Page Two
THE PILOT—Southern Pines, North Carolina
Friday. December 30. 1949
THE PILOT
Published Each Friday by
THE PILOT. INCORPORATED
Southern Pines. North Carolina
1941—JAMES BOYD. Publisher—1944
KATHARINE BOYD Editor
VALERIE NICHOLSON Asst. Editor
DAN S. RAY General Manager
C. G. COUNCIL Advertising
Subscription Rates: '
One Year $3.00 6 Months $1.50 3 Months 75c
Entered at the Postoffice at Southern Pines. N. C..
as second class mail matter
Member National Editorial Association and
I N. C. Press Association
A Happy New Year
The old year now away is fled,
The new year it is entered;
Then let us now our sins down-tread,
And joyfully all appear;
Let’s merry be this day.
And let us now both sport and play:
Hang grief, cast care away!
God send you a Happy New Year!
And now with New Year’s gifts each friend
Unto each other they do send:
God grant we may all our lives amend.
And that the truth may appear.
Now, like the snake, your skin
Cast off, of evil thoughts and sin.
And so the year begin:
God send us a Happy New Year!
(From “New Carols,” 1642, to the tune of
“Greensleeves”)
1950—Another Year
This coming year of 1950, which marks the
end of the first half of this century, may well be
looked upon as a year of some consequence, ^ike
the last few days of Income tax time, there is a
feeling of some tension, connected with it: an
urge to crowd into it a few of the things that
have not been done and that ought to have
been done, in all the other years. There is an:
“on your mark: get set” feeling in the air.
To look back through the neatly divided cal
endar of time is to experince a feeling of de
cided confusion. The things that should be steps
in a march of progress too often have seemed to
lead nowhere. Motion has been chaotic rather
than straight ahead. We seem to have gone
through the years floundering in a sort of cos
mic whirlpool, batted about by this wave or
that. There have been the big waves of mech
anical discovery: when we started to take to
the air, the inventions relating to the radio, or
atomic energy, or something truly revolution
ary like the ability to climb into a box on
wheels, press a button, step hard o^n a pedal and
take off up the street in a whoosh of dizzy
speed. Each of these has done amazing things
to our way of living and thinking, each has
flung us out of one whirlpool, but only to dump
us over into another. Perhaps they are progres
sive steps of a sort: Time Marches On! But the
question remains: where to and in what fash
ion?
Take the matter from another angle, with
only this one year of 1950 to go: what sort of
things do we feel an urge to cram into it? Are
they the same sort of things! more inventions,
more discoveries? Do we crave to be able to add
a few more stations to the range of our radio?
Do we hope that someone will come out with
a better way to deliver the bomb?
To put the case simply: do we hope to find
a way to make the old car go more and faster
miles to the gallon or, just possibly, would we,
instead, like to be able to record, in 1950, a de
crease, instead of the expected increase in the
number killed on our highways?
Would we like in 1950, to list “International
Control of Atomic Energy” instead of “Bigger
and Better Bombs for America;” or “UN Moves
Toward World Government” instead of “Con
tinuation of the Cold War” or, worse still: “The
Cold War Turns Hot.”?
It seems to come down to that. The fifty
years now drawing to an end have seen perhaps
the greatest advance along material and scien
tific lines ever made in a comparable time, but
they have been made at the expense of the hu
man spirit. In domestic affairs: labor and man
agement are locked in inextricable combat with
the problem of the maintenance of individual
initiative in an assembly-line, mechanized civ
ilization looming over both sides. In the field
of government, the problem of how to preserve
our individual freedom while carrying out the
intelligent planning needed to avoid an econ
omic and personal collapse which would actual
ly threaten mankinds survival remains per
haps the greatest question of this age. Interna
tionally, of course, we have gone through two
terrible wars to emerge, it is true, with a sort of
world organization, but the outlook for its sur
vival is not too bright.
1950, just one year, is too short a time to do
much about all that, but there is no doubt that
the curious tension with which this year is be
ing approached is due to peoples’ realization of .
past failures and of agonized wanting to do bet
ter.
Perhaps that is the best message that New
Year’s Day can bring us: the simple fact of its
existence as another chance.
The Hero Was A DP
It was fitting that President Truman should
include in his Christmas message the plight of
the refugees. These victims of the war have
been living ever since in a state whose physical
misery is only surpassed by its spiritual deso
lation, as the years go by and the hope of suc
cor r'ades.
“We must not forget,” the President said,
“that there are thousands and thousands of fam
ilies homeless, hopeless, destitute and torn with
despair on this Christmas Eve.”
One of the first things to be brought before
the Senate at the start of the new year will be
the measure to extend the Displaced Persons
Act so that more of these people may find a
haven here. Passed by the House, the measure
has been blceked till now in a Senate commit
tee.
It goes without saying that a great many
people favor enlarging the number of DPs to be
brought here. They know the situation; they
know also that such small countries as Eng
land, with her terrific problems, and little Hol
land and Denmark, have far surpassed us in the
number taken care of, and they are ashamed
that America, with all her wealth and space,
should be so ungenerous. But there are others
who oppose this whole idea. Some of thena, in
cluding their leaders in the Hearst and M'cCor-
mick press, are against the program because of
their congenital opposition to anything that
smacks of generosity, but why are the run-of-
the-mill folks against it?
There appear to jae three main reasons: (1)
that DPs take jobs away from Americans; (2)
that Communists will get into the country pos
ing as DPs; (3) that those who have come have
been a liability, poor types and unsuited to their
jobs.
As to the first point: Thus far those who have
come have been either farm hands or household
help. The supply of such labor in this country
is way below the demand. Also, it is hoped to
increase the number of scientists, doctors, tech
nicians, etc., for which there is an unlimited
need.
As to communists getting in: the DPs are put
through screenings by eight different organi
zations, including the army and the F.B.I.. This
is a far more severe test than anything any other
entrant into the country has to endure. It seems
likely that the one place a spy would keep away
from would be the DP quota office.
The third point brings up the legislation it
self. Taking into consideration the fact that it
is the people who make trouble that we hear
about and that tlie great majority have fitted
admirably into their new homes, there is this
to be said: Congress has appropriated so little
for this program that it has not ben possible
for this program that it has not been possible
to administer it efficiently. There simply is no
money available with which to pay the admin
istrators and inspectors who are needed so that
the government can check up on the DPs, or
even supervise the agencies who, under the pro
visions of the bill, do the actual work of sel
ecting them and fitting them to the jobs. Given
these conditions it is miraculous that the pro-
grom has worked as well as it has.
It is time to change this state of affairs. The
program should be extended, it should be given
enough money so that it can be properly run.
There is little doubt, that it is not only our duty
to help these people and to carry on America’s
high tradition of generous welcome to refugees
from oppression, but it is to our interest as well.
Leave them where they are in their misery
and they are prime meat for Communism, but
bring them here and treat them right and most
of them should prove as fine citizens as we
could wish for.
The recently published story of how a young
man in Philadelphia risked his life in a delicate
operation to help a child is pertinent. “The
. hero,” the story goes, “was a young Austrian
DP.’ He is quoted as saying: “This is my chance
to repay the debts I owe this country.”
Still Wishing
Last year at this time, the Pilot wrote out
a few New Year’s wishes. They involved things
that many people in Southern Pines appeared
to be hoping would come true in the year that
is just finishing its course. Three of them: the
gymnasium, cafeteria and auditorium, though
they cannot be listed as coming true in 1949 are
going up very fast on the hill along Massachu
setts Avenue and their completion is a matter
of weeks or, at most, a couple of months. But
what of the other things we wished for?
Perhaps the less said the better. That list
makes mournful reading, for the end of this
year finds most of it still a wish.
First on the list was a new jail. Everybody
agrees that Southern Pines badly needs a mod
ern structure to take the place of the present
brick box. It would hold, besides the necessary
cells and a couple of rooms for penniless trans
ients, proper offices for the police department.
“An industry if it’s the right kind, and not
an-industry, if it’s the wrong kin(i” is the next
, item. That wish still goes. . . and is still in the
wish stage.
And then, what of the perennial wish: a bus
I station. Here is something that is really a crying
need. The Chamber of Commerce is wrestling
with it and it is Said that a group of business
men could be found to put up the money need
ed to get the thing started. May 1950 see this
wish fulfilled!
There is one more wish that was not included
in last year’s list, but it has often been voiced
in these columns: that is, the need, to have a
county commissioner elected from Southern
Pines. In our estimation, if we could get the
right man on the board in Carthage, it would
be a real achievement. That’s another, and, for
the time being, our last wish for 1950!
Our esteemed colleague, Mr.
Hippus, handed us a letter the
other day. “Here,” he said, “How
about running something interest
ing in your column?”
We don’t know just how he
meant us to take that, but, for
this time, anyway, his views and
ours on what is interesting hap
pen to coincide. Ordinarily we
don’t meddle with hacking or
hunting, pastern's or withers, or
coffin-bones, (how’s that, E.O.)
but for this once we don’t mind
saying he has something. Especial
ly since it seems to have the name
of a well-known short story
yriter, as well as horseman, at
tached to it.
'The letter is from Almet Jenks.
Starting with a welcome word of
praise for our Special Issue, in
which his witty column on ‘Writ
ers’ Colony” appeared, it goes on
with the remarks to which, doubt
less, our equestrian expert was
referring^ as follows:
“Thank you for what you wrote
about Fireman,” (the fine bright
bay hunter, bought from W. A.
Laing, who was Mr. Jenks’ favo
rite mount during the years when
he hunted here.) “You will be in
terested to know that some two
years ago I gave him to Arthur
Anderson, (of J. P. Morgan Co.)
who had hurt his back and could
only hack gently. His son-in-law
promptly took to larking Fire
man and the old horse ended his
days among the economic royalists,
hock-deep in golden straw, clipped
and groomed to the eyes, and
made much of.” Mr. Jenks goes
on to say that the old hunter’s
happy days eqded finally this
fall, “and we felt very bad indeed.
He was a noble horse.” A lot of
people in Moore County will echo
that last remark.
And a lot of them will be de
lighted to know that the Jenks
letter closed with the lines: “We
hope to get away for a while, in
February or March, and if we do
we’ll surely pay the Sandhills a
visit.”
That is good news. It’s been
much too long, Jenkses.
From the Pilot’s Christmas
mailbag came a score of good
messages from old Sandhills
friends. One which was intriguing
with a lovely photograph of wav
ing palms, turned out to be from
Elizabeth (Mrs. Guy) Whittall. Jt
is postmarked “Nassau, Bahamas,”
and she says: “We moved here in
September, after a short vacation
in the states, including a glorious
drive to Florida,” (Huh? Why
Florida!) “We are comfortably
and happily settled here and mak
ing the most of 'Vreeland's last
winter with us before going away
to school next fall. Penny arrives
in a few days and we expect a
happy Christmas in our new
home.”
Are there others who share the
Pilot’s inability to believe that
bushy-haired little witch of a
Penny and small Vreeland are
actually traipsing about in the
grown-up would? Time has gone
jet-propelled.
From Alan Innes-Taylor comes
the news that he is back in the
army, and in his old command, at
the head of the Arctic Training
division out in Colorado. “And
delighted to be here.” Lucky Alan
and lucky army to get him back.
The Nelson Hydes write: Don’t
you ever get up this way any
more?’! Tit for tat, folks . . .how
about slipping southward? Time
you did, you know. Lots of news
worthy happenings around here.
Margaret and George Richard
son remembered the Pilot with a
charming scene of a New Eng
land winter. Just by way of con
trast to their present surround
ings, we suspect.
From Long Island comes a gay
card from the Blisses, (whose
Missus is the former Polly Lover-
ing of Jackson Springs.) “It Would
be nice to see you,” they say. The
same to you, dear friends, and a
hundred times. Inhere are lots of
folks hereabouts who would echo
that statement.
Hugh and Louise Kahler, (yes
they still cling to their piece of
land out on the hill near the
Butler place,) send greetings from
Princeton, where they spend four
days of every week, the other
three being passed in a hide-out
in New York. Hugh is fiction
editor for the Ladies Home Jour
nal, wherefor this hither- and-yon
existence. “Busy, but I really love
it.” he told the Pilot. Just the
same, he asks a lot of questions
about the Sandhills and his
friends here:Charlie Picquet, the
Butler family,Ger'trude Page, Mrs.
■Wiley, and many another.
Most ferociously pounced upon
were the Pilot’s two cards from
Eve and Faie Ewart, those two
young Scots of Glasgow, who
spent most of the war years here.
Eve’s card is headed very formal
ly “School of Physiotherapy,
Glasgow Royal Infirmary.” She
is working there, now, a fact
which sadly prevented her from
paying a return visit to this
country last summer. “But maybe
someday we’ll have a vacation!”
That’s what a lot of people around
here hope, too. Eve.
Faie’e little card sings a song
of Christmas cheer; “A wish that
you’ll be happy, and lots of fun,
my dear.” The same to you, dear
Faie, from the Pilot and your
many friends, both two and four-
footed, hereabouts.
We think the ghost of Faie’s
best friend of all. Cock, would
add a crow to that remark. How
many Sandhillers remember how
she used to take him down town
for walks and feed him ice-cream
cones outside the Broad Street
Pharmacy? A delighted crowd of
every size and hue used to collect
to watch the show, especially to
see Faie spank him across his tail
feathers when he didn’t mind his
table manners.
One of the saddest days of
Faie’s young existence was the
time Cock was beaten for first
prize in the Pinehurst pet show
by a hen entered by the Mc
Mahan girls. “And I taught that
hen how to show off! Every trick
she knew she learned from me
and Cock!” said Faie, and there
was real tragedy in her tones.
Dear, dear: Those were the days!
Dr. Michael Pishko was Santa
Claus twice on Christmas morn
ing delivering a baby early,
then swapping his OB whites for
a red Santa suit and beard for the
Hospital Auxiliary party for the
patients. . . Carolyn Chatfield, of
Brownsville Junction, Maine; Who
is visiting here, received a Christ
mas package from Brownsville
addressed to “Isle of Pines, N. C.”.
—got here, too! . . .
Nice to see the Rev. F. C. Brown
visiting with friends around the
streets—says he enjoys his new
life at the University of the South
at Sewanee, but it makes him
feel on the antique side to have
the son of a former classmate of
his in one of his classes now!
Happy New Year, Jean Barrow,
dowp at the N. C. Sanatorium—
we hope next Christmas you will
be home, and have something bet
ter than just a picture of your
little son Teddy to look at. . .
You’re a brave girl, and we’re all
for you. . . We hope 1950 will
bring you the best gifts in the
vorld—health, happiness and
home.
Do you have a player piano?
Slruthers Burt used to have one,
and doesn’t any more. . . But he
still has a lot of music rolls—
rare and beautiful ones, really
fine music, which it’s a shame no
one is using. . . Struthers thinks,
too, it’s a shame, and will give
them away to anyone who can
use them. . . If you can, here’s a
wonderful find for you. . . Call
him at his home, 6261.
Madeline Prim, secretary of the
Merchants association, in her new
office next to the Chamber of
Commerce office is about to go
crazy because no one knows she
has a new telephone and tele
phone number. . . The phone in
the Chamber of Commerce office
is always ringing and she has to
jump up and go chasing in there
to answer it. . . So, folks, if you
have business with Madeline, call
her new number, 7345. . . And
you might write it down some
where till the new phone books
come out.
appropriate classic—
cr else.
“I withdrew the cork fron
first bottle and poured the con
tents down the sink, with the t
ception of one glass, which
drank. I extracted the cork fri
the second bottle and did like
wise, with the exception of
glass, which I drank.
the fourth sink and poured the
bottle down the glass, which I
drank. I pulled the bottle from
the cork of the next and drank
one sink out of it, and threw the
rest down the glass.”
“I pulled the s;nk out of the
next glass and poured the cork
down the bottle. Then I corked
the sink with the glass, bolftled
the drink, and drank the pour.
■When I had everything emptied.
I steadied the house with one
hand, counted the bottles, corks,
glasses and sinks with the other
which were 29, and as the house
came by I counted them again,
and finally had all the houses and
one bottle which I drank. . .”
The 1949 turkey crop in North
Carolina, was about 35 per cent
larger than last year.
From the Pilot files:
TEN YEARS AGO
Christmas afternoon.
avenue and May street.
Fort Bragg, as judge.
Anonymous letter-writer com
at Dost office.
TWENTY YEARS AGO
No Christmas issue—Pilot
ployees took holiday.
Fields Plumbing & Heating Co.
PHONE 5952
PINEHURST. N. C.
All Types of Plumbing, Healing.
(G. E. Oil Burners)
and Sheet Metal Work
DRY CLEANING SERVICE
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Custom Tailored by Our Mr. Frank
Tweed Hals and Bags—
Hadley Cashmere Sweaters
Sales Room
Midland Road Between Southern Pines and Pinehurst
For Appointment or Station Wagon Transportation
Phone: Southern Pines 5812 — Pinehurst 4832
OUGHT TO SEE WELL AND BE COMFORTABLE. MANY
SCHOOL CHILDREN AS WELL AS GROWN-UPS NEED
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CHANGING.
COME TO SOUTHERN PINES FOR ALL EYE COMFORT SER
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YOU WILL LIKE OUR GOOD WORK AND PROMPT SER
VICE. BROKEN OR WORN OUT GLASSES FIXED IN A
HURRY. IF YOU BRING THEM TO US.
H. M. Smith
OPTICIAN
Southern Pines and Dunn, N. C.
1
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To Nov. 1,1950 - MEMBERSfflPS
Junior (under 18)
25.00
Ladies ......
60.00
Men
75.00
Man and Wife
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100.00
PROFESSIONAL
JIMMY OVERTON