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Without doubt, the most hallow
ed of all, stage traditions is the
proud boast that, come what may,
the show must go on.
Amateurs as well as professioit-
als have been known to go to great
lengths to abide by this theatrical
edict.
Red Bond, Methodist lay leader
who hails from Dyersburg, Teiin.,
and is much in demand all over
America as a religious speaker, dis
played the same sort of attitude
-last Monday night.
lie was on no .stage, but in the
pulpit of Centenary Methodist
church here. Seated before him
were 620 laymen who had braved
rain to assemble for the annual ral
ly of the New Bern district. They
, - had come from churches large and
small in Craven and surrounding
j counties.
, Bond, a gangling, conscientious
man, works for Southern Bell Tele-
^phone but spend as much time as
he can campaigning for the Chris
tian faith. Born on a farm, and
* never one to hide his rural man-
jt , nerisms, he has a knack for speak-
' ing that polished orators and learn
ed preachers Often fall short of.
His delivery is casual, and he fol-
lows the'popular format of a few
I; humorous stories, with a serious
»* message sandwiched in between.
Monday night he was in excellent
form, and his listeners had no ink
ling of Jthe'emotional strain hfe was
under. '
Not until he was closing out his
: •barrier, Ms ^tbguter had
busbf iiijured in an automobile aO-
cldent hundreds of miles'away,
along with several; other persons.
details virere still labking when
he-delivefed his'adidress, and it’s
easier, to visualize his anguish than
it is to understand how he,was able
to fulfill his speaking engagement.
K took good nerves and raw cour
age in equal proportion.
The way that Red Bond sur
mounted extreme stress brings to
mind another dramatic occasion.
This time it was the First Baptist
church, and the present organ was
bdng dedicated.
Minor C. Baldwin, an elderly
musician whose exceptional talent
was set off impressively by his
snow-white hair, came here for a
Sunday evening service devoted
entirely to his organ renditions.
Those who were fortunate
enough to hear him will never for
get the majestic notes that filled
the sanctuary. A breathless hush
hung over the .congregation, as
tones alternately tender and force
ful burst forth in response to the
touch of inspired fingers. '
When the dedicatory service was
over, Baldwin shuffled out into the
night, his head bowed in grief.
Shortly before the time for the
evening service, his beloved wife
had died unexpectedly in their
room at the local hotel. Without
breaking the news to the congre
gation at the First Baptist church,
he showed up as scheduled and
played flawlessly despite the per
sonal tragedy that weighed heavily
on his shoulders.
Although these are striking ex
amples of human courage, they are
not isolated instances. In all of life,
even as on the stage, in the pulpit
or at the console of an organ wait
ing to be played on, the show must
go on.
Spooner or later, grief catches up
with the highest and the lowliest
of mortals. When it does, the con
solation of friends can help, but
after all is said and done, each of
us must carry sorrow’s cross alone.
^ Minor C. Baldwin, wise with the
passing of years, knew that. And,
in his first sharp pangs of be
reavement, he probably found
more solace playing an organ than
he could possibly httve found any-
The NEW BERN
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VOLUME 3
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 24, 1961
NUMBER 46
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graphs in The Mirror during* its less than thrhe yoars' fiX'
istence, but few have behn more tlnusual than this one.
Pictured here, believe it or not, are four Ajrchie W. Bryants.
In the center, holding Archie, IV, is bis great grandfather.
and Archie, Jr., is oh the pstive of
^ew Bern, but lives in Nbrfblk as'^des his son and grande
•son. " -■ ‘
Garry Moore's Auiit
Comes Back Home for
Sometiihes a newspaper man has
to travel miles and miles in order
to get a human interest story worth
printing.
Tracking down Garry Moore’s
Aunt Nancy posed no such problem'
for the editor of The Mirror. All
we had to do was go calling at
the house right next door,, where
Mrs. Spencer Harris is visiting in
the Don W. Hanks home.
A great many of our readers will
recall with considerable pleasant
ness that the Harris family lived
here for eight or nine years during
the late 20’s and early 30’s. What
wiU surprise them is thfe discovery
that Garry’s mother, who passed
away a few weeks ago, was the sis
ter of Mr. Harris, who is also now
deceased.
Garry (his real uame is Thomas
Garrison Morfit) grew up in Balti
more, while the Harris clan lived
at Cambridge, Md., across the bay,
before and after their residence
here. 'The two families ekehanged
visits frequently, and Mrs. Harris
got- to know Garry about as well
as she knew her own three sons.
Jack, Worthington, and Spencer,
Jr.
As^a matter of fact,. Worthing
ton-^ commercial artist in Char
lotte-looks a great deal like the
where else.
Besides, he had no'doubt that
it would have beeii his wife’s wish
to have him fill his engagement
at the First Baptist church. She
wasn’t there torhear him, but in a
special way he was playing just for
her.
famed television entertainer. “Like
Garry, he has that Harris strut,’’
Aunt Nancy tMd us with a slight
giggle and commendable frank
ness. “Worthington is better look-,
ing,’’ she added. “Garry isn’t good
looking, but he’s such a nice per
son.’’
Not only is he a nice person,
but a man who made up his mind
to go into show business while still
a kid. “He was always ad libbing
at parties,” Mrs. Harris. recalls,
“and performed constantly. He did
n’t see the sense of going to school,
but loved one subject—^English/’
His fondness for English is re
flected in his fluent and faultless
speech when he faces a. television
camera. Through sheer determina
tion and the advantage of a re-
niarkably facile tongue, he literally
talked himself into world-wide
fame and earnings that have made
him a millionaire.
It didn’t come easy, and Garry
started put without the blessings
of his parents. His father. Mason*
Morfit, was a distinguished Balti-,
more attorney. He was less than
enthusiastic when Garry kept pest
ering a Baltimore radio station for
a chance to perform.
The folks at the radio station
didn’t give him any encouragement
either. There, was no getting rid of
this runty upstart, however. He
tried his hand at everything. Al
ternately he announced, wrote
scripts and even sang operatic se
lections. Incidentially, he was nev
er invited to join the Metropolitan
but it didn’t shake his supreme
self-confidence.,
He went to New York City,
where he achieved extremely mod
est success, and eventually landed
in California. Journeying to the
West Coast was the turning point
of his career. Along the way he
was befriended by one of 4hd kind
est entertainers in show business,
Jimmie Durante. -
Garry would be the first to give
Dimante much of the credit for his
rapid rise to stardoih/ As for Jim
mie, he would shrug off the words
of thanks, and shrewdly observe
that Moore’s genuine love for his
fellow man is so pronounced that
it projects itself emphatically to
the millions of televiewers who
watch his shows regularly. -
“Success hasn’t spoiled him the
least bit,” Aunt Nancy assured The
Mirror. “He was always getting in
to mischief when he was a boy, but
he was never really bad. He liked
to crawl in bed, and stay there too,
but you’d never know it the way
he gets around now.” ,
Garry married Eleanor Little, a
Richmond, Va., girl. They have two
sons, Henry Mason Morfit and
'Thomas Garrison Morfit, Jr., both
of whom have done well in their
school work. His brother. Dr. Mas
on Morfit; is a noted cancer sur
geon, and is connected with the
American Medical Association in
Denver, Colo, His sister (Louise
Spencer) is married to H. D. Bre-
dehorn, an engineer with the Wrig-
ley people in Chicago.
In passing, we should mention
that Aunt Nancy has good reason
to be proud of her sons. Jack and
Worthington. The former holds a
high position with DuPont, and is
currently handling a special as
signment in Geneva, Switzerland.
As we’ve already mentioned,
Worthington is doing quite welf^
with his own commercial artist
firm in Charlotte. Spencer, Jr.,
died several years ago.
Before the family moved to New
Bern, shortly before the Great De
pression, Mr. Harris was connected
with the Fisk Tire Corporation,
He decided to launch Ms own
wholesale tire and battery business
here, because he liked the town,
and all went well until the 1929
crash and subsequent bank closings
struck a death blow to, his venture.
Returning to Cambridge, Md., he
became a technician for the Web
ster Rubber company, and pioneer
ed in the field of improved vul
canizing methods. He remained
with this concern until his death,
and was recognized as an expert
in the rubber industry.
Through the years, Mrs. Harris '
has retained many happy recollec
tions of her stay in New Bern, and
is quite pleased to be here for a
six-week visit. Needless to say, the
city as she knew it has changed
tremendously, but plenty of famili
ar landmarks remains.
Getting back to her famous ne
phew, (iarry, she is able to shed
light on the vast store of knowl
edge that he seems to have. “He
is a great reader and quite a stu
dent,” she says. WMch, obviously,
is a far cry from Ms juvenile days,
when he detested books and every^
thing else connected with a dasa-
(ConHiHiMl on Pago 8)
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