Tucson Daily Citizen from Tucson, Arizona • Page 11

FRIDAY EVENING, APRIL I960 A I I I PAGE 11 DON SCHELLIE'S TUCSON More Thau Stars Above ITHE NEW SIMCA ETOILES ARE COMING! We've got to make room for whatever the cost! Vernon Johnson and I stood talking on the steps of the Love-Truth Union Chapel, 920 N. 1st Ave. We were waiting for the Tucson Space Club meeting to begin. So we talked about flying saucers. "Not 5 in 100 folks back home believe this story," Johnson said reaching for his cigarettes.

"Back home," where the Johnsons and the skeptics live, is Winchester, Wis. The Johnsons have been vacationing in Tucson fqr the past month. "One' i 1947. That's when it happened. We were coming home from Oshkosh that's about 17 miles from Winchester--when we spotted it." A stocky, pleasant man with bushy brown hair, Johnson touched a match to the cigarette and continued.

"Now at first I wondered if maybe it wasn't a-new kind of dirigible or' something. It was shaped like a cigar and all lit up. Had portholes and you could see people inside. My daughter was with me." The airborne cigar followed the auto the 17 miles to Winchester from Oshkosh, b'gosh. "I sent my daughter into the house to get my wife.

We all saw it." Two years ago the daughter saw a picture and identified the cigar as a flying saucer. "Hardly anybody believes it," said Johnson. "But here's a picture." He unrolled a flying saucer magazine and pointed to a purplish disk on the cover. "See -just like the one we saw. You can subscribe to this magazine for $2 a year.

Amherst Press in Wisconsin." We entered the building. A card at the door revealed the credo of those who used the chapel: "Think What You Want, Want What You Think." A down-to-earth chap, this Riley Crabb. In an other-worldly sort of way, you understand. He was there to talk to club members about "Flying Saucers and America's Destiny." Frightening. I don't know how the other 44 persons at the meeting fared, but it gave me the heeby- jeebies, I like it here.

It's a pretty nice world, as w.orlds go, in spite of the way we earthlings might act. But Riley Crabb, who is director of Borderland Sciences SYDNEY HARRIS Research Associates (a California outfit), takes a gloomier view. Tall and lean with a faraway look in his eyes, he spoke of a network of tunnels through the earth, of lizardlike creatures with high intelligence who inhabited this planet before we came along, of visitors from other worlds who are keeping labs on us. And of a catastrophic "polar flip" that will rearrange the surface of the earth one of these days and leave parched and pleasant old Arizona but a few degrees from the equator. With a tropical climate, no less, which would just about ruin our winter tourist trade.

"a philosopher not a scientist," wore a brown and orange speckled tie, a blue suit and i shoes with saddles of brown. A Christian cross willl- in a star of David was on the wall behind him; overhead on an arch glittered the goldleaf words, "Love- Truth-Union." But it was not until the lecture was over that the group really got down to the business of flying saucers. It was during a question-answer period. Several grandmotherly women caught every word and two wide-eyed youngsters were at the edge of their seats. A woman in a blue-flowered dress and a white fcnit shawl spoke.

She told of seeing two flying saucers last year while driving across a New Mexico desert with her daughter-in-law. "It was 6 o'clock of a summer evening," she said. One remained motionless in the sky, other poked around. "They were a rosy pink," the woman remembered. "Although some might call it crimson." And suddenly, as quickly as they had appeared, they vanished.

"Between the clouds," she explained. An old-fashioned jet roared overhead and then Vernon Johnson and his wife told about the Oshkosh- to-Winchester saucer. Mrs. Zip Dobyns, who publishes a news sheet for the Tucson club, approached the woman in the blue- flowered dress after the meeting. 'What a wonderful sighting," she said.

"I envy you. Mrs. Dobyns has not been so fortunate. 'I've only had a couple of she admitted. "None evidential.

It must have been 'It was," answered the woman. "And I wasn't scared. I didn't know what it was until later." i The meeting was over and I went outside. I glanced skyward. Just stars.

Public Lies To The Pollsters We were talking about "polls" and "surveys" made by political or business organizations to try to discover what the average citizen really thinks, believes, or wants. I expressed much skepticism about the value of such surveys--not because they are inaccurate, or use too small a sample of the public, but simply because people do not tell them the truth. This is not to say that people consciously lie; rather, they say what sounds acceptable and respectable, and sometimes even what they think is true. For example, in 1928-a business firm hired interviewers to go out arid survey the public's reaction to a new product not yet on the market. The reaction, was uniformly unfavorable--men and women both called it "disgusting" and "cheap" and "immoral" and "vulgar." The firm ignored these results and put the product on the market.

It was red-colored nail-polish. Within a year or two it had become standard equipment for the well-groomed woman. I am sure that much the same, in reverse, happened with the disastrous Edsel venture of the Ford Company. Extensive surveys were made, and again the public lied--but the company believed them. What Freud calls the "super-ego" is that part of the personality that responds to public questions.

This part conforms to high social and moral standards; it prompts us to come out strongly in favor of the Boy Scouts and against opium-smoking. But what Freud called the "id" is that part of the personality that often determines how we act privately. Colored nail-polish might offend the superego of 1928, but it pleased the id; that is, it made women feel more feminine, more glamorous, more -aggressively seductive. Most super-egos fall easily before the instinctual onslaught. Likewise, motorists publicly approved the idea of a new middle-price-range automobile, because it gave them status; for many of them it implied an upward movement socially.

But there is no doubt now that what they really wanted was a smaller and cheaper car--if they could get it without losing status. The political polls were wrong about Dewey and Truman in 1948, because millions of voters thought it was socially advantageous to support Dewey vocally, while they voted for Truman in private. No survey, short of a long consultation by a trained psychiatrist, can hope to tell us what an individual truly believes-when often he doesn't know himself until too late. CopyrinVit 1960 DEAR MRS. MAYFIELD I Married Money--And Goofed DEAR MRS.

MAYFIELD: I married my husband for money and it serves me right. He was an impossible 50 when-we married; I a a quite comely 25. Now he is 75, and I am 50 and rarin' to go. But what do I have to go with? Nothing but money. Pop, as I always called him, has truly fizzled.

AH he does now is sit and read the stock quotations, or worry about whether this healthy food is better than that, and when he takes time out to relax, he limps around the park with a walking stick. All right, so I sound bitter. But who wouldn't be? If we go out for dinner--or, say, on some special occasion we give one, --Pop is sound asleep in his chair while most people are gathering their second AH right, Molly, I've complained enough. No oats for me! I'm through. Why shouldn't I plant a vineyard of a few wild grapes? I ain't dead yet! RUTHIE DEAR RUTHIE: Oh, dear, dear Ruthie: How dead you really are! Too dead to see what a harvest you might have reaped in the fondness and affection of those close to you.

Why did you think your husband of 50 would actually like'to be called Why didn't you call him Beau Brummel? He might still be Beau Brummel in one way or another. But let's talk gal to shall we? You married Beau for his money. I hope he got his money's worth. Sounds to me that he didn't. I hope that even now you can make up for' the bargain he didn't get! MOLLY MAYFJELD GOOD EVENING to Standford Walker-Molly.

her husband divorced her for another woman. Of course, my sister was heartbroken at first, both for herself and the kids. Then, about a year later she met and fell in love with a bachelor who said he loved the children so much he would adopt them if she would marry him. Well, they were married, and it looked as though it were going to be one of those "and they lived happily ever afterwards." But no. Her husband has developed a queer twist.

He fusses continuously because they live in the same house my sister and her first husband lived in. He says everywhere he looks he can feel John's presence. He demands that my sister sell the house--even though it would cost them at least $125 a month to rent another one as nice. Should she ignore his jealousy, or what? SISTER DEAR SISTER: It's all very easy for us to say that it's silly for your brother- to be so jealous and that it's really unreasonable for him to want his wife to sell the house, but let's face it. He is jealous and unhappy in that house, and it does provoke images.

And his marriage can't improve with this strain. It might be very inconvenient for your sister to sell and it might mean a financial readjustment. However, don't you really she'd be wise to make those readjustments materially than to face drastic readjustments from a broken marriage? I do. MOLLY MAYFIELD One Too Many Images Of The Past DEAR MRS. MAYFIELD: My twin sister was married, had three lovely littlevgirls, and DEAR MRS.

MAYFIELD: I've got a problem. I've got two girl friends and I want to get rid of one in a polite way. Please tell me how to go about it? BOY WITH A PROBLEM DEAR BOY WITH A PROBLEM: There isn't an easy way. If you tell her directly, you'll probably get slapped. If you try to avoid her, you'll probably get caught.

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