Record Hunt

Corn cribs, set up on street corners in small Kansas towns, bulged with old phonograph records. Men in overalls, streaming through factory gates in Indianapolis, dropped records into barrels. Open-mouthed caricatures of Hitler, Mussolini and Hirohito on Manhattan's Times Square made inviting receptacles to throw discs into. From Maine to California 1,500,000 members of the American Legion and the women's American Legion Auxiliary rang doorbells, telephoned, dashed about in cars and trucks. Out from attics, cellars, closets came dusty black records, bearing such nostalgic labels as Dardanella, Barney Google, Cohen on the Telephone. The greatest record hunt in history was in full cry.

Behind this gramophonic frenzy was a worthy idea: to collect old, unwanted records, sell them for scrap, and with the proceeds buy new records at cost for U.S. soldiers and sailors. It was also a scheme to collect sorely needed shellac for the manufacture of new records.

As the two-week record-collecting campaign came to an official halt this week, with returns still far from complete, Manhattan headquarters felt sure that the haul had netted at least 20,000,000 records--5,000 tons of scrap material.

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