Word: mornings
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Next shot of Berlin romance after the Dark Age beheading last week came when Nazi No. 2 was awakened with a brass band serenade, for it was his wedding morn. As every German knows, Nazi No. 1 eschews pomp, never wears anything more pretentious than a corporal's uniform, eats no meat, never smokes, drinks nothing stronger than beer. Contrariwise No. 2 Nazi Hermann Wilhelm Göring crowds every waking moment with pomp and circumstance, changes from gorgeous to still more gorgeous uniforms half a dozen times a day, stuffs his fat but mighty-muscled frame with much...
...cannot of course say whether September Morn is still in the possession of Mr. Herrick's family but what I have told you may throw some light upon the search which is being made...
Paris art connoisseurs believe the late Ambassador Herrick was mistaken. He occupied the house of the Due de Broglie, whose brother owned many a Chabas painting of bathing nudes but not September Morn. But TIME is indebted to Subscriber Church and to an anonymous TIME-reader for helping pick up September Morn's trail which previously stopped dead at Moscow. Thither the painting had been taken by Leon Mantacheff, who bought it in 1912 for 50,000 francs. After the Russian Revolution it mysteriously disappeared. TIME'S informant reported that as recently as 1929 he had seen September...
...white-whiskered officious old Anthony Comstock was strolling along 46th Street in Manhattan when he was halted in his tracks by the shocking sight of the original painting of September Morn boldly displayed in the front window of Braun & Co. Into the shop he stormed, displayed his police badge, ordered a salesman named James Kelly to take the picture out of the window...
...gallery refused. Next morning the story flamed all over the front pages of Manhattan, and crowds were blocking the sidewalk before Braun & Co. The rest is history. Reproductions of September Morn burgeoned on calendars, candy boxes, cigars, suspenders, post cards. An anonymous couplet swept the land: Please do not think I'm bad or bold, But where it's deep it's awful cold. And whenever the excitement seemed likely to die out there were always rival Comstocks in provincial cities ready to blast the picture all over again...