OTTAWA is making a real attempt to save money. It hasn’t succeeded. The Treasury Board, the Cabinet committee that passes on all the estimates, tried to cut 10% across the board out of all except national defense and fixed charges. It discovered you can’t cut state spending by chipping at the edges—not any more.
IN A SURGE of enthusiasm for the benefits of the tourist industry someone has proposed that we ought to print red currency for the special use of visitors from other countries. The theory is that every time one of these red bank notes turned up in his till the Canadian filling station proprietor or tourist camp operator would be reminded what side his bread is buttered on.
EACH year rheumatic diseases cost Canadians 9½ million days’ work and $54 millions in lost wages. The nation’s rheumatic sufferers make up an army of 30,000 constantly unemployed. Among Canadian children between five and 15 years old rheumatic fever is the second-ranking cause of death.
RAY GARDNER saw five survivors of the Titanic disaster, including Mr. and Mrs. Albert Dick, of Calgary, while preparing his Flashback on page 18. “In every case I had the strange feeling of talking to people who had come back from the dead. They savored every moment of every day in a way that those who had never been close to death never could,” Gardner reDuring his research Gardner found a welter of false rumor boiled up in the last wake of the Titanic.
LAST March Essex County Magistrate J. Arthur Hanrahan sentenced bootlegger Joe Assef to six months in jail and plunged the city of Windsor, Ont., into two weeks of explosive investigations of vice-ring activities in what has long been Canada’s best publicized “wide-open town.”
Claire Dreier will field-marshal your marriage on a split-second schedule from cake to confetti. Fainting fathers, mournful mothers won’t faze her a bit
CLAIRE DREIER (rhymes with buyer) has attended more weddings than any woman in Canada. As head of the wedding bureau in the downtown Toronto store of the T. Eaton Company she spends seven days a week, 24 hours a day, planning, arranging and going to weddings —sometimes four in one day.
They fought about everything from tie clips to shoes. It was all Glen’s fault — wearing a fellow’s shirts, his socks, taking the car. But stealing his girl was just too much for Paul to take.
IT WAS just about the best night for a prom, Paul thought, that had ever been invented. As he walked home from a last-minute trip to the school he took an approving look at it, just as he had taken an approving look, as chairman of the committee, at the decorations in the gym.
On 10 minutes’ notice a celebrated columnist up agd left his comfortable niche in the newspaperman’s lotus land. How come? While he tells you, Jim Coleman draws a colorful cartoon of the days when the newspaper game was a game
ONE EVENING late in January I walked into the offices of the Toronto Globe and Mail, turned the key in the lock of my private alcove and peered into the semidarkness. The typewriter hadn’t been stolen. The typewriter barely was visible beneath the litter of letters, magazines, tired old newspapers and moribund copies of the Daily Racing Form.
THERE ARE times when living in a vast metropolis like London seems the very negation of sane existence. To leave the seaside or rolling Cotswolds and watch from the train as the fields gradually give way to a jumbled mass of hideous little houses with battalions of chimney pots standing at attention as if on parade ... to listen to the silly high-pitched shriek of the engine as it burrows deeper into the heart of London ... to cross a viaduct and look down below on omnibuses, motor cars, vans, bicycles, barrows and perambulators in a turmoil of traffic . . . and to note that the sun so richly golden a few minutes ago is now a pallid, liverish yellow.
YOU CAN’T blame the Opposition for thinking the Government’s plan for a parliamentary committee on old-age pensions is just another stall. The Liberal record for stalling on this issue is impressive. Apparently, though, the committee really is meant to do a job this time.
Okay, so raising hats is out of date and "Hi" has replaced the courtly bow. But why trample on your neighbor's toes or splash him with mud from your tires? Simple courtesy costs nothing and makes life more pleasant all round
ROBERT THOMAS ALLEN
WHETHER it’s because they’re wiser, ruder or just more numerous, people today aren’t as polite as they used to be. Until World War I any man who didn’t eat with his fingers observed such basic rules as removing his hat when he spoke to a woman, seeing that she got a seat on a streetcar and generally minding his P’s and Q’s in her presence.
Nobody believed the Titanic could sink. Not her builders. Not her owners. Not Mr. and Mrs. Albert Dick, of Calgary, honeymooning on the ship’s maiden voyage. Not — until too late — the 1,490 souls who perished with her
AT EXACTLY 11.40 on the cold, clear night, of Sunday, April 14, 1912, the world’s largest - and most luxurious ship, the White Star liner Titanic, making her maiden voyage from Southampton to New York, plowed at full speed into a great mountain of ice about 800 miles east of Halifax.
Love laughs at Soviet locksmiths in this exciting story of a man’s dangerous mission to bring his Russian wife from behind the Iron Curtain. Now, after a glimpse of Anna, Bill, fearful of secret police, seeks a
APPREHENSIVE for a moment at Anna’s sudden departure, I reassured myself that she had left only for her duties as the coach’s porteress, that we had been lucky Makrinski had not come in while she had been with me in the compartment. Daylight brought the creeping train across the last stretch of the dismal Baltic plain.
Dr. Brock Chisholm once shocked a nation by saying there was no Santa Claus; now he needles a whole world into checking disease at its source
SINCE he first hung out his shingle in his home town of Oakville, Ont., 25 years ago, Dr. Brock Chisholm has seen his practice widen at a rate most small-town doctors would find alarming. In recent years he has successively become doctor to the Canadian Army, physician-in-chief to the Canadian people, and M.O.H. to all mankind.
A TWO-MILLION-DOLLAR pile of masonry, marble and mahogany called Casa Loma stands on the crest of a sharp rise of ground in Toronto’s north-central residential section. A stranger coming on it unexpectedly might think a time machine had slipped a few cogs and thrown him back into the Middle Ages.
SIR John A. Macdonald, Canada’s first prime minister, nervously eyed the strange contraption on the wall of his office in the East Block on November 25, 1878. It was Ottawa’s first telephone, and he was about to make the capital’s first phone call.
A VANCOUVER motorist was appalled one morning in February, 1924, to find his garage had been broken into and although his car was still there someone had stripped it of many parts, sliced up the tires, hacked at the upholstery, the body paint and the engine wiring.
THE VERY fact that you do not print exactly what everyone wants to read, as evidenced by your March 15 Mailbag (“Isn’t Anybody Happy?”), is to my mind the very best reason why you should go on treading on the odd toe every now and again. In the past (and I hope the same will hold true in the future) your articles have created public interest and have caused some stagnant minds to stir in anger.
Here where the moldboard drew its measured bevel In dark and curling folds, precise and narrow, The furrows blend, their ridges flat and level Beneath the scrawling of a spike-tooth harrow. With gathered reins in idle hand he travels The sloping uplands he has plowed and sown Through forty seasons . . .
Process of Elimination — The electrician on the ladder called down to his mate: “Bill, grab hold of one of them wires.” “Okay!” shouted Bill, and took hold of the one nearest to him. “Do you feel anything?” asked the electrician. “No.” “Then don’t touch the other; there’s 10,000 volts in it !”—Quebec Chronicle-Telegraph.
IT WAS spring, when nature demands the most attention, and the 500-acre federal experimental farm in Ottawa was crawling with Agricultural Department employees seeding test plots, spreading fertilizer, landscaping, crossbreeding sheep to improve the strain and scientifically stepping up the egg production of Barred Rocks.