Newspapers / The Alamance Gleaner (Graham, … / Jan. 16, 1947, edition 1 / Page 6
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Whenfcwlnnords" ore Crying the Hues ?N? MMnMKON makes yon fad ink an lb* dickens, brings on stomach ?jni, asor unto, gassy discomfort, toko Or. CaidwoU*s fsmoas modldao to galckly pull the trigger on lory "in oordi~. and holy yen fool bright and d*>nn* |p]t, ML CJUJ>WCU.*S is votultffal m nsiooscrvo coataiaod in good old Syrng Pepsin St maka it as assy to Uko. SSESSk9ft?2S etna nana palatable and agreeable la take. 80 bo aaro yoor looobro ia con tainod ia Sym i'aasia. MST O.t r_JJ> MUt-tbo fe oorHa of niHouo (or SO soars, and fool that nholwini rod of ban con stipa gan. Been taicky children Ion it. catmatt: Uao only aa dbectod. DR. CALDWELL'S STOMA LAXATIVE toaronnn SYUJP FEPSDI Chang* to CALOX for the tonic ?fact oa your tmilo Efficient Calox work* two wyn 11 (dpi rtmore film ... bring oat alf the natural lustre of four utile. 2 A special ingredient in Calox encourages regular massage... which has a tooic effect on gums ... hdpi make them firm and rosy. 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I loiiMl at bar nau mini fraa* tba l| HmuI: ?I tMSiwi ui Hiatj .n? || >a vttkawMUac u4 kvihi k aw Bs&s??ssr-1,--',a II jgaa^Mi tjj^t Uk?a my. UM b 11lllfil.Bi ^ 11 Hbg CROSS TOWN By Roland Cot BOBBY SOX Marty Uakt "It isn't the Initial cost, it's the npkeei LUl "Do joa think Infrid Bercman wasted half HER lite coins to school too?" __r^ By Ernie Bushmiller NANCY OH. BOY THEY'RE M, GETTING READY M tO BLAST IN ^ ?\ THAT FIELD AGAIN M MUTT AND JEFF (that's a fine y yeH.^I k4UITTLE soy you joeys SOT THERE. R6 FINE < soisX WILBUR.*) WELL. WELL.'THE V SMlLED^i STORK SORE (0NME?| SMILED ONVfaU I 1? MR.ATOM^-p-^ >, f he laughed out \ Uloud in My FACE'J By Bad Fisher I LITTLE REGGIE / LOOK AT THAT SUEET LITTLE ) 0OY PLAYING 1NOIAN / V CUTSIOE THE WINDOW | ) s B&OTY/ ?\v/VV By Margarita /1C\ \l III JITTER r By Arthur RECLAR FELLERS JfcG-e Byrne* VIRGIL l I I UKE TO THMK Of XJUASt*/MAM A MM! MHO ALU > ^MQWtMIOOUZtJ ?/ AMM4WH0M rMMN(UCK?nn) , ?JUfT BREATMIMC / \M3URNN? J ?)l - ^ AOUHMEAMUJOH \ \ yBMfcN AT xx? fen / -TVEV SIMOON WHB4 , I >OUCOT)tOSS THEM") ^ 2T7dnr=^L f MXyREM ( uxkc?) By Len Kleis SILENT SAM By Jrf H?ye? Ig 1 Hope m Eternal ? By Gwynn J?n WNU Feature*. FPITAPH JONES closed,the door of the crazy old cabin with a resounding bang. He gave the house a malignant look before he turned and stamped noisily off the sagging porch. Though he looked a carefree fig ure, Epitaph's thoughts were acute-,, ly painful. "A weepin' woman. Al ways a-weepin*. Livin' in lux'ry, a lovin' man, all the work she can do and still she weeps. No sooner she stops weepin' for one thing she be gins weepin' for somethin' else. Weep and cry?cry and weep, till I gotta find me some real sunshine somewhere, quick." As though drawn by a magnet, his feet climbed a steep street, passed a pool hall, a fruit market, a barber shop, a pawn shop. He .turned through a white-washed gate into a neat yard where red tubs set on great gray stumps waited their sum mer cargo of flowers. Epitaph's knock was answered by a trim young woman who greeted him with a pleased laugh. "Why, how-de-do, Mr. Jones. I was jest sayin' to myself X wisht that nice Mr. Jones would drop along and here you come promenadih' in. Do have this easy chair, Mr. Jones, and lemme take your hat." Tearful spring had drifted into gracious summer and summer had faded into frost-tinted autumn when Epitaph again crossed the black and gray ash heaps where grimy chil dren and bony goats still swarmed. He did not swagger now. His rai ment was as natty as ever and his cap still clung at a rakish angle but there was a chastened air about him. He had a look of one who has suf fered a grievous disillusionment. "Why how-de-do, Mr. Jones. I was Jest saym' to myself I wisht that nice Mr. Jones would come alone." Pausing before the crazy old cab in, he surveyed it fondly. Then he tip-toed across the sagging porch and slowly pushed open the protest ing door. A TALL thin woman in a dejected ** black dress appeared from an inner room. She saw Mr. Jones and began to laugh. Mr. Jones felt the universe reeling. Sissy laughing! "Why Sissy, I thought you was such a weepin' woman. You sick Sissy?" "No indeedy. Never felt better in my life. Come right in, Epitaph." Sissy trilled merrily. "How come you to change so. Sissy?" Sissy chuckled, "Well, when you went off with that gigglin' Cyrene I took a thought to myself. If that no-account Cyrene can laugh anoth er girl's man away from her, I says, I better learn me some laughs too. so I did." Epitaph shuddered as at a prick ling memory. "But Sissy, I don't like laughin' women. Can't you weep jest a lit tle, Sissy?" "No, fll weep no more. How come you stayed at Cyrene's so long if you don't like laughin' women, Epi taph?" "This morn in' she got a?a kind of laughin' 'fit and throwed a ham mer at me. So I took it was kind of a hint and I jest uatchelly snuck out and left. Hammer hit mo, too." "Ain't that a shame. Cyrene didn't ought to act so. Now me when I have laughin' fits I jest hurl flat irons," and Sissy caught up one that stood on a near-by table and ad vanced on her guest in a perfect gale of merriment. npHE west was still bright when 1 Epitaph beached his boat on the sandy shore. A crooked path led him to a small clearing in a wood. On a ragged blanket before a ram shackle hut built mostly of packing cases and tin strips, sprawled a man, idle, relaxed, half-hidden in a haze of rank tobacco smoke. A scrawny hound, equally relaxed, dozed beside him. As Epitaph Jones gazed on jhat peaceful scene a sense of relief, of security, swept over him. The man on the blanket looked up. He spoke with a rare economy of effort. "Hi, Epitaph. Make y'sef t'home. Meet m' sis' 'Vang'line." He closed his eyes, exhausted. Epitaph shivered?half turned to flee. Then he made an about-face. Said Mr. Jones most politely, "How-de-do, Miss 'Vangeline, I jest dropped in to see would you like me for a steady boarder. I need me a change of climate, bad, and with you I could dwell forever In one apex of ?dJMr. Jonas in an ecstatic burst of D ECORD crowds set new marks at the turnstiles last' season in practically every sport. But what has become of the color that ths games once knew? There is prob ably, or possibly, greater skin and ability around than sport ever has known. But it is quite possible that the big gates and the bigger pay, for pros and college alike, have throttled a vital quality of competi tion. I think it has. The pay check now dominates the scene. Ton might ask me Just what eolor is. Here's one answer?Babe Ruth. Jack Dempsey, Bobby Jones, Bill TUden, Man o'War, Tommy Hitchcock, Earl Sande, Dlsxy Dean (in capital letters), Walter Ha (en, Extermina tor, Knute Rockne, _ (also in capital let ters), George Gipp, Hurry-op Tost, Bob Znppke, Pepper Martin and Frank Dlziy Dean Frlscb. Each one ol these was a ehamplon, hot some thing more than a ehamplon. For each one had a crowd appeal that is sadly tacking today. For example, Leo Durocher of the Dodgers has drawn more comment than any Ave managers. Leo tan great manager. But a targe flock or this publicity has come from details far apart from baseball. Ted Wil liams drew more words, favorable and unfavorable, than any other baU player last year. So Ted must have had a type of color. They at least knew he was around, liking him or hating him. Joe Louis has the color of ring perfection?one of the greatest fight ers of all time. But outside of thie Joe is an extremely quiet fellow who doesn't like the great bright spotlight. 'Just Business Men' In Ben Hogan and Byron Nelson, golf has two of the greatest golf ers the ancient Scottish game has ever sent to the fairways. But who could say they were in the same class with Bobby Jones and Walter Hagen or Gene Sarazen for crowd appeal? They are two prominent business men who can break 70, coL lect their dough and move along. Stan Mnsial, one of the nicest people yon ever met, a great ball player, the top ol the year, isn't colorful In any sense of the word. Stan to just a great ball player. Be wants to be nothing else. Neither is Eddie Dyer, an able manager and a great fellow. Sport today has be come big business. There is plenty In the way of sport left, but with the billions, not the millions, in volved, a lot of color has seeped out. r I was talking about this color angle with Frank Frisch, the New Rochelle flower expert. "Just what is color?" I asked Frisch, as Johnny Kieran cocked an attentive ear, a > Kieran habit when any information is coming along. "The basis of all color," Frisch sai4, "is always ability first. No punks get by. Many have tried to use color, or so-called eolor, in the place of ability. It won't work. Color means Dempsey, Jones, Hiteheoek, Grange, etc., all stars. Color Is also a natural quality. It ean't be faked. Two of the meet colorful ball players of all time were Babe Ruth and Dlrxy Dean. They were naturals. They always were exactly what they were. Human and likable, luit great artists. M they were real?not phonies. Hew that mob can spot a phony. Game's the Thing Now "The game doesn't need color to day," Frisch said. "You can start a dog fight between two terriers and draw 10,000 people. Ball clubs that were far down in the second division drew from 800,007 to 1.000,009. Football games that meant nothing except another football game were sellouts. Today it is the spectacle, the contest, that fills a stadium or a park, not any outstanding star. It's the game, the show today, not an individual star." This is all true. It all ma7 be for the general good of sport. After all, only the game counts. But de spite this any writer hanging around for human copy misses Hagen, Wad dell, Yost, Zuppke and many others who had a certain hu man appeal that so few have today. Sport competitors are serious pea ple working at a big job now. Most of them have outstanding ability. But with too many it is more big business than sport. The pressure Is heavy. The big idea Is winning. Today we have only a few left? and 1 can't even remember their names. Joe Louis? The top cham pion of them all?who limits his pub licity to ring efficiency. In baseball we have Ted WiHiams-who to stfll a big story when be flops. Stan Musial, the best ball player in the game today, to just the best ball player. He has no interest in any outside headlines. Football coaches ?able business men with a big job to do. No particular color. Mo Morbus, no Zuppke. no Yost. It may bo bot tertotaway.^
The Alamance Gleaner (Graham, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Jan. 16, 1947, edition 1
6
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