Laura Arthur, a veteran tele
phone operator who works nights
in communications down at Cher
ry Point Marine base, has always
been one of our favorite persons.
After what happened the other
day, we’re happier than ever to
know and admire the noble traits
in her make-up that reveal in full
measure a truly Christian woman
Laura Could never have dreamed
what was in store for her when a
little colored girl knocked at the
door of her- home, out at Ernul
Clutched in the child’s hand was a
penciled note on tablet paper.
“My mama sent you this,’’ the
little girl explained. “Please call
the midwife in New Bern at this
phone number,’’ the note read.
Laura placed the call, found out
that the midwife wasn’t immediate'
ly available, and set out herself
to help a stricken woman of an
other race, creed and color that
she had never seen before.
Arriving at the humble abode
of the expectant mother, Laura
found a scene of poverty. There
were four children, all under six
years of age. They were wearing
oft-patched clothes and had no
shoes. ,
There was no covering on the
bed where the mother was lying
in apologetic fear and pain, save
for four fertilizer sacks that had
been sewn together.
“What impressed me immedi
ately in the midst of all this shab
biness,” says Laura, “was the fact
that the room was spotless, and
the children clean.”
Obviously, there was no time
for dilly-dallying, 'So Laura said
a little prayer to the God she be
lieves in so devoutly, and proceed
ed to deliver the baby.
It was no easy’birth, but Laura,
inexperienced though she was,
proved equal to the emergency.
She had told the four little chil
dren to go out on the back porch
and they dutifully obeyed. “Ma
ma’s going to die,” they whimper
ed softly to each other, as the Ne
gro woman stifled her own cries
of agony and repeatedly thanked
the white woman who was living
the parable of the Good Samari
tan.
“I remembered,” says Laura,
“that 17 years before I helped Dr.
Oscar Kafer when he had to deliv
er a baby on short notice. He told
me to remember what he did, be
cause I might need to know it some
day.”
She did try to remember. When
the Negro woman’s baby came,
Laura remembered to place it on
its left side, like Dr. Kafer did.
But the baby Laura delivered did
n’t cry. “I turned it over,” she says
“and blew breath into its lungs.”
When the baby let out its first
lusty cry, the little children, out
qn the back porch heard it. The
biggest child led the others as they
started singing “Jesus loves me,
this I know, for the Bible tells
me so.”
Eventually help came, and Lau
ra, exhausted but exultant in her
joy and humble gratitude to God,
wended her way home to pidk up
everything she could find around
the house that she thought Om
family could use.
That night she reported on
schedule for her job at Cherry
Point, and worked the long hours
through. H^r fellow employees,
and others, have since been giv
ing the mother, her kids, and the
husband who was away working
in the pulp woods a lot of things
they’ve never had before.
■rhe biby was a boy, and that
was something of a disappoint
ment to the mother, “I wish it
could have been a little girl,” she
said. “Then I could have named it
Laura.”
No matter where Laura goes,
she always takes her Testament
with her. That’s why she knew
what a fellow employee riding
(Continued on back page)
The NBW BERN
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
IN THE HEART OF
EASTERN NORTH
CAROLINA
Per Copy
VOLUME I
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, MAY 16, 1958
NUMBER 7
I. ainging as she
Mrs. Ralph Warrington provides the organ accompaniment. Actually,
the gifted canine soprano prefers "Indian Love Call" anil her secoml
choice is "Because." Lassie leans toward classical and lemilassicai
compositions so long as the tempo is slow and the nrielody sweet.
She wants no part of Rock and Roll, and rolls her eyes in
utter disgust if you mention Elvis- Presley's name. Her dislike for
Elvis has nothing'to do with his song that casts aspersions on a cer«
tain hound dog. She just doesn't care for hollering when there's so
many beautiful tunes of a more subdued nature.
We would be fibbing is we said that the collie-shepherd pats her
foot while she sings. Instead she uses her tail to keep tune, waving
it back and forth like a metronome.
No one taught Lassie to sing. She loved music and found singing
easjer than playing a violin, clarinet or French horn. To say she has
been a howling success is putting it mildly.
There's nothing especially notable about her ancestry. One in
a litter of unwanted pups that arrived at a home next to the resi
dence of Ma|6r and Mrs. Don Huey, down at Cherry Point, she was
acquired by Huey and sent to the Warringtons.
Lassie-heyer has to sing for her supper. Ralph owns a grocery
and market, so there's always a bone and meat to go with it.
Dramatics All But Extinct in
This Grand City of Ours Now
Suspension, death, or whatever
you want to call it of the New
Bern Little Theater reflects little
credit on this erStwhile “Athens
of North Carolina”—where culture
has ever been claimed if not ex
emplified.
Kame its demise on whatever
you will, the fact remains that
other cities and towns in the Old
North State have been able to
keep their Little Theater groups
alive, and in some instances highly
successful.
Goldsboro, for example, has ac
complished much with its amateur
productions, while New Bern’s Lit
tle Theater couldn’t round up
enough interested fellow towns
men in its presentation of several
plays to total one really creditable
audience.
Some of the blame, no doubt, be
longs to members of the Little
Theater itself.
Besides, and this may be an in
evitable part of show business,
there were rumors of bickering
and feuds in the organization that
didn’t help matters.
But this much must be said for
the Little Theater’s actors, actress
es, directors and other contrU^ljh ipi
ing persons; they at least trietf
to give New Bern the flesh and
blo^ entertainment that it sadly
lacked.
Even the better plays, and some
were excellent, drew only a smat
tering of customers. 'That sad fact
can hardly be blamed on anyone
but the town’s citizens and such
indifference is a reflection on the
entire community.
If ever we needed an interest
in things theatrical, that time is
now. Continuing to drag our feet
with our 250th anniversary observ
ance just around the corner, we
are no more prepared to present
a suitable dramatic pageant than
a cow is equipped to do a ballet.
Kirby Higbe Escaped
Wild Woman Motorist
When Kirby Higbe pitched for
the New Bern Bears, back in the
Coastal Plain’s semi-pro days, his
weird behavior wasn’t confined to
Kafer park.
Arrested for driving his yellow
roadster on the sidewalk, he had a
ready answer in city court
“1 took to the sidewalk to get
mt of the way of a woman driv
er,” he said.
Silent Voters Bring
No Joy to Hopefuls
Candidates campaigning for
election in Craven county’s cur
rent battle of the ballots are more
hopeful than confident as they
get set to enter the home stretch.
All of them have their certain
circle of friends who have pledg
ed support and op.enly avowed
that they will not only vote favora
bly but go all out to see that oth
er citizens do likewise.
Unpredictable, however, are the
thousands of other qualified voters
who aren’t quite so loquacious, and
Iftep the candidate of their choice
to themselves.
Some of these folks are nothing
hiore than dead-heads on the reg
istration books, and won’t be both
ering to vote anyhow. A few, or
perhaps many, haven’t made up
their minds, or might pull a last
minute switch when they ggt to
their polling places.
Voters are like juries—there’s
just no way to figure them, and in
our considered opinion, a monkey
could read their minds as easily
and as accurately as a man.
'i’o begin with, John Q. Public
makes up his mind for all sorts
of reasons when he goes about the
business of voting. Ability nat
urally is a contributing factor. It
is seldom the sole factor, and oft-
times is only secondary, whether
the voter realizes this fact or not.
Tom Dewey, for example, might
have missed the White House be
cause a lot of Americans didn’t
care for that cute little mustache
or the way he combed his hair. Dee,
when he first ran, won with his
smile rather than his brains, while
Mamie’s down-to-earth, next-door-
neighbor ’personality didn’t hurt
when he sought re-election.
Adlai Stevenson is scholarly and
efficient, but few men would pick
him as a fishing companion, and
it’s hard to visualize him walking
around a barnyard and talking the
farmer’s language. Qualifying in
either category might have given
him the votes necessary to achieve
the presidency.
That’s the way it goes. Instinct
ively, we play hunches about this
or that candidate, if we don’t hap
pen to know him personally. If
we do know him personally, wo
don’t vote on issues always, but
cast our ballot for or against on
the basis of little and often trivial
things the candidate has done or
said.
It’s all part of living in a De
mocracy, and whatever the weak
nesses no one has come up with
anything better so far.
This philosophical attitude does
n’t help Craven county candidates
who are groping around in the
dark, to'ing to find out for a cer
tainty just what is what.
Talk is cheap, but most of the
candidates would give a lot to
hear more folks talking, and re
vealing their intentions.
Late Snoozers Always
Depend Upon Alarms
A sample survey by the Mirror
reveals that almost half of the
families in New Bern depend upon
an alarm clock every morning to
get things stirring at their house.
'This, despite the fact that such
folks 'usually sleep a couple of
hours later than early risers who
bounce out of bed of their own
accord.
Ironically, the average dawn
greeter doesn’t have to get up
when he does. More often than
not, he could linger in the bed un
til 8 o’clock or later.
Some . men’s idea of reform is
that they suggest it—others do it.
' - ■ -■' ■' i
A - V
* w
AND IT ONLY COST A QUARTER—"Some fellows have got fishing
poles that cost a hundred dollars. One man my Daddy knows has
more than five hundred dollars in fishing stuff. But I'll tell you
one thing, my cane pole cost only a quarter and I can dig my own
fishing worms right in the back yard. Besides, I catch more fish
sometimes than those fellows with fancy rigs, and talk about funi
You just catch a fish with a cane pole and you—^well, until you do
you ain't lived yet. Just you try it once." That's the story of seven
year old Teddy Baxter, who would rather spend the day along the
beautiful shores of Trent river fishing than anywhere else in the
world.