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ft Nrw Smt-ddnutm (Sornttg fnlilU fiibirarg The NEW BERN I PUBLIIHID WIIKLY ” IN THI MAIIT OB '^fTlRN NORTH ^■Sis et> VOLUME H h V NEW BERN, N. C„ FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1968 NUMBER 36 J. C. Bagg says the nice thing about growing old Is the oppor tunity It gives you to speak pleasantly to strange women without having them Uiink you're getting fresh with them. ' Bagg, however, is one of those fortunate souls who hardlv look their age. So until he de velops an antique .appearance there’s a chance some sensitive female will misinterpret his friendliness. Old age, as we’ve probably said before, is that time in life when you wouldn’t mind looking a little worse if you could only feel a little better. You also know you’re old when the tele phone rings on Saturday night, and you hope It isn’t for you. Ben Jones, retired Craven County Auditor, is just as con firmed a Democrat as he is a Baptist but circumstances, if nothing else, have forced him to be politically tolerant. If Jones hated all Republicans, he would be feuding with some of his closest relatives elsewhere who undoubtedly voted for Richard Nixon. Junes still considers his long-time Tabernacle Baptist pa.stor, the late Rev. J. L.Hod ges, the most effective preach er he ever heard in a pulpit. Like mo.st Baptist ministers, Hodges was often eloquent when holding funeral services, but only when he felt the departed deserved it. Never one to soft pedal, the fiery parson frequently warn ed members of his congrega tion that they needn’t expect a glowing eulogy from him at their last rites unless they lived the kind of life that would make the words ring true. Ingliss Fletcher, author of outstanding historical novels, convinced us on one occasion that she could be just as frank, or blunt, as Hodges. We happen ed to be immediately behind herjit a Tryon Palace function^, during the course of a candle- " iight reception in the adjacent Stevenson House. Patiently, or so it seemed, she waited her turn, and finally reached the spot where two elegantly dressed women were presiding over a large and beau tiful punch bowl. Waving a proffered cup of the stuff aside, she said, "I don’t like punch.” And that was that. If you want to hear one of the most hiiarlous stories imagin able, get Annie Kinsey Whitford or Florrle Gibbs Dill toieliyoii about their first trip to New York City yeiirs ago. Make sure their narration Includes the pullman ride, choice of a hotel and their bargain hunting for a fur coat. Few who through necessity or curiousity venture into the Craven county courtroom these days remember when brass cuspidors were an absolute nec essity for judges and lawyers. John Beaman, who has no equal locally as a criminal attorney, was the last of the tobacco chewing crowd, and publicly at least, he has given up thehaUt. Storing some of the discarded cuspidors in the basement many years ago brou^t calamity into the Ufe of then Sheriff R. B. (Dick) Lane. His favorite bird dog, as punctual a canine as you ever saw, disappeared and was missing for days. Some- (Continued on Page 8) . I? EVERYBODY KNOWS HIM—Mention BUI Bunting's name to any basketbaU fan in America, and he'll be instantly identified as one of the veteran starters for the University of North Carolina’s star-studded outfit. Ranked second nationally behind UCLA, Dean Smith's E owerful ball club depends heavily on the 6-9 New ern athlete. While millions watched on television, BiU played the best game of his career against Ohio State in the NCAA semi-finals last March, and team mates say he was the big difference between victory ig's and defeat. So unselfish he has to be prodded to shoot be instead of nassine off. Bunting is sn Awr>p1lAnf ro. assignment against sive star on opposing teams. Has fame changed Bill Bunttag? Definitely not, he is still the shy, non-talka- tiye toy who has never made a boastful statement in his life, and squirms when admiring autograph seekers besiege him. ■aM
The New Bern Mirror (New Bern, N.C.)
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Nov. 29, 1968, edition 1
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