Man of the Year

Sir:

YOUR SELECTION OF HARRY TRUMAN AS THE MAN OF THE YEAR [TIME, JAN. 3] IS A SOURCE OF REFRESHMENT, STIMULATION AND INSPIRATION TO MILLIONS OF PERSONS WHO DID NOT HAVE THE GUTS TO VOTE FOR HIM . . .

FRAYSER HINTON

Memphis, Tenn.

Sir:

Your choice of Man of the Year is deplorable.

ALAN C. TELFER

Toronto, Ont.

Sir:

. . . One thing is sure; never in the history of mankind has a man been presented with such vital responsibility, nor such a great opportunity to go down in history as Man of the Century . . .

H. E. WOODCOCK

Chicago, Ill.

Tar & Tool

Sir:

... In the Jan. 10 issue [you] report on Garry Davis, world citizen.

It seems to me that any ideology supported by Einstein, Gide, Sartre and Camus is not lightly to be dismissed . . . TIME, however, with its one-track editorial policy seized the opportunity to reiterate its own brand of gobbledygook: "The only way to peace is a stony road which involves constant risk of war." Translated, this means: "Pledge allegiance to your nation, arm to the teeth, and be ready at all times to be led to the slaughter by your 'leaders' whenever diplomacy between sovereign states gets out of hand, as it does periodically."

It is regrettable that a magazine like TIME . . . chooses to confine itself within the boundaries of archaic nationalism and philosophic materialism.

J. CUMMINGS

San Francisco, Calif.

Sir:

. . . You're to be congratulated for the fair and hardheaded judgments you passed on Garry Davis' "world citizenship" movement. As you so well point out, this movement, in its efforts to be objective and above national partisanship, misrepresents the nature of our difference with Russia and, falsely, tars us with the brush of aggressiveness and imperialism with which it is obliged to tar Russia. And it's quite true that whatever may be the pure intentions of its founder and of some of its supporters, such a movement cannot but become the tool of the unnaive and nonimpractical Communists . . .

HOLMES COLEMAN

New York City

Elementary Footnote

Sir:

My attention has been drawn to the fact that you have used the title of one of my father's most famous books, A Study in Scarlet, for the page heading of a book review [TIME, Nov. 22]. I would suggest that it would have been a courteous, if customary, gesture to have included a note of acknowledgment at the foot of the page.

ARTHUR M. CONAN DOYLE

Turin, Italy

P: TIME saw no point in making a point which is elementary, on Main Street as in Baker Street.--ED.

On Eton's Black Block

Sir:

The Jan. 3 article about Headmaster C. A. Elliott of Eton is excellent, but the term "cane" is technically incorrect. Caning at Eton is only carried out by certain privileged boys of the upper school, and is essentially a punishment for delinquencies connected with the discipline of the boarding houses and on the playing fields. It has nothing to do with academic offences.

When these academic offences are sufficiently serious, the headmaster intervenes and flogs the culprit. He does this with a birch rod [and] the procedure is attended by time-honoured ceremony and ritual.

The victim is informed, through the intermediary of the prepositor of the week, that "The headmaster wishes to see him after twelve . . ." He will be met by the school messenger (usually an ex-soldier of the regular army), who leads him up to the ancient, oak-paneled room where stands the famous block.

The block is centuries old, black with age . . . and looks like the first two steps of a staircase.

The school messenger, having loosened the offender's braces and lowered his trousers, causes him to kneel on the block. Two pre-positors then step forward and place their hands on the victim's shoulders. This is called "holding down," and is supposed to prevent the flogged one from rising to defend himself from the headmaster's assault. The school messenger now opens the door of the sixth form room, and the headmaster rustles in in his robes of office. A third prepositor goes to a cupboard, from which he takes the birch rod and ceremoniously hands it to the headmaster. The headmaster approaches the kneeling boy and, holding the handle of the birch with both hands, smites the bare behind of the boy six times. He then hands the birch back to the prepositor and rustles out of the room again. No word has been spoken . . .

Outside in the School Yard, friends of the victim are waiting eagerly to hear a first-hand account of what occurred . . . For a few days, he will be a hero. The slight pain which the flogging caused will be highly compensated by the interest it has created. The punishment is greatly preferred to copying out lines which take up hours which could be spent at leisure . . .

COLONEL R. V. C. BODLEY

Washington, Conn.

The Commodore's Pleasure

Sir:

The Jan. 3 article concerning the finding of manuscripts of Diderot's interested me very much. The accompanying picture by Meissonier . . . brought to mind a story . . .

In the middle 1880s, Commodore Vanderbilt was staying at a hotel in Paris, having his portrait painted by Meissonier. In the course of one of the sittings, he asked the painter which of his paintings was his favorite. Meissonier answered: "Le Renseignement. But it is in the hands of the enemies of France; it is in Berlin."

Vanderbilt had the picture purchased and sent to his hotel. When Meissonier came for the next sitting, Vanderbilt . . . said: "I am going to give you that picture."' You may imagine Meissonier's delight, and he did not charge Vanderbilt for the portrait.

A. H. PUGH

Cincinnati, Ohio

P: Reader Pugh has the right painter, but the wrong Vanderbilt. It was the Commodore's son, William Henry, who sat for and became a patron of Meissonier.--ED.

Postcards from Europe

Sir:

It is quite curious to note how relatively immortal some of "The Stories They Tell" [TIME, Nov. 15 et seq.] really can be. And how sometimes they do not improve with time (no pun meant) . . . [Here is] a much more recent story:

Mr. Rabinovitch, a Soviet citizen, is sent abroad on official business. Upon arrival in Warsaw, he writes a postcard to his cousin in New York: "Greetings from free Warsaw." Next he comes to Czechoslovakia, and his postcard to New York says: "Hail from free Prague." From Budapest he addresses his New York cousin: "Long live free Hungary." And at last comes his postcard from Paris: "Long Live Free Rabinovitch."

N. LUBIMOV

Florence, Italy

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