The Mysterious Americans

Every week, some things happen in the U.S. that seem peculiarly American--or at least more likely to happen in the U.S. than elsewhere. Some that happened last week:

Oklahoma. A tall, talented gentleman by the name of F. Bam Morrison descended on Wetumka (pop. 2,500) to prepare for the coming of "Bonn's United Circus Shows." He got the Boy Scouts to sponsor it. The Meadors Hotel saved 20 rooms, a grocery ordered 100 Ibs. of frankfurters, the Coca-Cola Co. dozens of cases of pop. A truckload of hay was deposited on the circus grounds to feed the elephants. F. Bam Morrison sold $250 worth of advertising for the circus program; while he was working at it, the hotel donated his room, the Wide-A-Wake Cafe his board. For treating him, two doctors got free passes to the show. Then Morrison left town, and Bohn's United Circus never showed. But Wetumka decided to have a celebration, anyway. It declared a "Sucker Day," during which Boy Scouts will serve the 100 Ibs. of hot dogs from booths in the middle of Main Street. Said the grocer who bought them: "That guy sure could talk."

New York. A Manhattan judge decided that since one Alan Herbert lives in "an expensive environment," and his divorced wife is a "lady of superior breeding," the ex-husband must provide for the college education of his two daughters; everyone in their set takes college education "as a matter of course."

New Jersey. At Pennsville, N.J., some 26 finalists prepared to jam large pink lumps of bubble gum into their mouths and see--for the prize of a U.S. Savings Bond--who can blow the biggest bubble. They have two minutes to do it in, plus an initial ten seconds to get the chew started. The "world championship" contest was designed to help promote the bubble gum industry, a $20 million a year business. Philadelphia alone exports each week 25 tons of gum to Japan, the Philippines, Italy, Hawaii--places which during World War II felt the cultural impact of the G.I.

Florida. About 8,500 citizens hopped aboard when the Jacksonville Coach Co. offered free bus rides for Sunday churchgoers. Bus Magnate Wiley Moore was not sure that they all went to church--but "if anyone wants to get on the bus and say he is going to church and then not go, that will be on his conscience."

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