarmed. Lean back. Take it easy.

You've had a hard winter. "Esquire's Holiday Hand-book" has been especially designed for smart vacationists.

It will answer all your "wears" and "wheres."

Esquire's "holiday handbook" comes to you for

25e in stamps to corer costs of handling.

,4111111111. 11:16H1- N STAF1.66 MADISON AVENUE, NEW YORK, N.Y.

ii

INIussolini of MusicCmttintted front pages 60-17I

licans, the Democrats, and theclubwomen are all in the day'swork for the Mussolini of music.The tough assignment has been todefend the organized Muse againstthe radio, the talkies and the de-pression. Here the real strugglehas been Petrillo vp. Nature. AndNature is just one more ruggedindividualist in the clutch ofJimmy's maw.

"The coming of radio," saidJimmy in one of his expansivemoods, while the press hung uponhis words, "caused a great fear togrip the hearts of musicians-afear that this marvel of sciencewould do away with orchestras intheatres, dance halls, hotels andrestaurants. Today the radio sta-tions within the jurisdiction of theChicago local pay musicians inexcess of $1,000,000 annually."

How did it happen? Jimmy"took the necessary means," ashe likes to phrase it. On March21, 1924-musicians were broad-casting just for the publicity inthose days-Petrillo announcedthat henceforth no union musi-cian would be allowed to playover the radio without receivinga minimum of $8 for three hoursor less. In addition, action wouldbe taken at the forthcoming con-vention of the American Federa-tion of Musicians to demand a50 per cent increase in wages forhotel orchestras broadcasting byremote control.

The effect of this announce-ment was immediate on bothfronts. Local No. 10 acquired1,000 new members. (The initia-tion fee is $100. If an applicantfails to pass the entrance test heis admitted anyway.) The radiostations, in their first frenzieddash for cover, turned to phono-graph records. This was a badmove. Jimmy conferred withPresident Joe Weber of the A. F.of M., with the result that theFederation sent a lobbyist toWashington and convinced theRadio Commission that it was un-constitutional to broadcast musicfrom a radio record without an-nouncing that it was a transcrip-tion-a poor substitute for theflesh -and -blood artist. Then forgood measure Local No. 10 slap-ped on a regulation that the manwho turned the phonograph re-cords would have to belong to theunion and receive $18 an engage-ment, whether he turned one rec-ord or a hundred.

Jimmy pushed the wage scaleup fast. In December of 1931,with the scale at $140 a week, arumor reached Jimmy that theradio stations were going to re-trench. He at once waited on theChicago Broadcasters Associationwith his demands for the 1932contract: 1. Wages were not to becut. 2. Working hours were to bereduced from 35 to 30 a week.3. Station orchestras were to beincreased from 10 to 15 men.4. The man who "monitored" thecontrol board-an engineer-wasto be a union musician. 5. Record-

ings were to be eliminated fromcommercial programs.

Demands No. 4 and 5 weredummies. Petrillo always includesone or two points that he has nointerest in winning, and then con-cedes them, one at a time, withthe combined effect of convincingthe public that he is willing tocompromise and at the same timeenabling the opposition to save itsface by winning the dummypoints. The stations refused tosign, and Jimmy called a strikefor New Year's Eve. Anticipatingthat the stations might get thenational chains to "pipe" themmusic from other cities, Jimmyran down to New York for a con-ference with Joe Weber and re-turned with the announcementthat if the chains tried to feedprograms to the Chicago stations,"the strike will spread." Thismeant that the U. S. would haveno music that New Year's Eve.

A little after 7 p.m. of Decem-ber 31, the stations capitulated.The customary Petrillo compro-mise had been reached-Petrillogot everything. The broadcasterswere bitter. The new contracts,they said, would mean 150 percent increase in operating expenses.Jimmy was so jubilant that hecalled a meeting of the union andmade his dignity -of -labor speech."Look at the teamsters-a 10%cut. Look at the musicians-a15% raise." The musicians wereglad they weren't teamsters.

Year after year, Jimmy haspushed up the minimum numberof musicians for each station.When NBC and CBS went intothe booking business, Jimmy, whodidn't believe it was fair for thechains to force hotels and caba-rets to hire chain -managed or-chestras on the threat of refusingto broadcast the programs, "tookthe necessary means," includinga strike of hotel musicians, and acouple of months ago the twonational chains abandoned thebooking business. Did Petrillohave anything to do with theirdecision? "You bet he did," saidone of the chain officials bitterly.

The coming of "canned music"to the movie houses accounts forthe deepest wrinkles in JimmyPetrillo's bald forehead. It wasn'ta question of the wage scale,which was $86-although in thecourse of "negotiations" his homehad been bombed and he had todouble his bodyguard and carrya gun himself. The real difficultylay in the disinclination of thesmall picture houses to retain theold four -man orchestra in every pit.

The operators of the big housessaw an opportunity to hamstringPetrillo and joined the cause ofthe little fellows, pleading thatthe ruling would put the littlefellows out of business. Strikeswere called year after year, and"Petrillo compromises" were ef-fected each time. The big housesdared not come out in the open;they were using stage shows, andthe stage -hands' local, working

.1,11y. 1937 173

hand -in -glove with Petrillo, wasready to call out its men at a sig-nal from Jimmy.

Early in 1929 Petrillo ruled thatevery picture house must employa union organist. Some of thesmall houses that had mechanicalorgans bucked the order; theywere losing their pants as it was,without hiring any goddamnedunion organist. Several of thesehouses caught fire-mysteriously.Stink bombs were thrown inothers-mysteriously. One wasbroken into and the organ choppedto pieces-mysteriously. The un-ion filed suit against one owner forinsinuating that it was responsi-ble for the vandalism. The ownerwent out of business soon after.The suit never came to trial.

In August of 1929 Jimmy de-manded the usual 10 per cent wageincrease. (At that time the city's400 houses were employing 800musicians, in contrast to the 1200they employed before the adventof the talkies.) The exhibitors de-murred and the union struck-onLabor Day. The wage increasewas granted, but Jimmy took avoluntary defeat in his war withnature-he let the minimum num-ber requirement slide. But a fewweeks ago, with something under100 musicians in the Chicago pic-ture houses, Jimmy announcedthat no theatre charging morethan 25 cents admission may useany sound film made in Chicago(there aren't many) without pay-ing as many musicians as wereused in making the film.

The legitimate theatres wereeasier to bulldoze, because of theworking agreement between Jim-my and George Browne of thestage -hands' union. Every play-house operating in Chicago has tomaintain a five -man orchestra inthe pit at $500 a week, whetherthe men are playing or not. Playsthat have no use for orchestrashave to hire them anyway. Ashow that brings its own orchestrato town with it has to hire Jimmy'sboys, man for man, before theimported band can play a note.When pictures like Romeo andJuliet have their premieres inplayhouses, pit orchestras cannotpossibly be used-but they haveto be hired.

Jimmy's tacit ally in his dis-putes with the crasser commercialenterprises is the public, whichlistens with well-earned satisfac-tion to the groans of the oppressedmagnates. This indifference vitia-ted the late Chicago Civic OperaCompany's efforts to break theunion's strangle hold. (The mem-bers of the orchestra were getting$170 a week when the companyfolded.) Insull's tony regime hadabout as much sympathy fromthe public as did Kahn's in NewYork. But the Chicago SymphonyOrchestra was different.

Year after year the Orchestraannounced that it would have todisband in the face of Petrillo'sdemands. Year after year his de-mands were met. In 1927, the Or-chestra really meant it, it seemed.Jimmy figured that his new wagescale would increase the expense

of the season $30,000. He sug-gested the amount be raised bypopular subscription. The DailyNews (which still owned a radiostation) raised the $30,000. Pe-trillo had compromised.

But in 1932, Jimmy gave in,dramatically accepted a wage cut,and was hosannahed as the saviorof the Symphony. Last year hedemanded, and got, a restorationof the wage cut and an increasein the number of players.

Without Petrillo, most of themusicians of Chicago-and of theother towns that have followedhis lead-would be starving. Theresimply is no replacing the mendisplaced by the talkies, the radio,and the disappearance of thegreat brass bands of yesteryear.With him, those who are working-up considerably from the 1932low of less than 50 per cent-makeexorbitant money, those who arestarving are fed by the union.Jimmy himself, with a heart asbig as a bass viol, takes care of ascore or more of them. The annualdues of $16 is probably the lowestunion dues in the country, and itcarries a thousand -dollar life in-surance policy. The employmentfund, maintained by 2 per cent ofthe members' earnings, has dis-tributed $300,000 in the past tenyears, paying the unemployedbrothers union wages to play atcharity institutions. The books ofthe union are open to any and all.

The principal source of LocalNo. 10's income is fines. Thefines are stiff. Jimmy doesn't per-mit any backsliding. Fines of$25,000 and $50,000 have beenlevied on bands that hired outostensibly at the union scale and"kicked back" to the employer.At a typical meeting of the TrialBoard $1,860 in fines was levied.The Trial Board meets once amonth.

Salaries of the union's officersare fixed once a year in an openmeeting in which the officers haveno vote. Jimmy's $500 a week(plus a Lincoln and chauffeur) topsa generous payroll. Jimmy is satis-fied.

Even if he wanted to turnout old Joe Weber as NationalPresident, he wouldn't want tomove to New York and surrenderhis diamond -studded park com-missioner's star. On $500 a weekit's no trick to have a wife andthree kids and tickets to the fightsand enough to drink and a sum-mer cottage in Michigan. Whatelse is there?

"I am not supposed to steal,"says Jimmy. "When I want any-thing, I ask for it and the boysgive it to me. I take care of themand they take care of me. I havehad to fight them, as well as fightfor them. But the wage scale hasbeen raised, and the men live bet-ter and raise their children better.Ain't it worth it? How abouta shot?"

Jimmy Petrillo sees himself asa symbol, a symbol of the Musi-cian. The Musician, as Jimmysees him, is an inalienable append-age of every form of human di-version, and the union is the

Continued at top of page 174

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3Iussolini of MusicContinued from pages 60-171-173

musician's only hope of survivalin a brutal world-even if Jimmyhas to forbid an American Legionhand to play at an old soldier'sfuneral. That Hamlet should bestaged without a five -man orches-tra playing Is It True What TheySay About Dixie? is unthinkable.That a great artist like MickeyMouse should be accompanied bya phonograph record rather thana full symphony is blasphemous.That a dance hall should replacea band (at $1,000 a week) with aradio (at $200 outright) is anaffront to the Muse whose busi-ness agent is J. Petrillo.

Economic forces don't interestJimmy. He assures his boys thatthe radio and the talkies will soonlose their popularity, "and whenthat day comes, the living, breath-ing player of the fiddle and hornwill once more enter into his in-heritance."

Against that day Jimmy isbleeding the capitalists, just asthe capitalists would bleed Jimmyif they were smart enough. Sooneror later he will be bleeding thecapitalists all over the country-if there are any capitalists left-because he is only forty-four andJoe Weber, who is in his seventies.can't last forever. It is paradoxicalthat the fate of so ethereal a busi-ness should rest with so coarse agent as Jimmy Petrillo. His phi-losophy of getting his boys not areasonable amount of money, noreven an exorbitant amount ofmoney, but all the money he canget, is as anti -social as it mustultimately be unworkable. He be-lieves with Herbie Hoover, whomhe does not otherwise resemble,in the theory of dog eat dog. Themain difference between them isthat Petrillo's dog happens to bethe under one. *

The Whole World Is OutsideContinued from page 45

"Yes, Mummie," they said to-gether.

"Now go and leave the door atiny bit open; just a crack. AndPeter, take your sister's handwhen you are outside. The wholeworld is outside and may Godlove you and watch over you."

The fingers of one hand wereclose to her mouth but the otherhand she reached out from underthe quilt and waved very slowly.

The children stood at the doorand also waved to their mother.They saw her smile and theysmiled back, not a full broadsmile, only a little stifled smile.Slowly they backed out and Peterclosed the door leaving just acrack.

As they walked down the stairsEllen suddenly stopped, wavedher arm and called: "Good-bye,Mummie."

"She can't see you from here,"said Peter. "Come."

As soon as the door had closedthe woman in bed could restrainherself no longer. Cast iron wouldhave melted long before this. Sheput her fingers in her mouth andsobbed, and a tiny rivulet in zig-zag path streamed down her faceand into the pillow. And now thelast hold was torn away and itseemed easy to stretch her limbsand close her eyes.

It was a dozen blocks to GrandCentral Station and these thechildren walked hand in hand.They were now walking in thegreat world that is outside. Nowand then they paused to look intothe shop windows where toys ornovelties were displayed and whenthey had paused long enoughPeter said: "Come."

Once they stopped before amovie house and looked at thebig colored poster showing a manembracing a woman. This was akind of love; but they hated thislove and thought it quite un-necessary. It was not like the lovetheir mother had for them. They

did not tarry long.At the station Peter paused

beside a newsstand and bought astrawberry lollypop with five pen-nies that he happened to have inhis pocket. He gave it to Ellen asthough she were a child and hethe parent.

They walked to the informa-tion desk and displayed the card.

"So you want to go to Fair -woods?"

"Yes," he showed the dollar."Who is this person in Fair -

woods?""Our Auntie Pauline."The clerk called a colored porter

who brought them to a ticketwindow and bought them twoone-half tickets to Fairwoods.There was a little change fromthe dollar which Peter put in hispocket.

"This way," said the porter.As they crossed the big hall

Peter drew out the silver watchand compared it with the stationclock. Ellen looked at him to seeif he was doing this worldly busi-ness properly. And while shelooked at him she sucked on thestrawberry lollypop.

While walking down the plat-form the porter spoke to the chil-dren.

"Where your mother is?""She has gone away.""On a trip?""Yes.""Where did she go?""She went where people go when

they go to die.""Lordie, Lordie. Is that so!""Yes sir. She did not want to

tell us but we know."And Ellen nodded her head to

say that this was true.Jerry nearly jumped out of his

skin when he discovered the chil-dren walking up the drive hand -in -hand. He knew now that hewould have someone to play with.He ran out on the lawn and foundhis rubber ball and brought itclose to the house.