Peter Clark Macfarlane

              COSMOPOLITAN MAGAZINE May 1923

Figure


© 
PIRIE MACDONALD



PETER CLARK MACFARLANE


himself knew the man whose story, a true Human Document, he begins on the opposite page


Figure
It Will Come Back as
 Ptomaine Poison


Illustrations by
 Gordon Ross


Our steady job has been to rush food to anyone, anywhere, who complained of hunger.  And even as our generous tourists are sprinkling beautiful dollars through every destitute province, the beneficiaries continue to regard us as money-grubbers and Shylocks.



Europe needs the money but she should play fair with our helpless and gullible relatives.




The trouble is, the aggregated millions which pour into Europe every summer are not organized or safeguarded.



Therefore, let us organize a Society for the Protection of American Travelers.  We will call it the S. P. A. T. and every member in good standing will be known as a 
SPAT
 and will carry a card, to be brandished, if occasion demands, at any bandit wearing a frock coat.



The membership fee will be nominal.  New members will be recruited and instructed during the outbound voyage.  They will be given addressed envelopes in which to enclose 



The Society will investigate the complaints of 1923 and every member visiting Europe in 1924 will receive a confidential report as to localities, routes of travel, hotels, shops and restaurants.  The tricky and dishonest ones will not be recommended.



If there is accumulated evidence that certain cities or certain hotels or any organized agencies catering to travelers have been brazenly unfair to Americans, the punishment may be made swift and certain.  And the wails of penitence will be heard halfway across the Atlantic!




If the suave swindler who did you so neatly the last time you were over knows that you are going to report him to 100,000 of your countrymen, he will be palsied with fear and his methods will become, for the moment, approximately honest.



Just say:  
Look out for me.  I'm a SPAT!




I know nothing will come of it, but isn't it a lovely day-dream?  And, oh, how many lads