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.

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