Names make news

Names make news. Last week these names made this news.

Before the American Club of Paris, Charles Franklin Kettering, General Motors vice president, roundly berated U. S. citizens for planning too far into the future. "It should be a crime for anyone to sell bonds for more than 20 years' duration. Nobody knows what will happen in 20 years' time." He also said: "We have filling stations on every corner where we formerly had saloons. I do not know what the oil refining companies will do after the corning elections."

Haled into a Los Angeles court to explain a debt of $292.10, huge Jess Willard, onetime heavyweight boxing champion, told a municipal referee that he was working for about $15 a week as a bouncer in a meat market he once owned. He had himself photographed ejecting a tiny newshawk. Later he confessed: "That's all a joke about my being a bouncer. There's nothing to bounce around here except pieces of meat. I'm manager here. . . . Can't tell you my salary but it's a lot more than $15 weekly. Why that wouldn't buy cigars." Democrat Melvin Alvah Traylor, crinkle-eyed president of Chicago's First National Bank, sometimes mentioned for the Treasury portfolio if Franklin D. Roosevelt is elected, by mistake received an invitation to lunch and hear Secretary of the Treasury Mills orate for President Hoover. Asked to return the invitation, Banker Traylor smiled, declined to do so, went, lunched, listened.

In Chicago to help settle his late wife's estate (daughter of the late Marshall Field, she left him and their two sons $1,000,000 each). Admiral David Beatty, Earl Beatty called at police headquarters seeking"excitement" Taken on a radio patrol car tour of the tough South Side, he heard the report of a shooting, arrived on the scene too late for action.

When the automatic elevator in which he was riding to his apartment, atop Manhattan's Lyceum Theatre, got caught between floors, Producer Daniel Frohman read his newspaper from 1 a. m. until the janitor rescued him at 10 a. m. Said he: "The first time I got caught in it I had Mary Pickford instead of a newspaper with me."

While her mother lay ill in her girlhood home at Meriden, Conn., Soprano Rosa Melba Ponselle gave a concert at Hartford. In the midst of "Home, Sweet Home" she broke down, fled weeping from the stage. Said Robert Kellogg, impresario: "It was the overflow of her vast emotional reservoir."

Soprano Grace Moore who rode overnight from Broadway music-comedy into Metropolitan Opera, announced last week that she would go back to light entertaining in a piece called The du Barry to open Nov. 7 in Boston.

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