(3 of 4)
We evolved a plan of attack which was moderately successful. We would row out into the ocean about 300 yards, then bore a hole six inches in diameter in the bottom of the boat, preferably near the bow. We would then rub around the edge of the hole a mixture of phosphorus and cheese (any sharp cheese would suffice). The light from the phosphorus and the tantalizing odor accompanying it would invariably attract any whifflepoofs lingering beneath us. We hovered over the hole, with rubber bands stretched out in our fingers. As soon as a whifflepoof would thrust his inquiring snout through the hole, we would quickly snare him with a rubber band, encircling his gills with it. He would soon choke, and we were then able to draw him up through the hole.
My uncle learned this trick from the Eskimos, who have long indulged in hole-boring tactics in fishing. They do it through ice. The way we did it, through our boat, made it much more of a sporting proposition. I heartily recommend whifflepoof fishing to Mr. Miller if he wants to test his skill sometime when banana fish are out of season.
MARION WEST
Philadelphia, Pa.
Quiet Birdmen
Sirs:
Sorry I cannot accept the bouquet tossed at me in TIME, July 10, under Transport, and for the record I am giving you below the information as to how the Quiet Birdmen received its name.
Following the closing of the American Flying Club, many ex-War pilots and a few pre-War fliers had no place to gather. A former editor of Aviation Magazine, Baron Ladislas d'Orcy (now deceased) . . . suggested that several of the fliers could meet once a week in an Italian restaurant called Marta's at No. 75 Washington Place.
Six men were regular attendants of the early meetings in the spring of 1921. They were Charles S. ("Casey") Jones, Richard ("Dick") Blythe, C. B. D. Collyer (deceased), Earl D. Osborn, Donald McIlheny (deceased) and myself.
One evening I brought to the dinner Harold Hersey* at that time editor of Ace-High Magazine. The evening was a very entertaining one and quite noisy. Mr. Hersey turned to "Casey" Jones and said, "Well, you fellows certainly are noisy when you get together but you are quiet when anyone asks you to talk about your flying exploits. Just a bunch of quiet birdmen."
The name stuck and today the organization is worldwide, and respected in every nation where men fly. . . .
HARRY A. BRUNO
New York City
Shame
Sirs:
Shame on TIME'S People editor for dishing up as news the time-worn G. B. Shaw crack about having his funeral procession followed by his uneaten animal friends [TIME, July 10].
At least your editor might have taken a tip from Alex Woollcott, who tells in While Rome Burns (1934) the amusing story that when G. K. Chesterton heard of Mr. Shaw's morbid pronouncement, he professed himself willing to substitute for one of the elephants.
F. CHANDLER HARRIS Los Angeles, Calif.
Perpetual Scapegoat
Sirs:
Thanks for an excellently written article on Moses and Monotheism (TIME, June 26). . . .