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Mar, 1949
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Aug, 1949
Like to make the jump from civilian to officer in one step? MPs editors listened unbelievingly to Army ads and then sent their correspondent to check. Here's the inside story he brought hack from Fort Riley. By George Scullin YOU'RE walking down the street and a big-business man stops you. "How'd you like to join my organization as a junior executive?" he asks.
Workbench Award Winners...
THE proud builders of each project pictured this month are five dollars richer and also have our beautiful Workbench Award Certificate. Their entries were chosen, as the best submitted for the month. We know you like to see what others are doing—and we know others like to see what you are doing. So why not send us a few photos of yourself with your project? If judged one of the best received during the month we'll publish your picture, send you a five dollar check and a Workbench Award Certificate. Enclose sufficient stamps for return postage and mail your entry to: WORKBENCH AWARDS. MECHANIX ILLUSTRATED. 67 West 44th Street. New York 18. N. Y.
He's a Rat Farmer
A strange little livestock ranch in the attic gave Norton McKinney a new life and a $10,000 crop. By William Gilman "FUNNY kind of a business for a fellow to get into," the villagers shake their heads as they glance up at the old mansion Norton McKinney bought in quiet little Middletown Springs, Vermont. And it is a funny setup, all right. The attic in his antiquated home swarms with rats—mice, too. Last time he took a census there were 1500 adult rats and mice, with new litters running up the rodent population practically every day. You'd think his wife Georgia would raise the roof about that ratty situation up in the attic—but, no, she only wants to hear more rats racing around over their heads. She even helps him nurse and coddle new-born rats with germ-free water and purify the air they breathe with ultra-violet lamps. No wonder their place is called Funny Farms!
General Motors' Rear-Engine Car
By Bernard W. Crandell WHENEVER the subject of rear-engine cars plays across the auto columns of the nation's newspapers, a certain bunch of boys in Detroit snicker to themselves! Rear-engine cars! Not for the American public, they say. And they ought to know. They're the head stylists and engineers for General Motors Corporation. Why are they so convinced? They know this rear-engine stuff isn't new at all. In 1902, 18 out of the 23 automobiles in production had their engines placed aft. But then gradually the engineers were overcome with violent symptoms of front-engine fever. They wanted to put the motors up front! And they said they had good reasons for doing so.
How Good Are Your Hunches?
If you've ever suspected you had psychic powers, here's a chance to try the famous Duke University tests on yourself and your friends. By Dr. J. B. RHINE Director, Duke University Parapsychology Laboratory A YOUNG graduate student at Duke University dropped in to see me at the Parapsychology Laboratory one afternoon. "Like to try your ESP?" I invited. He nodded and I shuffled a deck of special test cards, then cupped my hand to screen them from his sight. We made a . few "trial runs" to test his mood. At first he missed every card and I teased him about doing so poorly. Bridling a bit, he named three of the next five cards correctly. Then, just for fun, I began betting that he would not get the cards right. Without looking at the cards, which were all face down on a table, I said, "I'll bet one hundred dollars you can't call the top card!" The student looked off into space a few seconds.
Meet Professor Shrinkproof
John Derrig's home is his laboratory and his family the guinea pigs. They all take a heating so he can test fabrics the hard way. By Wilfred Weiss DOROTHY Derrig was coming down the walk in front of her house at Bound Brook, N. J., in an exquisite sheer-net party dress. Suddenly her husband John whipped around the corner with the garden hose, like a fireman who had overslept a three-alarmer. He squirted the full spray on his pretty wife and soaked that long, lovely gown from neck to hemline. "It's just fine, John," she stood there and remarked sweetly—without making a move to dash back into the house and look up the nearest divorce lawyer in the classified phone book. "See, it hasn't lost a bit of its crispness! The water is rolling right off."
Exploding the Myths About MARIJUANA
Anonymous You'll get a kick if you try a reefer—but not the kind you expect, a "tea" slave warns in exposing startling secrets of dope-den life. I'M scared—plenty scared. Not so much for myself but for the kids of school age. Ever since the Robert Mitchum scandal in Hollywood set the country talking, the myths about marijuana have been mushrooming—dangerous myths. I'm scared for the young boys and girls who want to try a reefer or two "just for the kick." I'm scared because some people are saying marijuana is a harmless drug, marijuana is not habit-forming, marijuana damages neither mind nor body. Marijuana is bad, insidiously bad. It grabs you tight, then slowly turns you into a slave. It pounces on your mental or physical weak points and drags you relentlessly down into disgrace.
Fortress on a Skyhook
The U.S. is working on plans for a satellite base, Defense Secretary Forrestal reveals. Take a long look at this man-made moon—and learn how it may rule the world. By Frank Tinsley EVEN Jules Verne would be amazed at the latest activities of the U. S. Department of Defense. Secretary James Forrestal disclosed recently that his department is working on a "satellite base" to revolve around the world like a miniature moon, as a military outpost in space.
Bottled Hen has made her home
Bottled Hen has made her homein a five-gallon jug since she was a week old. Owner B. E. Efird of Landis, N. C, is experimenting with a feed compound that makes hens lay red or green-yoked eggs. The air vents in the side of the jar enable the eight-week-old New Hampshire Red to put her […]
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Octopus Wrestling Is My Hobby
Here's a new kind of deep-sea fisherman—he stalks the cunning, eight-armed king-of-the-ocean in the coral lagoons of the Pacific By Wilmon Menard "YOU have come to the right place, my son," said the old man. "On this atoll, the world's first octopuses were born—and will one day die, we pray!" The wizened grandfather of my native guide greeted us with those words when we landed on the tropical beach at Rimaroa during our ocean-wide hunt for octopuses. For, as in ancient days, the Islanders still regard the giant octopus with awe.