lowed the barreled up Valonis. They were the bunch whose whiskers had slipped down. Variously garbed in costumes of their own origin, this part of the parade was a testimony to the willingness of the "offenders" to have their share of fun out of the occasion and to their ingenuity in looking ridiculous.

George Baker's Harem

George Baker, sheik by his own elec-tion, was satisfied with the results-if smiles are a criterion. Baker was sur-rounded by Jack Meredith's "Flashes of 1932," and he was fanned by a faithful slave, "Coffee John" Baker. The truck which represented an oriental scene, if the imagination is sufficiently active, carried its own Blue Bandettes, a girl orchestra, two old men, Bert Dexter and Billy Davis, comedians, and the pianist with the infant beard, Jack Meredith.

Carl Willard filled up a vacant space in the parade as the whisker-wearing toy maker from up north, and carried a sign, "Who Said There Wasn't Any Santa Claus."

"No Round Trips"

Heading the funeral procession was a surrey, drawn by the American equivalent of a Chinese coolie, in which rode the Reverend Mister Jack Donald, Sr., and Undertaker E. W. Augustine. "Licker" flowed freely down their throats with utter disregard for the cracking throats on the sidewalk, the tantalising gurgle all but ruining the parade for some of the more thirsty. The placards read "No Round Trips," applicable to the deceased depression.

Riding a tandem bicycle, to bring back old memories, was a couple whose identity probably will never be known. Reminiscent of more recent by-gone days, was an old model Chalmers touring car. And following the sheik and his harem was a truck, dedicated to the kangaroo court victims of all season, on the sides of which were placards reading "They Made an Ass Out of Us."