Laredo Weekly Times

A TOUGH REPUTATION.

A French writer nicknamed the "French Bernard Shaw"—is up in arms concerning articles in American newspapers and magazines alleging that Paris is in the throes of a "moral wave," and he calls upon Ambassador Jusserand to protest against these "calumnies," which are the worst sort of anti-French propaganda.

Says this critic: "The American writer surpasses the limit of truth. In one paragraph he says the boulevards and hotels in the Latin quarter are 'desperately pure.' Imagine the effect produced on a Yankee who is thinking of coming to Paris to spend some of his dollars!"

Again he says, regarding the statement that "a good cocktail is impossible in Paris": "Americans do not come to Paris to visit the museums, but to frequent the bars."

This seems to be the idea of so many who are trying to attract American tourists to Paris; give them something sinful, something vicious, and they will come. It is like the artificial Chinatown that is staged for the "rubberneck tourists" whom the guides take on observation tours of Pell and Mott streets in New York; the haggard dope fiends, the "pill" smokers, the white women living in Chinese dens—all are faked.

The average American who goes to Montmartre expects to see something out of the way. So the thrifty Parisian plans his stage effects with a view to giving the American a run for his money. The baggy trousered, long-haired art students, the berouged cocottes and the rest of the habitues of Le Rat Mort are only the stage settings.

There was a time when Leadville and Deadwood tried as strenuously to live up to the tourist idea of a "wild and woolly" Western atmosphere as do the present Paris cafe keepers. Mock gunfights, fake killings, stuffed dummies hanging to trees in the near distance—all bore witness to the desire to give the tenderfoot a show that would satisfy his yearnings and bring others to spend money.

In all likelihood, the greater part of the Parisians deplore the bad name so carefully fostered by the publicity agents of the Paris night life cafes. There are several millions of good people in Paris, even though the general belief of the uninstructed is that the city is but the reincarnation of the wild times in Sodom and Gomorrah.

It may be that the French writer is indulging in sarcasm at the expense of those who seek to draw trade by a semblance of immorality. This, too, is one of the characteristics of Bernard Shaw.

The deliberate attempt to trade upon a bad name is not an exclusive Parisian characteristic. Some of the old timers will remember the days when a man boasted of being "a bad man from Bitter Creek; the higher up you go, the tougher it is, and I come from the headwaters!"

Many years ago the border bore an unenviable reputation. There was some foundation for its bad repute, but it has been steadily growing better, and now we do not boast of our toughness, but rather of our law-abiding character.

It is safe to say that today there is not a section of the country where there is less crime, less disorder, less of the tendency to boast of toughness, than on the border country.

One reason is that there is a demand for law enforcement, a determination to put a stop to lawlessness, a support of the officers by the citizens, that makes for better conditions as regards vice and crime than are known elsewhere.

It is true that we are close to the dividing line and that on the other side there is a lower standard of morality, but we do not boast of it. We no longer think it is desirable to advertise that the place is wide open. There is no desire to draw the undesirable element, whether it has money or not.

And perhaps Paris is trying to get into our class.