March 21, 1958

A month ago I wrote a column concerning a mysterious medal.

About the size of a half-dollar, it had the embossed figure of a stork on its face side, plus the lettering "Wanstead High School." On the reverse was the inscription:

"Hurdles. Open. D. Farrell. 1927."

There was nothing unique about the medal. It looked like any medal any kid in any high school might win.

But the element of mystery about it came in the letter to me which accompanied it.

The letter was from Mrs. Eleanor Hatch of Hollywood.

She found the medal, she told me, in a small can which had been around
her house for maybe 20 years. It was among a miscellaneous assortment
of rusty nails, hooks and buttons.

"I never heard of D. Farrell," she wrote me, "nor have I heard of Wanstead high School."

She added that she had no use for the medal, but somehow couldn’t bring herself to throw it away.

"That’s why I’m sending it to you," Mrs. Hatch said. "In the hope that
you can find its real owner. It might have some special significance."

I mentioned Mrs. Hatch’s discovery and wish in this column, figuring that no one would claim it–but anyway, I’d made an effort.

Immediately, it was obvious I was wrong.

The column ran the same day that a man named Donald Farrell made the
papers by completing a simulated week’s flight into "outer space" in a
U.S. government experiment.

Lots of letters and calls came in asking if this man might be a descendant of D. Farrell, the 1927 hurdles champ.

There were other calls from other Farrells, plus two from persons who
told me that Wanstead High School was located a short distance from
London, England.

One call was from Bob Jarvis, president of the advertising firm of
Prestige Inc. He told me that his friend, David Farrell, president of
Trust Deed and Mortgage Exchange, thought the award-winning D. Farrell
might be a long-lost relative.

Did I have any clues, he asked?

I mentioned the two calls about Wanstead High School being near London. And from there, Jarvis took over.

He cabled the London Times for an exact location of the school.

A reply came stating that there was a Wanstead County High School near London with the address: Redbridge Lane, Wanstead E. 11

Then Jarvis sent a cable care of the school’s headmaster. Did they ever
have a student name of D. Farrell? If so, did they have a current
address on him?

The reply came this week, signed A. Ingram, Headmaster.

It read:

"Thank you for your telegram asking about D. Farrell, an old boy of this school from 1926-8.

"I am sorry to report that he was killed in the war.

"He was a Sgt. Observer in a Wellington Bomber killed in action Sept.
11, 1941. The plane was shot down in the Channel and his body washed
ashore at Dieppe.

"The last address we have of his family was: Mr. W. Farrell (father) 50 Park Road, Kingston Hill, Surrey.

"Although I have only been headmaster since 1948 there are a few colleagues who remember him.

"I am sorry I cannot be more helpful. We are proud to have his name on our War Memorial."

When Jarvis phoned me yesterday, he said that Sgt. Observer D. Farrell was no relation to his friend, David Farrell.

Afterward, I called Mrs. Hatch. Again I read her the letter from
London. With a certain sadness, she said, "I’m sorry. I’m sorry to hear
it."

"You knew him? You remember him now?" I asked.

"No," she said. "I still don’t have any idea who he is or how he got his medal.

"But I’m sorry we’re too late to get it back to him."

March 18, 1958

Yesterday I told about a man sent out by this office to visit a few of
the hundreds of persons in Southern California who represent themselves
as "income tax experts."

We gave him the name of Victor Romano. Occupation, insurance salesman. Wife, Mary. Her occupation: beauty operator.

Romano left my office armed with a set of facts and figures pertaining
to his family’s 1957 earnings and expenses plus some mock W-2 forms to
support them.

He visited many "experts" –finally settling on four to fill out his
1040 form and determine the government’s bite on the $7,635.25 combined
income of himself and his wife.

Two of the tax "specialists" he picked at random. The third was an
official accountant for the Internal Revenue Service. And the fourth
was a member of a recognized accounting firm.

The results: No. 1 stated that–in addition to the $874.40 income
withheld–he owed Uncle Sam $98.07. No. 2 said he deserved a refund of
$101.93. The Internal Revenue Department figured his refund at $112.69,
while the recognized accounting firm came up with a refund of $302.66.

The discrepancy of more than $400 was pretty frightening. It was $400 in or out of taxpayer Romano’s pocket.

But the figure wasn’t half so frightening as some of the miscalculations and omissions by Experts No. 1 and No. 2.

It’s pretty obvious that neither knew what he was doing. Both made
mathematical errors. Both cheated Romano out of money. And yet both
made him liable for cheating the government.

The mythical Mr. Romano’s wife earned $2,400 working in a beauty salon.
Yet both Experts No. 1 and No. 2 ignored the fact that beauty operators
receive tips for their work.

Therefore, the Romanos’ tax form would never have been approved by a government auditor.

Other errors which might have been caught included:

1–An illegal $400 deduction, claimed because Mrs. Romano bought some
beauty parlor equipment which Expert No. 2 labeled as a "loss" when she
abandoned her small home beauty salon business.

2–$30 overestimate on her uniform cleaning bills.

3–A miscalculation in the number of miles Romano drove his car. Romano
stated he drove his car 1,200 miles a month, yet Expert no. 2
multiplied that by 12 months and arrived at the figured 18,000.

But, if you’ll note their final figures, you’ll see that they cheated the Romanos more than they did Uncle Sam.

Expert No. 1 didn’t even bother to ask Romano if he used his new car in
his business. Neither No. 1 nor No. 2 figured in any depreciation for
the car.

These omissions alone cost Romano a lot of his own money.

Other deductions completely overlooked by Nos. 1 and/or 2 (and legally
listed by the government and accounting firm men) included various auto
upkeep expenses, cost of utilities in operating home beauty parlor,
purchase of briefcase for business, use of home phone for business and
depreciation of typewriter.

Victor Romano paid out $21 to one man, $16 to another for professional
service. In return, he got a jumble of practically meaningless figures.

Either through incompetence, ignorance or a greed to get on to the next sucker’s tax forms, they gouged him good.

Yet one of them, through sheer luck and miscalculation, came within $11
of the Internal Revenue Service auditor’s final figures–while the
established accountant disagreed with Uncle Sam’s agent by $189.97.

I showed the latter two forms to two independent certified public accountants.

Both forms–they told me–were errorless. Human nature accounted for
the wide variance, with the government man favoring his uncle and the
public accountant favoring the taxpayer.

One disagreement came in tips received by Mrs. Romano, with the
department man setting an arbitrary figure of $250 (25% or her net
income) and the PA setting it at $100 (10%).

Romano stated $100 when asked, but acquiesced when the federal auditor told him $250 was a more "realistic" figure.

Other major disagreements came in use of auto in business (90% against
50%), parking ($5 a week against $2.50 a week) and depreciation of car
(where the PA used depreciation scale more favorable to taxpayer).

The independent CPAs who studied the two forms both said they felt the
PA’s totals were more "realistic" than the government man’s.

And the accountant who arrived at the $302.66 refund figure said he’d be willing to fight Uncle Sam about it tomorrow.

"If the government auditor was reasonable–not arbitrary–we’d win
right away," he said. "If the first one wasn’t reasonable, we’d
eventually get high enough up to find a man who was."

Usually, this type of dispute would end in a compromise.