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Show REPORT ON THE A f i . ' inr -iimrr-'---1 ....iwirf,.,.iM""-f INSTALLMENT FIFTEEN The thing I liked best of all about the Soviet Union, and It Is one wt would do well to copy, Is the Intelligently Intelli-gently decent Russian attitude toward minority races. They are helped without being patronized, and they have developed self-respect and an understandable gratitude. If they have no real freedom, neither do the Russians. While this Soviet racial-colonial policy may not be so good as our handling of the Philippine Islands, It Is Infinitely better than our bun-gling bun-gling and thoughtless treatment of the Negro. We fly south out of Siberia, down Into the ancient Oriental peoples now ruled by the Soviet Union. Suddenly we are crossing a huge blue lake. It is so big that when land drops away behind us we still cannot see the shore ahead. When It does appear, we see the beginning begin-ning of a rolling desert On our left a chain of blue, snow-capped mountains rises like a fence. Geologically, Geo-logically, they seem about as old 'if Entire factories have been moved from one part of Russia to another. as our Rockies. On the east aide of this fence is China. We enter Kazakstan, of which Alma-Ata is the capital The Kazak people are part of the savage nomadic no-madic tribes who for a thousand years have pressed against Europe and once formed a part of the armies of Genghis Khan and Tamer lane and Atilla's Huns. When Europe invented the rifle, they sank from the status of a ter rible menace to that of a constant ly harassing threat In the past few centuries the Russian Rus-sian people have been pouring through the. Urals to colonize Si beria. The Russians had to struggle with these savage Mongolian nonv ads, whose culture was only a little higher than that of our American Indians. In-dians. They battled the equivalent of Geronimo and Sitting Bull and they have their Custers who made valiant Last Stands, but who finally, after a series of border wars, opened the continent to the White Man. We penned our Indians up in reservations. The Russians found another solution as we shall see. We step out onto Alma-Ata airport air-port at the base of the foothills into a country exactly like that around Boulder, Colorado, or Colorado Springs. The trees, the scenery, even the weeds are the same. The prominent Russians and the prominent Kazaks wear immaculate white raw silk suits. Alma-Ata, like Denver, is on an irrigated plain with mountains rising in the back ground. We pass through cornfields. where sun flowers grow along the irrigation ditches again exactly like Colorado. The farm houses are of sun-baked brick, made of clay and straw the adobe of our South' west This Soviet Denver is a sprawl ing Russian town, which before the war had 180,000 people and now has 400,000. ' That evening after the customary banquet we go to the local opera, where they give a performance based on an old Kazak folk tale. The actors are all Kazaks as are the words, music and costumes. It is a beautiful show, and gives us a vivid idea of what these people once were like. The costumes are clearly derived from the Chinese and a musician picks out a haunting Oriental tune on what looks like Chinese banjo while a pair of twin Kazak boys sing. All of their culture came over the mountains with them but it is preserved pre-served only here in the opera, for the clothing of those we see in the streets is not picturesque, but is drab composite of clean patches in distinguishable from the rest of the Soviet Union. Next morning they take us for a drive out through the irrigated river valley, past pink adobe bouses like those of New Mexico (lacking only 1 the strings of red peppers) to a great Soviet experimental station one of four In the Kazakstan Republic. Kazakstan Ka-zakstan Is four-fifths the size of all Europe exclusive of Russia, but It Is largely arid like our American dust-bowL This is a fruit farm, where under irrigation they raise apricots, peaches, cherries and plums. They ere keenly Interested in the plum, which they recently brought here from Canada, and is already producing pro-ducing more than twenty-five pounds of fruit per tree. In this particular orchard they use the most modern pipe system of subterranean Irrigation. Irriga-tion. They are proudest of their vineyards; In 1914 they had 3,000 hectares of land in grapes. Now they have 30,000. Workers on this state farm get only 300 roubles a month in salary, but at the end of the season they get a produce dividend of about 700 kilograms (roughly 1,500 pounds) of vegetables, which Includes corn, melons and pumpkins. Then each has his own irrigated garden plot-about plot-about a quarter of an acre for each worker. They may sell the produce dividend on the free market at prices lower than the Moscow free market The director gets 1,700 roubles a month and pays monthly 35 roubles for two large rooms in a big house he shares with someone else. The rent, ht says, is figured on the basis of 1 rouble, 30 kopeks, per square meter of dwelling space. In Amer ican figures, this is about 10 cents square yard. Eisenstein is of German-Jewish origin. He is a short fast-thinking, friendly little man. He and his staff wear colored polo shirts with short sleeves in the Hollywood manner, and Eisenstein wears a well-cut white linen suit He is filming the life of Ivan the Terrible. Ivan is one of the newly resurrected Soviet heroes. Eisen stein speaks fluent English, with a slight but agreeable accent The name of the President-Pre mier of Kazakstan is Nutras Un- dasinov. He is a pleasant kindly old Comanche or Sioux, who except for his European clothes, might be the dignified tribal chief you would meet on any Indian reservation, Most of his cabinet ministers are also Kazaks. but there are a few blue-eyed, blond Russians present The Russians, however, are in the background. The Kazaks tell us the people racially belong to the Turkoman- Mongol group, and fought for inde- pendence as early as the twelfth century, when the southeastern part of the present republic was under the rule of the Chinese Seventh Dynasty. Later they adopted the Mohammedan religion. The title of the hereditary ruler was the Khan as in Kublal Khan and Genghis Khari. The Mohammedan religion is still popular many people go to the mosque. But Kazakstan Is now one of the Soviet republics and has a great measure of independence; recently It was given the right of a separate foreign minister. Joyce, turning to the premier says. "You say now this Is an Independent Independ-ent republic; well, tell us about some of the conflicts you've had with the central government" The premier says there haven't been many conflicts, and lets it rest at that "You say that you have the right to send ministers to other countries who will you send them toT Will you send one to America?" A big Russian down at the end of the table, hitherto silent now tactfully tact-fully leans forward and suggests that such ministers will be sent to those countries most useful to them commercially. Joyce turns back to the premier "Are you going to send one to Amer ica or not?" Of course, that would be decided In Moscow, the premier explains. The premier explains at the time of the 1917 Revolution the people were 93 per cent illiterate. Today illiteracy is gone, and the Soviets have built many theaters and schools. Naturally, the people are grateful, so why should there be any disputes with the Moscow govern ment? The premier explains that the people elect delegates to a regional Soviet who send delegates to the Kazakstan Soviet who chose him as premier. "All right Now ask him how Stalin got his job; we want to un derstand it Ask him that" The handsome Russian down at the end of the table leans forward and explains smoothly and briefly the Intricacies of the Soviet electoral elec-toral system. He did it politely and there was no feeling that he was brushing the premier aside; only helping him over the hard places. Likewise when we ask how many refugees are here, it is the alert and friendly Russian who tells us that a million are still here, al W.L White though many have already gone back to the reoccupled territory. They now present Eric with a complete Kazak costume which con sists of a gold-embroidered robe more gorgeous than anything I have seen this side of a Shriner's convention. con-vention. But its crowning glory is a hood of red velvet, with ear flaps the size of soup plates, and the whole, including the ear flaps, is lined with silver fox fur. The party they gave us at the hotel that night was the most pleas ant we attended In the Soviet Union. It was the most Informal The dinner din-ner was elaborate as usual, but It wasn't stiff. The local notables were easy, friendly notables. There is an attractive girl she teaches dancing at the local academy acad-emy and she speaks fairly fluent good English but curiously awkward. awk-ward. She explains she learned it from books and until now has never spoken with an American or an Englishman. There are vice premiers, council ors and members of the local gov ernment some Russian and some Kazak. There are also half a dozen stars from the local opera all Ka-taks. Ka-taks. There are twin boys In their teens, who sang last night now re splendent In twin Tuxedos, of which they are very proud. There is a Kazak girl of about twenty, who danced the role of the Oriental princess with the cruel father. She could be any of the pretty Indian girls who, when Indians had oil money, were sought after by sororities sorori-ties at the University of Kansas. Then there are two older artists women In their forties, who, ex cept that they look like sisters-in-law of Madame Chiang Kai-shek, could be any of the Russian artists who have entertained us in the other towns. Their evening dresses are Just as good, they have as many gold teeth, but In addition they wear beautiful Oriental jewelry set with precious stones old Kazak work manship worthy of a museum. , Most of all, we liked them as peo ple. They were gentle and friend ly, and obviously had never been warned against foreigners. Almost the same thing could be said of the Russians. That Invisible barrier of tension and suspicion which sepa rates Russians from all foreigners had been slowly dissolving since we left Moscow. Here in Kazakstan, it disappeared entirely. We have now left Kazakstan and enter the neighboring Socialist So viet Republic of Uzbekistan, whose capital is the ancient Mohammedan city of Tashkent I am riding In the caboose plane with the correspondents. corre-spondents. The buffet service is as good as in the plane ahead. It even includes fresh strawberries, taken on at Alma-Ata. Dick Lauterbach pays a visit to the toilet and returns shaking his head. "I'll never get used to them. Five thousand feet above a howling desert des-ert they serve us strawberries, cavi ar and champagne, and then I go back there and find nobody has remembered re-membered to empty the chemical bucket for three days." The crowd of airport-greeters, as at Alma-Ata, are wearing white silk suits. Again half are Russian and half local Orientals. The local boys are known as Uzbeks. The jackets ,k American mission to Russia In 1941 included Gen. James H. Barns and William L. Batt. of all Russian white silk suits button but-ton up to the collarbone and have high turned-down collars like the Chinese. They wear caps of the same white pongee silk. The cap. Incidentally, is a relic of revolutionary days and was sym bolic of the working class, since only bourgeois exploiters wore felt hats. Recently, the government began making felt hats, explaining that in the new Russia, they need no longer be regarded as a badge of shame. However, all the old-time Bolshe viks still cling to caps. Nesterov always wears one. Mike Kalugia wore one. And, of course. Stalin, in all his pictures. As a hall-mark of the old Bolshevik aristocracy, the can is probably politically safer than the hat (TO BE CONTDTOED) THE LEIII SUN, LEIH UTAII r WffiOSi KathleenNorris Says; . , All Yours for Nothing Ball gypdlMtt.-WWP Sow m. niiflli 0 hod. ler, safety from fear, we take celmly for By KATHLEEN NORMS SOME time ago our town sent crates and crates n .whin n stricken V VlUUUUg . " Europe. Probably your town did, too. We stripped our closets of everything warm and wearable that we could spare, and of some things we could not spare, for the sake of shivering women and babies ba-bies overseas. Our thanks come principal ly in the consciousness of a good deed well done, and the knowledge that many a shak en, forlorn mother is grate ful to the God to whom she prayed for help, and whose ministers we were privileged to be. But sometimes a little trickle of personal thanks creeps through, too, and such a tribute came to me this week from an unknown friend VCl Poland, whose small daughters are wearing my granddaughters' coats this winter. This woman lived in America for several years, and writes in good English. She has one room in an almost destroyed building, win dows have recently been put back. she says, and running water is only a few hundred feet away, "Water is such a miracle, says the letter. "And to have this whole quiet room to ourselves seems to us a miracle, too. Food is scarce, but thanks to the Quaker and the Red Cross it is sure, and fear is gone. If you could know what it means not to be afraid! Kin Starved to Death. "My husband, bath brothers, my father, were starved to death, r died for the want of water. I hid with my children in the ruins of the city for many weeks Now all that Is over. Now we walk the streets free ly, we can talk, we can make friends. New I can get up early and watch the sunrise, and stop in church for a few minutes. And now with spring beginning, what beauties on every hand! Wt have a jar of wild flowers, the new potatoes are coming along, soon we will have beans 'and cher riesevery day some new delight Someday, we say, we will live out on a farm, for the farms need hands, and I am familiar with dairy work. . "In the old days," the letter con cludes, "I wanted so much! My hus band and I had a well-furnished flat, a car; I could buy china and clothes, there were dinner parties and wedding feasts. How fast it all vanished! Our home gone, our securities in the bank confiscated, strangers everywhere, my husband's hus-band's Job tost himself a prisoner, and my dear father, who would so gladly have helped us, gene In his turn. There was no work and no help for me, the wife of a patriot; we begged, we starved, we crept out of sight. My younger child was born in a shed, with an eld shepherd and sheep to keep us company in the bitter winter. "Now we are se rich! Every little new home that is being built or rehabilitated re-habilitated seems te belong to me. The moon, shining down through the old trees, the church-bells ringing, the newly-plowed field how beautiful beauti-ful they all arel When I see work and restoration beginning again, and lights in houses, and hear wom- The beauty of sunUfht on mow.' Features. shelter, love, home, books, light, tea- grunted. TAKEN FOR GRANTED Even the poorest Americans have much to be thankful for. compared to people in Europe and Asia. Such simple things as water and plain food, a tight roof and some kind 0 heat' ing, are often difficult to 06-f 06-f din over much of the war-deV' astated countries. Warm cloth ing is very scarce. Medicine is hard to get except where the Red Cross or some other agency agen-cy has a station. All sorts of plain, everday necessities are missing. It is particularly hard on women with young children. chil-dren. The story of a Polish woman wom-an is told in today's article. She had been accustomed to a luxury level of existence before be-fore the war. They had a fine apartment, a car, good furniture, furni-ture, money for travel and social so-cial events. The war changed all this. Her husband, brothers broth-ers and father are all dead . . . they starved. She managed to survive by begging and scav enging in the ruined city. One child was born in a sheep barn. Now that hostilities have ceased, conditions are better, but there is still much suffering. suffer-ing. She has learned to appreciate appre-ciate ordinary things that all of us take for granted. en calling their children and laughing laugh-ing it seems to me that life is tae beautiful to be borne. Now I can say of our enemies of yesterday, as my poer father did, dying, forgive them. They know not what they dot" This letter has made me see my wn environment with new eyes, and has made me wonder how much we appreciate the miracles that are all about us. Sunsets and sunrises, sun-rises, the glory of spring, moonlit nights in summer, and the first timid tim-id flutter of snow, these are all ours, if we will but claim mem. Clear cold water, a snug roof over our head, books to read, meals however how-ever plain to enjoy, a smooth bed at night and deep sleep let these things be taken away for a while, and we begin to know their value. Werry ever Trifles. "If we can see one meal ahead for the children we feel rich," said a French woman a few years ago. "We look no further ahead than that" And here we Americans are, fussing fuss-ing about the cost of spring clothes, about summer plans, about the shortage of butter and mayonnaise, about the babies' college career in the 1960s, about the lost letter and the embarrassing Invitation, about the slowness of the dry cleaners and the non-delivery of the Didy Wash. The fundamental essentials of food, shelter, love, home, books, light water, safety from fear, we take calmly for granted. It Is worry about the non-essentials that keeps us from ever seeing the breath-tal-lng beauty of sunrise, the light of cold winter sunlight on snow, the lilacs that begin to toss and blow in the spring wind. Our own quarrelsome, quarrel-some, complaining, discontented voices keep us from listening for Shakespeare's rain that whistles in the April wind, or sharing the immortal im-mortal wine of Emily Dickenson's September. Epidemlo Fighters Four emergency aid units now are prepared to help public health authorities combat poliomyelitis epidemics, the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis announced recently. Each unit consists of a physician, an orthopedic nurse and two physical physi-cal therapists. When called Into epidemic areas the teams will help to set up facilities facili-ties for patients, assist in their treatment and Instruct local physicians physi-cians in the latest techniques . 1 A t nz tnua win ECSCREENADIO leleaced by Weitern Newspaper Union, By VIRGINIA VALE WHEN Penny Singleton and Arthur Lake hit New York they just never stoDDed going: the stars ol the movie's "Blondie" series and the CBS Sunday show are popular young people, and some of the season s nicest parties were given for them. "I haven't seen anything of New York, really." said Penny. "And what do you think happened to me? I gave my clothes to the hotel valet to press, and I guess 'Dagwood' 4 rfig t - - ' y PENNY SINGLETON did my black crepe dress; it was nressed un and down Instead of K - across, so now it s a lot longer man it was, and so tight that I look just like a sausage in itl" But with that cute face and wide smile, nothing could spoil her looks. r When you see Paramount's "The Imperfect Lady," look at the driver of the carriage In which Ter esa Wright and Virginia Field ride. He's George Jenner, who was carriage car-riage footman to Queen Victoria for two years, 1892 to 1894, the period in which "The Imperfect Lady" Is set He met arriving foreign potentates and conducted them to Buckingham palace. So it's practically type cast ing. ' Wr- "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again" and think of Ray Mil- land. The world seems to be his since he made "Lost Week-End," but he made three, trips from London Lon-don to Hollywood before he finally hit his stride as a film actor, For a brief Shakesoearean em sode with Sonny Tufts and Michael Chekov in "Cross My Heart" Para mount rented a set from John Car- radine which he Is reported to have purchased for $50. Paramount paid Carradine $400 a week. When George Burns and Grade Allen take their summer vacation- June 6 to August 29 Meredith Will- son will carry on for the summer with the King Sisters and Ben Gage If you're interested in the career of a prospective Warner Bros, star don't miss seeing Dorothy Malone In "Janle Gets Married": she's one of eight players beinsr groomed for stardom. She also has a leading role In "Cry Wolf," In which Errol Flynn and Barbara Stanwyck star Irene Rich, who makes her first film appearance after five years' ab sence from the screen in ReDublic "The Angel and the Outlaw," owns and operates a 1,000 acre ranch near ban Bernardino, Calif. You'll see Ann Richards walk up a staircase, turn and go out of sight in "The Searching Wind." That was the last shot of the day, and the company ganged up on her: Dl rector William Dieterle asked her to do it once more. So up the stairs and out of view went- the blonde star. Then she came back, and found that while she was on her way the whole company had quietly Deat it. Bill Edwards recently Introduced his screen self to his fiancee. Hazel Allen took her to a Paramount projection room where "Our Hearts Were Young and Gay" was being run on. And she confessed that she' gone to see the picture some time ago, after a hard day at the Hoc tor's office where she's an assistant, but couldn't remember anything about it; seems she slept right mrougn tti Frank Readick told this one at urune Doctor" rehearsal. Twn elephants at the 200 were crouched Daci: to back. When thWA oiorA Joined them he was told to en because they were playing. Playing ""at, ue asKea. wny, book endsl ODDS AND ENDS Roland CUver, tvnom raramount imported from England Eng-land to play Olivia de Ravilland's mid- dUmged swain in "To Each His Own,' returns to Hollwoond tn 7v l .;. ter, Joan Fontaine's, father in "The bmperor Waltz.". . . . Sterling Hoyden's resuming nts acting career at Para mount- . Herman Goering's jewel encrusted hunting Lnllm ,. the wall of Alan Ladd"s den.... Evelyn iey tost so much weight when sht had the flu that il ' w UVIHIIIVHI Plenty to remodel the clothes she wean tin tf -v f IviJfc. A -.tSd,, Child vi Be I Over a Lawn Cha' A PINT size wn chair h' children. It adn 1 inn ta. V vfc vol, till furniture and' - 6'uwn-ucs i ottoman or for .j a and mae, pl, i- via an o to put books The small chair ihown he. -T the adult-size chair and i mJ""' pattern that eiva . lL???'le i materials, large diagrams fo, m each Diece and fliu.tf ior uu, large diagrams n. "1 piece and UlusUaiSi nLffi The seat of th mT?. T.008'"1 steps, Inch ies high and thirteen Inches SI Thl 253: icm u. r-auerni are 15c arh 7 r patterns to one ikm. a-CJ! b tern order with name and address to: MRS. RUTH WTETH 8PEARU Beaiora h is, N. y. nf.i: Enclose 15 cents lor one pattern. J 5S Mull tnr Kk F"MB, Of Name. Address- Mqoii Formations While hundreds of formot,v. the moon, snrh in. 1 tains and seas, have been'nairl ana renamed in uie past 300 yeaH onlv 520 of these nance Vio.t. v.'i UHVC L'tl retained, 200 of the most comma! 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