Wisconsin State Journal from Madison, Wisconsin • 20

Madison THE WISCONSIN STATE JOURNAL: Wisconsin Sun'day, June 10, 1934 Hairy Tribe Of Wild Men in Vancouver In the Good Old Days Do Beautiful Models Make Model Wives Famous Artists Disagree; Barclay Is Disillusioned, While Others Find Successful Mar- riages with Former Po sers Si Sun'day, June 10, 1934 7-i--: 1 Survivors Race, TTP" vU 7T -n js kx vHv-t. --tv sf TtftJ i A Pretty modern fSS.lj. .1 44U I 24111 Zh OCUst tries out a SZSV i i is -ft iT Xy y- Believed Extinct, Are Reported VANCOUVER, B. Reports that survivors of the tribe of wildmen known as "Sasquatch," a race of ferocious hairy giants, who dwelt in caves in British Columbia years ago, still are roaming the rocky wilds near Vancouver, have been revived here. The tribe was believed to have become extinct 30 years ago, but during the last year it frequently has been reported that survivors hase been seen prowling near scattered settlements around Vancouver.

The wildmen are described as "hairy giants, nine feet tall, with a ferocious appearance and demeanor." Seen by Woman Mrs. James Caulfield, living on a farm near Harrison, B. is the latest to report seeing one of the giants. Mrs. Caulfield relates that she was washing clothes in a river when she heard a buzzing sound similar to that made by a humming bird.

"I turned my head," she said, "but instead of a bird there stood the most terrible thing I ever saw in my life. I thought I'd die for the thing that made the funny noise was a big man covered with hair from head to foot. He was looking at me and I couldn't help looking at him. I guessed he was a Sasquatch so I covered my eyes with my hand, for the Indians say that if a Sasquatch catches your eye you are in his power. They hypnotize you.

I felt faint and as I backed away to et to the house I tripped and fell. As he came nearer I screamed and fainted." Screams Brought Husband Mrs. Caufield's screams brougth her husband running out of the house just in time to see the giant run off into the bush. On another occasion two cano-istsreported that the giant saw them paddling down a river and started hurling rocks at them. OSS' 2 1m i Ti.

4jrfS' Howard Chandler Christy, who has found that his Ideal model has made him a model wife. I Rudolph Schabelitz, whose model baa now become his second wife. old-fashioned tandem the bicycle built for "When romance reached its peak in America at the turn of the century, bicycling as a craze. After the era of the high-wheel cycle came the tandem bike popularize in song as "the bicycle built for Before the craze ended, multiple-seated luackii, 5 for as many as eight persons had been built. find a "dream wife" in a model.

By LEOXA RAPHAEL Central Press Sports Correspondent NEW YORK I wonder, our editor wondered, whether beautiful artists' models make model wives for artists. I really would like to know, he said to us, said he. Well, like in anything else, If you want to know how they wear, why ask the man who owns one. We did. In fact, we asked several.

That is, we asked several artists who are or who have been married to different models, and we found that opinions on even this subject differ. And howl First, we asked McClelland Barclay, whose paintings of beautiful girls adorn the covers and iHustrate the stories of our most popular magazines. Barclay, we found, was a very much disillusioned artist when It came to gathering up the rewards of marital bliss with a "dream He tried it twice and was struck out both times. And he still claims he doesn't know why he couldn't make a go of it. Fall Into Marriage Says he, "You don't go out looking for a wife.

You fall into marriage. You meet a girl, want to take her away from other. men; to do that, you generally have to marry her. Anyhow, once a woman makes up her mind she's going to marry you she's going to do it. "In models, however, the first thing an artist looks for is superficial beauty; beauty of form, that is.

After they get working together for a time and get interested in each other, many marry. Some models make good wives, for I know of many of them. "But your smart-looking woman of today is no longer interested in an A view of the World's Fair of 1S33. i "1 A Temperamental Clash at an Ancient Tyrol Inn The Married Life of Helen and Warren By MABEL HERBERT URNER it VP'S tike das. most sensational feature was as true oriental style.

She won A Captain Mathewson In World war. The world fair of 1893 was a sensation, but probably its "Little who quivered in what was generally regarded as much notoriety as the fan dancers of 1933. Wedding and Golden Wedding ALTOONA, Pa. U.R Two couples, married in a double ceremony here in 1884, celebrated their golden wedding anniversary together. Mr.

and Mrs. L. R. Mathieu and Mr. and Mrs.

Charles Heinzman were married at a double, ceremony in St. Mark's Catholic church on May 13. 1884. Mrs. Mathieu and Mr.

Heinzman are sister and brother. They were born in Baden, Germany, and came to this country in childhood. Woman, 101, Honored LE HAVRE tU.R) Mrs. Fiorina Cau, mother of Doctor Cau of this town, has just been given the red ribbon of the Legoin of Honor. "Mrs.

Cau is 101 and has been a school teacher for 54 years. the rankling "tag along." "Next year we'll get separate passports," with forced aloofness. "So I can go places alone "Now we've always managed with one passport. All we've ever needed and all we're going to have. Any traveling we do you stick with me" "Oh, I want to! You know I do," rapturously snuggling against him.

"And dear, I wouldn't go to Dinkelsbuhl alone even if I could!" "Don't worry. Kitten, I wouldn't let you! Well take it in together next year. Now we'll just have some cheese," his brisk dismissal of tenderness. "Leave those Schmarren for tonight. Guess staying over's not such a dumb idea, after all.

Another feed in this pedigreed inn!" (Mabel Herbert Harper) Next Week HITCH-HIKING FRANKFORT i i i didn't take. "Next I married a girl who had I posed for me when I illustrated two Jack London stories. We have been together ever since, and this has been through many, many happy years. I have found in her all the ideals which I saw in the superficial beauty of hundreds of models who posed for me. And yes she is a good housekeeper, too." According to Rudolph Schabelitz, noted magazine illustrator, models make excellent wives for artists.

He backed his belief by marrying his model, the former Dorothy Sibley. "Personality in a model," he says, "means more than superficial pret-tiness. Thousands of girls are pretty but those with personality tiiat indefinable charm are few. Perfect Understanding "Mrs. Schabelitz fits into the scheme of my life in every respect.

She still poses for me and she picks out all the styles which my other models wear. She has been most helpful to me. An intelligent artist's model understands the moods of an artist. She can become a very real part of his life. I found that my model and I had reached such perfect understanding that there was nothing left for us to do except get married." Schabelitz's "girls" are all patterned after his wife, he says.

"She embodies those things which the really charming girl must have. "Go back and tell your editor that models make good wives, for they've had a good chance to see the artist under all conditions and thus they are able to judge whether or not he will 'wear as a husband." And that is that! ing? Once we're here, a shame not to stay!" "Now if you're so keen about it stay over on your own!" his irate explosion. "Meet me in Munich tomorrow." "You mean You'd be willing for me to stay alone?" tensely "Why not?" finishing his compote. "Plenty of women travel by themselves. You don't always have to tag along after me!" "Why why, of course not," a swelling lump in her throat.

"And I'd love to stay "Good! Then I can finish my lunch in peace. Shove over that fruit bread." To stay overnight alone! In all their travels, never thought of before. Now after that searing "tag along" she must! Summoning all her pride. Make him think she WANTED to stay! "I'll have to go down to the station with you," picking at the sweet peas. "Repack the two bags so we can each take one "Plenty of time for that," stabbing his cucumbers.

The throat lump choking at his nonchalance. He didn't care! Act as if she Say something about going somewhere else alone "Dear, I've always wanted to see Dinkelsbuhl," straining to sound casual. "When we leave Munich, why can't I stop off there meet you in Frankfort?" "Eh?" looking up. "What in blazes put that into your head?" "Really no need for me to to tag along Her voice broke betrayingly. Poignantly' conscious of his glance.

A rare, really-seeing-her glance. Pushing back his depleted plate, he loomed up with a muttered, "Back in a minute Want to get some cigars." Left alone, her momentary yielding to wretchedness. No, no, she mustn't. A hasty powdering over her teary flush. Grateful for the comer obscurity.

"Well, how about dessert?" he strode back. "Got Schmarren on that menu." Schmarren! Those shredded pancakes with jelly always made to order. "Why, they'll take twenty minutes Will you have time to make your train?" "Don't have to," lounging back. "Just gave the porter our luggage check." "Then then he'll bring the bags here? Oh, -I don't understand "No, you're pretty dumb! How'd you expect to stay over without a Their joint passport They must stay together! "But, dear, you said "Great guns, take everything so blamed seriously! Can't I blow out once in a while?" He hadn't meant it! She should-'ve known. Now his staying-over But her Joyous relief subdued by- McClelland Barclay, who couldn't indoor sport like cooking, and that is really the basis of a happy marriage.

She wants to be out swimming or playing golf. "However, here is one thing you should note. A model should never pose for an artist after she is married to him." "Why?" we wanted to know. 'Because," replied Barclay, "she. is no longer interested in being locked up in the studio with her husband." Our next call was on Walter Biggs, one of the country's best illustrators.

"It's really a very personal thing, the matter of choosing a wife," he pointed out. "You can't generalize on this any more than you can say that business men should or should not marry their secretaries." Common Interests Ten years ago, however, Biggs married Miss Mildred Armstrong, his model. "Yes," he continued, "we've been very happy, but we have common interests and sympathies. Mrs. Biggs paints a little, but she is also a splendid housewife." Up to date, then, the honors are even.

We next queried Irving Nurich, who is famous for his line drawings of sub-debs. His inspiration for these drawings is Helen, and Helen is you've guessed it Mrs. Nurich. "Ours is more than a romance between artist and model," said Nur groschen." An elysian exploring hour. Through narrow lanes, past medieval towers, and down by the tree-fringed river.

Then back to the arcaded Her-zog-Friedrich-Strasse the heart of the Altstadt. Not stopping to refer to her guide. But every old house conjured up a dramatic past. Thrilling at a picture-book couple. The man with a.

feathered hat and silver-buttoned green jacket. The girl's velvet bodice and gay embroidered skirt. A quaint stream-ered sailor perched on her coiled braids. "And they still wear the Tyrolean cosjtume!" Helen gazing after them. "Dying out, though.

That pair came down from the mountains. Hello," his stick pointed ahead. "There's your Innsbruck trademark." Yes, the original of her guidebook cover! A sculptured Gothic balcony with the famous "Golden Roof." The coinlike shingles glinting in the sun. 'Over three thousand gilded copper plates," quoting her guide. "And they cost then nine ducats apiece.

Dear, how much was a ducat?" "Search me. Who put it up Emperor Maximilian, eh? He was their big shot." "His tomb's in the Hofkirche here. If we've time, I'd love to see it." would! Downright ghoulish always rubbering at some old sarcophagus. Now what's that Golden-er Adler sign across the way? Any dope about that?" "Yes the Golden Eagle," turning to "Hotels." "The most famous old inn here. Since 1390!" "Five centuries at the old stand! he beamed.

"That's where -we lunch." "When we've only these few hours? Oh. let's not waste time eating! "Now, I'm not sKippmg meals," belligerently, sweeping her across the cobbles. "Inveigled me into stopping off then want me to pass up lunch!" wr co-if. rontrition. This year his itinerary so full any side trips a real concession.

Under the cool shaded arches ana into the Goldener Adler. "whv eiiPTvhnrfv's been nerei Helen deciphering the tablet of celebrated guests. "Kings, emperors, dukes "Well, all the meals they puu away aren't nourishing me. Come on!" A rambline- old house. The His toric Andreas-Hofer Room upstairs.

But Warren, with his flair for the distinctive, steering her down to the Goethe Stube. An ancient vaulted cellar ich. "She was the little girl with pigtails who lived around the corner. We were playmates in childhood, and now we are partners for life." Mrs. Nurich, naturally, still poses for her husband, who generously says, "I owe what success I have to my wife.

That's absolutely true. She has encouraged me to the utmost; she is the business head of our household and without her I just wouldn't be anything. My sub-deb is patterned after Mrs. Nurich, you know." Mrs. Nurich, speaking for the other side, said that she found that her favorite artist made her a very good husband, again stressing the fact that they had many interests in common.

Lead Normal "Lives "But I think," she said, "that there would be more happv marriages between artists and the girls who pose for them if they eliminated some of the 'bohemian atmosphere and settled down like regular people, even to having children of their own." In the Nurich family there is also a 14-year-old son, PauL Howard Chandler Chrsty the man Tl'Vt Haliafaltf' Viamifttl "Christy Girl" is famous all over the world was frankly puzzled. "First I married a girl who knew nothing about posing," he pointed out, "but that marriage simply wrought-iron lanterns. The walls crowded with portraits, documents, autographed sketches. "Enough old-Innsbruck atmosphere in this joint," he made for a wall-benched corner. "Why hike around? Sit here and absorb it in comfort." "But we'll just have a snack.

Leave time for more exploring." "Now you don't hold me down," scanning the menu. "Our one chance at the Tyrol specialties sample all we can." The waiter suitably venerable. Bringing a glass of water for het sweet peas. His benevolent interest in the order. Recommending the light Tyrol wine.

"They're so honest," glowed Helen. "To suggest that inexpensive open wine!" "These old places have traditions. Not out just to soak you." "Dear, there's Maria Theresa!" studying a mellowed oil portrait. "And that must be Goethe. They certainly play him up." "Huh, he got around some.

All the old taverns that claim his patronage!" "Like Byron in Italy!" Then, as the waiter brought on a tureen. "Oh, you shouldn't have ordered soup." "Why not? Want to try those Tiroler Knodel their main specialty." The broth with the light Tyrol dumplings followed by Gansebraten mit Preiselbeeren Kompotte. And the local Fruchterbrot. A delicious lunch. But for Helen, clouded by the nearing train time.

"By George, they can cook! And this Tyrol wine's not half bad," refilling his glass from the litre carafe. "Here, you're not doing justice to this grub." "You ordered so much! We should be out seeing all we can of Innsbruck." "Well, food's part of travel, too." he shrugged, "if you know what to order. Native dishes in'natiVe baCk-ground and this fills the bill." "Yes, a really penuine place. And a hotel, too. Think of the quaint, bid bedrooms! If we could only stay overnight "We'll put up here next time," unmoved by her wistful hint.

"Oh; there may never be any next time! Dear, why couldn't we stay tonight?" "Huh, youre mighty generous with my time! Now we're making that three-ten." "Think of having dinner here! A leisurely dinner with more Tyrol specialties," her strategic appeal. "You haven't naa any of tneir cheeses." "Drop it!" he growled. "Messed up my schedule to stop off at all." "But if we left early in the morn Little Egypt, the sensation. Christy in uniform of New York Giants. CJ- 1 if i ''hi 'IT I rv: "Come on, got a hunch Main Street's up this way." "Maria-Theresa's the main street," Helen consulting her guidebook.

"Wait, dear, here's a map." "Now we dont need a map for a burg this size." Their first time in Innsbruck. But Warren stalking confidently ahead. Only a four-hour stop-over. Their bags checked at the station. Buoyantly starting out to explore.

The sleepy quiet of this ancient Tyrol town. Shut off from the world by the Austrian Alps. Now on a one-track tram street, but no car in sight. Only a boy pushing a barrow of purple cabbages. Certainly not a center-of-town activity.

Were they going the wrong way? That boy could tell them. Her eagerness to make the most of this between-tralns stop. But Warren would never deign to ask directions. An old wall fountain at the corner. Pulling off her gloves, she darted ahead.

Drinking from cupped hands the icy mountain water. Further on, they turned into a broad, more animated street. "Main Street!" a triumphant swing of his cane. "Jove, that's a great view." Yes, Maria-Theresien-Strasse with its spectacular vista. That sheer wall of soaring snow-capped mountains! "Oh, how near! Right at the end of this street." "Not so near as you think," he appraised.

"This clear air's deceptive. But that's a stunning backdrop." In the street, seemingly at the foot of the mountains, a tall column with haloed statues. But as walked toward it the mountains receded. "Still a few blocks off, eh?" he grinned. "Dear, all these modern shops here! We want the old town." "That's what we're headed for.

Don't be so darned impatient. Brought you straight to the main street, didn't "Yes, I'm always afraid you won't," laughing. "But you always do!" Soon past the statued column, and they plunged into an ancient ar-caded street. Here the- fifteenth-century Innsbruck. Along the vaulted passages, dim old-world shops cheese, bread, and wine shops.

On to the Markt-Platz. Too late for the morning crowd. But still a few vivid stands of fruit, vegetables, flowers. "Something else to cart," he grumbled, as she bought a bunch of sweet peas. "They're so lovely," poking one In his 'lapel.

"And only thirty While manager of Cincinnati Reds, jft i 'A hwT- yy? i isjt 1 1 pose Much in the same carefree manner in which you have been "asking in melodic Voice "Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad Wolff" not so many years ago the country hummed the tune of the then-popular ditty, "I Don't Care!" Eva Tanguay carried the melody of that song from one end of 'the'eountry to the other, and through it became popularly known as the "I Don't Care!" girl. Eva, born in Marble-ton, Canada, in 1878, began her, stage career as a child. She appeared in several well-known Xew York stage productions, and shortly before the World war turned to vaudeville, where she became famous with her "I Don't CareJ" AVIIEN CHRISTY REI6NEL An era immortal in baseball history was that in which Christy Mathewson, the "Big Six" of the national pastimereigned as the greatest of pitchers. Christy began bis athletic career at Buck-nell university, and was developed professionally bv Manager John McGraw of the New York Giants. He became coach of the Cincinnati Reds after seven years of masterly hurling.

During the World war, he went to France as an athletic director, and contracted tuberculosis. He died Oct. 7i 192.