After Fortune

The first magazine in imitation of FORTUNE appeared last week. Its field: the men's & boys' clothing trade. Name: Apparel Arts, a quarterly, published in Manhattan by William Hobart Weintraub. Buyers of men's & boys' wear for retail stores will be asked to buy it at $1.50 the copy. Initial circulation: 7,500.

Same page size (11 1/4 x 14") as FORTUNE, printed on similar paper stocks (antique and coated), with colored cartographs and modernist photographs in the FORTUNE manner of stylized detail, it even carries its name and volume number on the binding in white as FORTUNE does.

Ingeniously the clothing trade, usually identified with Babbitry, is glorified by sophisticated treatment. An example is the story of the rise & fall of starched collars as reflected in the glorious reign and ignominious fate of the Arrow Collar Man --"a national idol who never lived." A chart showing the tumble of starched collar sales from 1919 (the advent of the soft shirt) is surrounded by colored reproductions of Artist Joseph Christian Leyen-decker's unbelievably handsome creation at critical stages of his career from the "merry Oldsmobiling" days of 1907 to the present. Captions tell the story:

"NATIONAL IDOL. By 1918 his fan mail (actual) was enormous. 'Would it be terribly unprofessional to send him this letter so he can know that a Virginia lassie has fallen for his clear honest eyes, his fine brow and tender mouth? Tell him I am 19 and unattached and awfully interested.' That was a typical plea--of thousands."

"TWILIGHT OF A GOD. He couldn't die, who never lived. So he outlived his day. From his place in the car cards he looked down, each day, upon a rising tide of soft shirts. At last they engulfed him completely and he was swept away. His passing is viewed with mixed feeling. . . ."

"ANTICLIMAX. Starched collars went down for the count of nine in 1922, but fought back bravely in '23. He arose to the occasion, for this brief hour of rekindled glory. A trifle world-weary, and infinitely more sophisticated, the fan mail he inspired reflected the change. 'I am writing you a few lines to let you know that I would love to meet you some time.' . . . But gone forever was such lyric ecstasy as '. . . would that I but touch that natural wave, and tie thy tie as only woman can, and smile into thine eyes of blue and say "I love you: thou'rt my Arrow Collar Man." '

Another picture caption: "Grotesquerie: A polisher traversing belt edges, not an armadillo out for a walk."

Associated in Apparel Arts with Publisher Weintraub, a stylist of international reputation, are David A. Smart, president, experienced publisher of tradepapers, and Editor Arnold Gingrich, an energetic youth who sleeps twelve hours on alternate nights, works 36 hours between. It is said that Publisher Weintraub is the brain, President Smart the heart, Editor Gingrich the voice of Apparel Arts.

Little Old Lady

One November day 30 years ago a young man named William Thompson Dewart, who is now president of the New York Sun, took a bulky envelope to an apartment in Manhattan's then-fashionable Fifth Avenue Hotel. He was ceremoniously received by an imperious little old lady, her sister and her daughter. The little old lady was Ida Mayfield Wood, whose husband, Col. Benjamin Wood, brother of onetime Mayor Fernando Wood of Manhattan, had died the year before. Col. Wood had been publisher of the New York Daily News* a Tammany Hall mouthpiece which lifted most of its news and somehow managed to earn $100,000 a year. Since her husband's death Mrs. Wood had edited the sheet from her apartment, sending and receiving proofs through a specially built pneumatic tube. She kept a strict eye on the accounts, too, and reputedly spent hours cutting open used envelopes which the writers were supposed to use as copy paper.

Mr. Dewart had come, on behalf of the late publisher Frank A. Munsey, to buy the News for $340,000. At Widow Wood's insistence he had brought currency, new $1,000 bills. She loved to hoard and fondle large currency. (Her husband used to give her half of his winnings from the gaming tables of the Manhattan Club and Saratoga, as much as $75,000 at a time.) One by one, Mr. Dewart handed each bill to Mrs. Wood who examined it minutely, passed it for further scrutiny to her sister, Miss Mary E. Mayfield, to her daughter Emma and to the hotel manager. When all had nodded approval, the sum was noted as paid. In 1907, thoroughly frightened by the financial panic, Mrs. Wood drew all her money out of the banks, virtually disappeared with her daughter and sister. . . .

In Manhattan last fortnight Mrs. Wood popped up as something approaching the perfect newspaper feature story. A nephew, Otis Wood, had discovered her last March through the death of her sister with whom she had been living since 1917 in the Herald Square Hotel, an antiquated hostelry near Fifth Avenue. Now he had her declared incompetent, was himself appointed guardian. Aged 93, nearly blind, nearly deaf, Mrs. Wood had not ventured from her room since 1927. She was wasted to 70 Ib. on a diet consisting almost solely of eggs and coffee cooked by herself. She had hallucinations that her nose grew out of her forehead and that her ears overtopped her head. But she still had her money--great wads of it--tucked away in corners of the disorderly room which she never permitted housemaids to enter. And she had trunkfuls of old jewelry and dresses of the style which she wore when she danced with Edward VII when he visited the U. S. as Prince of Wales. Fondling them, she was happy.

Mrs. Wood was the irascible, imperious dame once again when her nephew and his lawyers came to take her money and treasures to a bank for safekeeping. From the folds of her dress she took a bundle and handed it over. It contained nearly $400,000 in bills; but they had to find the remainder for themselves. While Mrs. Wood slept a nurse extracted another bundle containing $500.000 from a money belt under her clothes. In several trunks was found jewelry appraised at $900,000. Gems, picked from their settings, were found stuffed into the upholstered furniture. How much more was hidden away remained a mystery last week. Some 40 trunks in a warehouse could not be searched since it was not known which belonged to Mrs. Wood and which to her sister and daughter, both deceased.

The little old lady continued to resist all efforts to "take care" of her. She puffed nervously on cigars, told a granddaughter how her money had been taken away, asked her to "get me a nice Irish policeman. He must be a Catholic and a Republican."

Odds, Ends

> In Howard, Kan., Tom Thompson, 50 years editor of the Howard Courant, was given a golden jubilee party by Kansas editors. Inspirer of the celebration was Editor Fred Flory of the Howard Citizen. The Courant is the Citizen's rival, but they share one office. For mutual economy Editor Flory prints the Courant on the Citizen press. One window of the office bears the Citizen's name, the other the Courant's.

> Besides their military titles, Col. William Franklin Knox and Col. Guy T. Visk-niskki have three things in common: Both served in the Spanish-American War, both became high-ranking Hearstmen, both spell "economy" in large capitals. Last week Col. Viskniskki resigned as general manager of Star Co., technical publishers of Hearst's New York American and Journal, to become business manager of Col. Knox's newly purchased Chicago Daily News. In the War, Col. Viskniskki was for a time officer in charge of The Stars & Stripes, A. E. F. newspaper.

* Not to be confused with the present-day tabloid which was founded in 1919.

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