CHAPTER IV

AN INDOOR SPORTS FAIR

They are still talking about the Indoors Sports Fair that the Welfare League of Ashton gave last spring, and ranking it as the best thing the town ever did to raise money for their united welfare funds.

When the doors were opened on the first night it was not surprising to see a crowd all ready to push in and enjoy the sports prepared for them. No admission was charged, but each sport, exhibit and event had its price plainly marked in black on a bright blue sign at the entrance.

That first evening it seemed as if the golf course was patronized as freely as any of the sports. It took up one large corner of the hall, where a miniature nine-hole course had been laid out on dark blue denim. The "holes" were marked out with rings of white paint, and there were a few hazards of sandbags and a very low brick wall. For the most

## part it was a putting game, a putter being handed to the player after

he had paid his admission to the "caddie" at the turnstile gate.

They say the boys had the time of their lives at the baseball diamond, and some of their fathers too, to judge from the receipts. Back on a large piece of canvas Bill Simons had "dashed in" with cold water paints a baseball diamond, with trees in the background and bleachers on each side, all in a queer perspective which didn't hurt the game any. In the curtain Bill had cut holes just a little larger than a baseball, so that throwing the ball through these holes was not any bush-league business. On the diamond he had marked under the holes, First Base, Second Base, Third Base, and Home Run at the plate. Back of the plate were two holes quite close together, one marked Strike and the other Ball. Two holes in the outfield and two "over the fence" were also arranged in pairs to make pitching difficult. Regular baseballs were sold, four shots for a nickel. The ruling of the game was simple: Three strikes out, four balls a chance to try first base, or one of the "over the fence" holes for a home run; after first base, second and third had to be hit successively before a home run could be scored, and to make it harder there was a "grounder" hole near third base which put one out of the game; balls which merely struck the curtain were counted as fouls, four fouls being out. Back of the curtain Bill had hung an old mattress against which the balls bounded to the floor. This was covered with a black cloth to make the holes in the diamond visible.

Seeing the Old Home Town

Down the line next to the baseball diamond came the bowling alley, where everyone who was not a fan or a golf fiend was taking a hand at the sport. This alley was laid on a long board table, and the game played with tenpins and small wooden balls. Six balls for a nickel they sold here, and because the sport needed something to speed it up a bit they linked it with the food table next door. The best cooks in town presided over this. You paid your money for your tenpin balls, and proceeded to run up a score by counting the numbers on the pins you knocked down; the pins were set far apart to make it difficult. Then you took your score to the food table, where certain numbers of points brought you a glass of jelly, a can of mince-meat, a box of cookies, or a jar of mayonnaise. That bowling alley certainly did appeal to the women!

And if there was ever a more successful grab bag for the children than the quoits game, the Ashton Welfare Committee wants to hear about it. They called it a Good Luck booth for it had a horseshoe-shaped opening with a row of numbered pegs across the back. The kiddies bought the quoits, little wooden horseshoes cut from cigar-box wood, and tossed them over a peg. The number of the peg corresponded to a numbered tag which was handed out to be redeemed at the parcel-post window near the aërial mail plane.

This aviator, by the way, was an official of the Cupid Airline, so he advertised on his aëroplane, which was painted on a large curtain with a hole cut out where the seat would be, and the wheel of an electric fan poked through at the front and set going for a propeller. His mail bag hung over the side of the car inside of which he stood in aviation uniform, and for ten cents you could get your fortune in a small white envelope out of the mail bag if you were a man, or in a pink envelope if you were a girl.

But say, for a real scream, you had to take a sight-seeing trip in the auto! It was worth twice the toll. Dottie Earle had charge of it, and she made one of the funniest guides you ever heard. "This way, ladies and gentlemen," she would shout through her megaphone; "get your tickets for a tour of the city in the most magnificently equipped sight-seeing autos that ever ran on three wheels and one cylinder! Only twenty-five cents, two bits a ride! See the birthplace of Ashton's mayor, the history of Ashton's past, its chief industries," and so on.

When her tourists assembled in front of her machine, which was a real car, at least the front half of one, an old relic which the garage had just about decided to scrap, its latter half hidden behind a dark curtain, Dottie led them back of the curtain where the sights of Ashton were hidden. In another black curtain were a series of holes not any larger than a quarter, and behind each was one of the sights, a cradle, a picture of the town dump, a scrubbing brush and a large pen-knife for the sights already mentioned. For the Home Team she had a snapshot of the Warren twins, for the competitor of the Herald, a telephone, and so on with eight other "hits" on town topics and characters. So many guffaws and squeals of laughter came from behind the curtain that they had to call in a "traffic cop" to keep the crowd outside quiet.

The "traffic cops," by the way, were boy scouts. They had dark blue costumes of cheap drill, trimmed with white braid, and wore white cotton gloves and shiny badges. They really did have power invested in them by the committee to preserve order and keep the crowds moving. At one point they were allowed to stand with a semaphore and hold up the crowd, not allowing anyone to pass who could not show a certain number of tags from the various booths. This tag system was to insure that all would play fair, for there was so much fun just watching other folks spend money that the tightwads might never have taken their hands out of their pockets or opened their purses.

A Racket Around the Candy Booth

Mrs. Peterson, who sells the best bread in town, had charge of the cake archery. You bought arrows for this, three for ten cents, but you could not shoot until a dollar's worth of arrows had been sold. Then you took your turn at the bow and arrow. The arrow which hit nearest the bull's-eye got the cake, of course, and it was some cake, if it happened to be one of Abbie Southerland's angel foods.

The Girls' Club had drawn the candy table for their share of the fair, and a pretty booth they made of it, using all the tennis nets they could beg, borrow or steal to drape it with and putting up all the candy in ten-cent packages wrapped in white waxed paper to look like tennis balls. Someone got funny and asked why there was such a racket around the candy booth!

The fair lasted three days. What with changing the attractions, keeping fresh food on the refreshment tables, making special attractions for children in the afternoons after school by offering prizes for sports events like sack races, obstacle races, and so on, getting up interest in golf tournaments and baseball series, the place was kept packed from three in the afternoon until midnight.

In The Ladies' Home Journal, Jan., 1921. Published with the permission of the author, Claire Wallis, and The Ladies' Home Journal.

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