120 TWENTY-THIRD ANNUAL YEAR BOOK— PART III. 



tournament unheralded and unsung as a horshoe pitcher, but before he 

 had played long in the preliminaries of the state tournament it was con- 

 ceived that he was an exceptional pitcher. 



Lundin defeated all his opponents and won the state title by defeat- 

 ing Frank Jackson, the 1921 national and state champion, of Kellerton, 

 Iowa, the first two games out of three by the score of 50-10 and 50-17. 

 In the national tournament, Lundin maintained a fast pace of about two 

 ringers out of every three shoes pitched. In winning both state and 

 national honors, Lundin carried off a sum of $575 in prizes and cash. 

 The former world's champion, Frank Jackson, pitched very consistently 

 and proved himself to be second to none except the youthful marvel. 

 Lyle Brown, a 16-year-old Des Moines lad, placed third. 



The official game of horseshoe, or "barnyard golf," as it is affection- 

 ately called by real lovers of the game, require that the pegs be eight 

 inches above the ground and surrounded by potter's clay which must 

 be moist and worked to a putty-like consistency. The pitching distance 

 is 40 feet from stake to stake for the men and 30 for the women. The 

 stakes must slant one inch in the direction of the coming throw. The 

 official horseshoe must weigh two pounds eight ounces and cannot be 

 wider than three and one-half inches between the calks. A certain num- 

 ber of revolutions is given to the shoe when it leaves the pitcher's hand 

 so that the shoe will be open when it lights at the peg. This is the hard- 

 est thing to learn in horseshoes, so expert pitchers say. 



JOSHAWAY SEES THE STATE FAIR 



What He Saw, What He Liked, and Why He's Coming Again 

 (From Wallaces' Farmer, Des Moines, Iowa) 



That noted contributing editor of Wallaces' Farmer, Joshua Crabapple, 

 turned his talents to a new field of effort last week. He took in the Iowa 

 State Fair and this is what he has to tell Cousin Bill about it. 



Dear Bill: My legs ache a little still, two of the kids have colds, and 

 the wife says she wouldn't go through it again if somebody was to pay 

 her for it, which there ain't much danger of. But just the same I claim 

 it was a good fair and I'm glad I went. I got in early to see the big 

 train smash on Saturday. I've seen plenty of good horses and cattle and 

 hogs, but I never saw a train wreck, so I said: "Here's where we see it 

 all. Just as well get there a little early and see the whole show." 



That idea proved, Bill, that I am a representative Iowan. Sixty thou- 

 sand other folks had just exactly the same notion. I never see such a 

 jam. It wasn't such a nice day, either, it rained pitchforks on them poor 

 fellers that was running around on the track. But people stayed out 

 and got wet and figured the excitement would dry them off. 



That train wreck, Bill, was just a bit over-recommended. I have saw 

 plenty of auto accidents that looked a good deal worse. The engines was 

 just a bit weak in the knees. They did their best, but the most they 

 could work up to was a dizzy speed of about ten miles an hour. At 

 that they must have smashed up their cowcatchers pretty bad, I shouldn't 

 wonder. 



