Kick

With little enthusiasm two hard-shelled reporters went down New York Harbor last week to meet the incoming Swedish American Gripsholm. One was stocky, red-faced James ("Jimmie") Lanehart of the New York Journal, the other tall, lean David ("Dave") Davidson of the New York Post. Bored with what seemed to be routine assignments, they first sought out Swedish Admiral Fabian Tamm, listened politely while he claimed that his was a peaceful nation. From peaceful Admiral Tamm they went to Gertrud Wettergren, sleek, dark-haired Swedish contralto who is shortly to make her debut at the Metropolitan Opera. Mme Wettergren was nervously crossing her fingers, knocking on wood. Perfunctorily the reporters wished her luck, whereupon she flashed a wide smile, presented her back, said "Kick me!"

Reporter Lanehart shyly kicked first, Reporter Davidson next. Mme Wettergren's husband, who had earnestly added his request to hers, explained that it was an old Swedish custom for a person to be kicked before beginning any new venture. In Sweden students are commonly kicked before they enter an examination room. Actors and singers are kicked before important first nights.* The kicks on the Gripsholm last week brought luck indeed to Mme Wettergren, boosted her straight into headlines. The Post ran her picture with a front-page story. Pictures were also in the American, the News, the Herald Tribune, stories in the Sun, the World-Telegram, the Journal. The fatherly New York Times merely noted that Mme Wettergren had arrived, quoted Edward Johnson, new manager of the Metropolitan, to the effect that Mme Wettergren was probably the most important European singer to make a U. S. debut this season.

*Brides are not kicked. In Sweden the general custom prevails for the groom to carry his wife over the threshold.

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