The NEW BERN
Hits
Box 80S
I «i wopy I
VOLUME 2
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, MAY 29, 1959
NUMBER 9
On a recent sleepless night we
got to thinking about some of the
Marines and their wives who had
New Bern as their temporary
home during World War II.
Forgetting the bad eggs (and
there weren’t as many as complain
ing folks would have you believe)
we recalled a host of wonderful
friends. They are scattered, in
some instances, to points unknown
now, but in that unknown some
where we hope they have found
the happiness they deserve.
None was finer in those dark
days, 15 years ago and more, than
Sgt. John Teppe. You probably
passed him on the street dozens of
times, never knowing that here
was heroism at its best.
Just 21, he didn’t look the part
of a hero. Mild-mannered—almost
effeminate in his neatness, the
blonde, smooth-faced serviceman
wasn’t exactly what movies and
TV programs picture as the typical
leatherneck of that era.
John was with the first raiders
who landed on Guadalcanal, and
the figures he gave us later speak
for themselves. Of the one thous
and Marines—950 enlisted men and
50 officers—in the first force, only
40 came off the island alive. Twen
ty of these 40 were critically
wounded, and one of the worst was
Teppe.
Jap machinegunners had drilled
his right leg full of holes from his
knee to his hip. Three bayonet
stabs in his back bearly missed
the heart. A scalp wqund from
another bayonet thrust caused him
to lose an awful lot of blood.
Somehow, he managed to survive
it all. His condition, and that of
one of his comrades, was so bad
that he couldn’t be moved back
from the front lines for some time.
Eventually, he was flown to Mel
bourne, Australia. Later he was
transferred to a hospital in Cali
fornia, and then, at long last, to
Cherry Point.
For bravery at Grassy Knoll,
where the Japanese had to be lit
erally blasted from caves, he was
awarded the Silver Star. After
Bloody Ridge he was given the
Oak Leaf Cluster.
When John entered action in the
Pacific, he weighed 167 pounds.
When he came out of it, he weigh
ed 118. For 36 days and nights,
he and his fellow Marines were
subjected to constant bombard
ment from the sea, from the air,
and from the hills.
Incidentally, Capt. Jimmy Roose
velt (the President’s son) was with
the first raiders. Teppe told us he
was a great soldier—asking no
special favors and taking more
than his share of chances.
Another Marine we will never
forget was /Pfc Raymond Smith,
who hailed from Bedford, Mass.
He and his wife, Ida, spent their
first months of marriage in New
Bern.
A raider with the Fouth Marines,
he saw action on Guadalcanal,
Guam, Pelu, Munda and the Mari
annas. He received campaign rib
bons for four major battles, and a
Presidential citation.
Through all this bloody fight
ing, Raymond carried a battered
yet tuneful accordion, boosting the
morale of other boys with songs
of the day and the familiar fav
orites that Grandma used to sing.
Perhaps no other accordion in all
the world ever had an existence
' half so colorful. Reinforced with
adhesive tape. Smith’s sturdy lit
tie squeeze-box kept bringing
home sick kids a little bit of home
—a little hunk of America—
through the medium of song.
When he got back to Cherry
Point, he still had the accordion
with him. On nights that he could
get leave, he would come to New
Bern and head for the USO club on
CULTURE FOR THE KIDS—^Every mother wants her chil
dren to have the right environment. Maybe this is what
the killdeer shown here had in mind when she built her
nest and filled it with eggs on the New Bern High school
campus. We can almost hear some teen-age wag comment
ing that he knew all along sphool is strictly for the birds.
—Photo by Billy Benners.
To Town's Colorful Figures
Add Walter Brinson's Name
Announcement that the Craven
Foundry and Machine Co., is ob
serving its 50th anniversary brings
to mind one of its founders—the
late Walter T. Brinson.
Our town has had enough color
ful characters to give community
life a perpetual rainbow hue. Yet,
few individuals—past or present—
have been as fascinating as this
man who divided his time between
business and the great out-of-doors,
and excelled in both endeavors.
When it came to business, Brin
son was as reliable as they come.
Customers and employees alike
knew he wanted no part of a shod
dy piece of work. And, we might
add, the pattern he set for com
plete dependability was so deeply
entrenched in the firm’s operation
that it is still the company’s most
outstanding characteristic today.
As for his love of the out-of-
doors, “Uncle Walter’’ was so fam
ous and popular as a hunter that
celebrities from all over sought
him out. He came along in the local
era that produced sportsmen like
George Nicoll and George Fuller.
The three of them provided de
lightful companionship for Babe
East Front street. There, the ta
lented but unassuming musician
played for hours on end.
Most sleepless nights are un
pleasant, but wakefulness in the
wee small hours has its compensa
tion when you’re remembering
boys like John Teppe and Raymond
Smith.
Ruth, Bud Fisher, Irvin S. Cobb,
Christy Matthewson and Frank
Stevens when these outstanding
visitors headed south for the wood
lands of Carolina’s coast country.
Brinson was always enthusiastic
about hunting deer and birds. Fish
ing had no appeal for him, but it
was typical of the man that he
carried friends down the Neuse on
countless occasions on his boat—
“The Weona”—so that they could
angle for the finny tribe. As for
“Uncle Walter”, he never so much
as wet a line.
That name he picked for his
boat—“Weona”—gave birth to a
ludicrous incident during World
War Two. Coming back from a
moonlight sail with a party, he
tooted for the Trent river draw
bridge.
In keeping with security instruc
tions, the draw-keeper called out
for the name of the boat. When
Brinson replied “Weona” the draw-
keeper said he wasn’t inquiring
about the ownership, he wanted
to know the name of the boat. Aft
er an exchange of choice language,
the thing got straightened out.
One of New Bern’s earliest au
tomobile owners, he purchased a
White steamer, a Cadillac, a Stude-
baker and other vehicles through
the years. One of his hobbies was
second-hand cars, and be actually
filled a warehouse full.
When Craven Foundry and Ma
chine Co., had its origin in 1909,
Brinson’s partners in the venture
were T. G. Hyman and Herbert
Willis. He bought their interests
40 years ago.
Later the firm was incorporated,
with Brinson as president, Clyde
Mason as vice-president, and W. J.
Ipock as secretary-treasurer. Inci
dentally, Mason, who started out as
an apprentice machinist with the
firm in 1917, is now president.
Other officers now serving with
him are Eugene D. McSorley, vice-
president; Jim Ipock, 2nd vice-pres
ident; Virginia McSorley, secreta
ry; and Jim Oglesby, treasurer.
Reminiscent of the days when
Brinson was alive, the relationship
between employers and employees
in the firm is excellent.
Once located down the alley
from Armstrong Grocery Co., on
the block of South Front between
Middle and Hancock, the company
later moved up South Front to
the vicinity of the old Trent river
bridge. It is presently located at
the corner of South Front and
Craven.
The foundry has been discontin
ued in keeping with the times, and
now the firm concentrates on an
automotive service that supplies
customers throughout the eastern
North Carolina area.
In the old days, as Mason easily
recalls, the company handled some
mighty big jobs..in the foundry.
For example, it furnished all of the
castings for nine concrete vessels
constructed here by the Newport
Shipbuilding Company during the
first World War.
On another occasion it had a
$50,000 contract for a fish drier
and supplementary equipment. The
purchaser was Schwartz Engineer
ing Co., of Denver, Colo. It took
two flat cars to transport the order
to Wildwood, N. J.
Frequently, tne company has the
task of cutting and welding rail
road axles for log trains. This was
no trivial undertaking, but as in
the case of all jobs large and small,
the work was well done.
Among the machinists who were
happy to be members of the Crav
en Foundry family were Bill Wat
son, George Stratton, Garret Cook,
Will Braddy, William J. Smith,
Ab Waters and Albert Crabtree.
All swore by “Uncle Walter”
with the same intensity that he
could swear around the shop when
things went wrong. A foundry is a
hot place, under normal circum
stances, but Craven Foundry as a
rule was as cool as a refrigerator,
compared with the inferno that
Brinson stirred up when he blew
his stack.
His fury was as harmless as it
was shortlived. His friends were
legend, and they loved him for the
generous, kind-hearted man that
he was.
One of the pioneers among New
Bern’s volunteer firemen, he was
in his glory in the golden days of
horse-drawn steamers and hose
wagons. But first and last, he was
happiest with gun in hand, in the
woods of the coast country.
Yes, Walter T. Brinson was k
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