The N£W BERN
PUBLISHID WIIKLY
IN THI HBAIIT OP
lASTIRN NORTH
_ ^AROLINA
>eisse 02155
VOLUME 16
NEW BERN, N. C. 28560, FRIDAY, APRIL 20, 1973
NUMBER 6
!«K*Mw.vav
Yestarday was ^idien Mrs.
Carrie Cole remained as young
as dawn, \riiile teaching children
in a Sunday school class at New
Bern’s First Baptist Church
that she had presided over for at
least 60 years.
Hers was a remarkable
record of unselfish service for
One Who said, “Suffer the little
children to come unto me, and
forbid them not, for of such is
the kingdom of Heaven.’’
It always seemed to us that
Mrs. Cole had indeed
discovered the fountain of
youth, and did it right here at
home by learning to laugh at
herself, and face life with a
merry song in her heart.
She was a girl of 18 when she
flrst turned her thoughts to
teaching, and when Carrie Cole
made up her mind about it, she
made it up for keeps. It had
been a labor of love, in sunshine
and rain, with a little snow
mixed in.
Hundreds, in fact thousands,
remembered how they used to
be prim and stiffly starched in
her class, singing “Jesus loves
me, this I know, for the Bible
tells me so.’’
This durable New Bemian
had many memories, most of
them pleasant, some of them
comical. For instance, there
was the time she made the
remark in class that she’d like
to get a new hat for Easter, but
didn’t have the money to buy
one.
Whereupon, little “Jimp”
Lucas said quite loudly and
emphatically, “You ought to
have enough money. Miss
Carrie, I’ve been bringing you a
nickel every Sunday.’’
Yesterday was when, during
the grim years of World War II,
we wrote these lines about John
L. Lewis:
A half a million men on strike,
to get a boost in pay, while
Lewis scrowls and shakes hs
head, and vows to have his
way He won’t take any or
ders, not John L., no indeed,
what matters if the nation is in
its hour of need?
What matters if the kids we
iove-are doomed to die in war,
he still can play at being God,
and smoke his big cigar He’ll
never hide in fox holes, as
planes swarm overhead, he’ll
never lie in blood stained mud,
and wish he had a bed.
Yet, Lewis shares the
heritage that others fight to
keep, and endless crosses, row
on row, prove that the price is
steep This town has helped to
All the graves of heroes, as you
know, our boys were true to
dutv’s call, and unconcerned
with dough.
Remember Robert Con-
dermman, and Whitehurst,
Peek and Cook? They never
squawked for overtime, or gave
a dirty look....And though they
didn’t work in mines, or dig one
hunk of coal, each lit the lit^t of
freedom, and did it with his
sod.
Around the world the news
has gone about . this tragic
strike, it’s just the sort of
treason that the Axis powers
like....But soldier in the
trenches, I wonder how they
feel? The game they play is one
(Continued on page 8)
A FRIEND IN NEED — All of us need someone to
cling to, when things go wrong. Katherine, 10 month
oid daughter of Mr. and Mrs. W. K. Wiiiiams of Route
1, Richiands, is no exception as she tearfuiiy em
braces her cuddiy bear, and grieves with an intensity
that is part and parcei of chiidhood. Fortunateiy, sor
row is fieeting for the very young, so Doris Smith at
Wray’s Studio had to be quick with her camera to
record this unhappy moment on fiim. This we must
say, even when scowling the little lady is lovely.