The Bulletin’s Day Book
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The Bulletin’s Day Book

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One who sees both the compassion and compulsion o the Law with such clarity of wisdom and judgmant as is possessed by few men in our time, is Louis D. Brandeis, Justice of the Supreme Court of the United States As standard-bearer of the liberal minority in this, the highest tribunal of our system of government, Justice to the welfare of the nation. This responsibility, expressed in the terms of his own pholosophy, is to interpret the law in such a way as to bring into being tis true harmony with life. The presonal tolerance for mortal fallibility found in Justice Brandeis’ decisions and opinions always overshadows the impersonal formulary of strigent Jurisprudece.

There is no legal mind in America more thoroughly steeped them Bran deis’ in the development and processes of the law. But there were many, among the dissenters who made themseves heard when he was first proposed for the Supreme Court Brndeis formed a perfect balace for the rigid interpretations of Justice Holmes, and the phrase, ”Brandeis and Holmes disenting” is desined to survive as the oriflame of a noteworthy era in American legal his tory.

President Wilson saw eye to eye with Brandeis on most matters, consulted him constantly on business of far-reaching conseqence and looked to him for final decisions of the gravest imprt. This faith of the President and the was capitalized by those same undercover agencies which are active today. Emissaries of Henry Ford, who at that time was in the most violent throes of his international-Jewish-conspiracy mania, brought him a kooked-up reprt of secret wire that led from the office of the President to the home ofthe Jusie Overhis private phone, so they solemnly averred, Brandeis was wont to dictate world policies to Woodraw Wilson. A bseless toale lie al rest of its kind: the fact is that an hones mutual respect existed between the two great lovers of liberty, as deep and well founded as taht wich is epitomized by the even now, frequent sight of Holmes and Brandeis walking the Steets of the capital together, exchanging topies of the day.

Borough President Samuel Levy of Manhattan beamed with justifiable prode upon the occasion of my recent friendly visit to his office. Here, flnked by a force of assistants, he sat at a desk by the window of a richly furnished, maroon-carpeted room, enjoying the southern exposure and teh twenty-story hing, sweeming view of lover New York. Meanwhile, similing through the cresentshaped lenses of the spectacles, he proudly displyed a latter which had just arrieved from L. W. Robert Jr., Assistand Seretary of the Treasury complimenting him on the way he handled the promotion of CWA projects in Manhattan, and, in particular, the painting of murals in the lobby of the Supreme Court Building. Here, through a seometric labyrinth of scaffolding, government endowed artists are forever climbing in and out with their paint, rulers and sketches. These sketches and desingns. Mr. Levy announced, had been left by the buiding’s architect, Guy Lowell, and were recently discovered filed away in the presisent’s office. Lack of funds had prevented the execution when the buling was constructed; but the New Deal hs come to the rescue with money and artists while Mr. Levy supples the enthusiasm.

/Walter Winchell;s wit is come by honestly, a good portion of it being inherited, no doubt, from his grandfather, Chaim Weinschall who was chief cantor for many years at one of the oldest orthodox shulesin America,Beth Hamedrash Agodalon Norfolk Street. A man of bumor and tenerness, Cantor Weinschall’s fame soon pread throughout the congested tenements on New York’s lower east side. He arraged the marriages and sang at the wedding ceremonies of the parents of many of the most avid of his famous son’s newspaper fans.Shadtchem bottchen, Shamus and chazen,Weinschall was to the crowded streets and alleys of his day and distict what Winchell is to Broadway; a familiar but legendary figue, part confindant, part recording agel When Chaim Weinschall delivered a sermon, there was not a moistureless cheek in the synagogue, but when go to drink tea with his gayest friends. the stories he told them still evoke laughter around the family tables where they pass on from parent to child. Weinschall’s clever expression, well recalled today, are accepted as part of a passing age, even as grandson Walter’s may be regarded by tomorrow’s generations.

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