Page TWO
THE PILOT—Southern Pines, North Carolina
THURSDAY. MAY 24. 1956 W
ILOT
Southern Pine. North Carolina
“In taking over The Pilot no changes are contemplated. We wiU t^ to keep tto a go^
paper. We will try to make a little money for all concerned, mere there
Sion to use our influence for the public good we will try to do it. And we will treat everybody
alike.”—James Boyd, May 23, 1941.
Southern Pines As A Resort Town
(Second of two editorials))
A perceptive observer, commenting on a re
cent suggestion that the town appropriate more
money for resort advertising, said that if South
ern Pines had no resort background or facilities
and that if ambitious promoters undertook to
create such an activity here, many thousands
of dollars would likely be contributed by per
sons who would see the, good sense and econ
omic promise of such a proposal.
This observer cited the fact that over $450,-
000 was pledged by the people of Moore County
—a great deal of this sum originating in South
ern Pines—in a recent effort to induce a college
to locate here. Yet a pitifully small amount of
money is now forthcoming for maintenance and
promotion of Southern Pines as a resort—that
is, to build and improve an “industry” that^ al
ready is well established, with a half-century
of background and experience, not to mention
a measure of fame and acclaim.
In an editorial last week, we pointed out that
a great many of the permanent, year-round res
idents of Southern Pines are here because this
community is a resort, offering greater attrac
tions than does the average community in en
tertainment, sports and general hospitality.
Improving and promoting Southern Pines as
a resort, therefore, is an activity that cannot be
divorced from the welfare of the year-round
community as a whole. The resort business is
an industry as actual and valuable as a plant
with smoking chimneys.
Southern Pines is not starting on the ground
floor in any such improvement and promotion
effort. Aside from its long resort background
and impressive but yet inadequate facilities
for sports and hospitality, there is now on the
books at town hall an ordinan'be, authorized
by the voters in a 1950 election, that permits
the town to spend for advertising and promo
tion an amount that would be not more than
one-tenth of one per cent nor less than one-
fortieth of one per cent of the total property
valuation here.
At the current proprty valuation of about
$7,000,000, this authorizes an annual expendi
ture of between $1,750 and $7,000. The adver
tising appropriation in the 1956-’57 budget, now
before the council for consideration, is only
$500.
Hotel and many business people think this
sum is fax too little for the town to spend; and
they speak with authority because a number
of them are willing to chip in to help provide
for Southern Pines a coordinated advertising
program that would effectively utilize both
public and private funds.
Under the budget now before the council, at
a time when the No. 1 tou-way project, heavy
equipment replacement and other items have
strained it to the utmost, it may not on such
short notice be possible this year to make any
drastic upward revision for advertising funds.
But we think the council should give town par
ticipation in advertising its careful attention,
with a view toward increasing the appropria
tion in the future, if not this next fiscal year. -
Aside from the matter of advertising, as was
noted by the spokesman who appeared recently
before the council, there should be improve
ment and expansion in our resort facilities.
Mentioned before the council was a Country
Club operated independently of any sponsoring
organization (comparable to the Pinehurst
Country Club) and improvements in golf
courses to make them “as well maintained as
any in the area.” With these points we agree.
Once these moves are made—a Country Club,
better golf courses and more advertising—there
would be created, according to one informed
observer who knows the resort business, a
“climate conducive to further investment.” And
we agree with this observer that major invest
ment in modern hotel facilities here is not like
ly to be made until there is progress toward a
new resort “climate” via the moves suggested
to the council.
While Southern Pines does not have any
strictly modern hotels, neither does Pinehurst,
a notably successful resort, and we do not see
in this fact a major block to a substantial in
crease of resoxA business here. We do think that
the potential resort business here, if properly
developed, would warrant additional modern
hotel facilities. From the sidelines, we make
the suggestion that a kind of cottage colony fa
cility, with central dining room and other con
veniences, may be the type of installation that
would be best suited to the needs of this com
munity and the preferences of the golf and
horse people who like or would like to come
here.
So, we give a boost to those persons who are
anxious to improve the situation here in re
sort facilities and to advertise more effectively.
We agree that these are essential first steps to
other developments in Southern Pines as a re
sort in the future. ''
Rural Zoning: Best Answer To A Problem
In writing about zoning recently in these
columns we noted that zoning is something that
people are inclined to forget about until they
need it to protect their neighborhoods from
some undesirable development—or until they
themselves attempt a project that runs up
against zoning regulations.
This applies, of course, only in an area where
zoning is in force. And nearly all such areas are
within the limits of municipalities, except
around those cities and towns which have tak
en advantage of a North Carolina statute that
authoi-izes them to zone outward a mile from
their city limits on the assumption that this
tcriilory may at some future date become a
part of the city and should therefore be con
trolled in its development.
There is still another and more remote group
who sometimes wish they had zoning regula-
lations— the suburban and rural section resi
dents who find that a peaceful and lovely land
scape has been disturbed by poorly planned
and inadequately engineered developments.
With no recourse whatever, these folks must
watch while trees are cut down, land is strip
ped and cut to pieces by machines, lots are laid
off and an area of beauty is transformed into
Letters To Editor: Everybody Benefits
the site of trailers, unsightly houses or other
developments detrimental to the character Of
the rural neighborhood as it once existed or as
it should, by every dictate of good taste, com
mon sense and intelligent planning, be develop
ed in the future.
The moral of all this is; suburban and rural
residents in areas favored by nature should
look to their surroundings and make sure that
property around them is in the hands of per
sons who will use it well. Lacking zoning, this
is their only recourse—but it is, alas, a recourse
that is by no means always possible or practi
cal.
So, as much as this entire Sandhills resort
area nas at stake, by way of keeping up its ap
pearance for visitors and investors, we think
some suburban and rural areas should be sub
ject to zoning regulations. And we think that
residents of such areas should press for such
regulations before the county commissioners.
A concerted effort by landowners in the Sand
hills area should produce results. 'J/'e are unfa
miliar with rural zoning procedure, but are
confident the matter merits vigorous investiga
tion and county action, eveii though it might
require a special act of the next General As
sembly to authorize the necessary legislation.
An item elsewhere in today’s Pilot notes a
new deadline of Monday noon for letters to
“The Public Speaking” column that appears on
this page. So we take this occasion to tell read
ers again that we welcome letters'on any sub
ject but particularly on those matters which
affect daily life in this community, such as the
two appearing last week about the proposed
site of the new municipal buildings.
Speaking generally and repeating what has
been noted on this page before—we will print
any letter that is not libelous nor obscene, with
this exception: we dislike to print and some
times have not printed letters that are obviousr
ly not original with the writer. We are thinking
of a few letters we have received which were
sent as a means of introducing into print ma
terial originating from a source other than the
writer, designed to serve by their publication,
some special political or commercial interest.
But judicious, original and sincere use of quo
tations within a letter would not, of course, be
barred.
No material that comes into a newsppaer of
fice is treated with more care and respect than
letters to the editor. No doubt it is just because
Crains of Sand
Man With A Hoe
SPRING DAWN IS LIKE THE SPIRIT COMING
Early Morn: The Sun Steals Up
This is the time when you hear
the quail early in the morning.
Maybe it’s their soft whistling
that wakes you, or maybe it is the
loud jays and cardinals talking
pver the day’s plans.
Or maybe it is—not the first
rays of the sun—it’s too early for
that—-but the feel that day is
coming.
Daybreak is a fine word for
certain times of the year, but not
for now. It is too sudden, too
dramatic, too strenuous a word.
The sun steals up these spring
days. As you catch the soft glow
through the trees, not yet fully
alight, that wonderful phrase in
the Bible comes to mind: “The
dayspring from on high.” And
yet, even that isn’t quite right.
The words described the coming
of the Messiah, glorious hope and
faith of the Jewish people in the
coming again of the living Christ.
But, again, that is too strong, too
real, too much of this world for
the coming of the spring dawn.
This is the Spirit coming.
Nodding Shapes
they are accorded such attention that an at
tempt is sometimes made to use them as a prop
aganda vehicle.
The reason editors brighten up when letters
for publication are found in the mail is that
these letters are, above everything else, an ex
pression of opinion. And opinion, especially on
local subjects, is interesting; any reader is chal
lenged to agree or disagree. Thought is stimu
lated—a good thing,for readers, for the paper
and for the town. What makes an editor sleep
really sweetly at night is to have a good contro
versy going between readers, in his letters col
umn, on a subject of dominant community in
terest.
Often, hearing street-corner conversations,
we say to one or more of the persons involved:
“Why not write us a letter saying what you’re
saying right now? People would be interested.”
Usually, no such letters are forthcoming; it is
easier to tall^ than to write. Sometimes—and
one of the interesting letters printed last week
originated in just this way—^people do write, as
well as speak what they think. And when this
happens, everybody benefits.
stairs as she races past to get to
the door. Out she goes, black and^
white shape bounding, and out
you go onto the dewy grass, feel
ing the cold shiver of air creep
suddenly around your shoulders.
Get out where the sun strikes
through; kick off your slippers
and feel the dew between your
toes.
She Saw Again
What was that story? Your
mind searches back: Hans Ander
son or Grimm: something about
the dew in the early, early morn.
Was there a blind girl, a poor girl
or else a princess. . . no middle
classes in fairytales. But she was
beautiful and she was blind. She
walked in the dew of early morn
and someone, an old woman or a
fairy or both in one said; “Bathe
your eyes in the dew of the grass
on yonder hillside, my dear, and
you shall see what you shall see.”
And she did and she saw the fair
world again and the sun coming
up over the hill.
And Tuffet comes racing back
right then and runs in wild cir
cles round and round, like a toy
train on its track. She leans on
the curves, her feathery tail fly
ing, and then she takes off into
the box garden, jumping the low
box hedges as if the place were
an Olympic training course.
In Jubilation
Is it her strenuous appearance
that really wakes the birds? The
quail whistle louder than ever,
but not in alarm: just a sort of
joining in jubilation. Cardinals
have a note of successful achieve
ment in their call. They whistle
to the silent house and, behold.
The Dog came forth!
Summer tanagers have joined
the chorus now, their soft des
cending chuckling adding a touch
of mirth. Jays cackle, a crow
creaks out his squawking caw,
after a good deal of preliminary
old-gentlemian’s morning hawk
ing of the vocal passages. Finally
he gets them clear and then sails
off over the gleaming pinetops.
The very batting of his wings
shows his impatience with the
lowly choristers still down there
in the shadows. —^K. L. B
Reader, Be Brave
•
In mercy to GRAINS readers,
who have no doubt had their fill
of dog and cat ^tems lately, we
have been holding a couple of the
same genre, thinking to slyly slip
them in some week in the future.
But, noting they fit the space
available today, we are throwing
them both at our patient public
in one swoop. May we be forgiv
en and, cross our heart, we will
not mention dogs again in this
column until. . . well, until an
other cute dog item comes along.
Be brave: next week you might
have to read an item about (shud
der) PEOPLE:
Caught In The Act
Pooch troubles again, or near
ly. Only avoided, in fact, by some
unusual thinking and action on
the part of helpful friends.
When we got back from a re
cent trip, Valerie and Silas
Nicholson were there to meet the
train and drive us home. All
talking like houses afire; turned
into Ridge Street, still talking,
and then our eye fell on an an
noyingly familiar object, not to
say character, edging sdong by
the Madigans’ gate.
“Hey! There goes my dog!”
“Where?” says Silas, “That
pooch? That long-haired, black
and white, kind of dirty. . .?”
“Yes,” we said. “That’s Tuf
fet.”
Silas slamjmed on the brakes,
hopped out and started to run
back.
Just then a car drew up' be
side Tuffet, who ran to the curb
wagging her tail. The door swung
open and she hopped in.
Silas ran harder, and let out
a roar; “Hey! You! Stop!”
The car stopped and as Silas
came alongside, a familiar face
peered cautiously out.
“Friend,” said Silas in no
friendly tone, “You’ve picked up
the wrong dog. That’s Mrs. B.’s
dog.”
“It sure is,” said Bud McPhail,
“and that’s why I’m picking her
up to take her home.”
And just then Tuffet drowned
all further conversation by let
ting out a shriek of welcome as
we stuck our head in the window
to apologize and say; “Mr. Nich
olson, please meet Mr. McPhail.”
‘Gracious!” said the good dog-
samaritan, “I thought you were
the sheriff at least!”
And the culprit, Tuffet, shed
hairs on everyone and licked
everyone’s face, and that, for the
time being, was that.
We repeat: for the time being.
The quail are whistling closer.
As the light grows, you can see
them now. Quick movement close
to the low growth of the azaleas.
A nodding of round little shapes,
breasts almost white in the shad
ow of the leaves, the dark, sharp
ly-etched bobbing heads. It is a
covey; or, now, perhaps you’d
call it a family at this stage.
Father, mother, can’t tell how
many children. You can hear
their peeping and see the rustle,
but they keep close; well behaved
are the quail children.
The parents whistle, their mel
odic “bob-white!” and from
across the garden, still dark in
shade, comes an answer: another
brood is out sampling the early
worm.
In fact, a lot of broods, by the
increasing chorus. The thrushes
are fluting, their silver liquid ar
peggios touch the scale, from note
to note, from leaf to leaf through
the trees. The cardinal slips off
her nest in the silver-moon rose-
vine that shades the terrace with
its overgrown clusters, and joins
her mate high in the biggest pine.
Whew! Good to get away from
the children for a bit and stretch
your wings.
Orange and Blue
The light steals quicker now;
the first ray of the sun lights
the sky and catches red birds up
there, turning their plumage to
an orange glow against the pale
blue. And the father lifts his
cocked head and starts his dog
whistling.
Dog? Dog! That’s what you
were subconsciously hearing:
scratch, scratch; knock, toock;
scratch; and then; “W-h-i-n-e!”
from behind you somewhere.
Poor Tuffy! Run and open the
door and almost fall down the
Tarheel Delicacies Lauded
North Carolinians would cast a
heavy vote for barbecue and coun
try cured ham if an election were
held on their “greatest treat” in
the food line.
This was indicated from a sam
pling of tastes among State offi
cials, editors, broadcasters, and
hotel, restaurant ^and food mer
chandising executives by the State
Advertising Division. The straw
vote was conducted to compile the
latest information on North Caro
lina’s favorite food for a Chicago
an who wrote Governor Hodges
that he is writing a story on gas-
tronomical features of all the
states for a national'magazine.
Responding to the request for
the Governor, State Advertising
Director Charles Parker stated
that the “diversity and multitude
of superlative North Carolina
dishes makes it impossible to se
lect one.” He listed three as fol
lows:
Counlry Ham
This is a subject to launch the
Tar Heel gourmet into superla
tives—and words to the wise—be
cause genuine North Carolina
Country Cured Hams are like
great vintages. Only a small per
centage of the State’s extensive
pork production can attain this
exalted estate. Formerly avail
able only direct from farms) with
an especially gifted ham curer,
the art of curing has spread and
genuine North Carolina Country
Hams are finding their way to
wider markets.
This ham is no kin to the pink,
bland product described in the
Tar Heel State as “packing house
ham.” Its origin is a “smoke
house,” and its red meat is redo
lent with the aroma of hickory
smoke. Six months is minimum
age for these hams, and connois
seurs who like their ham really
robust age them with tender care
for two years or more.
The curing process is similar
but there is a difference in flavor
and texture of hams from corn-
fed pigs, and those fed on peanuts
—mostly in the northeastern part
of the State. Peanut fed meat is
softer. Both types have their loy
al following.
N. C. Barbecue
This is succulent young pork,
slow roasted over hickory coals
and hotly seasoned. It is served
coarsely chopped, not sliced or
ground. It is at its prime when
hot off the coals, and is served
that way whqn possible, but it can
be refrigerated and sold through
commercial outlets. The origin of
North Carolina barbecue is lost in
ante-bellum lore, but within mem
ory its preparation has been un
changed in the time-honored
method.
Hushpuppies
This is a corn meal bread, deep
fried, and equally good with North
Carolina barbecue and seafood, of
which North Carolina is an im
portant producer. Legend has it
that hushpuppies originated in
plantation days when slaves cook
ed corn meal batter in grease re
maining in the huge iron skillets
in Which country ham or fish had
been fried, to feed hunting dogs
to keep them from barking while
their masters feasted.
Dogs And The US Postal Service
The Post Office Department,
(national) is biting its nails over
what to do about the cross-dog-
versus-mailman problem.
Certain dogs do not like mail
men. Conversely, or perhaps only
logically, some mailmen do not
like dogs. Som.e dogs just natur
ally go for the postal depart- i
ment’s legs and some of the legs
just naturally kick. Quandary.
Suggestions;
(1) Equip the postal trousers
with padding, or even wire mesh
linings. Objection: too hot and
too heavy and just about impos
sible to walk in the things.
(2> Arm postmen with am
monia-filled guns. Objection:
dogs indifferent; owners furious.
(3) Feed candy to the dogs to
make them friendly. Objection;
then they will follow the mail
man in hordes in the way the
rats did the Pied Piper of Ham
lin; they will lose themselves and
render collection of letters un
duly difficult, also create a traf
fic hazard.
(2) Use psychology by looking
the dog straight in the eye and
refusing to give way. Objection;
Supposing it doesn’t work. . . and
then thpre’s the difficulty of get
ting the right address while look
ing the dog in the eye. And what
about the cross-eyed mailman? A
rarity, perhaps, but, after all,
bitable.
The PILOT
Published Every Thursday by ®
THE PILOT, Incorporaled
Southern Pines, North Carolina
1941—JAMES BOYD—1944
Katharine Boyd Editor
C. Benedict News Editor
Vance Derby Asst. News Editor
Dan S. Ray Gen. Mgr.
C. G. Council Advertising
Mary Scott Newton Business
Bessie Cameron Smith Society
Composing Room
Lochamy McLean, Dixie B. Ray,
Michael Valen, Jasper Swearingen
Thomas Mattocks.
The straw vote also brought out
enthusiastic votes for North Ctiro-
lina oysters, salt herring, spoon
bread, pickles, peanuts, strawber
ries and unusual sweets.
Subscription Rales:
One Year $4. 6 mos. $2; 3 mos. $1
Entered at the Postoffice at South
ern Pines, N. C., as second class
mail matter
Member National Editorial Assn,
and N. C. Press Assn.