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[[bold]] Hunger for Quick Hot Dog Appeased by Pheasant Feast [[/bold]] [[bold]] Series of Surprises Greets Dr. Mann's Party at Sumptuous Estate [[/bold]] [[stamped date- JUN 4 1939]] [[bold]] By W. H. SHIPPEN, Jr., [[/bold]] Star Staff Correspondent BUENOS AIRES.- It was almost lunch time when the director of the local Zoo came to drive us to a pheasant farm in the country. "Could we stop and pick up a hot dog or sandwich on the way?" I asked. The Zoo director smiled and nodded. Nevertheless, we swept by a distressing number of eating places before we got out of the city. There's nothing like a quick sandwich and a cup of coffee for a motorist bound for the country! [[image-picture of W.H. Shippen, Jr.]] [[bold]] W. H. Shippen, Jr. [[/bold]] We weren't prepared for anything more elaborate than a roadside stand when we turned, without warning, through a gateway in a long wall that had risen out of the pampas. We pulled up before a rambling lodge of tile and stucco. This, we learned, was only the gatekeeper's little shack. The gatekeeper came out and said something in rapid Spanish. Director William M. Mann of the Washington (D. C.) Zoo turned to us in the back seat. "Do you know what he said?" "No.:: "He said, 'The master awaits you for breakfast!' " Limousines followed our car as we drove toward a spacious mansion of Spanish colonial style set between landscaped gardens. [[bold]] An Appetizing Joke. [[/bold]] It was the Zoo director's little joke. We who had-in all innocence-expected hot dogs, were guests of a great Buenos Aires newspaper publisher at a seek-end luncheon. The pheasants, we learned, were to be discussed with knife and fork before otherwise engaging our attention. They were preceded by Chilean lobster, flown over the Andes from the supposed island of Robinson Crusoe; small shrimp from the La Plata and white wines of France. The Asiatic pheasants arrived in huge dishes offered for inspection by two fat, grinning colored men. The dish tops were adorned with the bright heads and plumage of the pheasants. Twelve of us sat in chairs backed with tapir skin about a circular table spread with old lace and laden with gold-encrusted wine glasses of ancient Spain-our host, Senor Natalio Botana; his daughter and son-in-law, a judge, the chief of the Argentine Air Corps, several newspaper men, two zoo directors, the governor of a local province, and a prosecuting attorney-"the Dewey of Buenos Aires." Senor Botana, the liberal publisher of La Critica, was keeping open house in his country place, with its gardens and patios, its wide terraces, tile work from Spain, and huge tiled swimming pool. A self-made man, he designed the place after his own ideas. and took great pride in working out each detail, from the huge frog of cast metal that spouted fresh water into the pool, to the tile work reproductions of Goya's paintings. In the great hallway outside the dining room gathered newspapermen from various dailies in Buenos Aires; a poet, a concert singer, a retired college president and other guests who preferred to dine less formally. They lingered over their wine and serenaded the 12 at the round table. The retired college president, with the beard and shoulders of a Viking, and dark merry eyes, [[break to top of next column]] plucked a pheasat feather from the prize dish and thrust it into his breast pocket. His fellow diners followed suit. They sang the old choruses of the pampas and the departed gaucho, and happily shouted down a tenor who tried to break in with a solo number. Our host sat smiling and quietly relaxed at the head of the table, his large, black and vivacious eyes taking in the show. He obviously [[break]] [[clipping in middle of page]] [[bold]] Shippen [[/bold]] 9continued From Page B-6) was enjoying himself. After coffee and cigars, he led his guests on a tour of his pheasant farm- one of the finest, if not the finest, in the world. There were some 2,000 birds of [[break to next bottom of break in the next column]] 32 species, including a pair of a type not known to exist anywhere else. Incidentally, Dr. Mann believes he can fill one lack in the almost perfect collection by sending Senor Botna a pair from a flock he brought back from the East Indies. The hobby next dearest to Senor Botana's heart is a lodge constructed on his estate from a native wood of such granite texture that no spikes can be drive into it-timber from the quebracho tree, hewn into shape by hand with infinite labor. The logs of the many-roomed lodge were fitted together without nails. The wood is so hard that chunks of it had been worked into the fieldstone of the great fireplace in the living room. Windows of stained glass depicted bird and animal life of the Argentine. Sleeping bunks were made of logs inclosing feather beds and curtained by hand-woven ponchos. Old Spanish chests from Jesuit missions contained the finest of phonchos from North, South, and Central Argentina-blending rich colors of the Chaco with natural shades of vicuna wool prepared in the Southern Andes. Servants opened the chests and [[break to below break in next column]] spread ponchos about over the furniture-great numbers of them. Senor Botana made a little speech in Spanish. [[bold]] Gift Must Be Accepted. [[/bold]] "The senor says," a newspaper man whispered, "it would give him much pleasure if you North Americans would select a poncho-one for each of you! You had best accept it; it might hurt him just a little if you decline." The North Americans accepted with pleasure. THe senor had one more surprise-a moving picture studio under construction on the edge of his estancia. Work is being pushed rapidly on a group of a dozen large brick buildings. "It is no Hollywood," one of the [[break]] senor's assistants said, "but perhaps we can call it a beginning." We took our leave at sunset. Under cloud banks, as far as the eye could reach, great herds grazed upon the flat pampas, broken only occasionally by groves of cedar and eucalyptus. The senor, dressed in loose trou- [[break]] sers, a silk shirt open at the throat, and a bright silk scarf, pressed fine Havanas upon us and boxes of cigarettes for the ladies as farewell gifts. As we drove away Dr. Mann asked me: "William, why don't you go into the newspaper business? I'll be your assistant!" Next: The father of quintuplets. [[image on left bottom half of page- picture of Botana's mansion from across land]] Botana's house & pheasantry [[image on bottom left corner-picture of pheasant enclosures, 3 people and cars in background]] [[Menu on lower right half of page]] [[image at top-Steam Engine driving through FCCA]] [[image on left border-Sauternes, coat of arms with night head and checkerboard pattern, Clarete]] [[image bottom left-VINOS y CHAMPAGNES CARRODILLA B.F. NAZAR ANCHORENA]] MENU CENA ...... Filet de pescadilla Colbert ...... Gallina a la Suchet ...... Costillas de vaca asado Papas Chateau ...... Fruta ...... Café of Té ...... Todo pedido fuera de esta lista sera considerado y cobrado como extra ...... Puede repetirse cualquiera de los platos de este menu ...... Durante las horas de comida, (Almuerzo 11.00 á 13.00 13.00 y Cena 19.30 á 21.30 horas aá 13.00 13.00 y Cena 19.30 á 21.30 horas aún sirviéndose un solo plato, se cobrará la tarifa de comida complete, o sea $ 3.0 ...... Bino embotellado especiallado especialmente para los comedores del F.C.C.A. 1/4 litro TINTO o BLANCO $ 0.50 ...... EL NOMBRE DEL ENCARGADO DE ESTE COMEDOR ES: JOSE GALLEGOS GONZALEZ Miércoles 10 de Mayo de 1939. Precio $3.00 Railroad dining car menu
Transcription Notes:
one article, 2 pictures, one menu
