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TRUE CRIME
The Case of the Murdered
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“A Crazy Idea” The First Radio Broadcast .... 86

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 Contents
October 1978
24 WINNIE, WHISKERS AND
A WORD OF WISDOM
A boy on the cusp of manhood
is inspired by meeting Winston
Churchill. F U LTO N O U R S L E R J R P. | 70
September 1973
April 1974
30 RICHES NO DIAMOND 64 THE SINKING OF THE COMET
COULD BUY The fishing party was in good
My old schoolmaster had finally spirits as they set out for a day
saved enough to buy his fiancée on the sea. Until the bilge started
a ring. Then I wrote to him. flooding. M I C H A E L R E I L LY
J. W I N STO N P E A R C E

May 1940
January 1980 70 MY AUNT BATTY
38 “THANK YOU, ROSIE” A loving and funny portrait of a
A hauntingly poignant story of woman who changed every life
an unusual friendship. she touched. KAT H L E E N N O R R I S
A R T H U R A . M I LWA R D

January 1985
46 THECASEOFTHEMURDERED
MOTHER-IN-LAW
Nathaniel Carter was arrested for
the savage murder of an elderly
woman. The chief accuser? His
estranged wife. G E R A L D M O O R E
December 1969
56 NOW... WHILE THERE’S TIME
Each day with young
children can feel like a week.
But the wonder of childhood is
quickly over. E D B A R T L E Y
November 1990
78 THE TROUBLE WITH MOLLIE
There are dogs that seem born
to become champions. Naughty
‘Tip Top’ Mollie wasn’t one.
EVERETT SKEHAN
January 1956
86 THE FIRST BIG RADIO
BROADCAST
Radio broadcasting for the
masses was unproven until
someone proposed a blow-by-
blow account of a title boxing
match. J. A N D R E W W H I T E

January•2018 | 1
 Contents
September 1933
96 WHAT’S IN A WORD? THE DIGEST
The English language is alive 16 Health
and well – and constantly
19 Pets
evolving. JENNINGS HAMMER
20 Travel
June 1955 22 Money
102 THEY BROUGHT HOME 131 RD Recommends
THE WRONG BABY
It’s a nightmare scenario: the REGULARS
child you raised is actually not
your own. M U R R AY T E I G H B LO O M 6 Letters
8 My Story
April 1976 12 Kindness of Strangers
112 CRIME BY COMPUTER 14 Smart Animals
First came computer systems.
37, 76 Points to Ponder
Cybercrime wasn’t far behind.
54 Personal Glimpses
R O B E R T S . ST R OT H E R
93 Quotable Quotes
December 2004 94 Testimonial
118 OUT OF THE BLUE 101 Picturesque Speech
The inspiring story of how a teen 136 Puzzles
surfer overcame the odds after a 138 Trivia
shark attack. B E T H A N Y H A M I LTO N 139 Word Power

CONTESTS

7 Caption Contest

HUMOUR

44 Life’s Like That

62 Laughter, the Best Medicine
109 All in a Day’s Work

SEE
P. | 118 PAGE 11

2 | January•2018
Explore, Interact, Inspire
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ARCH

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Rich s No
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AGE 0
2018
Riches No
Diamond Could Buy
PAGE 30

“We Brought Home

the Wrong Baby”
PAGE 102

TRUE CRIME
“We Brought Home
he Wrong Baby”
The Case of the Murdered
P GE 02 Mother in Law
TRUE CRIME PAGE 46
The Ca e of the Mu dered
M ther in Law
P GE 6 “A Crazy Idea” The First Radio Broadcast .... 86
Cr z I ea T e F r t ad o r a ca t 86 Winston Churchill’s Wit and Wisdom ......... 24
Winston Churchill’s Wit and Wisdom ......... 24
 Editor’s Note
Classical Treasures
SINCE WE STARTED PUBLISHING
a Classics Edition back in 2012, the
editorial team has looked forward
to rolling up our various sleeves and
getting dirty in our library archive.
Dusting off the covers of the issues
published as far back as the 1920s is
always fraught with danger – not to life
and limb – rather, of soaking up more
hours than the working day allows.
Victoria began the task back in
July – her knowledge of the archive
is outstanding (and her sleeves the
most dusty!). Ever-keen historians
Melanie, Greg and I would then size
up the topics, get lost in the choices,
until finally agreeing on the line-up.
Then it was over to Hugh, whose
deftness in bringing the many eras
together using beautiful illustrations
was a joy to witness. My particular
favourite in this Classic compilation
is ‘Thank You, Rosie’, first published
in January 1980. This article is a
tear-jerker – something classic Digest
stories manage so well. I dare you to
read this story and not choke up!
Enjoy these timeless classics and
do share your thoughts – we’d love
to hear from you.

LOUISE
WATERSON
Group
Editor

(STANDING,
FROM LEFT):
GREG BARTON,
VICTORIA POLZOT,
MARGARET
M C PHEE, LOUISE
WATERSON,
MELANIE EGAN
AND MICHAEL
CRAWFORD.
(KNEELING, FROM
LEFT): MARC
M C EVOY AND
HUGH HANSON
 Vol. 194
No. 1152
January 2018
EDITORIAL Group Editor Louise Waterson
Chief Subeditor Melanie Egan Art Director
Hugh Hanson Digital Content Manager
Greg Barton Digital Editor Michael
Crawford Content Editor Marc McEvoy
Associate Editor Victoria Polzot Senior
Subeditor Samantha Kent Subeditor
Margaret McPhee Contributing Editor
Helen Signy
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& Retail Sales Director Sheron White
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January•2018 | 5
 Letters
READERS’ COMMENTS A D OPINIO

They’re a Special Bunch

I was moved to tears as I read ‘A Gift of
Hope’ (November). What remarkable and
inspirational people Kris Chung and the
Wagners are! It takes a pretty special
couple to adopt four children when they
have five of their own to raise and care
for. The Wagner’s love and generosity
are truly boundless. It also takes a pretty
amazing, selfless and generous person
to donate a part of his liver to a stranger.
Kris’s humility, courage and kindness are
inspirational. The unique relationship that
has grown from their experience is a
lasting one. KATHLEEN RICHARD

Touching Thanks other dogs. I also feed some magpies

I am certain animals experience and they reward me by singing to me
gratitude (‘A Dog’s Gratitude’, after I have fed them. LYN CAMPBELL
November). I bought two of my dogs
from pet stores after they had been in Reading and the Brain
the window for some months. Their There was a wonderful variety
attitude to us has been of ‘reads’ in the
entirely different from November magazine.
the dogs we obtained LET US KNOW However, I feel I must
elsewhere. I don’t If you are moved – or comment on editor
think that they have provoked – by any item Louise Waterson’s
in the magazine, share
ever forgotten that they your thoughts. See 
editorial on ‘Reading
were ‘saved’ from the page 5 for how to join Builds Brain Power’.
pet shop and are more the discussion. I am an avid reader and
affectionate than our the wonder of words is

6 | January•2018
 an ongoing learning process for this
senior citizen in her twilight years.
The gift of learning, whatever the
mode, should be a continuous and
welcomed process for us all.
LORRAINE POINTON

This One’s a Keeper

The November issue was so much Bone Idle
fun. I laughed out loud at the jokes, We asked you to think up a funny
enjoyed the stories, and didn’t do too caption for this photo.
badly at Word Power. The whole issue
Dog tired! R.C. KNEEN
is a keeper! KAREN DAVENPORT
I said I’m not greeting the new
Sharing the Quotes neighbour and her stupid cat.
ALASKA BLAH
‘Quotable Quotes’ is the first page
I turn to when I read your magazine. Vet visit … must play dead.
I have penfriends all around Australia JOSEPH BARCELA

and when I write to them, I always

include one of your quotes on the
back of the envelope. By sharing the
quotes, more people can get a kick out
of reading them. DAVE GALMAN
Sometimes you just want to take
some time to smell the flowers.
JACK ARCHER
Congratulations to this month’s
winner, Jack Archer.

WIN
WIN A PILOT CAPLESS !
FOUNTAIN PEN
The best letter published each
month will win a Pilot Capless
fountain pen, valued at over
$200. The Capless is the
perfect combination of luxury and
ingenious technology, featuring a
one-of-a-kind retractable fountain CAPTION CONTEST
pen nib, durable metal body,
P H OTO S : I S TO C K

beautiful rhodium accents and Come up with the funniest

a 14K gold nib. Congratulations caption for the above photo
to this month’s winner, and you could win $100. To
Kathleen Richard.
enter, see the details on page 5.

January•2018 | 7
MY STORY

A Lifelong
Connection
A penpal promotion in the Digest
started a friendship spanning the globe

BY PAT R I C I A IN 1965, I WAS LIVING IN DARWIN where my husband

PHELPS was serving in the Royal Australian Air Force. I had six
Patricia Phelps lives children under nine, the youngest just six weeks old,
in New South Wales. weighing just 2.2 kilos. My life was very busy, with not
She has six children, much time for social activities, but I was an avid reader
18 grandchildren and subscribed to Reader’s Digest and read it from cover
and seven great- to cover every month. Through the Digest, I followed
grandchildren. She news from Australia and around the world and I also
loves spending time
enjoyed the humour. It was my lifeline.
with her ‘brood’
Imagine my excitement when one of the Digests I
and enjoys reading
and travelling. received in 1965 had a Parker Pen promotion in it –
the World’s Fair was on in New York and readers had
the opportunity to be matched up with a penpal. All
I needed to do was fill in an entry form that, upon
receipt by the Parker Pavilion at the New York World’s
Fair, would be fed into a computer (a very large one,
I believe!) and then matched with a like-minded
penfriend. I received a letter in June 1965 and that’s

8 | January•2018
 how I met Angela Jones from Passaic,
New Jersey, US.
We soon became firm friends and
wrote long letters (snail mail in those
days) about our lives, what we read,
movies and our day-to-day lives. We
also wrote about current affairs in the
US, Australia and around the world.
Angela was in a clerical job and
went to college at night, eventually
becoming a home science teacher at
Clifton High School. I retrained and
went to work in my local high school
library, where I worked for 20 years.
P H OTO : iS TO C K
We are both retired now.
We went through so much together,
the ups and downs of family life with
my six and Angela’s three children.
For years we only wrote letters, but I
clearly remember our first phone call
one Christmas. My family was having
a picnic at the beach while Angela’s
family was snowed in.
Angela was with me in love and
support when my husband served in
Vietnam and also when my marriage
broke up and I became a single mum.
She was there with me all the way.
We were interested in politics and
many long letters went back and
forth between our living rooms,
we both learned a lot, sometimes
agreeing, sometimes not.
We each sat with our phones in
front of our TV sets and together
cried for joy when Barack Obama
January•2018 | 9
was elected, but not so when Donald
Trump won.
Angela visited Australia in 1988
and went to Expo in Brisbane, Uluru,
the Great Barrier Reef and my home
in beautiful Port Stephens. She fell in
love with Australia. She has visited
five times and has travelled around
so much that now she’s a great
ambassador for Oz. In fact, when she
earned her PhD, it was on Australia’s
Indigenous people.
I prayed with Angela when her
husband, Jimmy, died and sent her
a toy koala that snored to comfort
her. I went to the US for the first time
in 1992 for her daughter Maria’s
wedding. I met her beautiful, warm
and fun-loving family and had a
terrific time.
While there, I gave a talk at her
school. The 1500 students could
not believe it when I superimposed
Australia over the US and told them
we had cattle stations larger than
Texas and that kangaroos did not hop
down the streets.
After the local newspaper
interviewed us, the Parker Pen
Company got in touch and presented
us each with a beautiful pen – a very
appropriate gift.
We’ve had many happy times
together and still write long
letters. I have a huge family now
with grandchildren and great-
grandchildren, some of whom live
nearby. Angela has granddaughters,
but no greats yet. Her son David has
10 | January•2018
Angela (left)
and Patricia.
The penpal
form in a 1965
Reader’s Digest
recently retired from the US Army
after serving in several bases in the
Middle East.
Angela has a Driza-Bone and an
Akubra and she says, ‘G’day mate’
with a dreadful New Jersey accent.
I’ve sent her parcels with Tim Tams,
Vegemite and lots of books. My next
parcel will include The Dinkum
Dictionary of Aussie English. She loves
actor Hugh Jackman and introduced
herself to him at the stage door when
he was in ‘The Boy from Oz’.
We’ve travelled a long journey over
the past 52 years; we’ve loved and
laughed and cried together, shared
our lives and learned lots, all thanks
to the Reader’s Digest.
Do you have a tale to tell? We’ll pay
cash for any original and unpublished
story we print. See page 5 for details
on how to contribute.
 0NLINE

FIND THESE UNIQUE READS AT

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Scientific Studies
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Liquid cats, insect gender reversal,
and the right way to carry a cup of
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4 Sure Signs Your

Dog Trusts You
HOW CLOSE ARE YOU REALLY TO
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January•2018 | 11
KINDNESS OF STRANGERS

New Place,
Brighter Faces
An imaginative art project brought
a neighbourhood together
BY K AT H R Y N R E N N E R

This story first ran WHEN JAN AND BRIAN DUTCHER moved to San
in Reader’s Digest, Diego for Brian’s new basketball coaching job at San
August 2004. Diego State University, the neighbours smiled and
introduced themselves. But there were no ‘bring a
plate’ invitations, no recipe swapping and no car
pooling for her daughters Liza, 12, and Erin, 15.
“The families really didn’t know each other, and we
missed that,” says Jan. “We have moved a lot and are
far from relatives. Neighbours are our family.”
So Jan, a self-taught artist, decided to repeat a
project she had done for Liza’s fifth-grade class: ask
each person to paint his or her face on a big canvas.
The finished piece would become the Dutchers’ new
family portrait.
P H OTO : I S TO C K

First, Jan painted a grid on the canvas and propped

it up on an easel in the garage, next to a table of paints.
Then whenever she was home, the ‘art room’ door was
up, with an open invitation for neighbours to paint

12 | January•2018
a square. The first to stop in were
kids riding by on their bikes. “They
thought it was cool,” says Jan, but
the adults weren’t so eager. “Most
said they hadn’t picked up a paint
brush since kindergarten,” she
says. “They were afraid they’d mess
it up.” But as word slowly spread,
they came, some using their driver’s
licence photos as models.
Then something started to happen.
They came back – to see who had
painted, or if they could recognise
who was who. While in Jan’s garage,
they began to chat about remodelling
projects, schools, jobs and families.
Almost daily. Wendy Schucholz, who
lived across the street and was fighting
breast cancer, came in her wheelchair
to watch the fun. Neighbours began to
offer their support.
When the worst happened and
Wendy died, they stood by her
husband, Bill, and invited him over
for dinners.
This year has been different in the
neighbourhood. Families take turns
hosting happy hours. They share
birthdays and swim in one another’s
pools. “We’re watching over each
other now,” says Jan. “Just like in
the painting.”
Share your story about a small act of
kindness that made a huge impact.
Turn to page 5 for details on how to
contribute and earn cash.
January•2018 | 13
 Smart Animals
Maisie’s Story
DIANNE EVANS
Maisie was the first of our goats to
give birth so we called her kids Adam
and Eve. One morning, when her
kids were still very young, I came out
the back door and noticed all the
goats were gathered around Maisie,
who seemed distressed. “What’s up,
Maisie?” I called from the veranda.
As usual she bleated back, only this
time her bleat sounded more like a
terrible cry. I looked more closely and
I noticed her kids were not with her.
That wasn’t right, I thought. The kids
were never far from their mum.
My husband was inside oblivious
to all the commotion so I called out,
“Going to see what is up with Maisie!”
As I entered the paddock I said to
Maisie, “Come on, let’s go find your
kids.” So off we and about 16 other
14 | January•2018
goats went – through the long grass
and over the paddocks. All the goats
were trotting close beside me so I had
to watch my footing. The kids weren’t
anywhere to be seen in the main field
so we ventured down towards the
dam that was about 20 minutes away.
I was almost ready to leave the
dam when I noticed a brown and
white patch hidden deep in the
grass. There they were – both sound
asleep. Maisie was beside herself
bleating away excitedly. She gently
nudged them awake bleating at
them as if to say, “How could you
I L L U S T R AT I O N S : i S TO C K
scare Mummy like that?”
I think Adam and Eve fell asleep
while Maisie was feeding. She
probably wandered away, which is
what goats do when they are foraging.
I have since learnt that windy weather
can make goats disorientated and
Maisie must have become confused
and ended up at our gate, agitated and
without her kids.
We all headed home and as I was
going through the gate back to the
house, Maisie bleated as if to say,
“Thank you!”
Little Miss Chook and
the Brush Turkey
SUE HINCHEY
The battle lines were drawn. In one
corner was the black chicken with
escapee tendencies; in the other
corner was my frustrated husband.
In January last year, Little Miss
Black Chook had been making like
Steve McQueen in The Great Escape,
flying the coop around 8am each
day (between her 7am feed and
being let into the yard at 9am) then
returning promptly at 1pm. Initially,
my husband, Rod, and I were worried.
How did she get out? Had she
managed to fly over the two-metre-
high fence and where did she go to for
five hours each day?
Ten metres of chicken wire and bird
netting had been strung far and wide
along the back fence from the roosting
shed to the neighbour’s border; a
huge project that had turned the back
boundary into an impregnable barrier
… or so we thought. Being outwitted
by a chook was too much for Rod
so there was only one solution:
Operation Keep Her In.
One rainy morning, three weeks
after her first escape, donning an
anorak and carting a camp-chair to
a makeshift hideout amongst the
bougainvillea, Rod spied the mystery
exit in the furthest corner of the pen.
In a split second, one small section
of the wooden lattice swung in the
breeze, allowing a much larger
opening. Little Miss Black Chook
sprang through the opening without
so much as a single wing flap. She was
gone in an instant! Rod sprang from
the hideout like a fox in pursuit. He
couldn’t keep up but he did see the
object of her affections – a handsome
brush turkey in the nearby bush!
Rod met the challenge with even
more netting and Little Miss Black
Chook had to give up her daily jaunts
across the way. Seems the chicken
wasn’t the only one crossing the road
and the brush turkey will have to find
a new playmate.
You could earn cash by telling us
about the antics of unique pets or
wildlife. Turn to page 5 for details
on how to contribute.
January•2018 | 15
 THE DIGEST

5 Easy Fixes
for Weight-Loss Headaches
Headaches can be a painful side-effect of your
efforts to slim down. Here’s how to reduce them
BY A D R I E N N E FA R R A N D P E R R I O . B L U M B E R G

LOSING WEIGHT can be such a into ‘starvation mode’. This triggers

pain in the … head? According to a a cascade of hormones and brain
US National Headache Foundation chemicals similar to your body’s
study, diet-related issues play a role response to stress. Once you fuel
in a whopping 30 per cent of all up, the headache – along with other
migraines (and can affect less severe symptoms such as shakiness and low
types of headaches, too). energy – should go away.
Here’s why dieting makes z Tip: Remember, you should
your head ache, and how to wait no more than four
ease the pain. hours between meals.
Try light snacks between
1. STOP OVER- meals, such as peanut
RESTRICTING YOUR butter and crackers or a
KILOJOULE INTAKE handful of carrots and
Spacing your meals too some almonds.
far apart or eating at
irregular intervals 2. STAY
P H OTO : I S TO C K

causes a dip in HYDRATED

blood-glucose levels, Dehydration is a
which essentially common weight-loss
drives your body headache trigger.

16 | January•2011 8
Experts don’t know exactly why,
but suspect it may have to do with
narrowing of blood vessels in the
brain, which also reduces the brain’s
supply of blood and oxygen. Not
getting enough electrolytes may
also contribute to dehydration
headaches. Besides causing
headaches, being dehydrated can
actually undermine your weight-
loss efforts. Research shows it’s easy
to confuse hunger for thirst, which
can lead to overeating.
z Tip: By the time you feel thirsty,
your body is already a little
dehydrated, so guzzle water or tea
often. Have a glass of water with every
meal and between meals.
3. CUT CAFFEINE SLOWLY
If you’ve ditched the soft drinks or
coffee as part of your slim-down
plan, you may be going through
caffeine withdrawal. According to
CNN Health, experts estimate that
about half of people who cut back on
caffeine experience headaches and
other unpleasant symptoms.
z Tip: Don’t cut caffeine cold turkey.
Instead, try gradually decreasing
your caffeine intake. Remember,
caffeine isn’t a diet devil, but it’s often
consumed as part of sugary drinks or
coffees loaded with extra kilojoules
from sugar and milk. For most, it’s
fine to consume one cup of a caffeine
drink daily while you’re dieting, but
use skim milk and avoid kilojoule
bombs like flavoured syrups and
whipped cream.
4. EXERCISE AT A
REASONABLE PACE
If you’re new to working out or if you
pushed yourself harder than usual,
you may be experiencing an exercise
headache. They can occur before or
after working out. Although the exact
cause is unknown, these headaches
may occur because of changes in the
blood vessel of the brain, according
to the Mayo Clinic.
z Tip: Always warm up before a work-
out to ease your body into movement,
and don’t overexert yourself.
5. AVOID ARTIFICIAL
SWEETENERS
According to a study at the
University of Washington, Seattle,
some people may be particularly
sensitive to aspartame, which can
lead to headaches. Aspartame might
be found in some diet drinks as well
as foods.
z Tip: If you suspect artificial
sweeteners may be triggering your
headaches, keep a food journal to
watch for patterns. Consider using
honey in your tea or coffee; as a bonus,
research shows it has fat-releasing
properties and is healthier than sugar.
January•2018 | 17
HEALTH
4 Ways to
Stop
Technology
Addiction
A sedentary lifestyle
is bad for health
RESEARCH SUGGESTS that at least
64 per cent of people now spend up
to four hours daily of leisure time
in front of a screen. Just as TV
watching has been linked to higher
rates of obesity and diabetes, this
extra sedentary time is bad news
for our health.
1. CHOOSE OUTDOOR ACTIVITIES
OVER TECHNOLOGY When you’re
at home, make it a rule that you
can’t be online if the sun is shining.
Instead, you have to go for a walk,
ride a bike, swim or get some other
kind of healthy physical activity for
at least an hour before you can pull
out your phone or tablet, or take
a seat at the computer. This rule
should apply to everyone in your
household.
18 | January•2018
2. LIMIT SOCIAL MEDIA USE
Social networks have transformed
computer and mobile use for people
of all ages. Whether it’s Facebook,
Twitter, Instagram or Snapchat,
impose limits on the amount of time
you spend on social media. Avoid
aimless browsing and give your time
online a purpose: research holidays
or catch up on the news of the day.
Then log off.
4. SET ASIDE READING TIME
Challenge yourself to read at least
30 pages of a great book before you
check your computer or mobile
device. Pick the right reading
material and you’ll soon find you’ve
discovered an enjoyable pastime.
5. CREATE PROJECTS FOR
YOURSELF It’s amazing how much
you can accomplish when you’re
not glued to a screen. Compile a list
of one-hour evening projects. Some
P H OTO : I S TO C K
suggestions are organising kitchen
cupboards, sorting through your
sewing materials or cleaning your
car. Then try to do one each evening.

How to Care
for Your Ageing Pet
Tips for a healthy and happy old age
ALTHOUGH THEY’RE STILL THE
sprightly young kitten or pup in our
minds, our pets need extra care as
they reach their senior years.
FOOD As they age, pets require
a different set of vitamins and
minerals. Different sizes and breeds
will have different needs, so ask
your vet for guidance. Most pet food
brands have a senior range, which
will usually include more omega 3,
6 and 9 for bones and joints.
EXERCISE Encourage your pet to
continue their outdoor activities. The
sights and smells should inspire their
natural urge to trot about and explore.
If they’re reluctant, start small
with indoor games and
toys that will keep their
mind active and get them
moving a bit at least.
P H OTO : I S TO C K
FIT NOT FAT If you’re
feeding your pet healthy
food in appropriate-
sized portions and
19 | January•2018
PETS
BY S O P H I E TAY L O R
making sure they’re getting exercise,
they shouldn’t be overweight. But
if they do need to lose a few kilos,
talk to your vet about the best way
to maintain a healthy weight. Excess
weight places stress on your pet’s
joints and internal organs.
CHECK-UPS Regular visits to the
vet can prevent minor health issues,
including dental problems, flaring up
and escalating. Older pets should be
taken at least once every six months.
On your next visit, ask what common
issues may affect their particular
breed, such as arthritis or diabetes.
TOOTHACHE Plaque and tartar
build-up can lead to
gingivitis, which allows
bacteria to reach the
bloodstream where
it can damage
internal organs. Use
pet dental chews or
brush their teeth at
home. Book an annual
professional clean.
TRAVEL

Great Holiday Presents

Taking home gifts is a travel ritual, but aim higher
than trinkets and tat with these classy purchases
BY R I C H A R D M E L L O R

MOROCCO: BABOUCHES Declared DENMARK: KNITWEAR

a ‘must-have shoe’ by none other
than Vogue, these Aladdin-style
slippers can be bought in the chaotic
market souks of Marrakech or
Fes. Pointy and brightly coloured,
Scandinavia is famous for its wool,
and Denmark for minimalist design
flair. Combine both elements
courtesy of a natty jumper, one
which will have recipients looking
P H OTO : I S TO C K

they are made in the local leather good and staying warm all winter.
tanneries before appearing on local Copenhagen’s Sommerfuglen shop
stalls – or being shipped overseas and is a great place to start for both
hawked at ten times the price. knitwear and knitting wool.

20 | January•2018

INDIA: HAND-CARVED WOODEN
BLOCKS Commonly used in
India for printing on textiles and
clothing, there are numerous floral,
geometric and animal-related
designs. Beautiful as ornaments, the
block stamps can also be used for
scrapbooking, card-making, textile
printing, pottery and ceramics.
 
BELGIUM: LACE Along with the
small town of Binche, the world’s
finest handmade lace shops are
found in Bruges and Brussels. Plenty
of small bobbin pieces are available
to buy, including collars, cuffs, pillow
covers and veils.
 
THAILAND: SILK Exquisitely soft
and designed with oriental flair, Thai
silk is the best in the world. Scarves
and ties are the optimum items, but
cushion covers, tablecloths, bags,
bedspreads and purses all make
great alternatives. Your best bet is a
boutique like Jim Thompson.
SCOTLAND OR IRELAND: WHISKY
Few presents delight males of
advancing years more than a bottle
of the good stuff. Scotch (Scottish
whisky) is generally peaty and made
from malt; Speyside and Islay are
particular hotspots. Spelling their
variety with an ‘e’, Irish distilleries
typically produce a smoother, less
smoky blend.
 
FRANCE: HIT SUPERMARKETS
such as E.Leclerc and Casino for
awesome presents including fashion
socks, striped French kitchen towels,
and Le Petit Marseillais soaps and
shampoos as well as skincare brands
such as La RochePosay and Avène.
ARGENTINA: WALLETS Renowned
for its tough, gaucho-style leather,
Argentina is the perfect place to buy
gloves, bags, belts or, most obviously,
wallets. Head for Buenos Aires’ Villa
Crespo barrio, and specifically the
stores lining Calle Murillo.
January•2018 | 21
MONEY
Car Charging a Drain
Why charging your phone in your car is more
expensive than you think BY B R O O K E N E L S O N
WHETHER YOU’RE ON A LONG road
trip or stuck in traffic during a daily
commute, it may seem harmless to
plug your phone into your car’s USB
port. But unless you’re desperate,
charging your iPhone during your
commute could be a big mistake.
(And by the way, charging your
iPhone like this could ruin its battery.)
Why? For starters, the USB port in
your vehicle probably provides less
electricity than your phone really
needs to charge. As a result, your
phone might stall while it charges,
or worse – barely charge at all. This
common battery-saving iPhone hack
actually hurts your charge, too.
“Many people may notice that on
their commute home from work their
phone charged very little (if at all)
during their 30–60 minute commute,”
says Brad Nichols,
a technician at
Staymobile. “This
is mostly due to the
fact the phone is
using more power
than the car charger
is supplying it.”
22 | January•2018
Nichols also says that your phone
could receive too much power,
especially if you’re using a cigarette
lighter port to charge up. Most
cigarette lighters can supply up to ten
amps, while most chargers use one to
three amps. A malfunctioning charger
can provide inconsistent power
to the device, resulting in sudden
surges that could damage the internal
components.
Charging your phone could drain
your car’s battery, too. This usually
isn’t a big deal for those who own new
cars with healthy batteries, Nichols
says. But if your car is older, you might
want to avoid charging your phone
through its USB port.
Most importantly, it’s not safe to use
your phone while operating a vehicle.
“Anytime a person’s hands leave the
wheel or eyes
leave the road, it
becomes incredibly
dangerous for
them and the other
people around
them,” Nichols
points out.
CLASSIC
READS
2018
Our pick of the extraordinary
mixed with inspiration
 OCTOBER 1978

Winnie,
Whiskers
and a
Word of
Wisdom
It took one of the world’s great heroes
to perceive the man in the boy
BY F U LT O N O U R S L E R J R

January•2018 | 25
WINNIE, WHISKERS AND A WORD OF WISDOM
IT IS A TERRIBLE THING TO BE 16
and never have shaved. At Christmas,
I received a mug with scented soap,
a bone-handled brush and the most
modern razor on the market. “You’ll
be needing them soon,” my father said,
with a confident wink. Every morning
I searched the mirror, but the new
year, 1949, began without the slightest
shadow on my face.
In February, I made the dreadful
mistake of bringing my mug, brush
and razor to school and hiding them
in my locker, in the hope that my mas-
culinity would suddenly sprout be-
tween, say, social studies and Latin.
The implements were discovered and
displayed – with hilarious commentary
– by two hairy older boys.
After that, the elusive first shave
became an obsession. I daydreamed,
imagining the rites of the ritual: how
I would coax the warm, rich lather
from my mug, how I would spread it,
slowly and luxuriously, over the skin
and then make the masterful, sweep-
ing razor strokes that would initiate my
manhood. But no matter how often I
looked, the mirror still proclaimed that
I was beardless.
Then my father announced that
Mother and he were planning a brief
visit to England. If I wished, he said
casually, I could come too.
I packed my unused mug, brush
and razor and, on April 2, I walked up
the gangway and into the sumptuous
comfort of the Queen Mary.
The hour before departure was
26 | January•2018
frenzied. My parents had a cabin on
A Deck, and it was immediately filled
with well-wishers. (This was the week
that my father’s book The Greatest Story
Ever Told reached the top of the best-
seller list.) My cabin was on the deck
above, and I had barely reached it with
a group of school friends when a great
blast from the ship’s horn announced
that all guests must leave. One of my
friends had been reading the passen-
ger list. “Look!” he shouted, pointing
to a name. I read it aloud, in disbelief:
“Winston Churchill.” Churchill! At 16, I
thought of him as a kind of god.
The ship’s horn sounded again and,
after we said goodbye, I raced to my fa-
ther’s cabin. “Do you know who is on
this ship?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said and handed me a note.
“My dear Mr Oursler, how fortunate
we share the same voyage! Could you,
Mrs Oursler and your son have tea
with us on Tuesday?” It was signed by
Churchill.
In the next days, I saw the great man
twice. First at dinner, two tables away
from us. The round, pink face shone
above a dark pinstripe suit. He smiled
at everyone, until the main course was
served. Then he frowned at the plate,
and his face turned from pink to red.
The chef was summoned, and with
much animation Churchill pointed to
the food and waved his hands in the
air. It was clear that he was demon-
strating how the meal should have
been prepared.
Late one night, I saw him again.
 READER’S DIGEST

Two men were helping him as he he drinks too much. Do you know
moved unsteadily towards his cabin. It what Lincoln said when people com-
seemed to me that Churchill actually plained that Grant was a drunk?”
wanted to go in the opposite direction, “No.”
but the men, with determined gentle- “He said, ‘I’ll send him a case of
ness, guided him firmly to his door. whisky if it will help him win the war.’
Both incidents disturbed me. This Do you know what Cromwell said
was not the way I had expected a god when he sat for a portrait?”
to act. At breakfast on “No.”
the morning before “The painter wanted
the tea, I told my father to flatter him, but Crom-
what I felt. Church- “Look!” he well said, ‘Paint me,
ill was rude; he was shouted, pointing warts and all.’”
intemperate. to a name. I read My father was silent
“And you are judging it aloud, in for a moment. Then he
him?” My father took said quietly, “You are
a deep breath. “More disbelief: becoming a man. You
than 50 years ago, this “Winston should know that no
man rode in the last Churchill” one is perfect. Certainly
great cavalry charge not heroes. You must
in history. He escaped develop a sense of …
from imprisonment in proportion.”
the Boer War and, although there was That afternoon as I dressed for tea,
a price on his head, made it back to I was not only chastened, I began to
England. In World War I, he devised a tremble with a kind of stage fright. I
great plan to bring the war to a swift had taken a fool’s measure of, not a
conclusion. The plan failed and for god, but a very great man. Now I was to
years he lost his political power. Then meet him. Suppose he were to take my
he warned the world about Hitler, but measure? (“Tell me, young man, what
no one listened. Finally, when all his are your thoughts on the Boer War?”)
predictions came true, when it was I can remember how cold my hands
almost too late and when America were as I walked with my parents
still remained neutral, he inspired his to Churchill’s suite. “Who were the
country to fight the Nazis alone. He is Boers?” I asked suddenly.
one of the greatest orators in history My father turned to me. “I’ll tell you
and has written some of the greatest later,” he said. “Now remember no one
English since Shakespeare. And you is perfect. You, for example, have a ten-
are troubled because he is publicly fas- dency to talk too much. This afternoon
tidious about his food and you think I expect you to listen!”

January•2018 | 27
WINNIE, WHISKERS AND A WORD OF WISDOM

In the first giddy moments after speech at Fulton, Missouri, in which

we had entered, I saw with relief he had first used the phrase ‘Iron
that Churchill was not in the suite. Curtain’. My father said, “Your predic-
Mrs Churchill had begun making tions have come true again. There is a
introductions when the room fell terrible division between Russia and
silent. I turned and t here – like the West. But your foresight could not
Mephistopheles emerging from a make you a happy man.”
cloud of smoke – stood Churchill “On the contrary,” said Churchill. “I
himself, puffing on an am very well satisfied.
enormous cigar. We needed Stalin and
He was dressed in the crises he brought
the strangest suit I’ve There – like with him. His aggres-
ever seen. It was grey Mephistopheles siveness has united
and one-piece, made emerging from a the West as never be-
of canvas-like material, cloud of smoke – fore. Together we must
with a zipper in the make Russia give up
front. Later I learned stood Churchill, the countries of East-
that this was his bat- puffing on an ern Europe through
tle dress during World enormous cigar free elections.”
War II. “How would you pro-
pose to do that?”
CHURCHILL WALKED Churchill did not
through the crowd, shaking hands; immediately reply. He looked at me
then he took my father by the arm and as if to see if I was following the con-
strode to the opposite side of the room. versation. Then he regarded the other
When they sat down, everyone else sat guests across the room. “Ah, now,” he
in the nearest chairs. This left me per- said, his voice rising, and he delivered
haps six metres away, and I watched his next words deliberately, as if he
in agony while the idle chatter around were making a speech in Parliament.
me obliterated their words. My father “Now – you are asking me to tread –
said something and Churchill laughed. the narrow bridge – above the chasm
Desperately, I leaned forward and, in – that separates platitudes from
that instant, Churchill happened to indiscretion!”
glance in my direction. He smiled and There was an explosion of laughter,
motioned me across the room. and for the first time since I had en-
When I arrived, my father gave me a tered the room I felt at ease. In fact, I
look that I could not misunderstand: I felt so much at ease that I found my-
was to remain absolutely silent. self speaking. “Mr Churchill,” I asked,
Churchill began to talk about his “if the Russians developed the atom

28 | January•2018

bomb, do you think they would hesi-
tate to use it?”
My father blinked. Then his head
snapped and he stared at me. Im-
mediately I regretted my words. But
Churchill seemed delighted.
“Well, that would all depend,
wouldn’t it?” he said. “The East might
have three bombs; the West might
have a hundred. But, then, supposing
it was vice versa?”
My father started to speak, but
Churchill continued. “You see –” he
mumbled with the same deliberate
rhythm, his voice growing louder with
each word, “you see – with the atom
bomb – (the room was growing quiet
again.) it is all a matter of – (there was
still conversation in the far part of the
room) it is entirely a matter of – of –”
He seemed to be at a loss for the
precise word to complete his thought.
I did not perceive that he was merely
waiting until he had the attention
of the entire room. At that moment,
all I knew was that for some reason
my father was not going to rescue
Churchill from his sudden excruciat-
ing inability to express himself.
“Sir,” I said, and my voice seemed
to crack, “do you mean that it is all a
matter of – proportion?”
Wide-eyed, my father leaned for-
ward in great agitation, but Churchill
raised a majestic hand, and pointed
that commanding cigar at me.
“That is it, exactly!” he said. “Pro-
portion is a very good word, and it
is too often forgotten, in war and in
READER’S DIGEST
peace. You should say it, young man,
every morning when you wake up.
You should say it to yourself, every
time you stand before the mirror
when you shave!”
At those words, my head began to
swim. With relief, I could see that my
father was no longer angry at me, and
I sat in silent glory as the talk contin-
ued – talk about coming elections,
about the Atlantic Charter, about
Mao’s recent victories in China.
When tea was over, and we were
walking down the corridor away from
Churchill’s suite, I was exultant. “Can
you believe it?” I cried. “He actually
thought I shaved!”
My father stopped and looked at me
carefully. “If I were you, “ he said, “I’d
find a mirror and take a good look.”
In the bathroom of my cabin, after
much examination, I saw the truth.
There, under my nose and on either
side of my chin, were the unmistak-
able hints of whiskers. They were so
soft that my fingertips could barely
feel them, but they were there.
I found my mug, my brush and my
razor. I made a lather that could have
serviced every man on the ship. I lifted
the razor, looked in the mirror and, in
the deepest voice I could manage, I
spoke my first words as a man.
“You know,” I said, “it is all – ah, it is
entirely – a matter of proportion!”
Currently on the cinema circuit, Darkest
Hour is a war drama, starring Gary
Oldman as the newly appointed British
Prime Minister Winston Churchill.
January•2018 | 29
 SEPTEMBER 1973

Riches
No
Diamond
Could Buy
How a postponed engagement ring made
possible half a century of help for needy
students in more than 90 nations
BY J . W I N S T O N P E A R C E

January•2018 | 31
RICHES NO DIAMOND COULD BUY
FINANCIALLY, CHARLES HOWARD
was even worse off than most of his
neighbours in Youngsville, North
Carolina, in the autumn of 1929, at
the onset of the Depression. Yet this
intense, 28-year-old schoolmaster
and preacher was exhilarated: he was
engaged to a wonderful girl, and he
had finally managed to save $132 for
a diamond ring. Then a letter came
from one of his former pupils who
had just entered Campbell College,
at Buies Creek, some 60 miles away.
“Could you possibly lend me $130?”
the boy wrote. “I’m working at three
different part-time jobs, but if I can’t
get this loan I won’t make it through
freshman year.”
A n ord i na r y ma n m ig ht have
replied, “Sorry, son – I’m broke too.”
But Howard laid the problem before
his fiancée, Alma Dark. “We can
get a ring,” he told her, “or we can
lend this fellow the money to stay
in school.”
The situation posed no dilemma
for Alma. She agreed to forgo her
diamond.
I WAS THE BOY who wrote the letter,
and the $130 did keep me in college
– on my way to undergraduate and
graduate degrees and fulfilment as
a minister, seminary teacher and
writer. Naturally, I have always been
grateful, but it was 43 years before I
discovered just how far Charles and
Alma Howard’s help to such as me
had reached.
32 | January•2018
I first heard about it last year,
when I retired from graduate teach-
ing in Switzerland, returned to my
old alma mater at Buies Creek and,
by coincidence, became a neigh-
bour of my long-lost benefactors,
t he Howards. As I have learned
more about this remarkable, still
vibrantly youthful couple (Charles
is now 72, Alma 64), I’ve found that
their generosity to me was just one
of many hundred such acts in the
far-reaching love stor y that they
made of their lives.
Because the Howards have always
chosen to remain at low-paying pas-
torates and schools where they’ve
felt most needed, their combined
yearly salaries (she had sometimes
taught, too) have never exceeded
$3000. Yet, in 47 years, they have as-
sisted 1692 students at 425 schools
and colleges in 47 US states and 92
foreign countries!
They accomplished this amaz-
ing feat by personally raising and
managing – in their spare time – a
revolving aid fund that has totalled
just over $2 million.
Why have they done it? To begin
with, Charles Barrett Howard had
a tragically hard boyhood. Son of a
debt-ridden farmer, he saw five of
nine in his immediate family (his
mother, father, t wo brothers and
a sister) die of tuberculosis before
he was six years old. Dangerously
ill with the disease himself, he was
raised on his grandparents’ sparse
 READER’S DIGEST

cot ton fa r m. A feel i ng of bei ng made us feel that we could, too. His
‘marked by death’ made the weak, blue serge suit was a bit shiny, but he
skinny and frequently haemorrhag- could always find a dollar or two for
ing orphan determined to learn, a child who was hungry, or lacked
and savour, everything he could, to shoes or couldn’t afford books.
derive the utmost from every day. Though I didn’t know it then,
Finding his country school woefully Teacher Howard made his first loan
inadequate, he often had to teach in 1926 – to Richard Pierce, who was
himself. $25 short of being able
“If you will let me to enter Wake Forest
live,” young Charles University that year.
promised God, “I’ll He could always Howard went to the
tr y to do something find a dollar or bank, borrowed the $25
special with my life.” two for a child and handed it to young
Working his way to- who was hungry, Pierce, who hesitated
wards a master’s de- just long enough to
gree at Wake Forest or lacked shoes declare, “I’m not taking
College by preaching or couldn’t this as a gift. One day
on rural church cir- afford books I’ll pay you back.”
cuits, at the age of 22 The big advantage of
he made a more spe- being paid back had
cific commitment: he not occurred to How-
would do his best to see that boys ard until then. “All right!” he said,
and girls in his rural area would shaking Pierce’s hand warmly. “Do
have better schooling, and an easier repay me when you can, and that way
time, than he had known as a child. we can use the money to help some-
body else.”
CH A R LES HOWA R D soon became Thus began what later would be-
my favourite teacher and hero at come the Howard Memorial Chris-
the Youngsville school. He taught tian Education Fund, Inc., named in
everything from simple spelling to honour of Howard’s parents. In a lit-
Latin, French and geometry – to every tle black memorandum book he jot-
age from six to 20. He enlarged our ted down: “No. 1 … Richard Pierce …
lives with Bible stories and with the $25.” It proved to be an encouraging
poetry of Tennyson, Keats, Kipling investment. Although Pierce made it
and Browning (“A man’s reach should through only two and a half years at
exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven Wake Forest, he learned enough to
for?”). We thought our ‘Teacher’ become business manager of Raleigh’s
Howard could do anything, and he big Dorothea Dix (Mental) Hospital

January•2018 | 33
RICHES NO DIAMOND COULD BUY

just three years after he started there suspicions to herself – mainly be-
as a psychiatric aide. Pierce not only cause she had not wanted to get out
repaid the loan that launched him of courting range either.
towards success but made several A few years later, the couple moved
contributions to the Howard Fund to Buies Creek, where for the next two
(as hundreds of other beneficiaries decades Howard taught a Bible course
have done). The non-profit fund, in- at Campbell College. He had to move
corporated in 1952, has no overhead fast to teach every morning, then
except the roof of the cover his preaching cir-
Howa rds’ modest cuit in the afternoons
home from which they and nights, his battered
personally distribute The non-profit old car showering
the money. fund has gravel along hundreds
Only in one series no overhead of miles of Carolina
of loans – to Student except the country roads. Alma
No. 3 – can Howard was just as busy. She
be suspected of a n roof of the was often up at dawn
ulterior motive. This Howards’ to help with the garden,
was the arrangement modest home the cows and the pigs
he m ade for A l m a that provided most of
Da rk , t he br u net te their food. At services,
soprano he fell in love sitting in the choir,
with one Sunday when he preached Alma would mind the latest baby
at her hometown of Roseboro, and (there would be four) while Charles
she soloed with the choir. Through preached. When the time came for her
a third part y, Howard lent Alma to sing, he took over.
enough money to keep her at Mere-
dith College, in Raleigh, through her BRILLIANT AND ELOQUENT, Howard
senior year. Otherwise, she would was at one time or another offered
have had to leave school and go to the pastorates of many big-city Bap-
live with relatives far outside his tist churches in North Carolina and
steady courting range. lucrative positions at more than
On the first night of their honey- one university. But he and Alma be-
moon, in 1931 – two years after Alma lieved that they could do more good
gave up her diamond – Howard con- right where they were. W henever
fessed that he was the benefactor possible, the couple tried to talk and
from whom she had borrowed. Alma pray with each student they decided
confessed in turn that she had sus- to help.
pected all along, but had kept her “Lord,” they asked, “give him

34 | January•2018

enough success to keep him encour-
aged and enough failure to keep him
humble.” From the start most of their
aid has gone to deserving, but not
necessarily over-promising, young
people who could get help from no
other source. For example, a farm
boy we’ll call Sam came to Campbell
College in 1954, pleading for a chance
to study for the ministry. “If you try to
help this one,” a deacon from Sam’s
own church warned Howard, “you’re
going to spoil a good farmer to make
a failure of a preacher.” Howard had
to admit that Sam was no scholar.
“In fact,” he recalls, “he was the only
person I ever taught who could make
nine grammatical errors in an eight-
word sentence. But, man alive, how
that boy could preach!”
And so the Howard Fund invested
$2791 in loans for tuition, board and
groceries for Sam while he was at
Campbell. Though he never gradu-
ated, he became one of North Car-
olina’s most beloved rural pastors
– and still is.
When Faye, approved for a How-
ard loan ten years ago, didn’t arrive
at Campbell on schedule, Howard
learned that she had had a baby
out of wedlock. “Could you possibly
keep the baby for Faye and let her
come to college next term?” he asked
her parents.
“You mean you would help her
now?” the father asked.
“Especially now,” replied Howard.
At Campbell, Faye graduated with
READER’S DIGEST
honours, became a good teacher,
eventually married and is happily
raising a growing family.
About $95,000 of the Howard Fund
has seen service abroad, helping
539 foreign students and missionar-
ies in 92 countries. Recently, I met
22-year-old Tai Adeleke from Nigeria
in the backyard garage apartment
where the Howards allow several
students at a time to live free in
order to cut down on college ex-
penses at Campbell.
“All my life,” Tai told me, “I have
dreamed of coming to America to
study. When I arrived at a college in
Utah, the cost was much more than
my parents and I could afford. Then
I heard of the Howards and wrote
to them and they said, ‘Come.’ I am
getting a degree in medical technol-
ogy, and I hope to get a doctorate in
a few more years. Then I plan to go
to the backlands of Nigeria, where
there are too few doctors.”
W hen the Howards learned in
1954 that missionar y (and World
War II pilot) Sam Oliver got about
Brazil’s back country mainly by ca-
noe, they contributed $1000 towards
a small plane. Three years later,
Oliver crashed and was killed. He
had become so beloved by Brazilians
that the radio newscaster at Teresina
wept as he announced the tragedy.
In Buies Creek, the Howards wept,
too. Then they began Fund support
to Oliver’s widow, who still carries
on the Brazilian mission.
January•2018 | 35
RICHES NO DIAMOND COULD BUY

In 1949, Charles was felled by a Howards have aplenty. But at

heart attack, which disabled him Charles’s recent retirement, the
for a year. In 1962, while preaching couple who had dispersed more
for a televised service, he collapsed than $2 million to others had left
with a nervous breakdown. “If you’re for themselves only Charles’s less-
not going to take any better care of than-$200-a-month Social Security
yourself than this,” a friend there cheque. “I know the Lord is going to
told him, “I’m going to have to do take care of us,” Charles told Alma
this for you.” He sent jokingly, “but the
Howard to the Mayo question is just how
Clinic for treatment and when he’s going
and recuperation. Relieved of to do it.”
financial The answer came a
“IF I HAD IT ALL to do problems, the few night later, when
over again,” Charles
Howards are now Campbell’s President
told Alma on his re- Norman A. Wiggins
t u r n, “I’d be more free to enjoy the joined the couple in
rea l ist ic a nd ma ke rewards of their their kitchen. “I know
better prov ision for lifetime of giving that you t wo can be
you.” But it was too happy on practically
late for regrets, and not h i n g ,” he s a id .
the Howards went on “But I don’t see any
with their magnificent obsession reason why you should. The school’s
– finding new uses for the fund, trustees voted unanimously this
from which they have never taken a afternoon to make you Ambassador
penny, and never will. at Large for Campbell College. The
Now they have begun to assist salary is not a pension because we
dozens of teachers and staff mem- know you’ll go on working for the
bers at Campbell with low-interest school until you drop.” Relieved of
loans for undergraduate work and financial problems, the Howards
building homes on the campus. Last are now free to enjoy the rewards of
year, they gave Campbell sufficient their lifetime of giving.
assets to endow a chair of religion – Did Alma ever get that diamond
and they put up most of the money she did without so long ago? Yes, she
for two scholarship funds of $30,000 finally did. But in view of all else
each, the income from which will that the Howards have made of their
assist out sta nd i ng h ig h-school lives, I think you’ll agree that the
students in two counties. diamond is probably the least of
Honours and testimonials the their treasures.

36 | January•2018
 LESSONS
S FOR LIFE
It’s a great mistake for men to
give up paying compliments,
for when they give up saying
what is charming, they give
up thinking what is charminng.
OSCAR WILDE, RD SEPTEMBER 1946
One form of social blackmailing
I have always resented is calling
someone weeks and weeks ahead
of time with an invitation, so that
he cannot possibly plead a previous
engagement if he doesn’t feel like
accepting. Common decency
requires that you give a man a
chance to lie his way out politely.
SYDNEY J. HARRIS,
RD JUNE 1957
A meal is not simply food but also
the spirit in which it is eaten. Meal-
times should be the occasions for
the happiest kinds of exchanges and
learning – for cheerful, not solemn,
communion. A bad meal can be
redeemed by good conversation, but
a good meal can be irretrievably
ruined by bad conversation.
ASHLEY MONTAGU,
RD JANUARY 1960
I cannot give you the formula for
success, but I can give you the
formula for failure, which is:
Try to please everybody.
LAURENCE STERNE,
RD DECEMBER 1967
I have never been bored an hour
in my life. I get up every morning
wondering what new, strange,
glamorous thing is going to
happen, and it happens at fairly
regular intervals. Lady Luck has
been good to me. I fancy she has
been good to many. Only some
people are dour, and when she
gives them the come-hither with
her eyes, they look down or turn
away. But me – I give her the wink,
and away we go.
WILLIAM ALLEN WHITE, WRITER AND
RENOWNED NEWSPAPER EDITOR,
RD NOVEMBER 1975
January•2018 | 37
 JANUARY 1980

“Thank You,
Rosie”
It wasn’t much – a few words and a
tiny bouquet of lilies of the valley.
Yet they brought me strange
comfort in a trying time

BY A R T H U R A . M I LWA R D

January•2018 | 39
“ T H A N K YO U , R O S I E ”
IT HAD BEEN A LONG, LONG YEAR –
the last year of my son Adrian’s brief
life. The journey up by train to Lon-
don’s Waterloo Station had become
almost routine. Then the 25-minute
walk across Waterloo Bridge and on
to The Hospital for Sick Children,
Great Ormond Street. The walk to the
hospital was not without enjoyment,
for I was eager to see my son again
and buoyed up by the somehow in-
destructible hope that today, by some
miracle, he would be recovering.
But the return to the railway sta-
tion in the evening was devastat-
ing. Once again, no miracle. Some
evenings it became, as the French
say, insupportable.
After putting my little son to bed
in the ward, hearing his prayers and
holding him in my arms while he fell
asleep, I usually had plenty of time to
make my way to the railway station.
I frequently paused on the bridge
spanning the River Thames to watch
the broad river flowing along on its
never-ending journey to the sea.
One evening I gazed, hypnotised
almost, into the black, oily water and
was not immediately aware that a
woman had joined me. I looked up
and saw her; she was standing quite
close. I had seen her before in the
shadows on the opposite side of the
street and had recognised, without
giving the matter much thought, that
she was, almost certainly, of the sis-
terhood euphemistically referred to
as ‘ladies of the evening’.
40 | January•2018
“Evenin’, Guv’nor,” she said.
“Good evening,” I replied, a little
discomfited by her presence and un-
sure of her intentions.
She looked away from me and
gazed into the Thames. “You been
to the Children’s,” she said. It was a
statement rather than a question.
“Yes, I have,” I told her, a bit bewil-
dered by her interest. “My little son is
a patient there.”
“Bad, ain’t he?” she said.
“Yes, I’m afraid he is,” I replied.
And again, as much to myself as to
her, “I’m very much afraid he is.”
She reached out and touched my
arm. I could see tears in her eyes. “I’m
sorry, Guv,” she said softly. Then she
withdrew her hand quickly, turned
and walked away. I thought about the
encounter all the way home and felt
strangely heartened by it.
For the next few months, I regu-
larly made my way to and from the
Children’s Hospital, my emotions al-
ternating wildly between unreason-
ing hope and complete despair. Often
she would join me on the bridge.
“ ’Ow, is ’e, then?” she would in-
quire. “Anythink different? ’E’s in Mr
Punch ward, ain’t ’e?”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed, wondering
how she knew. “There’s no change.”
She never asked my name but in-
vited me to call her Rosie. “That’s
what me friends call me.”
“My son’s name is Adrian, Rosie,” I
told her. “He’s quite blond with grey
eyes, and he’s almost four years old.”
 READER’S DIGEST

She nodded and said nothing. unseeing, into the water, trying to
I came to rely on these encoun- get a grip on myself. When I turned,
ters to a remarkable degree and one Rosie was standing beside me. She
evening gave her a small picture of touched me gently on the arm, just
Adrian, a duplicate of one I carried as she had the first time we met.
in my wallet. I wrote on the back of “ ’Ere” she said, proffering me
it: “Thank you, Rosie.” She looked at something wrapped in white tissue
it for a long moment before wrapping paper. “They’re for ’im. You’ll put ’em
it in her handkerchief on ’is grave for me,
and putting it care- won’t you?” Thrust-
fully in her purse. ing a tiny bouquet of
T hen, f i na l ly, t he Thrusting a tiny lilies of the valley into
telephone call came bouquet of lilies my hand, she made a
from t he Children’s of the valley into sort of choking sound,
Hospital: “I think you my hand, she turned and ran.
had bet ter come at A mass of wreaths
once.” made a sort of covered the grave. In
He looked so small choking sound, the centre of the pro-
lying there, his grey turned and ran fusion of f loral trib-
eyes fixed earnestly utes the tiny bunch of
on mine. I leaned over lilies of the valley con-
and wiped the perspi- trasted sharply with
ration from his forehead. the vivid roses, daffodils, tulips and
“Daddy, why a re you cr y i ng? anemones that surrounded it.
Daddy, I’m frightened. Oh, Daddy,
is it going to be all right?” I TIMED MY RETURN from my final
“Yes, darling, Daddy’s here. It’s visits to the hospital vicinity so that
going to be all right.” The tiny hand I would pass by Waterloo Bridge
clasped in mine relaxed its grip. rather late in the evening. I wanted
W hen it was over, the t wo com- to tell Rosie that I had delivered her
passionate nurses put their arms flowers. But I saw nothing of her. I
around my shoulders and led me could not imagine what had hap-
away. pened to her.
I went out in the London streets – Summoning up my courage, I
and it was night. made my way to the nearest police
The following evening, after tak- station, not many blocks distant.
ing care of necessary business at With the unfailing courtesy and
the hospital, I stopped on the bridge genuine helpfulness of the British
and leaned over the railings, gazing, policeman, an officer listened to my

January•2018 | 41
“ T H A N K YO U , R O S I E ”

story of looking for a friend. He eyed “Just a moment, sir,” the officer
me a bit quizzically. said and retreated to an inner of-
“Yes, sir, I am almost sure I know fice. Within minutes he returned,
to whom you refer,” he assured me. carrying a brown purse with a large
“She was regularly in the vicinity of card attached, evidently a listing of
Waterloo Bridge. Her regular ‘beat’, the purse’s contents. He looked a
you might say. Her name was Rosie, little excited.
wasn’t it?” “Yes, sir,” he assured me, run-
“Yes, yes,” I said. ning his finger down
“That’s the person I’m the list on the card.
looking for.” “There are two snap-
“I’m sorr y, sir,” he “Do you still have shots in the purse.”
told me quietly. “The her purse?” He opened t he
person in question is I asked. “Would it purse and handed me
dead. We picked her be possible for two photographs. One
up in the street several was a replica of t he
nights ago. Apparently me to see it?” picture I held in my
a heart attack.” The police officer hand. I turned it over
“Did she have any hesitated and read in my own
relatives, any family?” handwriting: “Thank
I asked. you, Rosie.” The other
“No, sir, I’m sorry,” picture was of a small,
t he pol icema n sa id. “ We went dark-haired girl.
through her purse, but there was no
identification of any kind. Cosmetics, I H A D ONE MOR E PL ACE TO GO.
matches, cigarettes, handkerchief, a The following day I took the train
couple of pictures. That was all.” to London and made my way to the
“Do you still have her purse?” I Children’s Hospital. I recalled Rosie
asked. “Would it be possible for me mentioning that she had a friend
to see it – to look into it?” ‘Ben’, who was a porter at the hospi-
The officer hesitated. “Well, sir, tal. I inquired at the porters’ lodge. A
that’s rather an unusual request.” middle-aged man with a kindly face
“Look, officer,” I continued, tak- came forward.
ing out my wallet and withdrawing “Yes, indeed,” he assured me. “I
the picture of my son from it. “This knew Rosie. She used to stop by reg-
is my son. If the person you picked ularly, you know, and inquire about
up is really the one I am looking for, your boy. I used to get a report for
there will be an identical picture in her from the ward about him.
her purse.” “She wasn’t always in the line

42 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

of business she was in when you
met her, you k now,” Ben contin-
ued. “She used to be a waitress. It
was after she lost her girl she went
on the street. The little girl died in
here, you know, six years old. It was
about a year ago. That’s when I first
met Rosie – she used to come here
and visit Gerda. That was the child’s
name. After the little one died, Rosie
never went back to the waitress job.”
“Ben, can you tell me where Rosie
is buried?”
“No, Guv, I can’t,” Ben said. “But
I can tell you where the child lies.
Rosie used to go there every Sunday
afternoon and cut the grass and
take flowers. I went with her a time
or two.”
I k nelt beside the tiny mound.
Lacking shears, I tried to pull the
longest grass, grow ing lank and
weedy now, with my hands. I filled
the blue vase with water from the
tap in the corner of the cemetery
and replaced it on the grave.
Unwrapping the tissue paper from
the small bouquet I carried, I placed
the lilies of the valley in the vase,
thrust the paper in the pocket of my
raincoat, rose from my knees and
walked rapidly away.

AFTER A FASHION
RD JULY 1987

Two students from a local school were walking in front of me.

Both of them wore paisley-punk garb, and one had a unique
coiffure – most of her hair was shaved off, and the remainder
was worn in a multi-coloured ponytail. Said one to the other
as she pointed across the street: “Check out the lady with the
curlers in her hair. That is so tacky.” CHERYL DUNLOP

Some friends and I were holidaying in Florida.

Every day for a week, a woman with her meticulously
groomed poodle passed us on the beach. Every time we saw
her, she wore a different colour swimsuit that matched the
dog’s ribbons and boots. But we couldn’t figure out why such
a well-groomed dog wore boots only on his hind legs. On our
last day there, I put the question to the owner. She glared
incredulously from behind her sunglasses and huffed:
“Why would I put boots on his hands?” JAN ARRIGO

January•2018 | 43
 HUMOUR
Life’s Like That
SEEING THE FUNNY SIDE
1940S
While in New York on leave recently,
I saw a small truck loaded with
glassware back out of a factory
driveway into the path of a large
truck. Most of the glass was broken
in the crash, and the driver seemed
on the verge of tears.
A big crowd gathered, and one
benevolent old gentleman said
compassionately, “I suppose you
will have to make good out of your
own pocket?”
“I’m afraid that’s so,” lamented
the driver.
“Well, well,” said the gentleman.
“Here’s a dollar for you. Let me pass
your hat around and I dare say some
of these kind people will help you
out, too.”
More than one hundred people
dropped bills into the outstretched
hat. The driver, stowing the money
away as the crowd dispersed,
nodded towards the retreating back
of the benevolent old gentleman.
“That’s what I call a real smart
man. He’s my boss.”
JAMES P. HODGES, RD MARCH 1946
44 | January•2018
1950S
Shortly after moving to a new town
I remembered that it was time for my
third polio shot. My wife suggested
that I go to the obstetrician under
whose care she was. At first I baulked
at the idea; but, not knowing any
other doctors in the community, I
gave in and made an appointment
for the inoculation.
On the day of my appointment
I quietly took a seat in the corner
of the waiting room, trying to look
inconspicuous among the women
in maternity clothes.
A moment later the nurse entered,
saying, “Good morning Mr Lewis.
The doctor will see you next. By the
way, we must know for our records –
will this be your second or third?”
ALFRED LEWIS, RD JULY 1959
1960S
On Christmas morning my sister
opened a large box from her
husband. Inside she found a card
that said: “Merry Christmas and
Happy New Year”. Under a second
wrapper was a card: “Be My
Valentine”. More paper and ribbon everyone was pointing and laughing
came off to reveal “Happy Easter,” at his car. When he arrived at his
“Happy Birthday” and “Mother’s office and parked the car, a man
Day” greetings. Finally she worked came up to him, slapped him on the
her way through “Happy Wedding back and chortled, “Wild night, huh,
Anniversary” to the gift, a beautiful buddy?” Bewildered, my husband
mink stole, and the final card, which got out and walked around the car.
read: “Gal, you’ve had Hanging from the
it for this year.” 2000S antenna was a bra.
J.V. RHODES, He had hooked it as
RD DECEMBER 1964 My musician son he drove out of the
decided to play his garage and under the
1970S guitar at his own indoor clothesline.
I was taking my wedding reception. THEODORA KNEVEL,
girlfriend for a drive. That day, tuning RD MAY 1983
At a red light, I pulled his strings was taking
to a stop behind longer than usual. 1990S
another car and “It’s a little harder To help a friend lose
made good use of the to do this with a ring weight, I told her
waiting time by giving on,” he apologised to she should switch
my girl a kiss. But my the waiting guests. to lower-fat foods,
foot slid off the brake, That’s when a man including skim milk.
and my car rolled called out, When she said her
forwards and gave a “Everything’s harder family would only
gentle bump to the with a ring on.” drink whole milk,
car in front of me. PATRICIA LEONARD, I suggested she
The driver RD MARCH 2005 keep their regular
immediately got out container and refill it
to assess the damage. with skim milk.
When he walked up to my car This worked well for quite a
he said, “For a driver with two while until her daughter asked one
heads, you sure don’t know how morning whether the milk was OK.
to use them.” “Sure,” my friend answered, fearing
GERRY SPAPE, RD MARCH 1973 she’d been found out. “Why?”
“Because according to this label,”
1980S the daughter explained, “this milk
Driving to work one day, my expired two years ago.”
husband couldn’t understand why WAYNE MAZZONI, RD JUNE 1997

January•2018 | 45
 JANUARY 1985

The Case
of the
Murdered
Mother-in-Law
Nathaniel Carter was stunned by
the verdict: guilty – with 25 years to life
in prison. To Carter’s family and friends,
it became a crusade for justice
BY G E R A L D M O O R E

January•2018 | 47
T H E C A S E O F T H E M U R D E R E D M O T H E R - I N - L AW
SLENDER AND SMARTLY DRESSED,
Delisa Durham Carter, 25, made
an impressive witness in the court-
room on May 28, 1982. Tearfully and
convincingly, she told the rapt jury
how, the previous September 15 at
about 2.45pm, she confronted her es-
tranged husband, Nathaniel Carter,
moments before he killed her foster
mother in the older woman’s house in
Queens, New York.
She had been in her basement
apartment that day, Delisa said,
when she heard her foster mother,
Clarice Herndon, scream. Delisa ran
upstairs where she saw Nate with a
knife. “I grabbed hold of the knife
… and I kicked him,” she testified.
“I was telling my mother to run.”
Nathaniel cut both of Delisa’s hands
badly, shoved her aside and went
after Mrs Herndon.
Delisa testified that she ran to
the basement to telephone for help.
Nathaniel confronted her with blood
on his hands. He said he would kill
her if she told anybody what had hap-
pened. Then he left.
Rushing upstairs, Delisa found Mrs
Herndon dying beside the front door.
She had been stabbed more than 20
times. Screaming, Delisa ran out to
seek help.
Incriminating web
New York City Police Officer Henry
Harrison Jr was the next prosecution
witness. One of the first policemen
at the scene, he had found Delisa
48 | January•2018
bleeding and hysterical on Mrs Hern-
don’s front porch. Delisa insisted she
did not know the man who attacked
her foster mother, but she gave a de-
tailed description of the assailant.
Three days later Officer Harri-
son questioned Delisa at the station
house and told her that if fingerprints
were found on the knife used to kill
Mrs Herndon, and they turned out
to be from a person Delisa knew,
he would arrest her for withholding
evidence.
At this point Delisa became “very
hyster ica l”, Ha r r ison sa id, a nd
shortly thereafter identif ied her
estranged husband as the killer.
Prosecutor Jeffrey Granat then
called Associate Medical Exam-
iner Manuel Fernando to the stand.
Dr Fernando concluded that the
small, plastic-handled penknife
found at the scene could have pro-
duced Mrs Herndon’s fatal injuries.
He described the wounds on Delisa’s
hands as “defensive”. *
The court-appointed defence at-
torney, Peter R. Cooperman, asked
whether the knife could have be-
come so slippery with blood during
the assault that the assailant could
have cut her own hands. Could Del-
isa’s wounds have been offensive
wounds? Absolutely not, according
to Dr Fernando.
* Dr Fernando had not examined Delisa
Carter’s wounds. His testimony was based
on reading hospital records about an hour
before he took the stand.
 READER’S DIGEST

Strong alibi people who could attest he was not

The first defence witness was Raphael in Queens on September 15, but his
Blue, a friend of Carter’s since child- attorney decided only Blue and Jack-
hood. He told the jury that Nathan- son would make solid witnesses.
iel had been with him the day Mrs Then Carter testified in his own
Herndon was killed. Blue, a young defence. The 31-year-old former high-
musician with a master’s degree school basketball star said essen-
from the University of Iowa, said he tially the same things Blue had said.
picked Nathaniel up He added that he had
at his apartment in seen Mrs Herndon on
Ossining, New York, April 1, 1981. It wasn’t
shor t ly a f ter 11a m. Despite the fact u nt i l September 17
They drove to the State that no motive that he learned of her
Department of Motor for the killing death from a friend in
Vehicles in Peekskill, had been Peekskill. The follow-
where Carter made an ing day he went to Mrs
appointment to take
established, he Herndon’s home to see
a road test. Then they was found guilty Delisa and his son.
went to a bank. of murder The next day he was
Around noon, Blue arrested.
said, he and Carter On June 4, 1982, the
stopped at the home jury began delibera-
of Blue’s parents in Peekskill to visit tions. Despite the fact that no motive
them, an ailing aunt and the nurse for the killing had been established,
caring for her. Blue and Carter then and only Delisa had positively placed
drove to Elmsford, where Blue posted Nate at the scene of the crime, he was
a letter using Express Mail. He even found guilty of murder in the second
produced the receipt for his letter, degree.
which was marked 2.10pm, 25 min- Carter could hardly believe his ears
utes before Mrs Herndon was slain when Judge John J. Leahy sentenced
about 50 kilometres away – through him to 25 years to life in prison. The
city traffic. whole thing seemed like a dreadful
Blue and Carter drove back to Cart- dream.
er’s apartment in Ossining, arriving
about 2.30pm. Mae Jackson, a neigh- Call to action
bour of Carter’s, saw him there at ap- Marie Parker was angry when she
proximately 2.50pm when she went heard Carter sentenced. Her daugh-
to his apartment to borrow cigarettes. ter, Cathy, had married Carter in
A ltoget her, Car ter listed nine the Queens House of Detention on

January•2018 | 49
T H E C A S E O F T H E M U R D E R E D M O T H E R - I N - L AW

January 25, 1982, after his divorce Nelson consulted Peekskill Police
from Delisa had become final. Mrs Commissioner Walter Kirkland, who
Parker’s sense of the man told her he had retired earlier from the New York
wasn’t a killer. Now, as she watched City Police Department. “I’ll look into
the bailiff lead Carter away, she was this,” Kirkland said, after scanning
spurred to action. the court records. “But I’ll work just
That evening, back home in Oss- as hard to prove Carter guilty as I do
ining, Mrs Parker phoned Lt James to prove him innocent.”
Nelson, an old ac- K i rk la nd decided
quaintance on the to start his investiga-
Peekskill police force. tion with Nate Carter
Nelson listened to her
Leads had gone h i m sel f. Sec u re i n
story. He knew Carter’s unchecked. his judgement of hu-
family to be good peo- Witnesses who man nature, he knew
ple. He had watched had seen Carter Carter could tell him
Carter grow up and play more about the case
basketball. The whole
the day of the t h a n a n y one e l s e ,
business seemed out of murder were not both by what he said
character for him. Nel- interviewed and what he chose not
son said that if he read to say. Kirkland made
the court documents, arrangements to see
he might understand Carter in prison.
what had happened. The Peekskill police commissioner
was surprised by the man he met.
Superficial investigation Convicted of a brutal killing, Carter
Cathy had kept a complete file on was calm and easy in his manner.
the case. Her mother told her to take There was no sense of hatred or re-
it to Nelson. As he read the file, he sentment about him.
saw that the investigation had been “Did you kill Clarice Herndon?”
superficial. He would not have ac- Kirkland asked bluntly.
cepted such police reports from his “No sir, I did not,” Carter replied
men in Peekskill. Too many leads had evenly.
gone unchecked. Witnesses who had “When I left that day,” Kirkland re-
seen Carter on the day of the murder calls now, “I was determined to con-
were not interviewed. Joseph Fife, tinue the investigation.”
who had been around Mrs Herndon’s Over the next few weeks, Kirkland
house courting Delisa the night before called on the people Carter said he
the murder, was questioned only once had been with on the day of the mur-
by telephone. der. Every one of them substantiated

50 | January•2018

Carter’s story. Blue had bank and
postal receipts and witnesses to sup-
port his account of his activities with
Carter on September 15. Cathy added
that Delisa had been jealous of her
and had once threatened her with
a knife.
On December 28, 1982, Kirkland
wrote to Judge Milton Mollen of the
Appellate Division. New York City
laws mandate Legal Aid Society rep-
resentation when an accused person
cannot pay for a defence. Murder is
excepted from this mandate, un-
less there is a special court order.
Kirkland sought such an order from
Judge Mollen.
About ten days later, Judge Mol-
len wrote back to say he had given
the case to the Legal Aid Society.
The case was assigned to Lawrence
Halfond, supervising attorney of the
criminal defence division of Legal
Aid in Queens, and veteran investiga-
tor Ettore Perrazzo. They interviewed
every person mentioned in police re-
ports and then followed up every lead
those people offered.
They soon learned that Delisa
Carter and Mrs Herndon had had
serious differences around the time
of t he murder. Neighbours told
them that they had quarrelled over
whether Delisa could bring a man
into the house at night. A back-
g round invest igat ion turned up
several instances when Delisa had
become violent and attacked people.
Sudden ly t he Lega l A id tea m
READER’S DIGEST
realised they had two elements miss-
ing at Carter’s trial: a motive and a
person whose past showed a capacity
for violence.
Mounting frustration
But to get Nate Carter out of prison
for another trial they had to show
that the first trial had been inade-
quate, or that there was strong ev-
idence indicating Carter could not
have committed the crime.
Meanwhile, Carter had been in-
carcerated at Great Meadow Cor-
rectional Facility in Comstock, New
York, located nearly 320 kilometres
from Ossining. Cathy managed to
visit him every six weeks. She also
did research to help the investigation.
“All we could do was to keep working
and never give up hope,” she says.
Carter was still dazed by what had
happened to him, but he found the
strength to deal with prison life. He
had a growing faith that the Lord
would see him through the ordeal.
In June, Ha lfond and anot her
Legal Aid attorney, William E. Hel-
lerstein, sent a lengthy memo to the
Queens Count y D.A.’s office and
succeeded in persuading them to
review the case. Halfond suggested
that the D.A.’s investigators talk to
Delisa again. He had a hunch that if
she had killed her foster mother, she
might now be feeling guilty.
On September 6, 1983, Delisa met
with the D.A.’s men. At first, she sim-
ply repeated her earlier testimony.
January•2018 | 51
T H E C A S E O F T H E M U R D E R E D M O T H E R - I N - L AW

Then, suddenly, she said, “You know an idea. If a trusted friend of Del-
the truth, don’t you? Nate didn’t do isa’s equipped with a hidden tape
it. A guy named Cunningham did it.” recorder could get her to discuss
The investigators were stunned. the case, they might learn the truth.
Then Delisa said she had to pick up He suggested the idea to the D.A’s
her son. They accompanied her to investigators.
the school and waited outside. Del- Joseph Fife, the man who had
isa went in and left by the back door. come home with Delisa the night be-
Several days later, fore Mrs Herndon was
dete c t i ve s t r ie d to killed, was persuaded
quest ion her again. to wear a ‘body wire’.
She had spoken to an Suddenly, she On October 5 and 21,
at tor ne y, how e v er, said, “You know 1983, accompa n ied
and now she refused the truth, don’t b y t w o det e c t i ve s,
to cooperate. Because you? Nate Fi fe d rove to Ha r-
the D.A.’s office had lem, where New York
taken Delisa before a
didn’t do it. pol ic e had loc ated
grand jury to secure A guy named Del i sa. Fi fe t a l ked
Nat e’s i nd ic t ment , Cunningham did” with her while detec-
and because she had tives listened over the
not waived her right to radio. On both occa-
immunity prior to her sions they heard her
testimony, under New York law she say that the mysterious Anthony
could never be prosecuted for any Cunningham, not Nathaniel Carter,
part she might have played in Mrs had committed the murder.
Herndon’s death. Subsequent ly, Delisa lef t New
As the days dragged on, Halfond York, and police found her in Bristol,
grew increasingly frustrated. Delisa Connecticut, on January 17, 1984.
had cleared Nate and accused an- Again she was questioned about
other man, yet Halfond was unable the murder.
to get Nate released from prison. That same day, Cathy and her
mother, Halfond, Perrazzo and Kirk-
Last-chance gamble land waited anxiously in the Queens
Finally, Halfond began to suspect cou r t room where a hea r i ng on
that Queens D.A. John J. Santucci whether to reopen Carter’s case was
was waiting to find the real killer be- to take place. Time for the hearing
fore he had to face the publicity that came and passed. Suddenly, San-
would certainly surround Carter’s tucci and his aides arrived. “Larry,”
release. So Halfond came up with Santucci whispered to Halfond, “my

52 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

detectives picked up Delisa. She
confessed.”
After so many delays and so much
worry, Cathy broke into tears. Nate,
quiet and composed, was brought
into the courtroom and released.
He rushed to embrace Cathy. He
thanked Kirkland, Halfond and Per-
razzo. He hugged Mrs Parker. After
28 months in prison, the nightmare
had finally come to an end.
On Januar y 25, 1984, the same
people again gathered in the Queens
cour t room to hear t he shak ing,
tearful Delisa confess. She said that
she and her former foster mother
had argued. W hen Mrs Herndon
“smacked” her, Delisa went to the
basement, got a knife and “started
stabbing her”.
A f ter t he hearing, Delisa, im-
mune from prosecution, returned to
Bristol. Nate went home with Cathy
to begin his life again.
This miscarriage of justice has
spurred efforts to change New York’s
immunity laws. The governor’s office
plans to resubmit a bill in early 1985
– dubbed by some the Carter Bill –
which would exempt from future use
in prosecution only the information
given by a witness during testimony.
The witness him– or herself would
not be immune.
Now employed at an IBM office,
Nathaniel Carter says he isn’t bitter
about the experience, although he did
decide last summer to take legal ac-
tion against the City of New York and
several police officers. “I didn’t have
money to fight for my freedom,” he
says, “but I had my faith in God, my
family and friends. I always knew it
was going to be all right.”

THE WORLD’S WORST PUNS?

RD JULY 1982

Rabbit is a favourite dish in Paris. They raise them in the

hutch back of Notre Dame.

My greatest contribution to humour came when I trained

my pet lizard to walk on its hind legs. It was the world’s first
stand-up chameleon.

When the FBI arrested the head of a Mafia family, he kept

refusing to answer their questions. They grilled him all night
without success but finally, when morning came, the don broke.
THE WORLD’S WORST PUNS BY JOHN S. CROSBIE

January•2018 | 53
 Personal Glimpses
BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE LIVES OF THE FAMOUS

One day a painter in Montparnasse

came to sell me one of Picasso’s
canvases. When I took it to
Picasso, whom I knew well, and
asked him to verify it, he said
crossly, “It’s a fake.”
That was too much. I exclaimed,
“But I saw you do the canvas!”
“Oh well,” he said with a shrug.
“I sometimes do fake Picasso
myself.”
MICHEL GEORGE-MICHEL
IN FROM RENOIR TO PICASSO, RD AUGUST 1958

It seems that American inventor Mr Edison then placed his little

Thomas A. Edison, in his wanderings
about the grounds adjacent to his
Menlo Park laboratories one late
autumn day, found a little bird
that had become crippled, and was
unable to join the autumnal caravan
to the south. Edison captured the
bird, which after some time showed
a decided improvement and an
apparent readiness for flight. But the
kind saviour was doubtful about the
bird’s ability to meet the demands
of a long journey. So he made a
comfortable little box replete with
such facilities as the frail passenger
would require.
friend in the box, labelled it for a
destination in South America, and
delivered it to the courier company
with instructions to release the bird
at the end of the journey.
FRANCES JEHL, RD MARCH 1934
French author Honoré de Balzac,
who liked to believe he was an expert
at reading character in handwriting,
was once brought a little boy’s
notebook and asked about the
child’s possibilities. After carefully
examining the scrawly handwriting
he asked the elderly woman who
brought it, “Are you his mother?”

54 | January•2018
 “No, I’m no relation,” she replied.
“Then, I’ll give you my frank
opinion,” Balzac exclaimed.
“This child is slovenly and probably
stupid. I fear he will never amount
to anything.”
“But master,” the woman laughed,
“that book was your very own when
you were a little boy in school.”
CHRISTIAN SCIENCE MONITOR,
RD FEBRUARY 1938
A lady once wrote to me that she
had just had a baby – stillborn, and
her heart was broken; she had no
desire to go on living. Then, one
evening, her husband had turned
on the radio and she heard my
concert. It made her want to go
on living again because there was
beautiful music in the world. She
did not sign her name because
she did not want me to think she
wanted a reply – she only wanted
to tell me.
The letter haunted me; I felt I must
express my thanks. So my secretary
called up every hospital in New
York. We had nothing to go on but
the date of the letter, but after hours
of phoning we found her. The same
day I sent her a photograph which
I inscribed to her: “From Arturo
Toscanini, Detective!”
BERNADINE SZOLD-FRITZ IN ROB
WAGNER’S SCRIPT, RD AUGUST 1940
On one occasion when business
magnate and philanthropist
Andrew Carnegie was called on, as
usual to make good the New York
Philharmonic Society’s annual
deficit, he said to his caller: “Surely
there are other people who like
music well enough to help. If you
raise half of what is needed, I’ll give
you the other half.”
Next day the man returned to
report that he had succeeded. As
Carnegie wrote out the cheque for
the balance, he asked: “Do you mind
telling me who gave the other half?”
“Not at all,” said the canvasser.
“It was Mrs Carnegie.”
GENE FOWLER, BEAU JAMES: THE LIFE
AND TIMES OF JIMMY WALKER,
RD AUGUST 1953
A British magazine sent multi-
millionaire J. Paul Getty a cheque
for £200, asking for “a piece, not
any great length,” explaining his
success. Getty complied as follows,
in its entirety: “Some people find
oil. Others don’t.”
JACK O’BRIEN, RD AUGUST 1973
Early one morning in 1971, a rumble
awakened Charles Richter, the
pioneer in seismology after whom
the Richter scale of earthquake
magnitude is named. His reaction to
the 6.6 earthquake was anything but
scientific. Recalls his wife, Lillian,
“He jumped up screaming and
scared the cat.”
JOHN NOBLE WILFORD IN THE NEW
YORK TIMES, RD JUNE 1986
January•2018 | 55
 DECEMBER 1969

Now…
While
There’s
Time
A father and his infant
daughter travel different roads.
But there are also lovely moments
when they walk together

BY E D B A R T L E Y

January•2018 | 57
N O W. . . W H I L E T H E R E ’ S T I M E
“MISSY,” I CALLED TO MY WIFE, “did
you smear Vaseline on the top of my
desk?” “No, honey. Meghan probably
did.” Just like that. Calm. As I feared,
she has missed the carefully honed,
double-edged irony of the question.
I knew she didn’t put it there. The
question was rhetorical; its only
function was to make clear to her
that she hadn’t done her job: defend
my desk against the aggressor.
I abandoned the conversation.
I wou ld dea l w it h Meghan, our
22-month-old daughter, later. All
that was yesterday. Today I sit here at
the same roll-top desk, which I sal-
vaged from a friend’s attic two years
ago. And stare at the blank sheet
inserted in the typewriter. I wait pa-
tiently for ideas to come to me, exam
questions on Herman Melville for a
test I will give my English students
tomorrow. My wife is off to a reunion
somewhere, but I am not alone. Our
two children keep me company.
Ten-month-old Edward cooper-
ates to some degree; he spends most
of his day poring over a seemingly
endless array of cards, tags, assorted
pieces of paper and a catalogue,
which he tears apart page by page.
Occasionally he leans out and flails
madly at the piano, which he can
just reach.
But it is Meghan whose plans have
been destined from all eternity to
clash with mine today.
She follows a daily routine that
is bot h t i me-consu m i ng a nd
58 | January•2018
challenging. It includes certain ba-
sic tasks: watching the “grop”. (That
would be the fish; I cannot explain
the derivation of the word beyond
that.) Sweeping the rug in her room
and her crib. (Yes, Meghan sweeps
her crib.) Sitting for a few minutes
on the bottom shelf of the bookcase
to determine whether or not she still
fits here. (She fit yesterday and the
prospects look good for tomorrow.)
Checking periodically on Edward –
joining him, perhaps, in a brief duet.
Climbing in and out of the stroller
for practice. Testing the sofa springs.
Her constant companion through
all this is Dumpty, a shapeless rag
doll whose best days are far behind
him. A year ago he was well-stuffed
and bursting with good cheer. His
perpetual smile endeared him to
Meghan immediately. She provides
his transportation; he provides her
security. The filthier he grows, the
more she seems to rely on his wis-
dom and homespun philosophy.
About a week ago my w ife put
Dumpty into the washing machine,
hoping at least it would make him
recognisable. We were not ready
for t he emaciated creat ure t hat
emerged. Dumpty had been disem-
bowelled during the rinse cycle.
My wife spent 20 minutes picking
his foam-rubber intestines out of the
machine. We thought that Meghan
might discard this mere shell of
Dumpt y. We were w rong. There
was no detectable difference in her
 READER’S DIGEST

relationship with him, except that Suddenly she bolts from the room
she found him easier to carry while (she seldom walks) and I hear her
performing her chores. naked feet slapping against t he
I can do my own work fairly well wooden f loor outside. She returns
during most of these chores, and with Dumpty. She holds him up to
so I concentrate on Melville. (“Dis- the window, stretching him out by
cuss the similarity of the alienation his two pathetic, triangular arms
theme in Bartleby the Scrivener and and whispering into his non-existent
Kafka’s Metamorpho- ear, “Bib-bibs, Hindy,
sis.”) I am on my way. bib -bib s ! ” D u mpt y
Unfortunately, I had sm i les. It ’s a much
not counted on the ar- “Bib-bibs, bib- w ider sm i le t ha n it
rival of the “bib-bibs”. bibs!” shrieks used to be.
(“Bib-bibs” are birds. Meghan, her eyes I leave them in con-
Again the derivation alive with versation and return
eludes me.) to my desk . W it h i n
“Bib-bibs, bib-bibs!” expectation. five minutes she ap-
shrieks Meghan, her She insists I come p e a r s b e f o r e m e ,
eyes alive with expec- to the window wearing her mother’s
tation. She insists that shoes. She reaches up
I come with her to the to the typewriter keys
window. and depresses four of
“In a second. Just let me finish them simultaneously.
this question. Have you read Kafka’s “No, thank you, Meghan. Daddy’s
Metamorphosis, Meghan? You hav- seen your work. He’ll do it himself.”
en’t? You’d really enjoy it.” She backs off. Out of the corner
The sarcasm leaves no mark, and of my eye I can see her go into the
she pulls me by the hand (two fin- kitchen, watching the grop swim
gers actually) towards the bedroom around in his circular world. I can
window. I see myself as a slow-wit in see that the water in his bowl needs
some southern novel, being led oaf- to be changed.
like to watch the bib-bibs. And we Back to t he test. Determined.
do watch them. They chatter inces- (“Discuss illusion and realit y in
santly and leap abruptly back and Benito Cereno.”)
forth on the lawn just outside our “Don’t even ask, Meghan. Not to-
apartment window. Meghan is ab- day.” She stands in front of me with
sorbed, but as I watch them I won- her shoes and socks in her hand. I
der whether I parked the car under know the pattern. First the shoes
a tree last night. and socks. Then the stroller. And

January•2018 | 59
N O W. . . W H I L E T H E R E ’ S T I M E

pretty soon we’re in the park. She’ll the Hat, even that ancient copy of
want me to pick her a dandelion, National Geographic with the pen-
or leaf from that tree the hurricane guin on the cover ...
knocked over but didn’t uproot a Good Lord, she’s got them all.
few years ago. And she’ll clutch that With her free hand she tugs at my
leaf or dandelion the way she always sleeve.
does when we walk to the park. Oh, “No, Meghan,” I snap irritably.
yes, I know the pattern. “Not now. Go away and leave me
She rests her head alone. And take your
on my leg, just as she library with you.”
d id w hen s he f i r st T hat does it; she
lea r nt to wa l k . She “No, Meghan,” leaves. She makes no
used to br i ng her I snap irritably. f u r t her at t empt to
plast ic comb or her “Not now. Go bother me. I can fin-
hairbrush (once it was away and leave ish the test easily now
a toothbrush) and rest without interference.
her head on my leg me alone. And No one trying to climb
while I combed her take your library onto my lap; no extra
hair. That ritual, how- with you” f i ngers helpi ng me
ever, ended only after type.
a few months – much I see her standing
too soon for me. quietly with her back
Finally, she leaves, and I watch her facing the sofa, tears running down
frustration as she sits on the f loor her cheeks. She has two fingers of
and tries for several minutes to put her right hand in her mouth. She
on one of her socks. The art proves holds the tragic Dumpty in her left.
too elusive. In years to come she’ll She watches me type, and slowly
put on stockings or leotards with the brushes the tip of Dumpty’s anaemic
ease and grace of a ballerina. But arm across her nose to comfort her.
today a tiny pair of socks defeats her. A t t h i s m om e n t , on l y f or a
She sees me looking! Back to work. moment, I see things as God must
(“W hat is the significance of the – in perspective, with all the pieces
motto carved on the bow of Benito fitting. I see a little girl cry because
Cereno’s ship?”) I haven’t time for her. Imagine ever
She pats t he w icker chair, t he being that important to another
comfortable one we sit in together to human being!
watch TV or to read, and she hastily I see the day when it won’t mean
gathers her books – The Poky Little so much to a tiny soul to have me sit
Puppy, The Magic Bus, The Cat in next to her and read a story, one that

60 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

means little to us, realising some-
how that it is the sitting next to each
other that means everything. And
now I see the day when the frail,
loyal and loveable Dumpty will van-
ish from the life of a little girl who
has outgrown him.
I resent Dumpty for an instant.
He’s consoling my girl, and that is
my concern, not his. She and I have
few enough days like this to share.
So the paper slips gently into the top
drawer, the hood slides over the type
writer. The test will get done some-
how. Tests always get done.
“Meghan, I feel like taking a walk
down to the park. I was wondering if
you and Edward would care to join
me. I thought maybe you would like
to go on the swings for a while. Bring
Dumpty – and your red sweater, too.
It might be windy down there.”
At the word “park” the fingers
leave the mouth. She laughs excit-
edly and begins the frantic search
for her shoes and socks.
Melv ille w ill have to wait, but
he won’t mind. He waited most of
his life for someone to discover the
miracle of Moby-Dick – and died
30 years before anyone did. No, he
won’t mind.
Besides, he’d understand why I
must go right now - while bib-bibs still
spark wonder, and before dandelions
become weeds, and while a little girl
thinks that a leaf from her father is a
gift beyond her measure.

SIGNS OF LIFE
RD MAY 1965

Printed notice in a taxi: “Please do not discuss

politics with me. My specialty is astrophysics.” H. ALBRIGHT

Warning over a display of tomatoes: “The management reserves

the right to pinch back.” PENNY SAVER

On a church bulletin board: “You aren’t too bad to come in.

You aren’t too good to stay out.” INDIANAPOLIS STAR

The bedroom in a model home has three cupboards,

to which the following signs are attached: “His”, “Hers” and
“Probably Also Hers”. ELSA NAGAR

January•2018 | 61
 HUMOUR
Laughter
THE BEST MEDICINE
1940S
A worried-looking man in a florist
shop asked for potted geraniums.
“I’m sorry,” said the shop
assistant. “We’re out of geraniums
just now, but we have some nice
potted chrysanthemums.”
“No, they won’t do,” replied the
man. “I promised my wife I’d water
her geraniums while she was away.”
SWANSON NEWSETTE, RD NOVEMBER 1947
A family suffering loss and injury
in a tornado sent their small son
to his aunt’s home for a visit,
until they could arrange other
housing. After three days came this
telegram: RETURNING TOM, SEND
TORNADO. JOHN MARVIN RAST
IN TODAY’S WOMAN, RD APRIL 1948
1950S
Father glanced in his wallet and
then looked hard at his wife and
son. “That boy has taken some
money!” he stormed.
“How can you be so sure?”
protested his wife. “Why, I might
have done it.”
62 | January•2018
Father shook his head. “No,
you didn’t,” he retorted. “There’s
some left.” COMMERCE, RD MARCH 1953
1960S
Reviewing her early Brooklyn years,
Broadway’s bright and shining star
Barbra Streisand said, “We were
awfully poor. But we had a lot
of things that money can’t buy –
like unpaid bills.”
LEONARD LYONS, RD DECEMBER 1964
An ad for a wine company in the
New York subways depicts a man
and a woman drinking the firm’s
product, with the following caption
under the picture: “Having a
wonderful wine.”
A wistful addition has been
added to one poster, in pencil:
“Wish you were beer.”
SELMA GLASSER, RD JULY 1967
1970S
A recently returned traveller was
bragging about his African safari.
He led his audience to believe
that everything he had done was
remarkable, and that one morning and now I don’t know what he
while leaving his tent, he had looks like!” JAY TRACHMAN,
spotted a leopard. RD NOVEMBER 1990
That’s when one of the listeners
said, “Oh, I thought they were born “Why aren’t you dating Carol
that way.” anymore?” a guy asked his friend.
WADE MCLAUGHLIN, RD MARCH 1973 “I couldn’t stand her vulgar laugh.”
“I never noticed that about her.”
When a homeowner heard the price “You weren’t there when I
for cleaning his chimneys, he said, proposed to her.” JUNE STOPPARD,
“Forget it! I’ll clean them myself!” RD NOVEMBER 1990
“OK,” said the chimney
sweep with a shrug. Overheard: “I’m
“Soot yourself.” trying to keep up with
1977
EDWARD STEVENSON, the Joneses, but every
RD MAY 1979
“So,” said the attorney, time I catch up, they
“you want a divorce refinance!”
1980S on the grounds that DAVID SNELL,
Question: What do you your husband is RD JANUARY 1997
say to a baby wearing careless about his
designer jeans? appearance?” 2000S
Answer: Gucci, “That’s right,” said the I got thrown out of
woman. “He hasn’t
Gucci, Gucci. a mime show the
made an appearance
MARY DERSCH,
in over three years.” other day for having a
RD MARCH 1982 spasm. They thought
GEORGE E. BERGMAN
I was heckling.
IN THE AMERICAN
Wife: “If our marriage LEGION MAGAZINE, JEFF SHAW,
is a fifty-fifty deal, RD OCTOBER 1977 RD FEBRUARY 2002
why haven’t you raked
up your half of the What do you call
leaves?” someone who has just printed 1000
Husband: “Your half is on puns off the Internet?
the ground, dear. Mine is still on Well e-quipped.
the tree.” BONNIE STOVER, RD JUNE 1986 J. PICKETT, RD APRIL 2003

1990S I had a car accident with a magician.

“So you think you’ve got problems!” It wasn’t my fault. He came out of
a man said to his colleague. “I lent nowhere.
a guy $4000 for plastic surgery, AUGGIE COOK, RD MAY 2004

January•2018 | 63
 APRIL 1974

DRA
IN R
LIF

The
Sinking
of the
Comet
While the old boat didn’t look very
seaworthy, none of us thought
it was a deathtrap
BY M I C H A E L R E I L LY

January•2018 | 65
THE SINKING OF THE COMET
THE BOAT WAS 45 MINUTES LATE,
but the guys were taking it well – con-
sidering the fact that many of them
had been on a night run and driven
directly to Point Judith harbour with-
out sleep. We were mostly truck driv-
ers from Rhode Island, and we had
chartered the Comet for 6 o’clock this
morning of May 19, 1973, for a day of
deep-sea fishing.
Joe Faria was taking a lot of kidding
because the whole thing had been
his idea. About a month ago he’d told
me, “I ran into this old friend Mike
Jackson, and he’s bought himself a
boat that he’ll charter for ten dollars
a head if we guarantee 25 men. He’ll
supply crew, tackle and bait.”
I was supervisor-dispatcher at the
St Johnsbury Trucking Company in
Pawtucket, Rhode Island, and I be-
gan talking it up to the drivers: “You
guys are always complaining that
we don’t do anything together. Well,
Joe’s got something great.”
Soon the required 25 men had
signed up, and the trip was on. But
when the Comet hadn’t appeared by
6.45 that morning, we began to kid
Joe. “How much did Joe lift off us so
far – $125?” a voice demanded. “Not
bad for a boat that don’t exist.”
The four teenage boys in the group
– 18-year-old Steven Gercey and his
16-year-old brother William, and
their cousins, Andrew Girczyc, 14, and
Stanley, 13 – began to worry that their
first ocean trip might not take place.
At f ive minutes before seven,
66 | January•2018
however, we saw the Comet coming
in. We were disappointed – her hull
planking was battered, her deck
seams needed chalking – but a cheer
went up and we all rushed aboard.
There was some delay in letting
go. The deckhand was a young boy
named Ralph Nickerson, and it was
clear that this was his first trip to sea.
Also, Jackson’s orders shouted from
the wheelhouse were sometimes
confusing. We finally got underway
at about 7.05.
I noticed then that the Comet ’s
stern had very little freeboard. There
couldn’t have been more than 45 cen-
timetres between the sea and after-
deck. Comparing it with other boats I
had been on, I knew that the distance
should have been greater. I saw my
friend Al Charron staring at the af-
terdeck with a worried look, too. If
only we had spoken to each about it!
“She’s taking water!”
The day was clear, but a flood tide was
bringing huge waves, while a south-
westerly wind was whipping them
in the opposite direction, creating a
bad chop. As the Comet moved into
the open sea, the first wave heeled
her sharply to starboard, lifted her as
it ran beneath her, rolled her back to
portside and then sent her plunging
into the following trough. Everybody
on deck staggered and clutched at the
handrails. After about 15 minutes of
this, Joe told me he was going to talk
to Jackson about turning back. In a
 READER’S DIGEST

few minutes he reported, “Jackson Jackson seemed not to hear. Brian

says it’s up to the guys.” and I were beginning to toss life jack-
We t a l ked to t hem, but t he y ets to the men when the engine died.
laughed and joked about getting their The Comet began to roll badly. Jackson
money’s worth. They didn’t seem to came bursting out of the wheelhouse,
understand the danger. And so, the shouting, “Stay with the boat!”
Comet continued on, shuddering as “Radio the Coast Guard,” I heard
each wave hit her. Charron shout at him, but again
“She doesn’t seem he appeared not to
ver y seaworthy,” my hear. Eerie creaks and
buddy Brian Beaudette groans came from the
said. Eerie creaks and rolling ship’s timbers
“No boat can take groans came from as we scrambled from
on passengers without the rolling ship’s side to side, trying to
a Coast Guard inspec- timbers as we keep her level. Then
tion certificate,” I as- Nickerson appeared at
sured him. “They check scrambled from the wheelhouse door
everything – engine, side to side, trying clutching the radio
hull, wiring.” to keep her level microphone.
At that moment, “How does t h is
I heard a shout from work?” he called out
Al Charron. He was to us.
pointing to the lunch boxes we’d “Try turning on all the switches
placed on the deck along the star- and talk into it,” Al shouted.
board railing. Each time the Comet At this moment, the Comet began
dived into the trough between her final plunge. There was a muffled
waves, water flooded part of the report – the cabin was breaking off.
afterdeck and, as I watched, the Everyone was thrown free. Wreck-
water rushed up and set awash a age began to bob to the surface, and
lunch box. It was coming higher and we survivors grabbed for it.
higher as the boat settled. That was “Mike! Mike! Over here,” I heard a
the reason she had been so low in the voice calling. It was Walter Girczyc,
water when we first boarded her – the who had shepherded his sons and
bilge was slowly flooding! nephews to a fairly large raft I had
Al ran to the wheelhouse to tell the seen tied to the cabin’s roof.
skipper, but the doors wouldn’t open. Soon 14 of us were clinging to the
He pounded on the window, shout- man-lines on the raft’s sides. Our
ing, “She’s taking on water! She’s situations didn’t seem too bad. Sud-
gonna swamp!” denly everyone felt optimistic and

January•2018 | 67
THE SINKING OF THE COMET

began talking at once: “I can see out of the water. But, as the ship
Block Island ... the tides will take grew smaller with each turn of her
us there ... we’re in the transatlan- screw, our screams turned to curses.
tic shipping lane and freighters go Finally, she was a smudge on the
through here all the time ... the Coast horizon, then nothing.
Guard must have heard our SOS.” Now the cold resumed its deadly
Al Charron and I looked at each work. It stunned us and sapped our
other. We were both pretty sure no will to survive.
radio call got out. But Al Charron suddenly
our immediate prob- began to st rike t he
lem was the raft, which water and yell. “No, by
was covered with a I felt tears in my God, no! I’m not gonna
sheet of slippery fibre- eyes, and looked die out here without
glass. In these seas, no away. Then I saw doing something. I’ll
man could stay on top a triangle of swim for help.”
of it. We all had to re- T h i n k i ng he w a s
main in the water and white cloth delirious, I grabbed
cling to the man-lines. nearby. We stared his arm. He jerked it
I clamped my jaws on at it dumbly free and pointed to a
my chattering teeth wooden bench t hat
and fought the leg w e’d s a l v a ge d a nd
cramps that jerked my lashed to the raft. “I
heels up under me. As the cold pene- can keep afloat with that bench. We
trated, a sort of stupor came over us. gotta do something or we’ll all die
Suddenly one of the men was cry- anyway.”
ing shrilly, “A ship! A ship!” “I’m a better swimmer than you
Jolted awake, we saw a tanker are, Al,” I said. “And you’ve got a wife
headed in our direction. When she and kids. I’m not married. I’ll go.”
was about three kilometres off, Al and The bench was about 2.4 metres
I held Brian on top of the raft while long and 60 centimetres wide. When
he waved his orange life jacket wildly. we got it free, I positioned my left arm
The rest of us yelled, cheered and over it – leaving my right arm and
laughed. She came within 150 metres legs free for swimming. Brian’s head
of us but her rust-streaked hull kept appeared suddenly opposite me. “I’ll
on sliding through the water. We could go along,” he said. “If I have to drown,
hear the continuing throb of her pow- it might as well be with you.”
erful engine. She wasn’t going to stop! I gave him a grin and said, “Well,
We thrashed our arms and legs let’s go.”
in frantic efforts to raise ourselves We swam as hard as we could, but

68 | January•2018

we were just two ant-like figures on a
chip of wood. The sea would take us
where it wanted to.
For a time, we joked to keep up our
spirits. “Hey, I’ve still got my wallet,”
I said. “Let me know if we come to a
toll booth.”
“Don’t be a big spender,” Brian
warned. “Remember you already
blew ten bucks to go fishing.”
When we could no longer joke, we
talked quietly about the things in life
we’d miss. Brian said, “It’s hard to
believe that we’ll never have another
brew together at Murphy’s Lounge.”
I felt tears in my eyes, and looked
away. Then I saw a triangle of white
cloth nearby. We stared at it dumbly,
finally realising it was a sail. We
screamed and waved – or thought
we did. We were drugged by the cold
and couldn’t lift our arms out of the
water. The sail moved past. We were
invisible men. We gave up.
Bring her around
Yachtsman Richard Lemmerman was
sailing his 12 metre sloop Decibel to
her home port of Manchester, Massa-
chusetts. She was about in the middle
of Block Island Sound when crewman
Mark Standley called out, “There’s
something out there in the water.
Looks like a couple of damn-fool kids
in a kayak. I wonder if they need help.”
Lemmerman said, “Let’s not take
any chances. Bring her around, Mark.”
W hen t he sa i l i ng boat c a me
alongside, strong hands wrestled
READER’S DIGEST
me onto the deck where I lay gasp-
ing. “Others out there,” I whispered.
“The Comet sank...”
The next thing I knew I was be-
low deck in a bunk, wrapped in a
blanket and being fed coffee. In the
bunk across from me I saw Brian.
Over the next 45 minutes we heard
the creak of rigging and the growl of
the engine as the boat manoeuvred,
stopped and started. As each survi-
vor was brought below, I said an in-
ward prayer of thanks.
I began to hope all had been saved,
but when the Decibel finally headed
back towards Point Judith I knew they
had not. Joe Faria and Al Charron told
us that after Brian and I had gone
for help, Steve Gercey had lost con-
sciousness and slipped away from the
raft. His uncle, Walter Girczyc, had
drowned, as had young Nickerson,
the deckhand, and the Comet’s owner,
Bill Jackson. In all, 16 men had died.
On May 22, 1973, the US Coast
Guard convened a Marine Board of
Investigation. When the hearings
ended, two stark facts were revealed:
the Comet had no inspection certifi-
cate, because Jackson had never sub-
mitted his boat to a safety inspection.
Nor did he have a personal licence to
skipper a boat for hire.
Now I wonder. Had I thought to go
into the wheelhouse before we sailed
and found no Coast Guard certificate,
would I have tried to talk the men
into walking off the boat? I’m not
sure. I know I will next time.
January•2018 | 69
 MAY 1940

My
Aunt
Batty
Eccentric, kind, single-minded
and revered by everyone whose
paths she crossed
BY K AT H L E E N N O R R I S
ILLUSTRAT ION: iSTOCK

January•2018 | 71
M Y A U N T B AT T Y
EVERY TIME I THINK OF AUNT BATTY
I laugh, and that, in itself, is a tribute
to her memory. Every time the other
girls and boys who grew up under
her forceful influence begin to dis-
cuss her, her absurdities and idio-
syncrasies and unreasonableness,
and her sheer sweet goodness, they
laugh, too. And sometimes they’ve
been caught wiping their eyes after
the laughter.
She was not really my aunt. Her
mother’s sister had been my grand-
father’s second wife, if anyone cares
to work out the relationship from
that. But she stood, by age and na-
ture, in the position of an aunt. We
were orphaned when scarcely out
of childhood, six of us, and how we
should have weathered the storm at
all without Aunt Batty nobody cares
to imagine.
Not that she had money. She never
had money. She was widowed, with
four children to raise, when I remem-
ber her first, her one asset a large,
shabby, bay-windowed house in the
sunshiny neighbourhood of San Fran-
cisco called ‘The Mission’.
Here Aunt Batty rented rooms,
cooked for boarders, clipped yellow
marguerites and banksia roses to sell
at the Women’s Exchange, gave mu-
sic lessons at an old square piano,
and knitted baby blankets on order.
She never mentioned money as im-
portant, or seemed to worry about
having it or not having it. It sounds
ridiculous, but there are persons like
72 | January•2018
that. Yet somehow they manage to do
what they have to do and what they
want to do.
For one thing, people were always
doing generous things for Aunt Batty.
Her father and mother had been
among San Francisco’s leaders in a
pioneer day. From the beginning their
home had been a real home, in the
centre of a mix of Mexicans, Chinese
and Indians, gold-seekers mad with
impatience, criminals and adventur-
ers, and sinister types with pockmarks
and dagger scars on their faces.
Scared, weary, dusty young New
England wives, descending fearfully
from covered wagons, found an oasis
in the home that had a good woman
in it, and children and a garden.
Before Aunt Batty was born the first
city library was established in the
roomy basement of the old house.
A colony of other homes had risen
roundabout. Her father was lawyer,
patriarch, friend to them all, and her
position, as ‘one of Judge Thompson’s
girls’, was established beyond distur-
bance of any tides of time or wealth.
In person she was completely unim-
pressive; small, stout, grey, bustling.
Only an inconspicuous middle-aged
little woman, yet there was some-
thing confident – indeed, royal – in
her manner. When she said to a traf-
fic officer, “I am leaving my car here,
my man; just keep an eye on it!” he
cleared his throat, hesitated and
obeyed, even though the disreputable
vehicle, loaded with wet bathing suits,
 READER’S DIGEST

spades, coats, cameras and picnic bas- a cabin at Tahoe was put at her dis-
ket, might be all but touching the ‘No posal for the summer, she was always
Parking’ sign. When to a circus usher appreciative, but never overburdened
she calmly suggested, “We’ll have a with any sense of obligation. Her own
few more chairs in the box please!” rule was: “It’s mine, and so I can give it
he quietly went and got them. When away”; and she probably thought that
she reached authoritative hands for everyone else felt the same way. Her
a strange baby in a streetcar, the home was a clearing house for rugs
mother instantly sur- and cribs and New York
rendered the child. hats and the clothes
And the baby always Minnie Stedman sent
stopped crying and When she reached her when Minnie went
stared at Aunt Batty authoritative into mourning.
as one bewitched, as hands for a “We’d only hang ’em
possibly it was. strange baby, the up in a closet until you
Aunt Batty loved girls grew up to ‘em!”
life as no other hu- mother instantly she would say firmly,
man being I ever knew surrendered to some reluctant child
loved life. She never the child or grandchild. “Now
did things that didn’t they’ll be worn every
interest her, and she day this winter! Tom,
never had enough time you take that suitcase
for those that did. She never went to over to the Millers this minute.”
lunch or dinner parties or played One afternoon three chilled beg-
cards. But she cooked and knitted gars asked for food. They got a meal,
and cared for everyone’s baby, played and as they left Aunt Batty turned to
old songs on the piano, was needed the rack where the men of the house
in every house where there was sud- hung their coats, and selected the
den sorrow or sickness. To the end three shabbiest to give her guests. It
she bicycled enthusiastically; pasted was an hour or two later that a puz-
up endless scrapbooks; gardened zled daughter came into Aunt Batty’s
until she was earthy, perspiring, sun- kitchen to explain that the plumbers
burned, ravenous and cramped. Her were finished now, and ready to go
garden never had a completed look, home, but they couldn’t find their
but her stocky figure and battered old coats. Wallets, pipes, handkerchiefs,
hat were somehow an always pleasant tobacco and whatever else plumbers
sight among the weedy borders. keep in their pockets were of course
When the opera came to town and gone, too. But the story on ‘Ma’ was
someone sent her a box, or when considered well worth the expense.

January•2018 | 73
M Y A U N T B AT T Y

We came to depend upon her hon- “Thank you, Bat,” he said. “I’m not
esty as a very rock under our younger afraid.”
lives. Between Aunt Batty’s quiet Nor was he, from that moment.
“You’ve got a sick baby there” and Simple middle-aged brother and sis-
her equally quiet “Well, this little fell- ter saying goodbye to each other, there
er’s made up his mind to stay with us was a dignity, even a magnificence,
for a while” lay life’s extremes of fear about the little scene.
and relief for young mothers. Her When, after long years of discour-
saying “The way to be- aged plodding, the
gin living this ideal life skies broke for me and
they talk about is just I had a chance at a job
to begin” has stayed She married off on a morning paper,
with some of those sons and I took my doubts and
long-ago boys and daughters, took despairs to Aunt Batty.
girls as the very base children to “I’ve wanted this –
of their philosophies. I’ve prayed for it – I
She faced whatever circuses and never thought I’d get
came without f linch- beaches, made it! But they want me
ing. One rainy after- gingerbread today – today – and
noon she sat with her what about my job at
only brother in a hos- the settlement house?
pital room; her fingers It’ll take weeks to find
knitting, her voice serene. She had another resident and break her in!”
answered his question; the essential “Take it,” commanded Aunt Batty.
question. Yesterday a strong healthy “You’re free at the settlement house at
man, planning for his future and that five o’clock; you can hold both jobs.”
of his motherless children, he had “But I have to gather social news, a
been struck down by a derelict truck. whole column of it, every day!”
And today was the end. “I’ll manage that,” Aunt Batt y
“You lie here for an hour and think promised serenely.
it over,” she said. “I’ll give the chil- And she did. I was at the post-
dren supper and send them in to earthquake settlement house, with its
see you. You’ve had a good, full life, sewing classes, mothers’ meetings,
Peter.” rehearsals for the Christmas play, and
“The girls?” he faltered. cooking school, until five o’clock. Then
“I’ll see to the girls. You needn’t be I raced downtown to the newspaper
afraid.” and called Aunt Batty. Aunt Batty had
He looked long at her. To his eyes been telephoning all her old friends
came sudden peace. all day. An engagement was to be

74 | January•2018

announced; parties were planned;
people were going to Europe and
coming back from Hawaii.
For three weeks I held both jobs,
worked from eight in the morning
until midnight. Never in my life have
I been happier. It was training, it was
hope, it was the opening door, and
I knew it. That winter I met the man I
was to marry; there were plans, there
was a future.
And I couldn’t have done any of it
without Aunt Batty.
Well, that was all there was to her,
a blunt, busy, stubby-handed little
widow who lived in a dilapidated
old house, married off sons and
daughters, took children to circuses
and beaches, made gingerbread and
trimmed Christmas trees, gardened,
nursed the sick, welcomed every new
baby as if it were the first in the world,
and loved on Sunday nights to gather
a group of young singers around an
old piano while she played.
Rising from a long, joyous lunch
table one Sunday, she leaned on her
oldest son’s arm.
“I think you’d better help me up-
stairs, Bucky,” she said. She hadn’t
called Tom that since he was five years
old. We sat in stricken silence, for I
think we all knew, then.
For two days she lay looking at us
serenely, only disturbed when the
children were too much silenced in
the halls. And she gave us in parting
perhaps her finest gift, the last of so
many! I mean the sharing of her own
READER’S DIGEST
conviction that the stubby hands, the
eager mind and the inexhaustible love
that was part of her were preparing
themselves for new fields of labour.
At the end she said quietly that
Dave, the husband of her youth, had
been with her since sunrise.
“He held out his hand to me just
as he did when I walked out of Mam-
ma’s house in Powell Street with him
47 years ago,” she told us, and there
was something shy, radiant, bridal
in the half-smile that lay like light on
her face. “Going off with Dave, I felt
such a scared girl! I hardly knew him
at all, it seemed to me. But I know
him now,” her whisper went on, as
her eyes closed.
“There’s no scare now, Dave! Hav-
en’t I been sick for the sight of you all
these years, dear!”
And so all through these years we’ve
known that there was an Aunt Batty’s
house somewhere, a house with dim
gas-lighted halls and big, shabby
rooms where placid fat babies are fin-
ishing bottles, and children are whis-
pering over homework, and brides
are rustling silk gowns. A house of
whose attic boys and girls take noisy
possession on rainy afternoons, and
in whose kitchen, over baking pans
and chopping bowls, women murmur
their endless household wisdom.
We know that somewhere, some-
time, we’ll all be back at Aunt Batty’s.
For to us who knew her, of what else
ca n b e ma d e t h e Ki n g d o m o f
Heaven?
January•2018 | 75
 Points to Ponder
LESSONS FOR LIFE
Anxiety is love’s greatest killer.
It makes others feel as you
might when a drowning man
holds on to you. You want to
save him, but you know he will
strangle you with his panic.
ANAÏS NIN, RD JULY 1981
Prejudices, it is well known, are
more difficult to eradicate from
the heart whose soil has never
been loosened or fertilised by
education: they grow there, firm
as weeds among stones.
CHARLOTTE BRONTË,
RD AUGUST 1986
There are a lot of good reasons a
cat makes an ideal pet. Cats are
quiet. They need very little space, a
minimum of care and they’re clean.
A cat won’t attack the mailman or
eat the drapes – although he may
climb the drapes to see how the
room looks from the ceiling.
HELEN POWERS,
RD AUGUST 1984
High sentiments will always win
in the end. The leaders who offer
76 | January•2018
blood, toil, tears and sweat always
get more out of their followers than
those who offer safety and a good
time. When it comes to the pinch,
human beings are heroic.
GEORGE ORWELL,
RD MARCH 1997
Architecture is the alphabet of
giants: it is the largest set of symbols
ever made to meet the eyes of men.
G.K. CHESTERTON,
RD MARCH 1997
People are like stained-glass
windows; they sparkle and shine
when the sun is out, but when the
darkness sets in, their true beauty
is revealed only if there is a light
from within.
ELIZABETH KÜBLER-ROSS,
RD NOVEMBER 1977
To awaken quite alone in a strange
town is one of the pleasantest
sensations in the world. You are
surrounded by adventure. You have
no idea of what is in store for you,
but you will, if you are wise and
know the art of travel, let yourself go
in the stream of the unknown. For
this reason your customary thoughts
– everything, in fact, which belongs
to your everyday life, is merely a
hindrance. The tourist travels in his
own atmosphere like a snail in his
shell, but if you discard all this and
sally forth with a leisurely and blank
mind, there is no knowing what may
not happen to you.
FREYA STARK, RD NOVEMBER 1956
It is a paradox that just when
technology has made it possible
for parents to spend more of their
time than ever before in training
their children, they should foist so
much of the responsibility upon
the schools.
HENRY STEELE, RD FEBRUARY 1961
I do not know what I may appear to the
world, but to myself I seem to have been
only like a boy playing on the seashore,
diverting myself in now and then finding
a smooth pebble or a prettier shell than
ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth
lay all undiscovered before me.
SIR ISAAC NEWTON,
RD DECEMBER 1979
Hope is a light diet, but very
stimulating.
HONORÉ DE BALZAC, RD FEBRUARY 1961
The wonder of a single snowflake
outweighs the wisdom of a million
meteorologists.
FRANCIS BACON, RD FEBRUARY 1961
Pierre Auguste Renoir, the French
painter, when asked how he
achieved such natural, delicate
flesh tints in his nudes, is said to
have replied: “I just keep painting
and painting until I feel like
pinching. Then I know it’s right.”
RD MARCH 1973
The man who sees badly always
sees less than there is to see;
the man who hears badly always
hears something more than there
is to hear.
FRIEDRICH WILHELM NIETZSCHE,
RD MARCH 1973
January•2018 | 77
 NOVEMBER 1990

The
Trouble
with
Mollie
This puppy was written off as
too wild to win – until a gutsy trainer
recognised her champion’s heart

BY E V E R E T T S K E H A N

January•2018 | 79
THE TROUBLE WITH MOLLIE
“COME GET THIS DOG!” Fran D’Err-
ico yelled. “She’s at it again.” The
setter pup was on another rampage,
tipping over wastepaper baskets,
scattering laundry, gnawing on the
basement stairs.
Fran’s husband, Roger, had his
own problems with the dog. When-
ever he t urned her loose in t he
woods near their home in Maine,
US, she ran far and wide, hellbent
for the next county. She was a beau-
tiful pup, with a darkly flecked sil-
ver coat, a coquettish white face
patched with a black bandit’s mask,
and large mischievous brown eyes.
But she was too wild for their res-
idential area, Roger decided. So he
called Frank Gilley, a local dentist
and fellow grouse hunter, and of-
fered him the dog.
“I’ll need to look at her papers,”
Gilley told D’Errico. “And I want to
see her run.”
Two weeks later, Gilley was show-
ing the dog to trainer Pat LaBree.
“She has outstanding breeding,” said
Gilley. “I’ll call her Tip Top Mollie.”
LaBree watched the dog streaking
across the fields behind his Wilder-
land Kennels, her head high in the
wind, her tail waving merrily. “That’s
a sensational puppy!” he exclaimed.
“I want her, Frank.”
Just then Mollie tore through a
covey of quail. The birds whirred
crazily, and she chased them to the
far horizon.
“She likes birds, all right,” said Pat,
80 | January•2018
“but she’s not too particular about
pointing them.” Most setters have
an inborn habit of stopping in their
tracks when they find a bird and
‘pointing’ – staring fixedly at the spot
until their gun-toting master arrives.
“Well, keep her a while and try her
out,” said Gilley. “If she’s got what it
takes, we’ll talk about competing her
in field trials.”
LIVE FOR TODAY
That first night, Mollie howled for
so long that all the other dogs in the
kennel began barking. W hen Pat
went out to quieten her, she jumped
all over him.
“What does she think this is?” he
asked his father, Pat Sr, who helped
out at his son’s struggling business.
“I’m running a kennel, not a nursery
school.”
“Seems to me like that pup’s a
people dog,” the older man replied.
“She’s not too keen on living in a
kennel.”
“Where’s she going to live? In the
house with me?”
His father chuckled. “Kind of looks
that way, doesn’t it?”
Mollie had a ball that summer chas-
ing woodcock and quail through the
alders and fields behind Pat’s kennel.
Then one August night, she came
home with her nose radiating dozens
of needle-sharp porcupine quills.
Pat spent the next two hours pull-
ing quills from Mollie’s muzzle with
a pair of pliers. When he finished,
 READER’S DIGEST

the dog was dazed and bloody and dashing over some distant hill. But
whimpering softly. That was the first the next day he’d be at it once more,
night Pat took Mollie inside to sleep driv ing home commands, repri-
on the couch. manding Mollie when she refused
The next morning, he found his to obey.
hunting boots chewed full of holes. One summer night, Pat sat impa-
Mol l ie gave her i n nocent look, tiently in the truck, listening at the
thumping the carpet loudly with open window for Mollie’s bell. She
her tail. Pat wondered had gone AWOL again.
if he was wasting his Then he remembered
time with a renegade. the evening in Vietnam
But it was her ver y The next when he and his friend
w i ld ne s s t h at h ad morning, he Happ y ret u r ne d to
attracted him in the found his hunting base in Lao Cai. They
first place. boots chewed needed to unwind, but
As a soldier in no passes were being
Viet na m, Pat had full of holes. issued. So under cover
been a renegade him- Mollie gave her of dark, they jumped
sel f. T houg h deco- innocent look the fence and stole into
rated for valour, he the village.
hated to follow orders The next morning as
a nd was a lway s i n Pat was sneaking back
trouble. He and Mollie understood to the barracks, an MP grabbed him
each other. Besides, his kennel was from behind. “All right, soldier,” he
going broke, and he needed a cham- said. “They’re going to bust you for
pion to attract more boarders. Mollie this.”
might be his last chance. “Hope you had lots of fun,” the first
However, few others had faith in sergeant told Pat, as he ripped off his
the dog. Cleaning the kennel one stripes, “’cause you’ll have plenty of
evening, Pat’s father asked, “Is it true time to think about it digging those
what other trainers are saying, that latrines.”
Mollie won’t be a winner?” I’ll give Mollie time to think about it
Pat fumed. “Don’t listen to them. too, Pat thought angrily, then he wor-
Someday you’ll see. They’ll all see.” ried she might have been killed on
the highway. Mollie didn’t know how
AWOL to play it safe any more than he did.
Mollie nearly drove Pat crazy those He jumped out of the truck and
first three years. “That’s it,” he’d picked his way into the thick cover.
say. “I’ve had it!” as the setter went There, just a few hundred metres

January•2018 | 81
THE TROUBLE WITH MOLLIE

away stood Mollie, rigid as a statue, of a jay. He was nervous, caught up

pointing a woodcock. She hadn’t in the f low of mounting suspense.
been shirking her duty after all. Many of the top dogs in the coun-
try were here, and their trainers all
EMERGENCY! had the same goal: the prestige of
When neighbours complained to the winning the championship. To Pat
police about barking dogs, the court it meant much more: survival. He
closed the kennel brief ly, and Pat had bills piling up and not enough
was forced to work at money to pay them. A
a bakery. champion could save
“I’ve sent a l l t he Wilderland Kennels.
dogs home,” he told Pat watched Then he heard Mol-
h is fat her. “E xcept Mollie’s body jerk lie’s bell and saw her
Mollie. She’s going to violently as the dart t hrough a nar-
have pups.” momentum row opening between
Not long after, Mol- birches. The course,
lie delivered her pups – carried her wh ich fol lowed t he
three males and three another 30 metres ba n k s of a st rea m,
fema les. She was a into the trees came to a turn. Pat had
good mother, always to get her attention or
grooming and nursing she’d be headed off in
her pups. And mother- the wrong direction.
hood seemed to settle her down. “Mollieeee!” he shouted.
Soon her new maturity began to With all four feet off the ground,
show up in the field. She was rock Mollie turned to look.
steady and extremely classy, a com- It was exactly the wrong moment. A
bination that made her a winner in root protruding like a lance from the
many trials that autumn. By spring her stump of a blown-down cedar pierced
reputation was spreading fast. the little setter’s body. She issued a
The Sunday before Labor Day, shrill scream. Pat watched Mollie’s
1984, Pat and Mollie were going for body jerk violently as her momentum
their biggest win at the Northeast- carried her another 30 metres into the
ern Woodcock Championship near trees. Then she collapsed and began
Exeter, Rhode Island. Mollie soared tossing among the dead leaves.
along a heavily timbered ridge and Pat charged up the hill, tearing his
disappeared into the valley beyond. way through the branches. There was
They had been out nine minutes, and a gaping hole in Mollie’s chest. Her
already Mollie was missing in action. hazy brown eyes were rolling back
He heard the shrill warning call into her head.

82 | January•2018

Pat had seen that same faraway look
in the eyes of fallen soldiers as they
drifted towards oblivion. No one had
been able to save the soldiers, and he
doubted if anyone could save Mol-
lie now. It was more than three kilo-
metres to the nearest road, probably a
lot further to a vet.
Richie Frisella, one of the trial mar-
shals, came running up behind Pat.
“Emergency!” he shouted into his CB
radio. “Badly injured dog here. We
need help fast.”
The voice of another man came
thundering through, a kilometre or
so away, and he relayed the call to
breeder Bob Fleury, who was in his
truck on a gravel road at the limit of
radio range. “You just caught me,”
Fleury said. “I’m on my way.”
Pat cradled Mollie in his arms.
“Hold on, girl,” he said. “You’re going
to make it.”
Then he hurried down the trail to
the road where Fleury was waiting.
“Get in!” Fleury shouted as the res-
cuers scrambled towards his truck.
He knew the only vet open on Sunday
always closed promptly at noon.
Once out on the highway, Fleury
dodged in and out of the holiday traf-
fic. Just as they approached the veter-
inary clinic, he saw Dr Richard Zahora
backing his car out of the driveway.
“Another second and you’d have lost
me in the traffic,” Zahora said, taking
Mollie from Pat. Inside, Zahora put the
dog on the operating table and gave
her a painkiller. Then he administered
READER’S DIGEST
oxygen and anaesthesia.
The tree root had missed Mollie’s
heart by only three centimetres. De-
spite heavy bleeding, no major artery
had been severed.
“What are her chances?” Pat asked
after the operation was over.
“I ca n’t g ua ra ntee a ny t hing,”
Zahora said, “but I think it went well.
A lot will be up to the dog now.”
WAR WOUNDS
Pat went to his motel room and began
pacing. He tried to sleep but couldn’t.
Close to 3am, with the television set
hissing on a dead station, he started
to drift off.
Pat dreamed he was crouching in
a helicopter, gripping his machine
gun. He heard explosions all around
and saw enemy fire from the jungle
below. Slugs and shrapnel ripped into
the helicopter.
“Look out!” he screamed, bolting
awake; his chest pounding and sweat
dripping. He thought about the time
he and his friend Happy rescued a
screaming soldier.
The soldier’s platoon had been
pinned down by enemy fire, and as
they ran for the rescue choppers,
the teenage soldier had stepped on
a mine. As Pat and Happy dragged
him to the chopper and safety, the
kid passed out from the pain.
Pat wondered what would happen
to Mollie. Even if she lived, she might
never have that spark again. They
don’t come back, he thought.
January•2018 | 83
THE TROUBLE WITH MOLLIE

The next day, Pat got to the clinic Just 14 months after her near-fatal
early. Zahora was smiling. “You’re accident, Mollie stood at the break-
not going to believe this,” he said, away of the Grand National Grouse
guiding Pat to the kennel area. There Championship in Allegheny Moun-
was Mollie, wagging her tail furiously tains, Pennsylvania. Richie Frisella,
as Pat approached. the marshal who helped save her life,
“That’s the way some animals are,” was judging the competition. “It’s a
Zahora said. “An injur y like this miracle she’s still alive, never mind
might have a man laid running,” Frisella said.
up for several weeks. But Mol lie was
But what a will she’s more than just alive
got!” Suddenly Mollie as she raced across
snapped into t he r u g ge d r id ge s,
RETURN point beside a cover i ng k i lomet re
ENGAGEMENT
small thicket. Pat after kilometre in her
As Pat watched Mollie quest for birds. With
stumble and sink into walked ahead of less than 60 seconds
the wet autumn leaves her, and a grouse to go, she came over
a few weeks later, he roared into flight a h i l l a n d s t a r t e d
thought, I’m making dow n i nto a g rass y
a big mistake. The dog swale. She looked ex-
was gasping for breath hausted. We’ve lost it,
before they got half way across the Pat thought.
training field. Her spirit was outrun- Suddenly Mollie snapped into point
ning her legs. beside a small thicket. Pat walked
“What will you do with her?” Pat’s ahead of her, and a grouse roared into
father asked one day when Pat carried flight. It was a grand finale to a mar-
an exhausted Mollie from the field. vellous performance.
“What can I do?” said Pat. If a dog That season, Mollie registered wins
couldn’t win in trials, it was a liabil- in several more trials, and by Labor
ity. Mollie had to hold her own, or Day weekend, 1986, she and Pat were
she was out. ready for their biggest challenge – a
It was a tough winter that year, but return to the Northeastern Woodcock
Pat kept working with Mollie, and her Championship in Rhode Island.
stamina grew. Then in early spring, “I don’t believe it,” Pat said a few
Mollie ran strong and hard for almost nights before the competition. “We
an hour. True, she tired late in the run, drew the same course where Mol-
but as far as Pat was concerned, Tip lie was hurt.” From the moment Pat
Top Mollie was almost back. whistled her on, however, Mollie

84 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

attacked the woods relentlessly. The
gallery held its breath as she flew by
the cedar stump that had impaled her,
never hesitating.
Halfway through the hour, Mollie
slammed into point. She was buried
in a stand of pine and poplar, 30 me-
tres off the path. When Pat and judge
Danny Nein approached, a woodcock
spiralled up and glided over the trees.
Then the ground exploded as two
grouse thundered off. Their noisy de-
parture would have rattled many dogs,
but Mollie stayed frozen as moulded
steel. It was as fine a performance as
any trainer could hope to see.
The judges thought so as well.
Two days later, Tip Top Mollie was
named the Northeastern Woodcock
Champion. The little renegade setter
had come back.
On the road returning to Maine,
with Mollie nuzzled in his lap, Pat
thought about the teenage soldier he
and Happy had rescued. Something
told Pat that he had made it back too.
A few days later, Pat was walking
towards his truck with his father. “I’m
thinking about expanding the kennel,”
Pat said. “Maybe add 20 more runs.
Mollie’s brought in business.”
“For next autumn?” his father asked.
“That’s a long way off, isn’t it, son?”
“You’ve got to plan ahead, don’t
you, Dad?” Pat replied.
The older man smiled. Mollie was
sitting at attention in the driver’s seat.
He could see she was ready to run.

CARTOON QUIPS
RD JANUARY 1993

Headwaiter to couple at table: “I’m sorry, but the soup of the

day was just tripped over by the employee of the month.” UPS

Behind an employee’s cluttered desk: “They don’t dare fire me.

I’m too far behind in my work.” JOEY ADAMS

Doctor to patient: “You seem to be in fine health,

Mr Cosgrove, but let’s run a few tests. I’m sure we can find
something wrong with you.” WALL STREET JOURNAL

Marriage counsellor to couple: “You both overreact to minor

problems. I had that, too, with my third wife.” WOMEN’S WORLD

Interviewer to job applicant: “We have a simple work-incentive

job plan here. It’s called unemployment.” SUN

January•2018 | 85
 JANUARY 1956

The
First Big
Radio
Broadcast
The dramatic account of how a
‘crazy’ experiment launched the
era of radio for the millions

BY J . A N D R E W W H I T E

January•2018 | 87
THE FIRST BIG RADIO BROADCAST
IT WAS 3.16PM ON THE BLISTERING
hot Saturday July 2, 1921. The place
was Jersey City, just across the Hudson
River from New York. Jack Dempsey,
the heavyweight boxing champion of
the world, and Georges Carpentier,
the handsome European champion
and ‘orchid man of France’, had just
entered the ring. In a moment the bell
would announce the first round of the
‘Battle of the Century’.
I sat at the ringside, my mouth
cupped to a telephone. At the other
end of a special wire four kilometres
long was another telephone and,
12 centimetres away, a telephone
mouthpiece attached to the largest
commercial radiophone transmit-
ter that had ever been built. Into my
mouthpiece I intoned, “Ladies and
gentlemen…”. The first mass radio
broadcast in history had begun.
This was not to be the first broad-
cast sent out over the airwaves. A few
radio stations had opened and were
sending voices and scratchy pho-
nograph records over the air. And
a broadcast of the US Presidential
election returns of November 1920
had kindled interest in radio. But the
audience that awaited our broadcast
that sticky afternoon numbered be-
tween 200,000 and 300,000 and it
was located in some 200 theatres
and lodge ha lls, ba llrooms and
barns, all along the US Atlantic coast
and in some inland states.
The experiment, frowned upon as
‘just plain crazy’ by financiers, had
88 | January•2018
been built on the enthusiastic dream
of young David Sarnoff. To pull it off,
Sarnoff and I had weaselled $1500
from a special account of the then-
new Radio Corporation of America.
The cheerfully stubborn Sarnoff
first suggested sending entertain-
ment and information over the air
in 1915, when he was 24. The Amer-
ican Marconi Co., for which he was
assistant traffic manager, had been
so sceptical that its board of direc-
tors laughed heartily when it turned
thumbs down on his idea.
I first heard of his scheme one
November evening in 1916 when he
came to my desk at the Marconi Co.
from his office down the hall and
plopped a stack of papers in front of
me. Dave was my boss. I was 27, he
18 months younger. “Wish you’d read
this when you have time,” he said
politely. I picked up his notes.
“I have in mind a plan to make radio
a household utility much as the piano
or the phonograph,” I read. “A radio
transmitter with range of 25 or 50
miles [40-80 km], at the point where
music is produced. The receiver in the
form of a radio music box having sev-
eral wavelengths changeable with the
pressing of a button.”
I read on excitedly. Amplif ying
tubes and a “loud-speaking tele-
phone”, Sarnoff suggested, could be
“neatly mounted in a box to be placed
on the parlour table”. It could receive
music, lectures, even baseball scores.
These “radio music boxes” could be
 READER’S DIGEST

produced in quantity for as little as added cautiously, “But don’t spend

$75 each, Sarnoff said, and he pre- a nickel more than $1500!”
dicted that the day would come when I was editor of Wireless Age at the
a million families would own them. time. This was a little magazine read
I was completely sold on the idea, by hundreds of do-it-yourself ama-
but each time Sarnoff brought up the teurs who had built crude receiving
subject – which he did frequently – and sending sets, assembling jum-
our company management (called, bles of wires, coils and condensers
from 1919 onwards, on their wives’ bread-
the Radio Corporation boards. If these ‘hams’
of A merica) turned could be organised and
him down. “I have in mind their receivers tuned to
Then in 1921 his luck a plan to make a specific wavelength,
changed. As it hap- radio a we might send out a
pened, a man named household utility programme for them to
Tex Rickard opened pick up – provided, of
the door. While Sarnoff much as the course, we could find
and I were talking piano or the or build a transmitter
about radio, boxing phonograph” big enough. In Wireless
promoter Rickard had Age I asked the ama-
Europe and America teurs to get ready to
talking about the com- receive a broadcast of
ing prize fight. the fight. Also, the national Amateur
Press excitement was high as Rick- Wireless Association alerted its mem-
ard started erecting a vast wooden bers. Two hundred ‘hams’ agreed to
arena at ‘Boyle’s Thirty Acres’ in stand by.
Jersey City. Here was our chance. The next problem was a transmit-
Millions wanted to see the fight but ter. Time was getting short when a
Rickard’s arena seated only 91,000. radio fan named J. Owen Smith, a
If we could offer it on the air blow skilled technician, rushed in one
by blow while it was happening, we day with important news: General
would have a vast audience. Electric was building at its Schenec-
We lacked several things, however tady plant the world’s largest com-
– including money. Then Sarnoff, mercial radiophone transmitter. It
digging into his books as general was to be for the Navy. We asked to
manager, discovered $2500 of RCA borrow it, but found the Navy rather
money in accumulated rentals of stiff-necked about lending it to some
ship wireless equipment. crazy amateurs. Then one day Smith
“Take it,” he said to me. Then he brought in a young fellow he called

January•2018 | 89
THE FIRST BIG RADIO BROADCAST

‘Frank’, who listened attentively house our transmitter in the shack

while I talked about our plan. He in the yards where Pullman porters
asked shrewd questions, and at last changed uniforms.
seemed convinced. Our promise to Then another obstacle cropped up.
give the machine the world’s tough- Telephone regulations prohibited us
est test seemed to please him. He said from putting any phone conversa-
he’d arrange the loan. tion on the air. I was discouraged, but
“Who was that?” I asked when he Owen Smith took the hurdle in his
had gone. stride. Our phone line
“Former Assistant could not be hooked
Secretary of the Navy to the transmitter; it
F r a n k R o o s e v e l t ,” I began spending could be attached only
Smith said. That was hours preparing to another telephone.
just two months before for the broadcast There was no regu-
Roosevelt was stricken by shadowboxing lation against having
with polio. two telephones stand
The Navy told us we in front of a a little bit apart, how-
could use the trans- mirror, singing ever, one facing the
mitter but to handle it out each move other. So Smith put
gently. General Elec- a 12 centimetre dia-
tric sent an engineer to phragm into the re-
help us install it. ceiving telephone and
Tex Rickard had given us permis- hooked another telephone with a big
sion to set up ringside poles for our diaphragm to the radio transmitter.
antenna, but he went broke before the My voice would leap a gap.
arena was finished and John Ringling, Now we needed some public sup-
the circus man, put up more money. port in high places. If our broadcast
Ringling said, “No radio!” Fortunately, could be made a charity ‘benefit’, that
we argued him out of that. might turn the trick. Anne Morgan,
Now we got the telephone com- daughter of the banker J.P. Morgan,
pany to stretch a line from Boyle’s headed the American Committee for
Thirt y Acres to the Lackawanna Devastated France, and young Frank
Railroad terminal at Hoboken, four Roosevelt was president of the Navy
kilometres away. The railroad had Club. Would they join forces with us?
abandoned its experiments w ith Soon Sarnoff announced that these
wireless train-dispatching, but still two organisations would get a share
had a radio tower. We stretched our of the gate receipts wherever crowds
antenna from it to the station tower paid to hear the radio broadcast.
140 metres away. The railroad let us But where could we find amplifiers

90 | January•2018

large enough to fill a theatre or as-
sembly hall with sound? Owen Smith
solved that. He bought 300 outmoded
‘tulip’ phonograph horns at a salvage
yard for 30 cents each, and with some
friends worked day and night fasten-
ing them to hearing aids. The ‘ampli-
fiers’ worked.
Then these devices were distrib-
uted by parcel post, with mimeo-
graphed operating instructions, to
the amateurs who had volunteered to
handle the receiving, in the hope that
they would use them to take care of
‘the public’. None of these amateurs
was to be paid, of course; most of
them, after installing their sets and
aerials at the theatres, were to be out
a good deal of pocket money.
Now I explained our theatre plan to
the organisation of vaudeville theatre
owners in New York. They promptly
turned me down. Beaten, I was slink-
ing down the corridor when an office
door opened a few centimetres. A
tiny man beckoned me to the crack
and whispered: “You got a good idea.
Don’t give up. You can use my thea-
tres. I’m Marcus Loew.”
That did it. Loew was respected as
one of the shrewdest leaders in the
industry. When he announced our
radio show the others capitulated.
Since no one had ever given a blow-
by-blow description of a fight to a
mass of listeners, I now began spend-
ing hours preparing for the broadcast
by shadowboxing in front of a mirror
and singing out each move. It soon
READER’S DIGEST
became apparent to me that no one
could accurately describe every blow,
so I adopted the scheme of ‘collect-
ing’ punches, which is still in use.
I’d say, “He jabs ... now again ... and
again.” Or, “Five short jabs.” Or, “They
trade punches.”
We needed advance publicity, but
we did not get it. The only newspaper
to pay us any attention was the New
York Times. The day before the fight
it devoted a column to the broadcast,
and followed it up with a brief men-
tion on the sports page.
I was at the ringside early on July 2,
testing. From the railroad shack at the
other end of my telephone line Owen
Smith reported all well: crowds were
already gathering outside the theatres
and my signal was coming in fine.
Finally, Dempsey in his ragged red
sweater, and the pale Carpentier in
a grey silk Japanese kimono, were in
the ring. Dempsey was unshaven and
scowling, but the handsome French-
man smiled and lifted his clasped
hands overhead, shaking them at the
crowd, which cheered.
That was when I said, “Ladies and
gentlemen ...” to begin the first big
radio broadcast.
As the gong clanged to start the
fight, Carpentier leapt to the attack.
Flashing and dazzling, he punched
fast and often, but not hard. Soon
Dempsey had the left side of Car-
pentier’s face bleeding, and after
two minutes the Frenchman was
wobbling. The gong saved him.
January•2018 | 91
THE FIRST BIG RADIO BROADCAST

In the next round Carpentier landed “You gave us a worldwide newspaper

one blow that staggered Dempsey,
but the sturdy champion finished
the round strong. At my telephone I
was pouring out words while won-
dering whether they were actually
going over the air.
Round three found Carpentier
wear y as Dempsey pounded him
with piston-like blows. In the fourth
round Dempsey, bigger and more
solidly built, waded in to finish the
fight.
“ The Frenchman is down!” I
shouted into my telephone. “He’s on
hands and knees. The referee is count-
ing. Three, four ... Carpentier makes
no effort to rise ... six, seven ... he’s
sinking to the mat ... nine, ten! The
fight is over! Jack Dempsey remains
heavyweight champion of the world!”
There were handshakes, congratula-
tory backslaps and the delighted bel-
low of Reuters’ news-service manager:
beat. We scooped everyone into Lon-
don and Paris with the news of the
world’s first real broadcast!”
In a few minutes Sarnoff and I were
looking at a terse cablegram from
RCA’s president, who was holidaying
in London. “You have made history,”
it said.
We were tired and bleary-eyed, but
in our minds’ eyes, Sarnoff and I were
seeing the crowds that were pouring
out of theatres and halls all along the
US east coast, their ears full of a mod-
ern miracle. We knew then that the era
of radio for the millions had begun.
J. Andrew White was the founder and
editor of Wireless Age and played
significant roles in early radio history
himself. In 1921 he became America’s first
sports commentator when he broadcast
the Dempsey–Carpentier fight. His
experience as a lightweight boxer in his
youth stood him in good stead.

PARDON, YOUR SLIP IS SHOWING

RD MAY 1950

“During the storm on Saturday, Mrs Timothy McPherson slipped

on the ice and hurt her somewhat.” VANCOUVER SUN

“Ten lost children were found again and restored to

their unhappy parents.” LOS ANGELES EVENING HERALD & EXPRESS

“Mayor Thompson commended the city tax collecter

and all city employees ‘who worked untiringly to complete
in 160 days what under normal conditions would
have taken 90 days’.” JACKSON DAILY NEWS

92 | January•2018
 Quotable Quotes
WISDOM THROUGH THE YEARS

Why does a woman IT IS PART

work ten years OF THE
to change a man’s CURE
habits and then
complain that TO WISH
he’s not the man TO BE
she married? CURED.
BARBR A STREISAND, SENECA,
RD September 1967 RD October 1977

PEOPLE WHO SAY THEY SLEEP LIKE

A BABY USUALLY DON’T HAVE ONE.
L E O J . B U R K E , R D Ja n u a r y 1 9 5 2

I go to the Before borrowing

movies every
night. Why not? money from
I’ve got to do a friend, decide
something to
take my mind off which you
my business.
S A M U E L G O L DW Y N ,
need more.
f i l m p r o d u c e r, ADDISON H . HALLOCK ,
RD December 1938 RD September 1962

WHEN I FEEL LIKE

EXERCISING, I YOUTH IS A
JUST LIE DOWN WONDERFUL
UNTIL THE
FEELING THING. WHAT A
GOES AWAY. CRIME TO WASTE
PAU L T E R RY,
maker of animated
IT ON CHILDREN.
cartoons, B E R N A R D S H AW,
R D Ja n u a r y 1 9 3 8 R D Ap r i l 1 9 4 0

January•2018 | 93
 Testimonials
SMALL MAGAZINE, WIDE REACH
Five
Readers
- One
Digest
THE SUN DISAPPEARED as my
boat train left the harbour of Turku
for Helsinki. Then the rain began.
I had a window seat in the train
compartment, my fellow passengers
being three gentlemen and a lady.
These foreigners were probably in
my Finland for the first time, so I
wished they could see our beautiful
country in glorious sunshine.
At first my companions peered out
the window, but when the villages
yielded to mile after mile of forest –
which you often see from a train in
Finland – they began to lose interest.
The lady leaned her head against
a cushion and closed her eyes.
A stockily built male traveller
yawned wide enough to betray a
gold-capped tooth. The second
94 | January•2018
man stirred himself to reach down
a brown leather case from the rack
and take from it a yellow booklet
on whose cover I read the name
Reader’s Digest. He was English, I
presumed. He opened the book and
read page after page without lifting
his head.
The gold-toothed passenger, after
eyeing his fellow passenger like a
hungry man watching another man
eat, suddenly got to his feet. Fumbling
in his coat pocket, he pulled out a
booklet with crimson covers:
Sélection du Reader’s Digest – the
French edition. He too began to read.
Now our pretty lady awoke with
a start and saw the rain drizzling
down like a fine veil, curtaining her
from outside the world. She sighed,
then opened her bag and took out belonged to the same circle of
a booklet with a light blue cover. readers, we marvelled at how small
Det Beste, I observed – the Reader’s the world is, and how wide the reach
Digest in Norwegian. of this international magazine.
“But what about you?” I thought, As we talked we discovered that all
glancing at the third gentleman. of us – in spite of our different
“Won’t you join this international nationalities – had a lot in common.
circle of readers?” As though the Most had very recently experienced
thought were compelling, he soon hunger, cold, deprivation. We had
turned from contemplating the trees known either the reality of despotism
and drew from his pocket a green- or the fear of its imminence. Yet none
covered book – the Danish edition of us felt such personal and national
of the Reader’s Digest. ordeals to be the most tragic of
On a rainy day, rolling through human experiences. No, we all agreed
Finland, four people from different – a Frenchman, a Dane, an
countries were reading the same Englishman, a Norwegian and me –
magazine in four different languages. the great enemy of our time is a loss
In my native country, somehow, I felt of hope. And each of us was
excluded. So when the newspaper constantly reaching out for whatever
seller appeared, we could use as a
I bought a copy weapon against
of the Reader’s Digest despair, the common
Finnish edition. We had entered enemy. We all felt that
I wondered when the that train the little magazine that
others would notice compartment as each of us then held
that all were reading offered hope on every
the same magazine in five strangers. We page and – more than
five different tongues. left as five friends hope – practical as well
This did happen, and as spiritual help in the
soon we were viewing world’s present battle
each other with new interest. against confusion and desperation.
The Norwegian lady and I began We had entered that train
comparing our books and their compartment as five strangers. We
contents. The Danish gentleman left as five friends. Actually, we were
and then the other two male six friends. For each of us carried in
companions joined in. We switched our pocket the mutual friend and ally
first to one language, then another, of the others.
the better to exchange ideas. SEERE SALMINEN, FINNISH JOURNALIST,
Amazed and amused that we BOOKMARK: FEBRUARY 1948

January•2018 | 95
 SEPTEMBER 1933

What’s
in a
Word?
The English language reflects the history of
its speakers. It is constantly evolving

BY J E N N I N G S H A M M E R
I L L U S T R AT I O N : i S T O C K

January•2018 | 97
W H AT ’ S I N A W O R D ?
LATELY, I HAVE BEEN READING the
dictionary, and I have discovered that
it really is not a morgue where dead
words are put: it is a record of the
travels and wars of the English-speak-
ing people, their occupations and
civil history, their morals and moods,
their food and feelings. Everything
the English-speaking world has done
has added to this word hoard.
Most of our commoner words were
Teutonic originally. Book tells that the
Saxons put their records on slabs of
beech wood. These slabs were bound
together and the name of the tree
from which they were cut was given to
the bundle of inscribed shingles. Lady
once meant a ‘loaf kneader’, and thus
we have a word from the kitchen to sit
beside lord, the ‘loaf guardian’. Bread
originally meant a ‘fragment or mor-
sel of food’; it was so-called because it
was that food most frequently left after
a meal. Thumb once meant merely a
‘swollen finger’.
There was much marshy land along
the seacoast where the Angles and
Saxons came from. Perhaps most
of our Teutonic ancestors became
tired from walking over such soft
ground. Our word ‘weary’ meant to
them a ramble across this unfirm
shore. Walnut has nothing to do with
wall, and nickname is not a cut-off or
shortened name. The nuts imported
from Wales by the Saxons were called
‘Wales nuts’, which later shortened
to walnut, and a nickname is an ‘also
(eke) name’, not a truncated name.  shape of its leaves. Jonquil gives us
98 | January•2018
The Norman Conquest, in 1066,
brought many words of Latin origin
into English. We do not often realise
the pictorial quality in Latin words.
Rival to us is rather an abstract word.
It is, however, related to river, and
meant simply those who drew water
from the same stream. Familiarity
must have bred at least competition.
Two words that show the heel as
important are inculcate and recal-
citrant. The first means ‘to grind in
with the heel’, and the latter, ‘to kick
back with the heel’. A scruple once
meant a ‘sharp little stone’; then ‘any
annoyance’; and finally was localised
to the prick of conscience. Calculus
tells us that stones were used for
counting; here, too, is our calculate.
And perhaps stones threw the
farmer’s plough out of the furrow and
gave us delirious, which once meant
the inabilit y to plough straight.
When we deliberate, we weigh things
mentally. The word meant ‘to weigh
in the balance’, and from the same
root we get our abbreviation for
pound, lb. Trivial, too, has a history.
The word means the intersection of
three roads. Perhaps anything that
happened at the crossroads was too
commonplace to be of much impor-
tance; hence our meaning.
Two of the most pleasant flowers
have virile names. Nasturtium is a
‘nose twister’, probably because of
the pungent odour; and the gladi-
olus is called a ‘sword lily’ from the
 READER’S DIGEST

junket, a dessert for invalids. Jonquils ‘gravel’. Pheasant comes from the
are a rush out of which baskets were name of a river in Asia; and coach is
made. The milk from which junket the name of a town in Hungary, as
was prepared was strained through sedan is of a French town. Peach is
these rush baskets. Later, the name Persian; potato Haitian; currants, ‘rai-
of the basket became applied to the sins of Corinth’. Thug and assassin are
curds themselves. From the French East Indian; copper was ‘brass from
we get pedigree, a word influenced by Cyprus’. The Moors have lent tariff, the
birds. The marks on a name of their piratical
genealogical table stronghold, Tarifa. Cal-
resemble the feet of ico, madras and muslin
cranes, and pedigree Borrowings from come from cities of the
means just that. other languages East, as does damask.
Fi s c a l o r i g i n a l l y are a record of Magnet is ‘Magnesian
meant a ‘small purse the travels and stone’ from Magnesia
of woven twigs’. Libel in Thessaly; gin is a
was first a ‘little book’. activities of the corruption of Geneva.
Pamphlets that con- English-speaking A morris dance is really
tained defamator y people a Moorish dance. The
announcements were verb squash, meaning
made small; hence ‘to crush’, is an entirely
the relations between different word from the
little books and scandal. Code, like noun, ‘a gourd’. The former came into
Saxon book, was a group of wooden English from Old French, and the lat-
slabs on which something was writ- ter is Algonquin Indian.
ten for permanent keeping. Banquet Sincere means ‘without wax’. Until
meant a ‘little bench’ where people rather recently pretty meant ‘sly’. Just
drank. Somehow it became extended as pretty has come up in meaning,
to a grand feast. Bankrupt meant ‘to another Saxon word, silly, has gone
break the bench’. In Florence the down. Originally, it meant ‘good’ or
money table or bench was broken ‘happy’. Touchy looks more like touch
to show that the money changer had but is merely a misspelling of techy,
failed in business. meaning ‘peevish’. Reindeer does not
Later borrowings from other lan- mean ‘a deer driven by reins’; rein
guages are a record of the travels meant ‘deer’ in Norse, and deer was
and activities of the English-speak- the Old English word for ‘animal’.
ing people. Candy comes from Ara- Pantaloons comes from an old
bic, which had it from Sanskrit; the play of Italian origin. A character,
word means ‘to break’, or as a noun, ‘Pantaleones’ – ‘all the lions’ – wore

January•2018 | 99
W H AT ’ S I N A W O R D ?

rather baggy trousers, and the name
of the character became localised to
the clothing. A farmer who calls his
cows home with ‘So Bossy’ is using
the same phrase that Grecian herds-
men used: boss is the anglicised form
of the Greek word for cow. Coward
was for a long time thought to be a
slurring of the pronunciation of ‘cow-
hearted’. Really, coward is a Latin de-
rivative word meaning ‘to drop the
tail.’ When in chess we cry ‘checkmate’,
we never think of Persia whence the
game came. Checkmate is Shah mat
meaning ‘The king is dead’.
Once a Fletcher was an arrow
maker; a Gifford was a philanthro-
pist, one who gave; and a Webster was
a weaver. The Dyers had their trade,
as did the Jenners (those who joined
materials) and the Brewers. The
Clarks were clerks or learned men;
and the Spencers were retail clerks.
Lord Sandwich gave his name to
slices of bread and meat, Lord Ches-
terfield to a coat, General Shrapnel to
a missile of warfare.
When people become conscious
C O N D E N S E D F R O M T H E P I T T S B U R G H R E C O R D , J U N E - J U LY ‘ 3 3
of their speech, they try to improve
the pronunciation of not too deli-
cate words. Hiccup is often written as
hiccough. It is obviously an imitative
word and is not derived from cough.
Welsh rabbit often appears as Welsh
rarebit. The phrase is a euphemism
such as ‘Cape Cod turkey’ for cod
fish, or ‘sea venison’ for porpoise.
Good people once believed that King
Charles was so fond of a certain cut
of beef that he knighted it, giving us
sirloin. Really, sirloin is a misspell-
ing of surloin, ‘the top of the loin’.
Pantry and buttery have no connec-
tion with pans and butter. Pain was
a Norman-French word for bread,
and it was kept in the pantry, and the
buttery was a place for storing butts
(casks) and bottles.
The conditions of a full language are
a full life. So long as English-speaking
people travel and do and feel, we shall
have new words as fresh as crumpets
from the bakery. And so long as we
have the energy to make new words or
reapply old ones, we can know that
English is alive.

TOWARDS A MORE PICTURESQUE SPEECH

RD SEPTEMBER 1937

“The head nurse, a very broom of a presence, swept the

place clean with a look.” MARGARET LEE RUNBECK

“The waves lowered their heads like bulls and charged

against the beach.” THOMAS MANN

100 | January•2018
 Picturesque Speech
HOW ELSE WOULD YOU SAY IT?
1930S
RD MARCH 1935
He is indebted to his memory for
his jests, and to his imagination
for his facts.
A swift man, starched with
self-esteem.
She keeps a little pot of grief on a
shelf like jam, and takes some every
day just to keep going.
He let loose the practiced scalpel
of his tongue.
1940S
RD AUGUST 1942
A mind so narrow it could squeeze
right through the facts.
The kind of doctor who diagnoses
your ailment by feeling your purse.
The sky was clean, with a heap of
feathery clouds swept together by a
broom of wind.
Lightning did a quick dance across
the sky and thunder applauded in
the distance.
1950S
RD AUGUST 1954
He’s a character actor: when he
shows any character, he’s acting.
Leaves gossiping among themselves.
Alfred’s hobby is fixing something
beyond repair.
He has a one-track mind and the
traffic on it is very light.
The old clock reluctantly released
the minutes.
1960S
RD FEBRUARY 1963
He only opens his mouth to
change feet.
Stealing a kiss may be petty larceny,
but sometimes it’s grand.
They’re a perfect pair – she’s a
hypochondriac and he’s a pill.
She used to knit for him, now
she needles.
1970S
RD OCTOBER 1971
His idea of soul searching is looking
through his record collection.
Truer words were never spoken
through falser teeth.
She can speak about 130 words a
minute, with gusts up to 175.
When the mists of romance fade
away, a girl sometimes finds that
she is married to an appetite in
need of a shave.
January•2018 | 101
 JUNE 1955

They
Brought
Home
the Wrong
Baby
A chance meeting leads to a terrible dilemma
I L L U S T R AT I O N : I S T O C K

BY M U R R AY T E I G H B L O O M

January•2018 | 103
THEY BROUGHT HOME THE WRONG BABY
THERE ARE NO OUT WARD SIGNS
t hat Lew is and Gladys Baughey
of Fairfield, Michigan, have been
through one of the most heart-chill-
ing experiences possible to parents
any where. Their concrete block
house, their 1949 car, their dog, their
TV set, their four children – all mark
the average family of modest means.
Gladys, 29, tall and attractive, enjoys
cooking, f lowers in the house and
music – just like millions of other
women. Lewis, 32, is a home-loving,
bespectacled, sturdy six-footer who
makes about $125 a week driving a
big truck-trailer.
But on this quiet plateau of every-
day life, one day stands out in the
Baugheys’ memor y like an over-
whelming, fantastic Everest: the day
in 1950 when they learned beyond
doubt that their daughter Diane, then
three and a half, was not their own
child; that their real daughter was
being brought up by another family
in the same town.
In 1950 Lewis and Gladys Baughey
(rhymes with talkie) were living in a
Michigan city about two hours’ drive
from their present home. For obvious
reasons they have asked me not to
pinpoint it nor to name the other key
people involved in this strange drama.
One day in May, a man I will call
Pete Royer, who wanted to sell his
car, stopped in front of the Baughey
house; Royer’s five-year-old son,
Ernie, hopped out. In that moment
Lewis Baughey’s quiet little world
104 | January•2018
started tumbling down around him.
“Ernie,” he told me, “had a happy
kid’s hop, full of ginger, green eyes,
a little snub nose and ears sticking
out, and I thought: that’s funny, the
boy looks enough like my Diane to be
a twin.”
Pete Royer started talking about
the car, but he could see that Lewis
wasn’t really listening.
“Pete,” said Lewis, “your boy Ernie
looks like my little girl Diane.”
Pete turned to look at Diane, who
had now come down the porch steps.
His face grew troubled, but only fleet-
ingly. He laughed: “You’re right. There
is a resemblance. But you should see
my cousin: he’s a dead ringer for Red
Skelton.”
Now Lewis’s thought took a spurt.
He remembered suddenly that Pete’s
divorced wife, Laura, had had a baby
girl about the same time that Gladys
had – in the same maternity ward in
the town’s only hospital.
Where was Pete’s little girl now? he
asked. Pete told him that since the
divorce the child had been boarded
with an elderly couple outside of
town. When Lewis suggested that
they drive out to see the little girl,
Pete Royer decided to humour him.
After all, a potential car buyer ...
At the elderly couple’s house, Roy-
er’s daughter Bernice, three and a
half, was playing in a sand pit. “I just
sat there and looked at her and I got
sick inside,” Lewis recalls. “I didn’t
dare say a word to her. I had to get out
 READER’S DIGEST

of there until this made some sense.” last night and only thought your
W he n t he y r e t u r ne d t o t he baby had a lot of black hair. Anyway,
Baughey house, Lewis blurted out you know how babies change when
his fears and both men forgot the car they’re this age.”
sale. They sat and talked it over. Pete The second thing Gladys noticed
Royer began to remember things that was that her baby’s identity brace-
added up. let – a catgut-and-beads affair – was
“You know, Lewis,” he said, “when missing from her leg. The nurse had
Bernice was born she an answer for this too:
didn’t look like anyone babies of ten k icked
in my family or in my t he bracelets of f i n
w ife Laura’s eit her. “I just sat there their cribs. “But don’t
She was dark-skinned and looked at her wor r y. We have t he
and brown-eyed; all and I got sick baby’s footprints for
ou r ot her k ids a re inside,” Lewis identification.”
light and fair-haired.
It made trouble ... ” recalls. “I didn’t TOO WEAK TO ARGUE,
His voice trailed off. dare say a Gladys had a l lowed
That evening Lewis word to her” herself to be persuaded
told Gladys what had and had not mentioned
happened. At first it to anyone else what she
didn’t make any sense later came to look on as
to her. How could such a thing hap- a mother’s aberration.
pen? But as he talked she, too, re- After he heard this, Lewis tele-
called odd incidents. phoned Pete Royer. The latter recalled
There had been six beds in the hos- something, too. While Laura was in
pital room. Gladys had come in on hospital, she had cried because the
the morning of December 19, 1946, baby refused to take her breast. On the
and had her baby at 1.50pm. Laura, in day she left she felt she had the wrong
the next bed, had had her baby four baby and had told her husband and
days earlier. Gladys saw her baby for her father so. The latter took it up with
the first time that evening. The child the hospital administration, and was
had a lot of black hair. The following assured that the idea of baby mix-ups
morning when the nurse brought the was a common one among women
baby in, Gladys noticed two things: just after confinement, and that the
First, the baby had practically hospital’s identification system was
no hair. When Gladys remarked on foolproof. In the face of this calm and
this, the nurse only laughed. “Oh, apparently scientific explanation, the
you probably were a little grogg y Royers had dropped the matter.

January•2018 | 105
THEY BROUGHT HOME THE WRONG BABY

Now the Baugheys were certain heredity. Lewis asked Pete Royer if he
that Diane, whom they had brought could bring little Bernice to the clinic
up as their own, belonged to Laura on the same day that the Baugheys
and Pete Royer; and that Bernice took Diane. Pete agreed.
Royer was really their own daughter. W hen the day came, the three
Late that afternoon, Lewis per- parents drove to the house where
suaded Gladys to drive out with him Bernice was staying. Gladys got out
to see the child. One look, and what- with Pete, who told the little girl they
ever doubts Gladys were going for a ride.
still had vanished. Gladys put on a new
“It wasn’t just her blue d ress she had
curly hair and brown A surprising bought for her. Bernice
eyes and the ears which number of hugged Gladys, and
were just like mine,” parents think that made Gladys cry.
Gladys recalls. “It was they go home At Ann Arbor, Lewis
everything about her. told the stor y to Dr
That was my little girl. with the wrong Charles W. Cotterman,
I wanted to run and baby, the doctor a young genetics spe-
take her in my arms, told them cialist who had heard
but Lewis wouldn’t let of similar cases before.
me. ‘Glad, if you go to A surprising number
her,’ he said, ‘we’ll both of parents think they
break down and bawl our heads off. go home from the hospital with the
And that won’t be any good for the wrong baby, he told them. But he kept
girl, and it won’t be any good for us. looking from Diane to Pete and from
We’ve got to be sure first.’” Bernice to Lewis and Gladys. “I could
But how? Looks alone didn’t mean tell he was seeing what we’d been
too much. But there was one way Gla- seeing all along,” recalls Lewis.
dys had heard about: blood tests. Dr Cotterman explained that blood
tests were an invaluable aid in deter-
THE HEREDITY CLINIC of the Uni- mining parentage but were of little
versity of Michigan at Ann Arbor use if both sets of parents involved
was not far from where the Baugheys had very similar blood characteris-
lived. Founded in 1940 as part of the tics. Then he took blood samples from
University’s Institute of Human Bi- all of them and they drove home.
ology, the clinic was the first of its Now a nerve-wearing wait began.
kind in the country; to it have come Dr Cotterman had warned that blood
thousands of perplexed parents and tests took time and often had to be re-
doctors with troubling questions of checked by independent serologists.

106 | January•2018

And soon Lewis and Gladys realised
that the blood tests even if favoura-
ble to them, would by no means solve
everything.
“I almost wanted Dr Cotterman
to tell us that the kids hadn’t been
switched,” Lewis says. “Because if
they had been we were up against
something I couldn’t face: we’d have
to give up Diane.”
Two fretful weeks went by before
the first report came from Dr Cotter-
man: he and the other blood experts
were certain that Gladys could not
be the mother of Diane. But he had
to get a blood sample from Laura
before he could be sure of anything
beyond that.
This was arranged, and on June 26
Dr Cotterman completed his tests. He
also received a report from Dr Alex-
ander S. Wiener of New York, one of
the world’s foremost blood experts.
The Cotterman and Wiener findings
agreed completely. On June 28 the
Baugheys heard from Dr Cotterman.
“We are completely convinced,” he
wrote, “that Diane and Bernice were
interchanged.”
How could they be so sure? As
Dr Cotterman later explained, they
were fortunate. If this had happened
before 1940, no blood test could
have proved that the children had
been interchanged. But since then
the Rh factor in blood had been
identified and charted, and it was
by analysis of the Rh types that the
case had been solved.
READER’S DIGEST
Diane’s special Rh blood factors
were found to be identical w ith
those of Pete and Laura Royer, and
Bernice’s Rh factors belonged in the
same blood family as those of Lewis
and Gladys.
The laws of heredity are quite clear
on this point: these special Rh blood
factors cannot appear in the blood of
a child unless present in the blood
of one or both parents.
The Baugheys excitedly telephoned
Dr Cotterman. “Now what do we do?”
He suggested that they talk to the
doctor who had attended Gladys at
the hospital. After checking with Dr
Cotterman, the doctor, distressed
and apologetic, visited the Baugheys.
“Lewis,” he said, “this is an aw-
ful thing. We’ve got to make it right
somehow. Now I want you to trust me
to try to straighten it out quietly – so
please don’t go running to lawyers.”
Says Lewis today: “I suppose I
could be taking it easy now instead
of wrestling a 16-ton trailer, if we had
sued the hospital. But we don’t hold
with lawsuits. Besides, we had a bug
in our heads.”
The Baugheys wanted both girls;
they couldn’t bear to give up Diane,
whom they had brought up as their
own for three and a half years.
“We had a happy home,” Gladys
says. “Lewis was making a good
living. It was unthinkable to us that
Diane should be boarded out as Ber-
nice had been.”
Pe t e a nd L au r a R o y e r w e r e
January•2018 | 107
THEY BROUGHT HOME THE WRONG BABY

persuaded at last that the Baugheys
were right. It was the best thing to
do. So the necessary papers for the
release of both children were signed.
One evening in early October, the
Baugheys drove out to the home
where Ber n ice was stay ing a nd
picked her up.
“Glad drove,” Lewis remembers,
“and I held Bernice in my arms. We
stopped at a store and I got her an
ice cream cone because she was
crying. When she finished the cone,
she nestled close to me like she be-
longed there. It felt good holding her
that way.
“W hen we got home, I rocked
her to sleep. She looked at me as if
she was going to cry again, and all
I cou ld say w as: ‘It ’s OK, now,
honey. I’m your real daddy, and
you’re always going to stay with us.’
Her lips stopped trembling, and in
a minute she had fallen off to sleep
in my arms.”
Diane and Bernice are eight now,
and people often mistake them for
twins, although there is no real re-
semblance. The Baugheys let that
explanation ride rather than go into
the harrowing details of the real
relationship.
When I last visited the Baugheys in
their home I brought along toys for
the girls and a portable tape-recorder
that fascinated them.
Bernice begged to talk into it and
then hear herself. She held the micro-
phone tightly, smiled at her mother
and began:
“My name is Bernice Baughey. I am
eight years old and I want to tell a
story about a good king and queen
who went looking for their long-lost
little princess who was in another
castle. They looked and looked, and
then they found the little girl, who
didn’t know she belonged to the good
king and queen. She looked at them
and liked them and went home with
them to their castle and lived happily
ever after.”

CAUGHT IN PASSING
RD FEBRUARY 1955

Girl to seatmate on bus: “She was going to have an

announcement party, but the engagement was broken, so she
went ahead and called it a Narrow Escape Party.” CLYDE MOORE

Housewife, having finally tucked small boy into bed after an

unusually trying day, sighed: “Well, I’ve certainly worked from
son-up to son-down.” H.E. WILSON

108 | January•2018
 HUMOUR
All in a Day’s Work
HUMOUR ON THE JOB
“I’m sorry Tom, we’re downsizing
and, well, you’re the tallest”
1970S
An executive wearily described
his business: “I’m riding the
crest of a slump.” EARL WILSON,
RD NOVEMBER 1975
There are many amateur gardeners
in our office, so there is a plant on
nearly every desk and several larger
C A RTO O N : M A R K A N D E R S O N
planters on filing cabinets. It has
been our custom to pour remnants
of tea and coffee left in our cups
into the planters.
All but one plant seemed to thrive
on the diet, and there was much
discussion as to what was wrong
with the ailing plant.
I was away for a month and when
I came back I noticed that the
plant was green and flourishing.
Its return to health may have been
due to the large sign in front of it:
“This plant does not like coffee and
it takes its tea black.”
JEAN WHITESIDE, RD APRIL 1976
Sign on a secretary’s desk: “I type
the way I live – fast, with a lot of
mistakes.”
KATHIE JOYE, RD OCTOBER 1977
A beautifully restored 1951
Volkswagen Beetle stands among
the brand-new models on the
floor of the car showroom where I
work. One day two elderly women
entered and, as I was showing
them the various cars on display,
we reached the ageless 1951 Beetle.
Pointing at it, one of the women
enquired, “What model is that?”
“That is a 1951 Volkswagen,”
I began.
“Oh dear,” she interrupted. “And
you haven’t been able to sell it yet!”
PAUL FROELICH, RD MAY 1979
January•2018 | 109
 ALL IN A DAY’S WORK

1980S down the number in case she ever

The lot of the modern-day ‘latch– needed to reach me. Then she invited
key’ child seems to be changing me to stay for dinner.
along with the times. I was sitting While she finished preparing
at my desk after the meal, I went
dismissing my 1986 shopping. I was
students for the day, waiting in a check-out
when suddenly one of My dentist husband queue when I got my
was nearing the end
them dashed in. first ‘beep’. Feeling
of his first day of
“Did you forget practice. Most of the
very important, and
something?” I asked. patients had been as everyone in the
“Yes,” she answered children, and his queue looked on, I
breathlessly as she biggest challenge had pushed the beeper’s
made her way across been getting those call button to hear my
the room to her mouths to stay open. mother’s voice loud
desk. “My automatic To my husband’s and clear: “Dinner’s
delight, his last
garage-door opener!” ready!” ANGEL BAIN,
JANET M. TREMBLAY,
patient was an adult.
RD JANUARY 1989
RD MARCH 1982 “Welcome,” he told
her as he began the
A woman came into examination. 1990S
my friend’s flower “It’s so nice to work on Discussing the key
shop and asked if someone with a advancement in our
she could get “a nice big mouth.” careers as aerospace
fresh arrangement KAREN SMATIAK, engineers, I mentioned
for $25”. As my friend RD JUNE 1986 the importance of
said what she’d get for ‘dressing for success’,
that price, the woman but my colleague
exclaimed, “Oh, won’t Dwight doubted that would work.
that be lovely!” “Of course it will,” I replied.
“No madam,” was the reply. “It Management wants people who
will be nice – lovely starts at $45.” appear confidant, professional
JEFFREY SCHAGEN, RD JUNE 1986 and successful for the top jobs. If
you aspire to a higher position, the
As a new real estate agent, I had just secret is to dress as if you already
been given my first beeper. Eager to had the job.”
show it off, I went to visit my mother. “But I want to be an astronaut,”
She was very impressed and jotted said Dwight. BILL PRINS, RD JULY 1993

110 | January•2018
As a student nurse, one of my first when half of us were out sick with
patients was a little girl who had food poisoning.
spent considerable time in hospital. GARY MASTOBERTI, RD JANUARY 1998
She seemed relaxed and familiar
with everything. I was to count her 2000S
heartbeat, and nervously reviewed in Our family-owned restaurant is the
my mind what I was going to do. setting for many of our discussions
After warming it on my hand, I about how to handle the customer
placed the stethoscope on her chest. who asks, “What’s good tonight?”
I listened intently but heard nothing. Obviously we would never serve
Even when I moved it slightly, still anything that we didn’t think
there was no sound. was good. But I braced myself
I didn’t dare look at the girl’s one Saturday night when I heard
parents for fear of upsetting them the dreaded question posed to
with the knowledge that I wasn’t my husband. He calmly replied,
hearing the beat of their child’s heart. “Anything over $13.95.”
I glanced at the girl’s KAREN W. BOYER,
face and moved the 2003 RD JUNE 2000
stethoscope slightly
once more. She smiled I was in a bank when A paramedic friend
shyly and whispered, a man entered with a of mine arrived at
“Nurse, you have to dog on a lead. When an accident scene
put those in your ears.” he asked if it was OK one day to find a
M.K. WHITE, to bring his pet in, man trapped inside
RD APRIL 1997 a teller said, “Yes, a car and bleeding
provided he doesn’t profusely. As she
In the factory make a deposit.” and others tried to
where I work as a JOHN REED, free him, he looked
mechanical engineer, RD SEPTEMBER 2003 at her and said, “Be
the employees were positive.”
honoured with a “Yes, we are being
banquet for our exceptional record positive,” she responded. “We’ll
of five years without a lost-time have you on the way to hospital in
accident. We all enjoyed the catered no time.”
buffet of turkey, ham, salads “No,” said the man. “That’s my
and desserts. Our safety record, blood group – B positive.”
however, was shattered the next day PAUL OLIVERI, RD DECEMBER 2003

January•2018 | 111
 APRIL 1976

Crime
by
Computer
Along with their incredible efficiency in
centralising information and facilitating
mass access to it, computers are
dangerously vulnerable to fraud

BY R O B E R T S . S T R O T H E R

January•2018 | 113
CRIME BY COMPUTER
ONE DAY IN 1963, ACCOUN TA N T
Eldon Royce sat down at his com-
puter console, drew a deep breath
and set in motion his plan to steal a
million dollars from his firm. Royce’s
case was one of the first to expose the
incalculable vulnerabilities of the
burgeoning computer system, which
today employs 2.2 million people to
tend an estimated 184,000 full-size
computers. Thus, Royce became a pi-
oneer in what has developed into our
most expensive white-collar crime.
Royce felt that his company had
broken a promise to share its profits
with him. In retaliation, he decided
to attack it by computer. A big whole-
saler of fruits and vegetables, the firm
bought hundreds of different types of
produce from hundreds of growers
and sold them to scores of dealers,
with thousands of truck, storage and
packing service transactions in be-
tween. Prices changed almost hourly,
and only a high-speed computer
could track of all the transactions.
Vouchers, invoices and other docu-
ments that previously provided an
audit trail became only squiggles on
an electronic tape. In this complexity,
Royce saw his chance.
Like t housands of subsequent
computer thefts, Royce’s scheme
involved no crude removal of cash
from the till. Instead, at his instruc-
tion, the computer automatically
padded thousands of cost items and
reduced income items by carefully
calculated fractions of a cent, then
114 | January•2018
distributed the differences across
the various accounts so that figures
under each heading agreed with
normal operating experience. It was
as if prisoners-of-war were digging
a tunnel and spreading the dirt so
widely that it wouldn’t be noticed.
Every week or so, Royce drained off
his secret surplus by writing a cheque
to one of 17 dummy companies that
he established.
In six years, Royce smoothly stole
more than $1 million. There was only
one hitch: he found that he couldn’t
let go. Any abrupt halt would produce
a suspicious jump in net profit and a
dangerous question: why was the
company suddenly doing so much
better? Bone-tired and near collapse,
he decided to trigger his own expo-
sure. In court he pleaded nolo con-
tendere, claimed he’d spent all the
money and drew a ten-year sentence.
Today, estimates Edward Bride,
vice president of Computerworld
Magazine, computer-theft losses in
the United States runs into the bil-
lions each year. And for every com-
puter crime that is uncovered, ten are
thought to go undetected.
Unfortunately, the opportunities
for crime by computer are mount-
ing. The practice of ‘time-sharing’,
by which numerous clients share the
services of a single large computer,
and the increasing ease of access, by
telephone dial, to remotely controlled
computers have expanded the vul-
nerability to manipulation. Learning
 READER’S DIGEST

the secret passwords of time-sharers must be continuously corrected. So,

is simple when people are careless, while many users can be restricted
and with this information and a to certain data only, the programmer,
typewriter-like device attached to an like the man who changes the com-
ordinary telephone, crooks can ‘call bination of a bank vault, must have
up’ a computer and give it orders. constant access to the whole system.
A further hazard is the growth of These insiders have been known to
the ‘cashless and chequeless society’, instruct a computer to ignore a with-
with banks installing drawal from their own
computer terminals ac c ou nt s a nd t hen
and cash-dispensing erase all record of that
machines in shopping
Some of instruction - like a me-
centres, and magnet- the most chanical post-hypnotic
ic-code plastic cards spectacular suggestion!
tak ing t he place of deceptions Increasingly, hun-
tel lers. Cr i m i na ls dreds of thousands of
counterfeit the cards
are committed people other than pro-
and plug in. by computer grammers also have
T he most pre v a- programmers access to computers.
lent computer thefts Bank tellers, for in-
fall into three main stance, used to be able
classes: to steal only the cash in
Theft by Insider: Employee breach- their cage. Now they can use keys on
ing-of-trust is involved in perhaps teller terminals connected by tele-
80 per cent of all computer-assisted phone lines to a computer. In 1974,
frauds. And some of the most spec- a single cashier with a computer’s
tacular deceptions are committed by help stole $1.5 million from the Un-
computer programmers. Says Donn ion Dime Savings Bank in New York.
Parker of California’s Stanford Re- The teller instructed the computer to
search Institute, who helps develop deduct various sums from hundreds
countermeasures to stop computer of accounts and credit the money to
thievery: “Programmers can do al- him under false names.
most anything they want with their In Washington, D.C., an Internal
company’s data processing, and no- Revenue Ser v ice employee pro-
body will know – except by accident.” grammed a computer to list un-
Computers work by taking thou- claimed tax-refund cheques, and
sands of tiny steps that have to be had them sent to relatives. New York
spelled out in enormously compli- cops investigating an illegally parked
cated programs. Errors creep in, and car found a bundle of Youth Corps

January•2018 | 115
CRIME BY COMPUTER

cheques in it. Some Youth Corps em- In Detroit, two engineers misdi-
ployees had the agency’s computer alled their own time-sharing code
run off 100 extra cheques drawn to by one digit and accidentally broke
fictitious names, and in nine months into the secret file of the president
made off with $2,750,000. of the time-sharing service. They
Attack from Outside: Comput- stole a top-secret program from the
ers can also be raided by outsiders. service and used the computer for
One of the simplest, most direct at- three years free of charge until an-
tacks was made by a other operator noticed
man who walked in the heavy activity on
to a Washington, D.C., that line late at night,
bank and opened an The standard and precipitated an
account. He took ad- reply when a investigation.
va nt age of t he fac t customer noticed Theft by Capture:
that the bank’s com- and complained S ome t i me s c r o ok s
puterised bookkeep- capture a computer
ing system identified a was: “Whoops, completely. They may
depositor by symbols our computers buy one, or take over
printed in magnetic goofed” a company that uses
ink on his individu- one. In other cases,
a lised deposit slips the management of a
rather than by his sig- company may subvert
nature. Once he obtained his own the computer.
magnetised deposit slips, the thief The $2 billion Equity Funding Cor-
stealthily substituted them one day poration of America scandal, the
for the bank deposit slips left on largest computer-assisted fraud thus
desks in the bank lobby for the con- far uncovered, was a case of the lat-
venience of customers who didn’t ter sort. The computer aspect of the
have their personalised deposit slips fraud started in 1970 when company
with them. sales began to lag.
For the next several days, every To save their business, top officers
deposit made by customers who began investing and selling totally
filled out the lobby deposit slips by fictitious life-insurance policies to
penning their own name and num- several big reinsurance firms. The
ber was automatically deposited by reinsurance firms willingly paid the
the computer to the crook’s account. bargain prices offered for policies
After three days the crook withdrew because they expected the policy-
the $100,000 or so that had accumu- holders to pay premiums for years
lated in his account – and vanished. to come.

116 | January•2018

The fictitious insurance policies,
whose face value totalled $2 billion,
were kept alive entirely by computer
wizardry. For more than two years,
the computer was used to juggle
every detail needed to make them
look genuine: it recorded imaginary
changes of address, loans against
the policies, death claims and other
events that conformed with insur-
ance-industry statistics. The money
collected from the reinsurance firms
was used to pay premiums on addi-
tional fake policies.
Ultimately, a federal grand jury
indicted 18 company officials (who
pleaded guilty) and three outside
auditors (who were convicted in May
1975). Out of 97,000 policies, 63,000
issued and sold to reinsurers had
been outright fakes.
Other crooked firms have used
computers to bill their own cus-
tomers. A brokerage firm in Texas,
for example, stole $500,000 from
numerous customers’ accounts by
systematically overcharging them
small amounts.
The standard reply when a cus-
tomer noticed and complained was:
“Whoops, our computers goofed.”
Actually, the computer had been
programmed to do so.
The problem of computer-assisted
theft has prompted companies to
pay big money for research into de-
fensive counter measures. Already
some computers are instructed to
react to obvious efforts at intrusion.
READER’S DIGEST
Often an interloper searching for
the password to a program stored in
a computer will keep probing – even
using another computer to make
trials for him – until he hits. Late-
model-computers, however, will re-
act to such probing. Some instantly
turn mute and shut down, printing
out a report of the incidents.
Identification procedures are be-
ing improved. For example, some
manufacturers are working on sys-
tems that will identify a user by the
televised shape of his hand. Others
may use a laser fingerprint scanner,
which converts a fingerprint into an
identifiable code.
Until the new countermeasures
catch up with the current possibilities
for chicanery by computer, however,
we remain in an extremely vulnera-
ble stage of technological evolution.
Computers today run entire indus-
trial and chemical factories, measure
minute-by-minute flow of materials
and change proportions automati-
cally to keep operations in balance.
Electric power flows through regional
or national grids regulated by com-
puters that adjust flow to fluctuating
area demands. And computers con-
trol the targeting and launching of
both US and Soviet intercontinental
ballistic missiles. The possibilities for
destructive sabotage via computer
are staggering.
Obviously, there is more than just
money at stake in the multimillion
dollar race for computer security.
January•2018 | 117
 DECEMBER 2004

BO
RE

Out of
the Blue
We bring you a reader favourite
about a courageous young girl,
and what’s become of her today

BY B E T H A N Y H A M I LT O N

WITH SHERYL BERK AND RICK BUNDSCHUH

FROM THE BOOK SOUL SURFER

January•2018 | 119
 2002: In a more carefree time, before the attack, Bethany shares
a board with her best friend, Alana Blanchard
I HAD NO WARNING AT ALL, NOT
even the slightest hint of danger on
the horizon. The water was crystal
clear and calm … it was more like
swimming in a pool, rather than the
deep ocean waters in Kauai, Hawaii.
The waves were small and incon-
sistent, and I was just kind of roll-
ing along with them, relaxing on my
surfboard with my left arm dangling
in the cool water. I remember think-
ing, I hope the surf picks up soon,
when suddenly there was a f lash
of grey.
That’s all it took: a split second. I
felt a lot of pressure and a couple of
fast tugs. I saw the jaws of a 4.5 metre
tiger shark cover the top of my board
and my left arm. Then I watched in
shock as the water around me turned
bright red. My left arm was gone
almost to the armpit, along with a
120 | January•2018
huge, crescent-shaped chunk of my
red, white and blue surfboard.
Except for the fact that it was
Halloween, it had been a morning
like any other. My mum, Cheri, and I
set off before dawn looking for a good
surf spot. When we arrived at our
destination, a place called Cannons,
the sun wasn’t up yet. I got out of the
car to take a look, but it was too dark
to see the water. I couldn’t hear much
either. If the surf is really big, you can
P H O T O C O U R T E S Y H A M I LT O N FA M I LY
actually hear it cracking on the reef
from a long way away. “It doesn’t
seem like much is happening,” I said.
“I guess we should head back,”
Mum said with a sigh. She was equally
disappointed. “Maybe the surf will
come up tomorrow.” I knew that if I
didn’t surf, I would be home doing so-
cial studies, English or maths. Because
I was working to be a professional
 READER’S DIGEST

surfer, I was home-schooled so I’d what I wanted more than anything in

have the time to practise, but my par- the world.
ents piled on the homework. As Mum and I were driving away
I had started entering compe- from Cannons, I gave it one last shot:
titions while I was still in primary “Let’s just check out Tunnels Beach.”
school. Travelling around the state of Tunnels is a short walk from Can-
Hawaii isn’t easy or cheap, and my nons; surfers like it, because way
parents aren’t rich; Dad is a waiter, out on the edge of the reef is a light-
and Mum cleans rental ning-fast wave almost
apartments. We had to year-round.
come up with money “Sure, we can go take
for entry fees, airline Alana and I a look,” Mum replied,
tickets, car rentals, walked into the and started to park the
food and hotel costs. surf. It felt so car. About that time
And unlike with golf good to step into a black pick-up truck
or some other sport, if turned into the lot. It
you win, there is little the liquid was Alana Blanchard,
or no money, espe- warmth and taste my best friend, her
cially in the kid and the salty water 15-year-old brother,
girl divisions. But my Byron, and her dad,
parents were willing Holt. OK, I thought,
to sacrifice for me. maybe this wouldn’t be
With their support, I entered my first a total washout after all.
major competition at age eight, the Even t houg h t he waves were
Rell Sunn contest at Makaha Beach crummy, it was sunny, the water was
on the island of Oahu. The waves warm, and my friends were here to
were big, and I could feel the adren- hang with.
aline rush. A lot of young kids get “Can I stay, Mum?” I asked.
intimidated when the surf starts get- “Just make sure that Holt brings
ting huge. Me? I live for it – the bigger you home,” she called, and w ith
the better! I ended up winning all my that, I raced down the trail with
heats and the division championships. my friends to Tunnels Beach. I was
After that, I entered more and more happy that I was going surfing; I was
contests and did pretty well in most of happy to be with my friends.
them. It seemed possible that I could I felt the warm water slosh against
become a professional surfer like a my ankles, and just before I jumped
couple of other girls from my island in, I looked at my watch.
have done. At least my parents and my It was 6.40 on that beautiful Hal-
two older brothers thought so. It was loween morning in 2003.

January•2018 | 121
OUT OF THE BLUE

LYING ON MY SURFBOARD, watching us towards shore. Byron was already

my blood spread in the water around ahead of us, stroking like crazy to the
me, I said to my friends nearby, in a beach to call emergency services. Holt
loud yet not panicked voice, “I just got kept having me answer questions like
attacked by a shark.” “Bethany, are you still with me? How
Byron and Holt got to me in a flash. ya doing?” I think he wanted to make
Holt’s face was white, and his eyes sure that I didn’t pass out in the mid-
were wide. “Oh, my God!” he said, dle of the ocean. So I was talking, just
but he didn’t freak out. answering his ques-
Instead, he took con- tions and praying out
trol of the situation: loud and watching the
he pushed me by the I remember beach get closer and
tail of my board, and starting to feel closer.
I caught a small wave pain and Once we reached the
that washed me over thinking, This shore, Holt lifted me off
the reef. It’s a miracle the surfboard and laid
that it was high tide. If hurts a lot. And me on the sand. He
it had been low tide, we I know I said, “I then tied a surfboard
would have had to go want my mum!” leash around my arm
all the way around the to stop the bleeding. At
reef to get to shore. As it that point everything
was, the beach was still went black, and I’m
a long 400 metres away. not sure how long I was out of it. I kept
My arm was bleeding badly, but coming in and out of consciousness.
not spewing blood like it should with What happened after that is confus-
a major artery open. I know now that ing, a mix of sights, sounds and feel-
wounds like mine often cause the ings. I remember being cold. I heard
arteries to roll back and tighten. I was this happens when you lose a lot of
praying like crazy: “Please, God, help blood. People brought beach towels
me, let me get to the beach,” over and and wrapped me up in them.
over again. I remember starting to feel pain in
Holt took off his grey long-sleeve my stump and thinking, This hurts
rashguard shirt. The reef was shal- a lot. And I know I said, “I want my
low now, only a metre or so deep, so mum!” I remember being very thirsty
he stood up and tied the rashguard and asking Alana for water. So she ran
around the stub of my arm to act as a up to a visitor, Fred Murray, who had
tourniquet. Then he had me grab onto heard cries for help and dashed to
the bottom of his swim trunks and the beach while the rest of his family
hold on tight as he paddled both of relaxed at a beachfront rental home.

122 | January•2018

“Come with me!” he yelled, and
they both raced back to get one of his
family members, a man named Paul
Wheeler, who was a captain and a
paramedic at a California fire station.
Alana explained to him, as best she
could in her state of shock, what had
happened and that I needed water.
Paul didn’t hesitate. He bolted out
the door to be by my side. I remember
his face and the compassion in his
voice. I think everyone was relieved
that there was a professional on the
scene; I know it comforted me. Paul
examined the wound. Alana came
with water, but Paul advised against
it. “I know you’re thirsty,” he told me,
“but you’re going to need surgery,
and you want an empty stomach.”
A neighbour brought a small first-
aid kit, and Paul slipped on gloves so
he could wrap my wound in gauze to
keep it clean. I remember wincing as
he covered it up, but I knew he had
to do it.
Paul felt my pulse. He shook his
head. “She’s lost a lot of blood,” he
said quietly.
I remember thinking, Why is the
ambulance taking so long to get here?
Please, please hurry! Holt decided we
couldn’t wait any longer. He, Paul
and Fred Murray lifted me onto Holt’s
board and carried me to the parking
lot where they put me in the back of
the Blanchards’ truck. Again, I kept
passing out, only catching glimpses
of what was going on and bits of fran-
tic conversation.
READER’S DIGEST
Then, at some point, emergency
vehicles arrived. I remember their
sirens, high-pitched and shrill. I re-
member being stuck with needles
and being slid onto a stretcher and
into the back of the ambulance. I re-
member most clearly the comforting
words of the Kauai paramedic. He
spoke softly, reassuring me, and held
my hand as we were pulling out of the
Tunnels carpark.
DARK HOURS
My dad had been scheduled for knee
surgery that morning and was already
at the hospital on the operating table,
anaesthetised from the waist down.
His orthopaedic surgeon, Dr Da-
vid Rovinsky, was preparing to start
the operation when an emergency
room nurse burst into the room. “Just
a heads-up, Dr Rovinsky,” she an-
nounced. “There’s a 13-year-old girl
coming, a shark attack victim. We’re
going to need this room right away.”
My dad heard her and knew in his
heart that the 13-year-old girl had
to be either me or Alana. The doctor
tried to calm him. “I’ll go and try to
find out what’s happening.” Within
five minutes Dr Rovinsky returned.
His face was pale, and there were
tears in his eyes. “Tom, it’s Bethany,”
he said softly. “She’s in a stable con-
dition. That’s all I know. I’m going to
have to roll you out. Bethany’s coming
in here.”
My dad later told me that his hour in
the recovery room was torture. “I tried
January•2018 | 123
 Circa 1999: The Hamilton family (left to right): Cheri, Tom, Bethany,
Timmy and Noah – with Ginger, their Shar-Pei
to will the feeling back into my legs so
I could run in there and see you,” he
admitted. “I had no idea how bad you
were – I prayed all you needed were
just a few stitches.”
But just as his heart had told him
that I was the one who had been
attacked, it also told him it was much
worse than just a few stitches.
Mum had been informed only
that I’d been attacked but given no
details of my injury. As she rushed
to the hospital, her longtime friend,
Evelyn Cook, reached her on her
mobile phone. “Cheri, she’s lost
an arm.” Mum dropped the phone,
pulled the car over to the edge of
the road, stared at her two hands on
the steering wheel, and broke down
weeping.
Dr Rovinsky assured my parents
that the odds were in my favour: I
124 | January•2018
was young, in great physical shape,
the cut had been direct rather than
a ragged tear, and my calmness had
kept my heartbeat slow enough to
keep the severed artery from quickly
draining my blood supply. Every-
one’s fast reactions had also been a
big help. “Look,” he told her, “a lot
of things had to have gone right for
her to make it to this point. She’s got
everything going for her.”
He also was optimistic that I would
P H O T O C O U R T E S Y H A M I LT O N FA M I LY
be able to compensate well with one
arm in the future. In fact, he figured
that even a prosthetic arm might
have a 50/50 chance of being prac-
tical. “A lot of kids get used to mak-
ing do without the missing limb,”
he told my mother. “And Bethany
is a fighter.”
It took t wo operations to treat
my injury. Dr Rovinsky first had to
 READER’S DIGEST

thoroughly clean the wound, since on my arm a couple of days after I

shark bites tend to have a high risk was released from the hospital, it
of infection. Then he isolated the was the first time that any of us had
nerves and cut them, causing them seen just how much of my arm was
to retract and reducing the poten- missing. My grandmother went out
tial for ‘phantom pain’ – the feeling on the porch and cried. It shook my
of an ache in a portion of a limb brother Timmy up so much that he
that no longer exists in reality, but went to his room and stayed in bed
still sends signals to all afternoon.
t he br a i n. Most of My parents had a
the wound was then rough time too. As for
left open, but packed When I looked me, when I looked at
with gauze for several at that little that little stump of an
days to ensure that no stump of an arm arm held together with
infection took place. held together long black stitches, I
Three days later, Dr almost fainted. It was
Rovinsky performed with long black a lot worse than I had
a second surgery that stitches, I almost imagined. I knew then
included closing the fainted t hat I was going to
wound by using a flap need help from some-
of my skin. one much bigger than
At one point in the me if I was ever going
days that followed, I said to Dad, to get back in the water.
“I want to be the best surf photogra-
pher in the world.” That was my way IN MY FIRST WEEKS AT HOME, my
of saying, “I know my surfing days family and I experienced an outpour-
are over.” He just nodded – “I’m sure ing of aloha. For those who make
you will be” – and tried to smile. He Hawaii their home, aloha means
knew what I meant. much more than hello and goodbye.
But a few days later I star ted It goes back to the old Hawaiian tra-
thinking about going surfing again. ditions, and it means a mutual re-
However, the doctor had said I had gard and affection of one person for
to stay out of the water for three to another without any expectation of
four weeks after the second surgery. something in return. It means you
In the meantime, there was plenty do something from the pureness of
to occupy my time and thoughts. your heart.
The main thing was getting used Take the folks from my church:
to the reality of my injury. When a when we got home from the hospital,
nurse came to change the dressing we discovered they had come into

January•2018 | 125
OUT OF THE BLUE

our house and radically cleaned the he hadn’t seen the island come to-
place, putting flowers everywhere. gether like this for a cause since the
For two weeks, every night, someone aftermath of the 1992 Hurricane In-
showed up with dinner. People kept iki, which devastated most of Kauai.
stopping by and offering to help out W ho would have ever t hought I
in any way they could. would be as important as a natural
I was also really moved by the num- disaster! The bidding was fast and
ber of people who wanted to help furious, and when it was all over, do-
raise money for my nations from the night
family. People didn’t totalled about $75,000.
ask us; they just looked It made us feel humble
at the situation we were People didn’t ask and loved.
in and said, “I want us; they just That aloha spirit
to help this family. looked at the wasn’t limited to Ha-
They’re gonna need it.” situation we were waii. My folks, check-
On Saturday, No- ing their postbox, were
vember 15, o nly a in and said, astounded to find
couple of weeks after “I want to help thousands of letters
the attack, hundreds this family” awaiting them, from
and hundreds of peo- all over America and
ple descended on the the world. In the enve-
main ballroom of the lopes were good wishes
Kauai Marriott in Lihue for a silent along with cheques or cash, some-
auction that included more than times hundreds of dollars, sometimes
500 donated items. Because I was a five-dollar bill. We really don’t know
still trying to build up my strength, why so many people wrote, prayed or
I couldn’t attend, which was a bum- gave, but we are very, very grateful for
mer, because I’m the type of person each one of them. One organisation,
who never likes to miss a fun party – Save Our Seas, learned what had hap-
especially one in my honour. pened to me and heard me say in an
On a huge stage, some of the interview that if I couldn’t surf again,
island’s most sought-after names maybe I would take surf pictures. So
performed, such as surf legend they offered to train me. It was an
Titus Kinimaka and singer Malani awesome offer. But first there was
Bilyeu. Even rock icon Graham Nash, something I had to do.
formerly of the legendary Crosby,
Stills, Nash and Young, came to sing WAVES OF JOY
on my behalf. The day before Thanksgiving a small
My dad was f loored: he told me group of family and friends went with

126 | January•2018
 2005: Surfing again meant learning how to get to her feet by
putting her hand flat on the centre of the deck
me to a beach off the beaten path.
We arrived late in the afternoon, and
when we came down the trail, we
saw that the place was about as good
as it ever gets. The surfing area was
packed with local talent.
This was the day that I would see
whether I could surf again.
My brother Noah wanted to film my
first ride on his video camera, so he
put it in an underwater housing and
swam out with it.
My dad took time off work and
came in the water for a front-row
view, just swimming along with me
and shouting, “Go, girl!” at the top of
his lungs. Matt George, a family friend
and writer for Surfer magazine, was
with us. And of course Alana and a
bunch of my friends were there, too.
Alana and I walked into the surf
together just like we did on that early
Halloween morning. It felt so good to
step into the liquid warmth and taste
the salty water. It was like coming back
home after a long, long trip. To think
I had come so close to losing forever
all these things that I loved so much:
the ocean, my family and my friends.
Alana paddled through the rolling
white water (surfers call this ‘soup’)
and headed further out to the blue
unbroken waves. I decided to make it
easy on myself and ride some soup to
begin with. In some ways it was like
learning to surf all over again. I had to
learn how to paddle evenly with one
arm, and when I felt the wave pick me
up, I had to put my hand flat on the
centre of the deck to get to my feet
rather than grab the surfboard rail the
way you would if you had two hands.
My first couple of tries didn’t work:
I couldn’t get up. I thought it was
January•2018 | 127
OUT OF THE BLUE
going to be easier than it was. My
dad kept shouting, “Bethany, try one
more time. This one will be it!”
Then it happened. A wave rolled
through, I caught it, put my hand on
the deck to push up. I was standing.
It’s hard for me to describe the joy I
felt after I stood up and rode the wave
in for the first time after the attack.
Even though I was all wet, I felt tears
trickling down my face. Everyone
was cheering.
That day I caught a whole bunch of
waves, and getting up got easier and
easier. One thing led to another, and
soon I was back on the competition
circuit, once again working towards
a professional career.
Sometimes people ask me if I am
ever scared of sharks now that I
am surfing all the time again. The
answer is yes; sometimes my heart
pounds when I see a shadow under
the water. Sometimes I have night-
mares. And I am not ready to go out
and surf Tunnels again; I’m not sure
I will ever go back there.
Yet even when my nerves get the
best of me, I do know this: God is
watching out for me, and while I
don’t want to do something stupid
like paddle out where someone has
just seen a shark, in the end, I trust
him to take care of me.
The other day I got an email tell-
ing me about another kid who lost
his arm. He is an eighth-grader from
F R O M T H E B O O K S O U L SU R F E R : A T R U E STO RY O F FA I T H , FA M I LY A N D F I G H T I N G
TO G E T B AC K O N T H E B O A R D, © 2 0 0 4 BY B E T H A N Y H A M I LTO N ,
P U B L I S H E D BY M T V/ P O C K E T B O O K S , N E W YO R K
128 | January•2018
Raleigh, North Carolina, and he is
very athletic, like me, only his big
sport is wakeboarding. He even had
taken up guitar like I had before the
attack. The lady who wrote to me
knew that Logan was pretty down,
and she hoped I might be able to
cheer him up.
I grabbed the phone, called his
house and said, “Hey, Logan, this
is Bethany Hamilton from Kauai,
Hawaii. You probably heard that I
lost my arm to a shark.”
“Yeah,” he said softly.
“I just want you to know that I’m
surfing in the national finals with
one arm.”
“Yeah? Cool,” he said.
“Look, I know you may not feel
great right now. But I know that you
can do a whole lot of stuff too. You
can and you will. OK?”
We chatted some more, and I could
feel his mood brightening. “Keep in
touch, and let me know what you’re
up to,” I added. He promised he
would, and I know that Logan is on
the road back.
Moments like this make me think
I may be able to do more good having
one arm than when I had two. I think
this was God’s plan for me all along.
I am not saying that God made the
shark bite me. I think he knew it
would happen, and he made a way
for my life to be happy and meaning-
ful in spite of it happening.

SURFER, SPEAKER AND MUM
TODAY, 14 YEARS AFTER the shark
attack, Bethany Hamilton is a
professional surfer, motivational
speaker and a mother whose
toddler son, Tobias, is following
in her footsteps, witnessing life
from a surfboard.
“He is 18 months and has
P H O T O : K I R S T I N S C H O LT Z / W S L / R E X / S H U T T E R S T O C K
already gone surfing with me and
my husband on mellow days,”
Hamilton said recently. “I lay on
the board with him and we ride
together. We just keep it fun, short
and safe!”
In 2013, Hamilton married
Kansas native Adam Dirks, who
was working in Hawaii when they
met. Dirks now devotes himself
to Hamilton’s professional surfing
career. Last year, she ranked third
at the Fiji Women’s Pro.
“I hadn’t been competing much,
and all of a sudden, I was going up
2015: Bethany
Hamilton at Swatch
Women’s Pro, San
Clemente, California
against the number-one ranked
surfer in the world,” she says.
“Thankfully, I had my husband
there to cheer me on and help
me stay calm.”
Out of the water, Hamilton is a
motivational speaker for students
and amputees.
“I get to encourage and inspire
young people all over the world,”
she says. “I love being able to
remind people: you can overcome
the hardest of times. To bring hope
to others, and live for more than
my own endeavours, makes life
a lot more beautiful.”
The documentary Bethany
Hamilton: Unstoppable will be
released this year. It follows the
2011 hit film Soul Surfer, a drama
inspired by her experience.
Bethany is expecting her second
child in March. – Lisa Fields
January•2018 | 129
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 RD Recommends
Books
Dare Not Linger
Nelson Mandela and Mandla Langa MACMILLAN
A
few months after
Nelson Mandela
ended his five-year
term as President of the
Republic of South Africa,
he sat down to write the
sequel to his autobiography
Long Walk to Freedom. The
P H OTO : G E T T Y I M AG E S
sequel was to detail his
presidential years, but
Mandela was unable to
complete the project. Now,
COMPILED BY LOUISE WATERSON, VICTORIA POLZOT AND MELANIE EGAN
acclaimed South African
writer Mandla Langa has
completed that task using
the great man’s unfinished
draft. Dare Not Linger is
a vivid and inspirational
account of Mandela’s
presidency that saw
the creation of a new
democracy and the
challenges that he faced
in unifying his homeland.
January•2018 | 131
Movies

Stronger
DVD (Drama, Biography)

S
tarring Jake Gyllenhaal,
Stronger tells the true-life
story of Jeff Bauman, the
man who, on April 15, 2013, lost
both his legs when two bombs
exploded during the Boston
Marathon. After regaining
consciousness in hospital,
Bauman was able to help identify
one of the suspects, however, his
own battle was just beginning.
With the support of his girlfriend,
Bauman – a reluctant and flawed
hero – began the long journey
to physical and emotional
rehabilitation.
Based on Bauman’s co-written Forever My
y Girl
memoir of the same name, the film (Drama, Romance)
questions the nature of trauma

B
and what it means to stay strong. ased on the novel by Heidi
McLaughlin, Forever My Girl
stars Alex Roe as country
music superstar Liam Page, who
chose fame and fortune over love.
Page was all set to marry his high
school sweetheart, Josie (Jessica
Rothe), but left her at the altar.
However, he has never got over
Josie or forgotten his Southern
roots and the small community
where he was born and raised.
When he unexpectedly returns
to his hometown for the funeral
of his best friend from high
school, Page is suddenly faced
with the consequences of all that
he left behind.

132 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

Darkest Hour
(Drama, Biography, History)

T
his thrilling account of Winston
Churchill’s darkest hour during World
War II is beautifully directed by Joe
Wright (Atonement). It’s 1940, and as the
newly appointed Prime Minister of Britain,
Churchill has ‘the full weight of the world’
on his shoulders. The fall of France is
imminent with Allied troops trapped on the
beaches of Dunkirk by Hitler’s forces.
Churchill must negotiate with political
rivals Neville Chamberlain (Ronald Pickup)
The Commuter
(Mystery, Thriller)
and Lord Halifax (Stephen Dillane), and face

L
the ultimate choice: negotiate with Hitler iam Neeson
and save the British people at a terrible cost stars as Michael
or rally behind the nation and fight on McCauley, an
against inconceivable odds. Gary Oldman is insurance salesman
unrecognisable as Churchill, capturing the whose daily commute
manipulative good humour, slyness, home from the city
strength and courage to lead that ultimately takes a dangerous
changed the course of world history. turn. After meeting
a mysterious fellow
commuter, Joanne
(Vera Farmiga), he is
forced to find a hidden
passenger on board the
train. Michael works
against the clock to
solve the puzzle,
realising that a deadly
plan is unfolding and
that he is unwittingly
caught up in a deadly
criminal conspiracy.
The Commuter, directed
by Jaume Collet-Serra
(The Shallows), is fast-
paced, action-packed
and also stars Sam Neill,
Elizabeth McGovern and
Jonathan Banks.

January•2018 | 133
 The Leisure Seeker
(Adventure, Comedy, Drama)

B
 
ased on Michael Zadoorian’s
novel of the same name, The
Leisure Seeker stars Helen
Mirren and Donald Sutherland as
Ella and John Spencer. After 30
years of marriage and still very
much in love, the Spencers decide
to dust off their 1975 Winnebago RV – The Post
nicknamed the Leisure Seeker – and head (Biography, Drama)
from their home in New England down to

I 
Florida to visit Ernest Hemingway’s nspired by the true
former house in Key West. events that led to
The literary destination suits John, the exposure of the
a retired English professor sinking further Pentagon Papers, Tom
into the forgetfulness of Alzheimer’s. Ella, Hanks stars as The
less interested in literature and dealing Washington Post’s editor,
with her own health issues, is happy to Ben Bradlee, with Meryl
stop at diners and spend nights at Streep as the paper’s
campsites where together they watch old first female publisher,
family slides. Katharine Graham, in
Even as John’s mind slips further, he director Steven Spielberg’s
and Ella recapture their passion for life The Post.
and love for each other. Set in 1971, the film
centres around the stand
that The Washington Post
and other leading news-
papers took against the
White House over whether
the press had the right to
publish classified military
documents that charted
the escalation and futility
of the Vietnam War. The
massive cover-up spanned
four decades and four US
Presidents, culminating in
the Nixon administration’s
attempt to restrict the
freedom of the press.

134 | January•2018
 READER’S DIGEST

Pod asts
s

How Do You The Minimalists The West Wing

Sleep at Night?
Journalist Sarah
McVeigh asks the hard
questions, delving into
the ethics of a big
game hunter, a stock
market manipulator
and, in a particularly
startling interview, a
man convicted of
manslaughter. It’s an
interesting discourse
on moral codes.
Podcast
Is clearing the clutter
from your cupboards –
and your life – one of
your New Year’s
resolutions? Joshua
Fields Millburn and Ryan
Nicodemus, who left
high-paying corporate
jobs to live a more
minimal lifestyle, discuss
living a more meaningful
life with less stuff.
Weekly
One of television’s
most beloved shows,
The West Wing
(1999–2006) about
goings-on in the White
House, is reassessed
episode by episode
in this podcast. It’s
hosted by Joshua
Malina (Will Bailey)
with guests including
his former co-stars.

HOW TO GET PODCASTS TO LISTEN ON THE WEB: Google the website for ‘The West
Wing Weekly’, for example, and click on the play button. TO DOWNLOAD: Download an
app such as Podcatchers or iTunes on your phone or tablet and simply search by title.

Puzzle Answers See page 136

PACK IT IN JERRY MANDER ALPHABET FIT
You can do it GOES TO WORK
for as little as
$9. Here is H
one solution,
step-by-step. K D A C
The other
solutions cost G I F J
P H OTOS: I S TO C K

the same or
more. E L B
SUGAR, PLEASE Put the four-pot weight on one of the scale pans and the one-pot weight on the
other. Pour sugar into the pan with the one-pot weight until the two pans balance.

January•2018 | 135
BRAIN POWER

TEST YOUR MENTAL PROWESS

Puzzles
Challenge yourself by solving these puzzles and mind stretchers,
then check your answers on page 135.
BY MARCEL DANESI

PACK IT IN (DIFFICULT)
You must fill the three-by-
three-by-three box below with
copies of the pieces shown,
made up of three cubes each.

( PA C K I T I N ) D A R R E N R I G B Y ; J E R R Y M A N D E R G O E S T O W O R K ) R O D E R I C K K I M B A L L
The L-shaped pieces cost $1,
while the stick-shaped pieces
cost $5. How inexpensively can
you completely fill the box?

JERRY MANDER GOES TO WORK Your name is Jerry Mander, and

(MODERATELY DIFFICULT)
you’re in charge of drawing the
voting-district boundaries for the
town of Corruptiville. A mayoral
election is coming up, and the
polls indicate that candidate Anne
Cyan is quite a bit more popular
than her opponent, Sam Scarlet.
You’ve received a substantial bribe
to draw the boundaries to help
Scarlet win. Divide Corruptiville
into three districts of five
contiguous households so that Sam
Scarlet will get the majority of the
votes in a majority of the districts.
For a district to be considered
contiguous, each household must
share a border with at least one
other household, and shared
corners don’t count.

136 | January•2018
 BRAIN POWER
brought to you by

JUICE UP

4
R
GA
SU

SUGAR, PLEASE (EASY)

You’ve gone back in time and are working
as an assistant in a general store that uses a
local, pre-metric weight unit known as a ‘pot’.
You have a bag of sugar, a balance scale with
deep pans, a one-pot weight and a four-pot
S U GA R , P L E A S E ) M A RC EL DA N E S I ; (A L P H A B E T FIT ) FR A S ER S I M P SO N

weight. You need to weigh three pots of sugar

for a customer. How do you do it?

K D
I F
B
ALPHABET FIT (MODERATELY DIFFICULT)
Insert the letters A through L, one per square,
so that no two letters that are consecutive in
the alphabet are in squares that touch, even
at a corner. Five letters have been placed to
get you started.
BRAIN POWER

TEST YOUR GENERAL KNOWLEDGE

Trivia
1. What is normally the only piece of 8. Capri pants are named after
clothing that Bugs Bunny wears? what? 1 point
1 point
9. In which language did Anne Frank
2. True or false: humans have the write her diary? 1 point
same number of neck vertebrae as 10. ‘Shell shock’, a condition first
giraffes. 1 point identified during World War I, is now
3. Just do it: what’s the name of the known as what? 2 points
victory goddess found on many 11. What film features the British
Olympic gold medals? 1 point actor Peter Sellers delivering the
4. The United States was the first famous line, “Gentlemen, you can’t
country in the Western hemisphere fight in here! This is the War Room!”
to gain independence from
m 1 point
European rule. Which nat ion 12. Who was ‘Born to Run’
was the second? 1 point in the 1970s and ‘Born in
5. What is the Irish name the USA’ in the 1980s?
for a 3-leaf sprig of clover? 1 point
1 point
13. Which restaurant
6. The Aztec war god chain has the most
Huitzilopochtli was named outlets: Kentucky Fried
for what bird? 2 points Chicken, McDonald’s or
7. What fantasy novel’s
Subway? 2 points
15. How many degrees
title refers to Orthanc in does the minute hand 14. Which chess piece
Isengard and Barad-dûr travel on an analog clock has the lowest value?
in Mordor? 2 points in one minute? 2 points 1 point
P H OTO : I S TO C K

16-20 Gold medal 11-15 Silver medal 6-10 Bronze medal 0-5 Wooden spoon
with around 8,000 more outlets than McDonald’s and 25,000 more than KFC. 14.  Pawn. 15. Six.
10. Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). 11. Dr. Strangelove. 12. Bruce Springsteen. 13. Subway,
7. The Two Towers by J.R.R. Tolkien. 8. The island off the coast of Italy, near Naples. 9. Dutch.
ANSWERS: 1. Gloves. 2. True, they both have 7. 3. Nike. 4. Haiti. 5. Shamrock. 6. The hummingbird.

138 | January•2018
 BRAIN POWER

IT PAYS TO INCREASE YOUR

Word Power
Talking Tough
You might say we’re using strong language this month.
Our vocabulary quiz features words about power – having it,
getting it or lacking it. After flexing your mental muscles,
turn to the next page for answers.
BY E M I LY C OX & H E N R Y R AT H VO N

1. anneal v. – A: toughen. B: weaken means. C: have greater importance.

gradually. C: submit to authority.
2. doughty adj. – A: hesitant.
B: willing to yield power.
C: stout-hearted.
3. enervated adj. – A: lacking vigour.
B: strengthened. C: glorified.
4. dint n. – A: heavyweight.
B: power. C: electrical unit.
5. proxy n. – A: strong liking.
B: authority to act for another.
C: king’s royal guard.
6. thew n. – A: muscular strength.
B: castle wall. C: term of surrender.
7. buttress v. – A: shore up.
B: challenge head-to-head.
C: dethrone.
8. preponderate v. – A: seize
control. B: influence by insidious
9. duress n. – A: queen’s sister.
B: sovereign rule. C: compulsion
by threat.
10. puissant adj. – A: powerful.
B: subdued by fear. C: cowardly.
11. arrogate v. – A: supply with
weapons. B: seize unjustly.
C: crown.
12. effete adj. – A: marked by
weakness. B: brawny. C: able to get
things done.
13. attenuate v. – A: make firmer.
B: make longer. C: make weaker.
14. coup n. – A: strong signal.
B: team leader. C: power grab.
15. ex officio adj. – A: out of power.
B: by virtue of position. C: abstaining
from a vote.

January•2018 | 139
WORD POWER

Answers

1. anneal – [A] toughen. Annealed 9. duress – [C] compulsion by threat.

by months of training, Anne was Audrey will eat broccoli, but only
determined to finish the marathon. under duress.
2. doughty – [C] stout-hearted. 10. puissant – [A] powerful.
Prince Ari was a meek little boy, but Octogenarians can still be puissant –
he grew up to be a doughty warrior. just think of Queen Victoria.
3. enervated – [A] lacking vigour. 11. arrogate – [B] seize unjustly.
The flu left me enervated for weeks. When my mother comes to visit, she
4. dint – [B] power. Joe doesn’t have
immediately arrogates my kitchen.
an ear for languages, but he has 12. effete – [A] marked by weakness.
become proficient in German by dint With each failure, the old wizard’s
of hard work. schemes seem more and more effete.
5. proxy – [B] authority to act for 13. attenuate – [C] make weaker.
another. Tweedledum couldn’t We have to wear earplugs to
attend the vote, so he gave Tweedle- attenuate the upstairs neighbours’
dee his proxy. midnight stomping.
6. thew – [A] muscular strength. That 14. coup – [C] power grab. The two
guy Biff is all thew conspirators were
and no brains. arrested after the
THE GOLDEN ARCH attempted coup.
7. buttress – Why do we call someone
[A] shore up. an archbishop, archduke 15. ex officio – [B]
My puny income or an archenemy? The by virtue of position.
isn’t doing much Greeks gave us arkhos, All department
to buttress my meaning ‘leader’, and heads are ex officio
we’ve added it to things
savings. members of the
both good (archangel)
8. preponderate and bad (archfiend).
company cricket
– [C] have greater The ending –archy (‘rule’) team.
importance. appears in the kingly
Online news monarchy (mon- = ‘one’), VOCABULARY
the fatherly patriarchy RATINGS
outlets have begun
(pater = ‘father’) and 9 & below: toned
to preponderate the chaotic anarchy 10–12: buff
over traditional (an- = ‘without’). 13–15: Word Power
print newspapers. Wizard

140 | January•2018
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