The Bulletin’s Day Book

Jews of the world should find some cause for optimism in a Berlin dispatch over the week-end which quotes General Werner von Blomberg, Nazi Minister of Defense, as ordering members of Germany’s land and sea forces henceforth to address Adolf Hitler as “Mein Fuehrer.”

There is something almost diabolic in the abbreviated quality which in the past has characterized the words in the Nazi lexicon.

If you have never been a newspaper man yourself, you won’t understand this allusion, so let it herein be explained.

The headline writer, who frequently decides how prominently a story shall be featured, metes out destiny with his copy pencil.

The over-worked editor tosses a story over to the headline writer and says, “Play this for what you think it’s worth.”

The headline writer, otherwise known as a copy reader, looks the story over and finds it full of names and terms too long to fit readily into the large type of the newspaper’s more important headlines.

“This is just a rehash,” he tells the editor. “I’ll cut it way down and put a fourteen-point head on it. We can use it on an inside page.”

Along come the Nazis. What could be a better word for a big headline than “Nazi”? Words don’t come much shorter than that.

“Hitler” isn’t a bad headline either. The letters “i” and “I” are thin, and take up only half as much space as most other letters.

And so Hitler and his Nazi peril —”peril” is another of those convenient short words—take their place of importance in the newspapers of the world alongside Benito Mussolini, who perhaps would have been born to bluster unheard, had not some thoughtful person hit upon “II Duce” as his official headline cognomen.

Nazism has deliberately shunned the implications of that whimsy of Mark Twain, who told of stretching a single German word clear across a long bridge.

“Goering,” “Roehm,” “Ernst,” “Heines”—all these have been more or less pie for the headline boys.

On the other hand take Dr. Alfred Rosenberg and Ernst Franz Sedgwick Hanfstaengl, both of whom have been more important and more venomously effective in Nazi councils than some of those whose names make the news more frequently.

Hanfstaengl finally came into his own when “Putzy,” the nickname of his Harvard undergraduate days, was brought to light. Now, if Dr. Rosenberg entertains any hopes for a bright and publicized future, he ought to ask the boys to start calling him “Rosey.”

But “Mein Fuehrer” is bad stuff. That is gilding the lily, if you don’t mind our thus referring to Herr Adolf Hitler.

“Mein Fuehrer” is a move in the wrong direction. We prophecy he’ll never get anywhere with it. “Fuehrer” by itself isn’t bad, although it’s decidedly inferior to “Hitler,” but when you stick a “Mein” in front of the word you present a real problem to the headline writers.

The dispatch which tells of the von Blomberg order draws an analogy between the new “Mein Fuehrer” salute for Adolf and the “Mon Empereur,” or “My Emperor,” with which Napoleon’s soldiers addressed him.

All we can say to von Blomberg is, if he had Napoleon in mind he was on the wrong track.

Autres temps autres moeurs, von Blomberg, old boy. We can assure you that if Napoleon had had twentieth century journalism to deal with, he’d have had his men calling him “Nappy,” “Bony” or even “Empy.”

And while you’re at it, you want to watch this fellow Rudolf Hess. Roehm’s successor as head of the storm troops. Hess’ four-letter name undoubtedly had much to do with his rise to importance in the Nazi set-up.

Von Blomberg seems to think “Mein Fuehrer” is more personal than some of the titles to which Hitler is entitled.

In answer we point out that the “personal” attributes of a title don’t necessarily assure it of success.

What could be more personal than some of the names we’ve indicated we’d like to call Hitler in these columns? You’ve never seen any of them in the headlines, have you, von Blomberg?

A. J. B.