On a small island in Lake Michigan, accessible to Chicago's Grant Park by a causeway, gathered last week Julius Rosenwald, Edith Rockefeller McCormick, Rufus Dawes, Max Adler and many Chicago bigwig. In a squatty rainbow granite building which looked much like a giant derby hat resting on a pedestal, they sat down, craned their necks to watch the ceiling.
Though they were indoors, they beheld the strange gyrations of the sky. Though it was but 3 p. m. they saw the sun go down, Venus, the evening star, appear. It was the...