uIt|E Harren Sccnrb
Published Every Wednesday By
Record Printing Company
P O Box 70 Warrenton, N C 27589
HOWARD F JONES
Editor
GRACE W JONES
President
KAY HORNER
Feature Editor
ENTERED AS SECOND CLASS MATTER AT THE POST OFFICE
IN WARRENTON. NORTH CAROLINA. UNDER THE LAWS OF CONGRESS
Second Class Postage Paid At Warrenton, N C
SUBSCRIPTION RATES:
In Warren and
adjoining counties
$10.00 Per Year
$6 00 Si* Months
Elsewhere
$12.00 Per Year
$7.00 Si* Months
A Fortunate Decision
Warren County ' com
missioners took a commend
able step this month when
they hired a Rocky Mount
architectural, engineering
and planning firm to provide
the county with a space
needs assessment which
would take into consideration
the possible use of several
existing Warren buildings.
Warren could have an ap
preciable blessing in some
disguise in the form of build
ings which have outlived
their present usefulness. Two
which easily come to mind
are the John Graham High
School building and the
Warren County Jail. With
respect to the latter, com
missioners are wise to seek
an alternative use to the
structure rather than
demolishing it should a new
jail be built.
The Rocky Mount firm
selected by the board ap
pears to have expertise in its
field based in part on what it
has done for counties similar
to Warren which have an in
ventory of old buildings with
architectural appeal and
historical significance.
Among projects handled
by the firm are a space needs
study for Wilsor. County, and
facility assessment
programs for Hertford,
Currituck and Halifax coun
ties. The firm maintains that
due to this experience and in
terest in older building reno
vation it is in an excellent
position to determine the
feasibility for reuse of local
buildings.
We agree that this exper
ience could be a valuable
asset to Warren County. We
are glad to see our Board of
Commissioners opting for a
long-range plan which could
preserve and utilize some of
our older buildings.
As Others See It
Hog-Killing Time
By LEN SULLIVAN
In The Mooresville Tribune
On the coldest mornings I often
think of Stuart Sechrist first and
my Down East growing up sec
ond. During his teaching days at
the University of North Carolina
School of Journalism, Stuart oc
casionally would toss in this
throwaway question on quizzes:
"How cold does it have to be to
kill hogs?" The answers, he
knew, identified the backwoods
boys. Cold doesn't kill hogs, peo
ple kill hogs on the coldest day of
the year. The country boy
hitched a ride to town in the first
air conditioned car he's seen, the
story goes. After a few miles, the
driver asked where the boy was
going.
"Well," he said, "I was a'going
up here to the crossroads to pitch
horseshoes behind the store, but
it's turned so cold I better go back
home and see if papa wants to kill
hogs."
The boy knew his hogkillings.
The fire was built under the
scalding vat, first thing, then
fires were made under the lard
rendering pots. The men
warmed their hands, fronts and
backs before the trip to the hog
pen where they shot and slit the
throats of pets you'd be feeding
and watering for the past eight or
10 months. The shock of witness
ing murder lasted until headless,
feetless carcasses had been
scraped clean inside and out, and
the late lamented had become
food in the making. When the
tenderloin?very pork of pork
was taken from coals around the
lard pot and shared in a family
ritual, all emotional detachment
to the source disappeared. By the
time sausage was stuffed, hams
and shoulders readied for smok
ing and side meat salted and bar
reled, the exercise that began so
brutally became a joyous
feastday.
Looking Back Into The Record
March 7, 1947
Men of Norlina were scheduled
to display their manly charms on
March 14 in the beauty contest
sponsored by the Norlina Home
Demonstration Gub. Admission
to the entertainment was listed as
20 cents and 35 cents.
County commissioners agreed
Monday night to ask Represent
ative John H. Kerr to use his in
fluence in the Legislature to have
a state law passed removing the
sale of wine and beer from stores
of towns into the county ABC
stores as a result of complaints
from certain Warrenton mer
chants who found the current
retailing system objectionable.
Pender's Store, which had been
operating here for a quarter of a
century, closed on Saturday night
for remodeling in preparation for
a Thursday opening as a self
service store.
March I, 1M2
Approximately $148,059 is lost in
annual taxes due to citizen mi
gration, according to a report
presented Monday to county
commissioners by Selby Benton,
president of the Bute Develop
ment Company.
Appearing on a recent broad
cast of the Peggy Mann Show
were Mrs. C. P. Rooker, Mrs. J.
T. Rooker, Mrs. A. S. Wyckoff,
Mrs. Fannie Bell Bobbitt, Mrs. R.
E. Eller, Mrs. K. C. Severance,
Mrs. Eleanor Hayes, Mrs. R. J.
Sumrell, Mrs. F. D. Draffin and
Pete Rose.
William Woodruff Taylor, III,
son of Mr. and Mrs. W. W. Taylor
of Warrenton, received the pres
tigous Morehead Scholarship to
the University of North Carolina.
The scholarships are wrath $5,100
to state residents for four years
of study.
March 10, 1977
A comprehensive development
plan designed to serve as a guide
for orderly town growth was pre
sented to Norlina commissioners
Monday night. Drafters of the
plan concluded that the town
should encourage the location of
industrial types to offset a
dependency on one industry and
offer a wider spectrum of
employment opportunities.
A tornado Friday afternoon
destroyed a residence on the old
loop road from Manson to Soul Ci
ty, taking off part of the roof and
twisting part of the home off its
foundation. No one was injured.
The Warren County Scene
A spring-like afternoon and a favorite fishing spot afford am
ple opportunity for a little boy talk?an ingredient of boyhood
almost as necessary as sunshine and fresh air.
(Staff Photo by Dianne T. Rod well)
Carolina Commentary ^
Jenkins
Seat Belt Law Repeal Sought
A noisy minority of North
Carolinians has been agitating
for repeal of the mandatory seat
belt law.
The argument goes that such a
law curbs a Tar Heel's freedom
of choice, is an instrusion on in
dividual rights and is just another
example of government sticking
its nose where it doesn't belong.
If a person doesn't want to
buckle up, goes another refrain,
it's his or her right and his or her
neck in case of an accident, and
nobody else is involved. Of
course, that's wrong: injuries
and deaths shatter families, sad
dle survivors with exorbitant ex
penses and shove insurance rates
higher.
Nor is there any doubt that seat
belts are lifesavers. Casual
readers of newspaper accident
reports are aware of the frequen
cy of the state trooper's com
ment, "None of the victims were
wearing seat belts."
Foes of seat belts have idea
logical ancestors whose lineage is
ancient in North Carolina. Their
opposition to virtually every
highway safety measure pro
posed in the General Assembly is
a matter of record.
! More than 35 years ago, the
first motor vehicle inspection law
lasted only two years before it
was repealed. An inefficient state
system of inspections contributed
to the initial failure. Inspection's
revival was a tortuous operation.
Opposition has cropped up to
other safety proposals of demon
strated value: radar devices, and
chemical tests, to cite a couple of
examples. In some instances, this
opposition arose from individual
legislators' personal experiences,
not from a groundswell of senti
ment back home.
An example was the grounding
of the State Highway Patrol's
airplanes which once were used
to detect speeders. The late I. C.
Crawford of Asheville was the
most persistent foe of the planes.
Crawford questioned the ac
curacy of the instruments used
by the planes to clock speeders.
He said the spies-in-the-sky in
creased highway risks, demon
strating how he craned his neck
out of the window to look for them
as he drove to Raleigh.
"Sir, if you were driving within
the speed limit, you wouldn't
have to look out the window," a
patrolman once responded. But,
Crawford prevailed, and the
planes remain grounded.
The Safe Roads Act, adopted
during the administration of
Governor Jim Hunt, represented
one of the major safety advances
in North Carolina. It greatly
broadened the sanctions against
drinking drivers, the most
dangerous threats on the
highways.
As of the end of February, the
highway death toll for 1986 stood
at 1,636, and the figure may go
higher as severely lnjilred per
sons die later. That figure is
greater than the population of
Harrisburg, of Bladenboro, of
Blowing Rock.
Gail Gilmore wrote the follow
ing letter to the Raleigh News
and Observer:
"My daughter's rights were
taken from her when the seat belt
law came into effect. She felt this
was one law that could not be
handled correctly and could
never be enforced. She therefore
would not, unless ordered to in
someone else's car, wear her seat
belt. She refused in her old rattle
trap, and refused again in her
new Escort simply because she
would never need her belt and
would never get caught or fined
anyway. Because of this in
sistence not to use her belt, she
has had to change her place of
residence.
"She now reside; on South
Wilmington Street at the
Montlawn Cemetery.
"Belts may be an issue of
rights, but when only one person
loses, it affects hundreds. It
leaves them hurting badly and
leaves one person who will never
hurt again."
Editor's Quote Book
For a man seldom thinks with
more earnestness of anything
than he does of his dinner.
Samuel Johnson
Courthouse Squares
so FAR,THE SENATOR'S
POLICIES SEEM TO BE
SOUND ? JUST SOUND!
Thurietta
Maybe Life Does Begin At 40
The 30's can be pretty awful?especially the late 30's. You are not
quite old enough to be a senior citizen, and you certainly don't want
to be called middle-aged. The latter description brings with it an
automatic spread at a certain part of the anatomy that does not need
to become more bountiful. Folk in their late 30's especially tend to
counter that tendency with a flippant "I'm not overweight?I'm
under-tall."
At the end of last month, I came one year closer to the "Big 40"?37.
To celebrate, a friend treated me to a wonderful dinner at the
Dockside Restaurant. (They've got the best prime rib in the world!)
The dinner was a part of a pact made last October when I treated
him to a similar feast at the Dockside. At the end of that meal, precise
ly on cue, a group of waitpersons appeared at our table bearing a
slice of New York-style cheesecake complete with lighted candle. My
friend was serenaded with a rousing chorus of "Happy Birthday."
Everything was perfect!
Last Saturday night my prime rib was perfect. There was a short
age of baked potatoes, but since I had not started my diet, the
waitress-substituted home fries were okay. At the end of the meal,
nothing happened. (I pretended not to notice?after all, it was sup
posed to be my surprise, even though I was given a blow-by-blow
description of what was going on behind me.)
My friend went back to the counter to inquire on the status of the
birthday troubadors. He was assured that all was under control. Well,
the cake came, but there was no candle. There was no chorus of "Hap
py Birthday" either.
What my friend did not understand (that I did not understand either
until now) is that the late 30's are jinxed. We celebrated his post-40th
birthday. Of course, everything went as planned. For my 37th I was
blessed with snow. I was blessed with rain that fell in buckets. I was
blessed with mud and mire with such adhesiveness that my good boots
will never be the same. And I was blessed with a "quiet" piece of
birthday cake.
Well, there are three more years between now and 40. Although I
certainly don't want to rush than (after all, I was a part of that "don't
trust-'em-if-they-are-over-30 generation"), his experiences, especially
at birthday times, lead me to believe that the music and life begin
at 40.
Kay
Horner
Harbingers Of Spring
My friend Mildred Adams every now and then calls my attention
to matters I need to know about, but sometimes overlook.
As we walked across her yard on Ridgeway Street recently, she
pointed to something of significance going on in the yard of the Bap
tist parsonage next door. There, in the midst of a remnant of glisten
ing snow, was a splash of purple, a sure harbinger of spring?a row
of crocuses.
It was a welcomed sight.
Mind you, I have nothing against winter. I often wonder what folks
in tropical climes do without that blustery season when we see the
backbone of nature, the world about us stripped of all the lush plum
mage that the other seasons sport so well. Without winter, we might
never see the true lay of the land, the way things are underneath it all.
And just when we think it's too much to bear, we see the crocus.
Elated by my sighting, I headed home to Littleton. En route, I
passed a house where mother and children were bringing all their
energies to bear on the task of splitting and stacking wood.
They must not know about the crocus, I thought, or perhaps they're
getting a jump on next year.
At home, as temperatures began to find their way into the sixties,
I lost no time shucking my boots for tennis shoes, my woolen sweater
for a cotton pullover. Nature was giving us a balmy prelude of the
season to come. This past Sunday, I could stand it no longer and shed
my tennis shoes to go barefooted.
Any doubts about the imminent arrival of spring were dispelled as
I watched Teddy, the neighborhood feline, stand poised over a clump
of leaves, watching eagerly for the first lizard of the season.
So carried away was I with nature's spectacle that I almost washed
my car.
Then Monday night the skies grew dark and the wind whipped
around the windows of our house in a frenzy befitting the coldest
December.
Tuesday morning I pulled the bedroom drapes on the new morn
ing and saw that the world outside my door had been blanketed with
a dusting of snow the night before.
I could almost hear Mother Nature whisper with a chuckle,
"Gotcha!"
Well, spring may not be here yet, but it's not far behind, either.
On my way to work this morning I saw, peeping through a patch
of snow, a yellow jonquil...
'Umpteen thousand is not good enough...! need a more exact figure.'