Room to Breathe

Telephones rang in the sanatoria and hospitals of Tucson, Ariz, last week. St. Mary's Hospital was calling: "Have you an extra oxygen tent? We have a 12-year-old boy here who's failing. . . . Operation for mastoid.'' Not one extra tent was there in all the dozen institutions. Patten Levings, son of the city editor of the Los Angeles Evening Herald & Express, would have to die for lack of oxygen-rich air.

Another newsman heard of the impending death. Robert Worth Bingham, pub lisher of the Louisville Courier-Journal and Louisville Times, had flown to Tucson from Atlanta a few days before because his long ailing stepdaughter, Alice Hilliard, 25, had an attack of pneumonia there. She was using one of the tents which young Levings needed. When she heard the news she insisted her tent be sent over to St. Mary's. A quick con ference followed between her mother, brother (who had flown with Mr. Bing ham), stepfather, and doctors. The girl could do without the apparatus. But there might be a relapse. Could a plane bring in extra equipment in time? Probably. From where? New York City, 2.200 miles away. Instead of a tent it would be wise to get a complete oxygen chamber. Miss Hilliard's bed could be placed inside. She would be more comfortable than under a tent.

Decision was reached. Miss Hilliard's tent went to Master Levings, who was very low. Long distance to Manhattan roused the Oxygen Therapy Service, ordered them to truck one of Dr. Alvan Leroy Barach's collapsible oxygen chambers to Glenn H. Curtiss Airport, North Beach, L. I. A Curtiss-Wright Travel Air was waiting, with Stewart Reiss as pilot.

All Tucson watched the triangular action. In St. Mary's Hospital Patten Levings was unconscious. In Desert Sanatorium wan Alice Hilliard was expectant. That first day wind and rain forced Pilot Reiss down at Bellefonte, Pa., and McKeesport, Pa. He stayed over night at Columbus, Ohio. The second day winds up to 100 m. p. h. forced him to hedgehop past Indianapolis and Oklahoma City to Fort Worth. When he landed there near midnight he learned that he was no longer a savior, only a freight deliverer. Patten Levings had died. Miss Hilliard was in no great need of oxygen relief. Next day he proceeded to Tucson, delivered his anticlimax.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.