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(Continued from Page 6) of a push-cart, it makes me see red. And if enough people raised Hell about it, something might be done. The whole movie industry is padded with outrageous and unearned salaries, and John Public foots the bill. What I consider the most unintelligent industry in the country, is the most overpaid. The easy "take" of the big movie ..agents', would make an oil gusher look like pin money. And the public pays that, too. No wonder those fat movie magnates look at the world with a fishy eye. It is certainly easy pickings for a lot of very dull minds.

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Which reminds me of what some clever cynic remarked about a famous movie actress: "Her body is Vogue, but her mind is Vague."

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Here's a sweet line about advertising that I stumbled on the ottrer day. It's from a book "Growing Up With Advertising," written by Joseph Appel, and he says: .,Advertising is the million tongued salesman, the modern show window, the voice of the store." Not bad, eh?

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Fortune tellers. Millions of people love 'em, especially the ladies. One of the best fortune telling stories I ever heard was about a New York City policewoman investigating various rackets, who had her fortune told by more than one hundred well known fortune tellers in the big ciry. They all guessed many thinge about her, but the strange thing is that not one of the hundred alleged second-sight artists ever guessed that she was a cop.

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They asked Benny Fields, famous British stage entertainer, to sing at a big dinner (not a patriotic thing, unr derstand). He asked how much he got. They said, "Nothing." "Ahr" remarked Fields, "Only the birds sing free.t'

Allan Mowbray, British screen actor who lives in Hollywood, told me this one. He came out of the Hollywood Stadium one evening with a group of friends, and was starting for the Brown Derby for some food, when he bumped into old Bill Robinson, farnous colored dancer and actor of stage and screen. Old Bill never steps over the color line, which accounts for much of his popularity. Mowbray said to him, "Bill, we're going to the Brown Derby to get some food, and we'd like you to come along." "No, thanks," said the old soft-shoe artist. "Do come," insisted Mowbray. "\Me want you to." "No thank you," said Robinson, again. "What the Hell are you doing to me, Bill?" demanded the Englishman. "Drawing the color line on me?"

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If you want to get a rough idea of what the Washington crowd thinks of the mentality of the average voter, run this one over in your mind. You recall that just before the California primaries, Mr. Roosevelt "put the finger" on Senator Hiram Johnson who was running for reelection. So Johnson lashed back savagely, declaring that the President was taking us "down the road to war and dictatorship." That was one Friday. The very next day, THE VERY NEXT DAY, REMEMBER, the President's Secretary in Chief, Stephen Early, alighted from a plane in Los Angeles, called the newspaper boys around him, and confided in them in such manner that it got seven-column headings, that President Roosevelt was trying to figure ways and means for building huge steel mills, like at Gary, Indiana, in Southern California. Yes, sir, right in Los Angeles. After Senator Johnson's blast appeared Secretary Early hardly got time to pack a suitcase before he was sent fying to California to hand out that yarn to the voters. Judging from what happened at the polls right afterwards, the Californiia voters put the proper value on that strange gesture.

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Well, in the next few days the San Francisco show on beautiful "Treasure fsland" will close its doors for good. But the San Francisco bridges will stilt be there. And my personal opinion is that the bridges attract more tourists to San Francisco than the Exposition. No longer can a San Francisco Hoo-Hoo facetiously inquire as I heard one do at a luncheon once when an Oakland Brother rose and invited the S. F. bunch to the Oakland meeting: 'HOW DO YOU GET OVER THERE?" The big bridge answers that question before it is asked.