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The NEW BERN
I
PUBLISHED WEEKLY
IN THE HEART OP
^ ’*«TERM NORTH
VOLUME 13
NEW BERN, N. C., FRIDAY, MARCH 27, 1970
NUMBER 2
Everybody Is a soft touch for
something, and our strongest
weakness is any kid who hap
pens to be out trying to sell the
Grit.
Invariably, when he ap
proaches us we see in him the
little boy we used to be. And,
to this very day it is palnfpl
to remember the disdainful
looks and curt refusals you
had to endure before someone
came along who was willing to
part with a nickel.
Close to 50 years ago the du
rable Williamsport weekly was
much bulkier than the edition
that now sells tor three times
the original price. There were
several sections, and as an
added inducement the purchas
er got a colorful portrait of
a President or somebody else
quite important.
Here was a newspaper that
had everything. Covered rath
er promptly with words and
photograjrtis were all the'cur
rent events of national scope,
and to seed in tor good measure
were pictures of two - headed
cows, cats mothering a litter of
orphaned puppies, and sundry
other freakish things in the
realm of nature.
There was a special section
devoted to fiction, and full page
of poems old and new- Editor
ials were pertinent ^ timely,
and the comic f^ips were
slanted to appeal to children
from eight to eighty.
A nickel in those days looked
as big as a country biscuit
to the lads we grew up with,
and was as hard to come by as
a tour leaf clover on a brick
street. Apparently, adults
didn't have too many of them
either.
This or else lust about ev
erybody we tried to sell the
Grit too was tighter than a gir
dle two sizes too small at the
conclusion of a second helping
of stewed chicken, with a towl
of butter beans as a side dish.
Peddling Cloverlne salve or
flower seeds to the neighbors
was a picnic compared to dis
posing of a dozen copies of the
Grit. Before you got rid of the
' last wrinkled copy you were
certain to trudge all over town.
Included on the beat we staked
out was the Union Station at the
corner of Queen and Hancock
streets. Counting the curious
loafers who congregated to see
who was coming to town on a
train or leaving, you could fig
ure on soliciting a lot of tolks
there.
Untortunately, train passen
gers didn’t exhibit the slightest
Interest In reading, maybe be
cause of the cinders In their
eyes. As tor the loiterers, they
were there to see the sights.
Including the ankles of mounting
or dismounting feminine trav
elers.
Later, with our typical lack of
Juvenile shrewdness, we start
ed peddling the Literary Digest.
This publication was even hard
er to sell than the Grit. For one
thing. It cost a whole dime, and
its appeal was aimed at Intel-
lecturals.
We discovered that there
weren't many Intellectuals in
New Bern. And besides, the
individuals who qualified were
dime squeezers with moths
snoozing In their pocketbooks.
Folks with brains, we learned,
weren't free spenders.
No doubt about It, the Llter-
(Contlnued on page 8)
A LITTLE QIRL’S WONDER — As our thoughts turn,
on Good Friday, to One Who publicly professed His
love for children, this unposed portrait of a two year
old pensively studying a flower holds more than
ordinary appeal. Rhonda Michelle Caton, daughter of
the Gary Catons of Route 1, New Bern, and grand
daughter and great granddaughter of two of our
valued Mirror subscribers, Mollie Stallings and Mollie
Rountree, is not alone in her appreciation of bless
ings on us by God. When she is older, and capable
of fuller comprehension, she will learn of and marvel
at the greatest of all gifts from Heaven, the gentle
Man of Galilee, Who died In agony that others might
have life everlasting. The glorious revelation of an
empty tomb remains the greatest news story the
world has ever known. He is risen, and man has
cause to be Joyful.