PAGE SIX
New Morgan Power
Henry Sturgis Morgan
Wall Street is watching the career
of 35-year-old Henry Sturgia
Morgan, above, son of J. P.
Morgan, who 12 years ago went
to work at a mail desk in his fa
ther’s office for sls a week. An
nouncement that young Morgan
would be a partner in forming an
investment banking firm with
other junior members of J. P.
Morgan & Company aroused com
ment that the Glass-Steagel law
had failed evidently to stop bank
ing groups from underwriting
securities.
CONTRACT*
* BRIDGE *
- WRITTEN FOR CENTRAL PRESS
: By E. V. SHEPARD
SUBSTITUTING FOR
DECLARER
BEFORE GOING home to dinner
many men drop into their clubs for
& game of contract. In case they are
commuters frequently a substitute is
required to finish the rubber to en
able a player to catch hit_ regular
train. I was asked to substitute for
East in such a case, with dummy al
ready spread and the 9 of spades the
opening lead. I asked that bidding
b« repeated for my benefit
-'♦KQJ 10 8 5
‘f 7 6
♦ 9 8
♦J 9 8
A 7 3 2 ______ 4 None
SFAK4 N. . *Q J 5 2
fA K 6 £ ♦Q743
lam s. * 2
*7 6 4 2
♦9 6 4
V 10 9 8 3
♦ J 10 5
*Q 10 5
Bidding had gone: West, 2-No
Trumps: North, 3-Spades; East, 4-
Diamonds; West, 4-No Trumps;
East, 5-Hearts; West, 5-No Trumps;
East, 6-Diamonds; West, 7-Dia
monds, as being worth more than a
small slam at no-trumps, with 150
points for Aces. It surely would be
worth more, provided the contract
could be fulfilled. How to make a
gjand slam was the burtiing ques
tion. If you have to glance twice at
the holdings as a double-dummy
proposition you will realize that I
had to look many times at the vis
ible 27 cards before I played dum
my’s Ace of spades and discarded
my lowest club. North played his K
of spades. All I knew was that
North evidently held 5 or 6 more
spades, while his partner as evident
ly did not hold 4 or more truiflg>S,
a* he would have had he
held more than 3 including J-10-9-X
or any similar combination. How
hearts and clubs were split was only
a guess. There seemed only one way
to play the hand in any event.
Both opponents followed suit on
leads of dummy’s Ace and K of
trumps. Both of them followed suit
on leads of dummy’s two winning
clubs, leaving unplaced the Q-J of
that suit.
Both defenders followed suit on
leads of dummy’s Ace and K of
hearts. When North discarded his
lowest spade on the third lead of
hearts the missing J of diamonds
was definitely located in South’s
hand, also that player held both
missing hearts, fortunately for East
and West.
Os course dummy’s low club was
discarded on my fourth heart. Then
South followed suit on a lead of my
last which dummy ruffed. North’s
last club also fell. The discard of
my lowest club on dummy’s Ace of
spades had done me no good. I could
have twice ruffed spades, still picked
up South’s third trump and led off
my established baby club for the
thirteenth trick, but such an attempt
would have been foolhardy, like the
7-Diamonds’ contract.
After dummy’s last trump had
been used to ruff a club at the tenth
trick I held for my last 3 cards only
the Q-7-4 of trumps, while South had
2 Spades and the J of trumps. I
ruffed a low spade. Picked up the
only missing trump with my Q and
showed my last trump for the thir
teenth trick and grand slam.
FURNACE CLEANING BY
vacuum. Call Tanner Roofing Co. ts
HENDERSON, (N. C.) DAILY DISPATCH, WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 11,1935
W^Vommce
- Aal)
READ TUIS FIRST:
On her twenty-fourth birthday
Carol Kennedy. coming into a vast
fortune, suddenly announces to her
relatives that she is giving up her
old home in Connecticut, where she
has lived as an orphan, to move to
New York to find happiness and
freedom. Among those attending
Carol’s birthday party are her cousin.
Kathy Prentice, and her fiance. Dr.
Owen Craig, whom she is marrying
for social prestige. Unattractive
Carol, who knows nothing of parties,
pretty clothes and beaux, secretly ad
mires Owen. Carol astounds her old
nurse when she tells her of her plan.
(NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY J
CHAPTER 4
CAROL WAS awake when the
dawn came. Awake and trembling
with eagerness and excitement. Life
was a glorious play yet to be written,
cast and seenically set. And Carol
Kennedy was going to play its star
role.
Lying back in the great carved
walnut bed in which she had been
born, the girl, dreaming vague happy
pictures of the mild excitement pro
vided by her limited imagination, lit
tle realized the shadings of drama
which were to color her life.
What should she do first? Should
she buy clothes? Should she find an
apartment? There were so many
things to do. so many things to be
done at once! The apartment, after
all should be . . .
Carol's pleasant reverie came to an
•nd with Nanny’s entrance. If Nan
ny hoped that Carol's madness of the
•ight before was ended, her hopes
were dashed with Carol's greeting:
“Good morning. Nanny. If, by any
odd chance I have any frivolous
clothes to wear to New York, will
you find them, please, because I want
to get going in an hour?’’
• • *
The lumbering old-fashioned limou
sine was crossing the bridge over the
Harlem river at 137th street when
Robbins turned to Carol: “Where
will you be going, Mtss Carol?”
“I don’t know exactly, Robbins.
What would you do if you were look
ing for an apartment?”
Robbins made a gesture of think
ing; he scratched his head, “Well,
now, I think I’d go back to my own
neighborhood and ask the neighbors
where there might be some place.”
“That won’t work, Robbins, be
cause you see I’ve never lived in New
York.”
Surprise almost choked Robbins.
“Is it for you. Miss Carol?”
“It is.” she said with a touch of
asperity in her voice. “Let’s go and
look over the East Side in the
Fifties.”
But the East Fifties availed her
nothing. Carol didn’t w*ant a big
apartment because she didn’t want
servants. She didn’t want a hole in
the wall either. She thought she
might find what she wanted in
Greenwich Village but unfamiliar
odors assailing her nose and dark
ness where light should have been
soon depressed her in that neighbor
hood and she decided that her method
of finding a home was all wrong. It
tvas time to consult the newspapers.
Over her egg Benedicte at the
Plaza, she studied the classified ads
on apartments. Her questing eye
fell with surprise and delight on a
boxed ad at the head of a column.
Bronson and Goodhue. Real Es- i
tate. And discreetly in the corners:
Isobel Bronson, Apartments (and in
the other) Mary Goodhue, Country
Homes.
Good old Mary and Isobel. Their
last year at Vassar, with Carol,
they’d planned to go into the real i
estate business. Os course, they’d i
have just the thing for her and it
would be such fun seeing them after 1
four years.
She called for her check and was
folding the change neatly in her bill
fold when her Cousin Kathy,
wrapped in sm?.rt caracul, the tiniest
of hats hiding one eye, hailed her:
“Hi, Carol! What are you doing
In town today, darling?" She dropped :
muff, gloves and bags on the table,
and before giving Carol a chance to
answer, continued:
“I hated to walk out on your birth
day party last night, Carol, but we
had to go. Oh. it’s all so tiresome,
Carol. I wish I led a nice, regulated
life Uke yours. Mine Is an endless
round of meetings, luncheons, stupid
parties and hardly any time forf<
Glimpse Os Assassinated Senator’s Early Life
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Uaraß’ ftor tod Wa Wifi ar^ at h 17 ’ P as book agent, his first iob. The Se>
' ' ¥l' shown , at time of their marriage 4^19
J . - iVriOAa \. T J' .
Isobel Bronson descended on her.
shopping. I suppose that’s what
you’re in town for?”
“No,” said the new Carol, “I’m . . .
as a matter of fact I’m in town for
a cocktail party myself today.”
Then hurriedly changing the subject,
she said, “You looked lovely last
night.”
“Did you like that red rag?”
Kathy asked. “I picked it up for a
song at . .
Carol waited breathlessly for the
name of the shop but Kathy glanced
at her watch. “Heavens, my lamb,
that Victory ball committee meeting
started hours ago. See you soon
. . .” her voice drifted off in a wake
of perfume.
Well! Carol had told her first lie
and discovered it gave her an air of
prepossession. I don’t know when
I’ve enjoyed anything so much as
telling Kathy I was going to a party,
she thought.
A few minutes 2ater she stood in
the outer office of Bronson and
Goodhue. She was writing a note on
one of her visiting cards when a
door opened and with a whoop Isobel
Bronson descended on her.
“Carol, dar-ling! Where have you
been for the last four years? Oh,
M-a-ry! Come see who’s here. The
gal who got us through college."
There were so many things for the
three of them to say. Inquiries
about each other’s lives. Sympathy
for Carol. Do you remember this
and do you remember that?
Mary begged Carol to wait for her
since she had to keep an appoint
ment but Isobel had other plans:
“I’m going to take you to a party,
Carol. Jean Stewart is having a
mob in to celebrate the opening of
her show and I want you to come
along.”
“I really came to talk business
with you. Isobel.”
“We can talk business later,” Iso
bel was busy putting away filing
cards.
“And besides,” Carol offered in a
small voice, Tm not dressed for a
party.”
Isobel was well aware of the qual
ity and cost of the tweed suit, the
crepe <*.e chine blouse and English
shoes the other girl wore. She
thought she had never seen anything
more unattractive before in her life
but e.loud she said:
“You can wear anything to a cock
tail party In New York but if you’d
really like to get in on something
I’ve Just discovered, I’ll take you
around the corner to my pet shop
where they do up sweaters and hats
that’ll knock your eye out. You’ll
love it.”
And Carol did. She adored the soft
yellow Angora sweater with its high
neckline. She viewed herself in the
dashing dark brown swagger hat
pulled low over one eye and found
herself paying $lB for a pair of
brown suede gauntlet gloves with
enormous cuffs.
Isobel surveyed her critically and
elt Droiad of her work. “Here, a
dash of my lipstick . . . now 100k f"
Look? She wanted to stare at her*
self. But she picked up her new
gloves and followed Isobel to the
waiting taxi. Isobel chattered:
“Jeannie is a darling but. exceed*
ingly dumb. You can be dumb it
you’re pretty enough. I always
say . . She changed the subject
quickly; Carol was brilliant anil
plain—“ Tell me, darling what you’ve
been doing.”
Carol’s impulse was to answer,
“Nothing,” but she rememberd how
well she’d gotten over with her
white lie to Kathy so she smiled
knowingly, shrugged her shoulders
and said, “I’ll tell you later, Isobel;
tell me more about yourself."
“Poor Isobel! Her life’s filled with
nothing but work and quite a lot of
falling in and out of love. My new
one is just the sort you’d like, Carol.
He’s strong and silent and chemical.
I mean he’s a scientist. He’ll be
here but you leave him alone."
She meant that to flatter Carol
John Kirkland wouldn’t look at an
other woman and poor old Carol had
probably never been looked at un
less she had changed since she was
out of college and she didn’t look as
though she had. As for Carol, she
was pleased at the implication. that
she might be a menace as far as an
other girl’3 beau was concerned.
“Gary Crandall will be there. Look
out for him, Carol, he’s dangerously
attractive,” Isobet' rattled on.
"Oh, dear, you frighten me."
Carol tried to say it gaily.’’
“Women of the world are his
meat.”
“I’ve seen a lot of the world since
last I saw you, Isobel.” There was
something about the measured tones
of Carol’s voice which brought Isobel
to attention. Perhaps she had!
Carol with a faraway look in her *
eyes peered out from under the low
pulled brim, crossed one knee over
the other and dropped her smartly
gloved hand listlessly. Conscious of
the lipstick, she drew her mouth into
a half-reminiscent smile and sighing
—oh, such a little sigh! —she thought
she felt (if she didn’t look) like Greta
Garbo.
There is something different about
her, Isobel mused. Well, still waters
often do run deep.
“What kind of men do you like,
Carol?” she asked.
"Men?" Carol’s voice was soft and
low. She said it parrot-like wHSi lib
thought in mind. She never,, frail
thought about them. It was only a
trick of the voice but she sounded as
though she were a woman who knebr
all about men, was tired of them all
but tolerant still.
“You’ll meet a lot of peculiar oneb
here and I’ll be anxious to know wh&t
you think of them,” Isobel meant
what she said. "Well, here we are
. . . no, darling, let me pay the
driver.”
(TO BE CONTINUED)
: W BLIZARD l/f i,.
read THIS FIRST:
On her twenty-fourth, birthday
Carol Kennedy, coming into a vast
fortune, suddenly announces to her
relatives that she is giving up her
old home in . Connecticut, where she
'has lived as an orphan, to move to
Jfew York to find happiness and
freedom, a Among those attending
Carpi’ s birthday party are her cousin,
Kathy Prentice, and her fiance, Dr.
Owen Craig, whom she is marrying
for social prestige. Unattractive
C'ardl, who knows nothing of parties,
pretty clothes and beaux, secretly ad
mires Owen. Carol astounds her old
nurse when she tells her of her plan,
in New York Carol looks up Isobel
Bronson, an old school chum now in
the real estate business, to obtain
kelp in finding an apartment. Isobel
suggests a cocktail party and eagerly
,%41p9 Carol purchase proper clothes
for the occasion.
( NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY)
CHAPTER 5
IN THE ELEVATOR whirling
them 20 stories above the street to
Jean Stewart’s cocktail party. Isobel
Bronson powdered her velvety nose
with a soft puff, touched her hair
lightly and inspected herself care
fully.
Carol Kennedy, thrilled with the
adventure right down to the toes of
her square-toed oxfords, pretended
to follow suit. She dared not wet
her Ups for fear she would undo
Isobel’s work with the lipstick.
As the elevator rose, Carol’s heart
went down another bump. Why had
she been such a little fool as to pre
tend she was a sophisticate? Isobel
wouldn’t care what she was and then
she might have sat quietly in a cor
ner.
Now she’d have to pretend she was
someone she was not and she didn’t
know how to begin. She didn’t know
that qll she had to do was to look,
listen and say "yes” or "no” at the
proper time.
What was a cocktail party like?
Isobel had said she’d meet “New
York’s smart set” . . . witty, charm
ing, beautifully dressed and speak
ing like characters in a Noel Coward
‘play, Carol thought fearfully.
The elevator door glided back
silently and a wave of laughter
greeted the two girls as they stepped
into the narrow foyer. Laughter,
the tinkle of glasses, high voices and
blue smoke.
A tiny blonde detached hei’self
from a group and came to meet
them. “So sweet ... so very sw r eet
of you, Isobel. to come.” It w r as Jean
in black velvet pajamas, with plati
num curls clinging to an alabaster
cheek and eyes big and blue.
"An old college chum of mine,
Carol Kennedy. Carol, our hostess,
Jeannie Stewart, star of what’s called
the wickedest drama In New York.”
Isobel intioduced them.
“I’m lots more wicked than the
drama, Carol. _ Come in and have a
cocktail this very minute. I’ve had
one with each new arrival and now
I’m beginning to like them myself.”
She slipped an arrn through Carol’s
and led them to a table w’here a Rus
sian musician and a pale chorus boy
were engaged In a violent argument
about something.
“Neither of you know what you’re
talking about,” Jeannie said to them,
"Give Carol Kennedy a cocktail. This
Is Boris something (I can’t pronounce
bis other name) and this gift to the
theater answers to the name of Og
den Pierson.”
The three bowed to each other
stiffly and Jeannie left them.
Boris gave Carol a cocktail. She
sipped it with the air of a connois
seur and swallowing her dislike with
her first sip of her first cocktail
horrible! But aloud
she said:
“Delicious, and the first I’ve had
today.” They felt she was accus
tomed to three before breakfast.
Now there w r ere more about the
table. They talked to each other
They included Carol in their smiles
but not in their conversation. Bits
drifted to her. . . . "Connie was ail
SENATOR LONG, HIS WIFE, TWO SONS AND DAUGHTER
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rauvr. r “ I • r‘‘ CnTintrtf
Recent photographs show Senator Huey Long of
Louisiana, who was shot down by a political ■
and his wife, two sons and daughter. In
the group at left at the piano are Mrs. Rose Long;
■gs gs
hiwmm/7
MKU 1 : J
libbing w'hen Bert comes along w r ith
the business. . . “I said to him
reading a part is not playing a part’’
. . . “Their collaboration was beauti
fully synchronized but it didn’t pro
duce very much.” Why did they all
laugh at that?
There was talk of someone flying
from Hollywood. Carol wondered if
it meant escaping from another
scandal. Somebody’s “piece" in the
Mercury was torn to bits with criti
cism. She didn’t understand it at
all. It was a w r orld she didn’t know.
No ready words of light conversation
came to her. Her little smile grew
wooden and she felt the lipstick con
geal on her lips. Taking her almost
untouched glass with her, she slipped
away and found herself a seat on a
leather cushion in a corner.
"Lonesome, sister?” a tall young
man, weaving ever so slightly and
looking very much like Robert Mont
gomery, gave her a gentle shove and
sat down beside her.
“Don’t look so bored,” he implored
her earnestly.
Her wooden smile came back:
“I'm not bored really. I’m having
a grand time.”
“Honest?” He gave her his full
attention, “How?”
Carol didn’t know how to answer
that so she said, “Tell me about
yourself.”
She didn’t know that was tfee first
line any woman should learn in The
Art of Conversation With a Man.
He took her hand.
“Nice long fingers,” he murmured.
“What’s your name?”
“Carol Kennedy. What’s yours?”
“Reggie. Married, Carol?”
“No.” She gulped the rest of the
cocktail.
“Too bad . . . too bad." He shook
his head dolefully. Conversation
seemed to come to an end.
Carol made another try, “Tell me
more about yourself.”
“I am a failure,” he said dramatic
ally and drained his glass. “Gimme
your glass and I’ll be back in a
jiffy. Don’t go ’way.”
“You really want to hear about
me?” he asked when he came back.
She nodded.
“I don’t work. I hate work. Don’t
you?” He looked at her hopefully.
“I ... I don’t know. I never have
worked.”
“Don’t,” he advised her. "It inter
feres with pleasure except there
isn’t pleasure any more.” He was
very sad.
“Work should be pleasure. It
should be something to lose yourself
in." she answered
He cauaht the serious note in her I
daughter Lolita and son Palmer Long.
Long and his son Russell are shown at, ng *
picture taken a few months ago in the na 1
capital.
‘‘The first I've had today."
voice, looked hard at her and sighel
“ ’Scuse me a moment.” lie rose.
Carol was alone again. She didn’t
fit somehow and her mood of bright
expectancy began to fade. Isobel
was threading her way through the
groups with a man in tow.
“Carol Kennedy, this is John Kirk
land,” she Introduced them. ‘‘Carol
was a wow in ‘chem’ at college, John.
You two should have a lot in com
mon.” And with that she left them.
Carol said, “I wish Isobel would
light somewhere. I have something
important to talk over with her.’*
He laughed at that. “You’ll have
to catch her in her office, I fear.”
“I want her to help me find an
apartment,” Carol said.
"Are you a stranger in New York,
Miss Kennedy?”
“Not so much in New York as I
am to all this. This is my first cock
tail.”
She expected him to be surprised,
possibly shocked. He reached over
and took it from her hand.
“Don’t drink it and don’t mind be*
ing stranger to this sort of thing. It
has no meaning.”
“Has’t it?” She turned to him
with quiet intensity. “They all seem
happy. They’re having fun. That’s
important”
“If they were, it might be but I
don’t think you’d have fun their
way.”
“Well, I mean to find out,” she
said with determination. “And I’m
going to start by finding that apart
ment.”
“Hello, John.” It was a dapper
young man who interrupted. “How
arc all the little test tubes today?*
Ind after a pause—“ Hope I didn’t
interrupt a twosome.”
“Not at all." Kirkland was about
to introduce them when Isobel
caught his eye and beckoned for him
to join her. Excusing himself, he
left Carol alone with the stranger.
“Did I hear you say something
qbout wanting to rent an apar
tment?” he asked Carol who nodded.
"Then, look, let’s get out of here
and I’ll tell you about a bargain.
This place is giving me a headache.
Get your gloves and w r e’l! run around
the corner for a real cocktail.”
Her first invitation from a man!
She said, “But I don’t know who you
are.”
“Never let a little thing like that
stop you. I’m Garry Crandall.”
The most fascinating man in New
York, Isobel had said!
“Do we go?” he waited.
“We do.” she answered
(TO BE CONTINUED)