Page Sixteen
but before he found him he got the
cigars mixed, and kept the loaded one
himself. Oh no, nothing serious hap
pened; he will be all right in a short
while.
Mr. Landis Burns and Mr. Lee Swag-
erty are going to school, and also mak
ing a shift in the Pot Rooms. They
attend school from 8.30 until 2.30, then
work in the plant from three until eleven.
This speaks well of these young men.
Inspector Brookbank has been confined
to his home for a few days, on account
of sickness. We hope to see him back
on the job soon, for we notice some of
the boys are getting a little careless in
their dress since he has been away.
Mr. “Frenchie” Howison, of the Con
trol Department, was called away by his
Uncle Sam a few days ago on some very
urgent business, the nature of which we
do not know. Yes, Maudie Dear; he
wore his boots.
Ore is coming in more plentifully, and
we hope in a short while to have all the
rooms running again on full time, after
some of them being shut down for awhile.
Mr. Harry Standridge is confined to
his room by sickness. Nothing serious,
we hope.
Main Office Notes
Mr. Wharton will leave the service of
the Company January 31. He is going
to Goldsboro, where he will be connected
with the Barnes-Harold Grocery Com
pany. Mr. Wharton has been in Badin
for quite a few years, and has many
friends here who will regret to see him
leave.
Miss Ruth Kendall, who will be re
membered as former mailing clerk, has
returned from Poughkeepsie, New York,
where she took a stenographic course,
and is now working for the Efficiency
Department.
“Zeb" Robinson, of the Electrical De
partment, is running up and down the
stairs with a much lighter tread lately.
He is now the father of an 8%-lb. baby
girl, Sarah Margaret.
Mr. W. H. Smith, one of the Emerson
engineers of New York, has just arrived
from Massena to install our New Effi
ciency Department in connection with
the Carbon Plant.
Born—To Mr. and Mrs. Fuller, twins,
Caroline and Margaret. The Main Of
fice force extend their heartiest con
gratulations.
—R. V. R.
Laboratory News
Mr. W. G. potson visited St. George,
Charleston, and other points in South
Carolina during the early part of Jan
uary.
At this writing, Mr. Dotson is con
fined to his home, on account of sickness.
We hope that he will soon be well again.
When it comes to snowballing Dermid,
you will find Hunley and Cherry right
on the job.
Mr. J. C. Dick has been sick with an
aching tooth for the past few days.'
Starkey’s Oompah Horn
You may have a taste for music, and
know something of its notes.
Perhaps you pine for Rover's whine or
grunt of youthful shoats.
But of all the blissful earfuls I’ve had
since I was born.
Give me Starkey Burns’s oompah on his
big bass horn!
Some folks prefer Victrolas with Caru
so’s dago guff, ,
Some jazzy souls play raggy rolls of
Badin Drug Store stuff;
Some love to hear the birdies in the
dewy hours of morn,
But give me Starkey’s oompah on his
big bass horn!
To some the grand piano’s voice appeals
at fall of night.
The rolling bones have soothing tones
when they are rolling right:
But there’s something grand and noble,
like a waving field of corn,
In Starkey’s oompah oompah on his big
bass horn!
Gomo was made for violins—he’s scrag-
gly and thin;
The going—cornin’ trombone plumbin’
sore of fits Erb’s grin;
But you’ll never know how Starkey does
this world of ours adorn
Until you see him oompah on his big
bass horn!
When you’re sick of seein’ red rods, and
you're sick of punchin’ pots,
And you hope the bo that hollers “yo”
will see ’em when he rots,
There’s one thing that will cheer you;
all your troubles it will scorn—
It’s old Starkey Burns’s oompah on his
big bass horn!
—J. G. T.
Mrs. York, wife of Mr. York, of our
Cost Department, is now home from her
trip to South Georgia.
“Kernel” John McGregor
When a man first takes hold of safety
work, either as a member of a Safety
Committee—upon whom it is wished—
or, as one of the men on the job—to
whom it is constantly preached—he is
no doubt somewhat skeptical until he
begins to see the fruits of his effort.
His interest is then quickened, and he
naturally begins to dig into this “Safety
Business,” and the deeper he digs the
more he digs up, with the result that
he is generally known as a “Safety Nut.”
Later, as he realizes the great need of
more and more safety work, and recog
nizes its unbounded possibilities, he then
becomes a real enthusiastic worker for
“Safety First” in the home, on the
street, and on the job, and you then
know that he has acquired the highest
rank attainable in the Army of Safety
Workers, that of “Safety Kernel.”
That he is ever alert, not only for his
own safety, but the safety of others;
constantly cautioning the older, and ad
vising the new man, and extending his
aid wherever needed, goes without say
ing, and we hope that before the end of
1920 we may have a regiment of “Safety
Kernels,” such as our friend Uncle John
McGregor.
How It Figures Out
The reason “why” is always a vitial
question, so I stopped beside the road,
and let the old mare browse sedge grass
while I figured it out, and this is it:
“The average Tennessee farmer gets
up early at the alarm of a Connecticut
clock; buttons his Chicago suspenders
to Detroit overalls; puts on a pair of
cowhide shoes made in Ohio; washes in
a Pittsburgh tin basin, using Cincinnati
soap; dries on a cotton towel made in
New Hampshire; sits down to a Grand
Rapids table, eats hot biscuits made
with Minneapolis flour, Kansas City
bacon, and Indiana grits fried in Omaha
lard, cooked on a St. Louis stove; buys
Irish potatoes grown in Michigan, and
canned fruits put up in California, sea
soned with Rhode Island spices; claps
on his old wool hat, made in Philadel
phia; harnesses his Missouri mule, fed
on Iowa corn, with New York harness,
and plows his farm, covered by a Massa
chusetts mortgage, with an Indiana plow.
“At night, he crawls under a New
Jersey blanket, and is kept awake by
a Tennessee dog, the only home product
on the place, and wonders why he keeps
poor.”
—Henry W. Grady