Raymond, the Tapir, 

 jumpy at Whistles, 

 Imprisons Cousins 



Crates to Hold Those 

 Dr. Mann Gets to 

 Avoid 'Regattas' 



(No. 33 of a Series.) 

 By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr., 



Star Staff Correspondent. 



BUENOS AIRES — If Dr. Mann 

 brings home any tapirs I hope they 

 won't be afraid of steamboat 

 whistles! 



Not as afraid 

 as Raymond I 

 was , anyhow. | 

 Every time the I 

 captain blew the | 

 whistle Ray- f 

 mond jumped 1 

 overboard. That 

 went on for days 

 and Raymond 

 lost a lot of his 

 popularity. 



Dr. Mann, be- 

 lieving the boys 

 and girls of 

 Washington, 

 would like Ray- 

 mond (even if W. H. Shippen, Jr. 



he were a bit jumpy), was bringing 

 him down the Amazon on a river ; 

 launch some years ago. Every time 

 Raymond jumped overboard the 

 captain had to reverse his engines, | 

 drop the anchor and put a rowboat 

 overside. 



Raymond and the crew of the row- 

 boat put on some splendid races, 

 with the little tapir doing the 

 Australian crawl, or something, and 

 the seamen laying to their oars. It 

 was hot on the Equator and some 

 of the crew were slow about ap- 

 plauding Raymond's aquatic talents. 

 The Indians on the shore, however, 

 cheered and cheered! Being igno- 

 rant savages, with little more than 

 a G-string to their names, they 

 thought the white men were staging 

 a regatta. 



Nov; the captain, in addition to 

 Raymond, had a lot of coconuts 

 and Brazil nuts on board. Like 

 many another Brazilian, he wasn't 

 in too much of a hurry— there al- 

 ways being tomorrow or the day 

 after— but he did hope to get dowg 

 the Amazon by Christmas anyhov| 

 He doubtless felt that a lot of smalj| 

 boys in the States would appreciate ' 

 Brazil nuts in their stockings on 

 Christmas morning. 



Pre- Whistle Warning. 



So the captain worked out* a 

 system. Being a Brazilian, he loved 

 to blow whistles, Raymond or no 

 Raymond. So he kept right on 

 blowing the whistle for landings, 

 curves and crazy Indians in canoes, 

 but he began to seek out Dr. Mann 

 in advance. 



"Don Senor Doktur," he would 

 say, "I am about to blow the 

 whistle!" 



Then everybody would jump up 

 and search the ship for Raymond, 

 who usually was busy about his 

 own affairs— nibbling the crews' 

 shirts on a wash line, squealing 

 about under the cook's legs in the 

 galley, etc. Raymond, being only a 

 youngster, still in short pants (he 

 hadn't outgrown the juvenile stripes 

 on his coat), would get bundled off 

 to the little boys' washroom and 

 locked inside. Then somebody would 

 run to give the "all clear" signal. 



Even then Raymond would jump 

 into the bathtub every time the 

 whistle blew. 



"I should think he would have 

 caught his death of cold!" I said. 

 Dry Jump. 



'That shows, William," Dr. Mann 

 said, "that you don't know much 

 about bathtubs on old Amazon River 

 boats. In those days the last thing 

 you'd see in one was water!" 



If Dr. Mann gets any tapirs here 

 (he hopes for two) they will be in 

 crates going back. The ships of 

 the good neighbor fleet have big 

 whistles, and a tapir would have to 

 be a high diver as well as a channel 

 swimmer to duplicate Raymond's 

 stunt. 



Dr. Mann became quite attached 

 to Raymond, as men often do to the 

 creatures who give them most 

 trouble. He got him safely through 

 to the States. And then one day 

 without any warning Raymond died. 

 It wasn't pneumonia, overexertion, 

 overeating or homesickness. 



He just died— another of the 

 heartbreaks that sometimes go with 

 the collecting business. 



Argentine Editor 

 Sorry We Arm Our 

 Foes With Picfun 



U. S. Magazines 

 Nation's Dirty Lygen 

 In Public, He $af$ 



By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr., 

 Star Staff Correspondent. 



BUENOS AIRES. — "Why do you 

 North Americans arm your enemies 

 with such weapons as this?" 

 The editor held out a United 

 v States picture 

 | weekly and 

 | thumbed it to 

 the photograph 

 of a college boy 

 and girl kissing 

 as they sprawled 

 on a sofa. 



"For years I 

 have advocated 

 the exchange of 

 students be- 

 tween our coun- 

 tries. I have 

 planned to send 

 my little girl to 

 school in the 



W. H. Shippen, Jr. States. 



But after this, no! She will re- 

 main in the Argentine ! " 



The editor, director of a B. A. 

 daily of 40.000 circulation, and two 



weekly magazines, was educated in 

 the States and broke in as a cub 

 reporter on a Boston paper. 



"We of the profession," he said, 

 "know the tricks of the game. I 

 know, as you know, that this is no 

 true picture of North American col- 

 lege life . . . but my little girl, does 

 she know? She gets too many ideas 

 of life in the States from pictures 

 like this and the movies! 



"If I, knowing the publishing 

 business, knowing America from 

 personal observation, am alienated 

 from your country by such pictures, 

 then what of the masses, the un- 

 tutored ; or, the conservatives among 

 our leading people? 



America's Own Picture. 



"I know that all American young 

 couples do not — what is that dance, 

 the swung? — perform in public like 

 contortionists locked in amorous 

 embrace; I know the governors in* 

 the States wear shoes, that visiting 

 statesmen do not shave in public — 

 that all society matrons do not pass 

 out from alcohol at gay functions 

 and have to be carried home. 



"I know all this, but there are 

 millions here who misunderstand. 

 That is true also, I think, in Ger- 

 many, in Italy and in the Orient. 

 Such pictures are reproduced for 

 propaganda purposes. The enemies 

 of your country say, 'Here is Amer- 

 ica's own photograph of itself! Are 

 the Americans not immoral and 

 k-r-a-z-y?' " 



"But you buy the magazine?" 



"Ah, yes. Of course, I buy it! It 

 is beautifully printed, it contains 

 much of current interest — it has the 

 punch, the sex appeal? . . . you say? 



If you of the States wish to picture 

 your weaknesses, who am I to avert 

 my gaze?" 



"But you, as a journalist, must 

 know the good of turning light upon 

 little vices that thrive in the dark? 

 Of airing certain affairs of bad 

 odor?" 



Washing- Linen in Public. 



"Such journalism, within the bor- 

 ders of your country, may be all for 

 the public good ... I cannot say. 

 But when it goes abroad that is an- 

 other story! Of this, I am sure!" 



"Who created the taste for the 

 bizarre in journalism? Did the 

 public educate their publicists or 

 the other way around? 



"Here it was a little of both. Our 

 readers are cosmopolitan, well-in- 

 formed from many sources, highly 

 partisan to various causes, critical 

 and suspicious of propaganda. We 

 try to strip our news down to facts 

 and let our readers interpret them 

 for themselves. 



"We do not sensationalize crime, 

 divorce, or suicide. That news goes 

 on a back page. We do not play up 

 criminal trials. We have never 

 published a picture of a corpse. If 

 we use a picture of a Governor we 

 think it just as good if he wears 

 shoes. 



"A long time ago— four, or was it 

 five, years?— a wealthy man killed 

 his sweetheart. We obtained photo- 

 graphs of the principals, but we did 

 not publish them. We posted them 

 in our office and informed the read- 

 ers they could call to view them in 

 private . . . Only four or five came, 

 yet we received hundreds of letters 

 thanking us for not exploiting the 

 photographs ! • 



One Yellow Journalist Tainted All. 



"From my point of view down here, 

 it seems that one great leader of 

 yellow journalism tainted, if he did 

 not color, all the rest. 



"The rise of the tabloid followed. 

 Readers' appetites became jaded. 

 Why read a love story unless illicit, 

 why read of government unless cor- 

 rupt, of crime unless violent. . . . 

 why look at a picture of a Gov- 

 ernor unless his honor is barefoot, 

 or shaving?" 



"As long as I live, and the men 

 I've helped to teach remain in con- 

 trol of this publication, it will be 

 the cleanest tabloid in the world ! " 



College boys here have some odd 

 ideas about the behavior of their 

 northern cousins— so do college girls. 

 One asked me the other day: 



"Do all the girls in America act 

 like Carole Lombard?" 



College boys here invited my wife 

 and me to a big formal dance they 

 were throwing. One of our hosts 

 unobtrusively took me aside and 

 inquired, in his best classroom 

 English : 



"Senor Beel, is if for you always 

 on occasions of festivity to sing 

 'Rambling Wrecks of Georgia 

 Techs?' " (I had tried to teach them 

 the tune, several days previously, on 

 a motor launch cruising the delta.) 



"Always, Senor," I replied, "Al- 

 ways ! " 



The college boy gulped. For a 

 moment he was at a loss for words, 

 then took another, and less direct, 

 tack. In 10 minutes or so he man- 

 aged to convey the impression, with- 

 out hinting, that a solo on my part 

 would only confirm the misconcep- 

 tion of North Americans entertained 

 by his classmates. I promised faith- 

 fully not to sing a single solo. 



"And Senor Beel," he went on, 

 "if you wish to dance with the 

 senoritas. we will superintend the 

 introduction. You will not break the 

 back of the senorita's partner, no? 

 You will not — what do you say? — 

 cut him, no?" 



"No," I said, "No, no, no! That 

 went out when I was in college— 

 15 years ago." 



Next: Meeting With "Beans*' 



Next: South American Journalism. 



