Newspapers / Zebulon Record (Zebulon, N.C.) / July 11, 1941, edition 1 / Page 2
Part of Zebulon Record (Zebulon, N.C.) / About this page
This page has errors
The date, title, or page description is wrong
This page has harmful content
This page contains sensitive or offensive material
PAGE TWO THE ZEBULON RECORD 73=*5=cr-T “ ftortli Carolina VTx f —IM ASSOC IAT k9T^\ ; • •J ' Published Every Friday By THE RECORD PUBLISHING COMPANY Zebulon, N. C. THEO. B. DAVIS Ed **» r MRS. THEO. B. DAVIS Associate Editor Entered as second class matter June 2ti, PJ2S, at the Post Ottice at Zebulon, North Carolina SUBSCRIPTION RATES 1 year SI.OO ti months 3 months Advertising rates on request. All subscriptions due and payable in advance. Death notices as news, First publication tree. Obituaries, tributes, cards of thanks, published at a minimum charge of 13c per col umn inch. WHY I DON’T GO TO THE MOVIES! o Below we give live reasons why a certain Englishman, a Dr. Brown, does not go to tile movies. Os course these reasons might just as easily be applied to other going. Reader, see it you can guess what other public gathering these rules might ap ply to with the same reasonable excuses. 1.1 was made to go too often when 1 was young. 2. Nobody ever speaks to me when 1 go. 3. When 1 have gone I’ve always been asked for money. 4. The manager never calls at my home. 5. Ihe people who go don’t live up to the fine things they see in the pictures. oOo THE AMERICAN CREED “DEFEND” o The following creed, written oy one William lyler Page, is good: The American’s Creed 1 believe in the United States of America as a govern ment ot the people, by the people, for the people; whose just powers are derived from the consent oi the governed; a democracy in a republic; a sovereign nation of many sov ereign states; a perfect Union, one ana inacpaiaoie; es tablished upon those principles of freedom, equality, justice, and humanity tor which American patriots sacrificed their lives and fortunes. 1 therefore believe it my duty to my country to love if, to support its Constitution; to obey its laws; to respect its flag; and to defend it against all enemies. We can heartily subscribe to every statement of this creed, even "to defend it against all enemies.” But many of our lead ers would put a provocation, a pretense, or most anything to jus tify the means to the end, namely, to get Hitler. As the Record has stated before, we do not believe the mass of our nation wants war. We have interviewed some of the leading citizens of our community; we have discussed the mat ter with others; we have talked with young men in service, ask ing them what they believed America should do under existing circumstances. With few exceptions they have said: ‘‘We should stay at home and attend to our own business.” Seldom have we heard a man eligible to service or likely to be called sh'ould war come who said he wanted to enter the conflict. A citizen said a few days ago: “It is all propaganda.” We agree with him that much of what we read about the German- Russian battle and a great deal of what we see in our own news papers is propaganda. But after sifting out all guess-work and the imaginary, there remains enough reality to make one trem ble over the fate of civilization. As a boy the editor fought over real and imaginary rights, and as a man nearing three-score and ten, he would without fear of man or God fight to defend the great fundamental God-given rights of humanity. But as an humble Christian, a tollower of the Prince of Peace, we want to know we are fighting tor principles laid down by Him, princi ples as sure of surviving as that there shall still be men left on earth after the ghastly, terrible conflict and conflagration is ended. The “American Creed” is all right as far as it goes, but any cj;eed that does not include Christian principles and a recogni tion of God, lacks something fundamental. Game Will Be For the Benefit of Scout Hut Continued from Page I seven innings, but doubt was ex pressed that he could make it from the outfeld to home plate for seven innings. Someone sug gested making the game five in nings, but the Rev. Mr. Allen is still playing short center field. The Jaycees list nine menaces at the plate among their players and one phew. The menaces are: C B Eddins, catcher; Robert Ed Horton, pitcher; Hoss Thompson, lb; Norman Screws, 2b, Raleigh Allord, shortstop; Book Antone, 3b; Haywood Jones, cf; Claude Arnold, rs; George Griffin, scf. The phew is: you guessed it If. The Rotarians are all menaces, both at the plate and to them selves while in the field. Their roster follows: -Wesley Liles, c; Vance Brown, p; Kermit Corbett, lb; Bob Sawyer, 2b; Stewart Black, shortstop; Wilson Braswell, 3b (Look out for errors here ; Hoyle Bridgers, If; Luther “Powerhouse" Long, cf; John Sumner, rs; Charles Allen, scf. The American Weekly The Big Magazine Distributed with the BALTIMORE SUNDAY AMERICAN On Sale at All Newsstands HAWK in the WIND By Helen Topping Miller C D. Appleton-Century Co. WNU Servtc* --i . Marian huddled", small and trigni ened, under Branford Wills’ elbow, her head In a snug beret, scarcely reaching his shoulder. Once he looked around and gave her a scrap of smile, in the dim light from the dash, but she was looking solemnly and searchingly ahead. “How awful —to be wandering around in the hills on a night like this!” she said. “Poor old Tom!” "I know how awful It can be.” Wills agreed. “I had two nights of it. There’s so much sky and black air and empty wind and savage dark around you—and you feel a sort of hatred in it—as though it would kill you if it could. And the branches reach out and snatch and almost snarl—and boulders and roots trip you up—and the wind gathers up handfuls of ice and flings them in your face.” "And you were lost!” said Marian in a small, frail voice. He looked down at her. "I’m still lost,” he said, levelly. Virgie cleared her throat. “I’m fiere,” she reminded them, “but I’m old and my hearing isn’t what it used to be.” * “Tom wouldn’t be lost.” Marian essayed the commonplM* again. "He knows his way anywhere in these mountains —no mat f ?r how dark it might be.” The river was alongside now, dark and noisy and hidden by the whirl ing dash of sleety rain. Trees hung low, and the darkness grew thicker; it brooded and was hostile and fear some. Marian clutched a sleeve and laid her face against it. Wind shook the old car fiercely, but the wheels dug and spun and plowed on. Once a frightened rabbit leaped through the darting steel rods of the rain, its eyes green and terrified. Ice was glassy on the hood, the wind-shield wiper gouged a feeble arc and then failed. “I’ll have to scour it off,” Wills said. “We might hit something.” Air that cut their faces rushed in as he opened the door. Marian thought of old Tom—the thin, torn old coat he had worn in the jail, his feet sloshing through the freezing mud, wind cutting through merci lessly. “Oh hurry!” she whispered. “But—Mother, what if he didn’t come this way?” “He came this way. He took the old log trail across the ridge, and crossed the river on that swinging bridge.” “There’s a light,” said Branford Wills. "The gate is beyond that big tree. It’s steep beyond—you’d better change gears.” “Has he had time—” “He left before dark. A boy saw him go. They didn’t miss him till supper time —” “If only they had locked the door,” Marian mourned. “We may be in time.” Virgie was hopeful. The house that sprang out of a gnarled darkness of old apple-trees was bleak and somber and some how desolate. “The door's open—” breathpd Marian. Virgie gave a little groan. "I’ll go,” she said. “You wait here.” “Not alone. Mother.” “No—not alone,” Wills sprang out after her. Marian hurried after them, slip ping and panting, in the wan beam of their headlights. But somehow she knew it was too late. She had known it when the dreary old house leaped out of the darkness, out of the solitude and silence which for a year it had known. “Don't let her come,” Virgie warned sharply. “But I’m edming," Marian an swered, setting the chin she had from David Morgan. “Take my hand,” Wills said. “I can walk alone.” But she took the hand. Held it tight, clutched by the dread of that sinister, opened door. Beyond that door a lamp fluttered in the draft. Beyond it was a de serted room, where coals glowed in a base burner and Wallace Withers' elastic-sided shoes sat warming on the floor. Shoes he would never wear any more. “Don't come closer,” Virgie called sharply. But Wills went on and Marian would not let go his hand, though her flesh was icy and her hair lifted a little on her head, at what lay there, face upward in front of that open door. TOBACCO TWINE, THER > MOMETERS, LANTERNS, GLOBES, BINDER TWINE A. G. KEMP—ZEBULON, N. C. THE ZEBULON RECORD Wallace Withers had been shot cleanly through the h> a<i This time Tom’s gun had r<ot Jammed. “Don’t touch anything,” Wills warned. “Is th re a telephone in this house?" Virgie, a little sick because she could not hate even a dead, cruel old man who had wronged her, shook her head. “Not even a well,” she said. “But—we've got to find Tom!” Marian began sobbing wildly. "Take care of her,” Virgie said to Wills wearily. ‘‘l’ll get a sheet. I “Don’t touch anything,” Wills warned. know where they are. I can’t leave him lying there—like that.” She had heard Marian's little choking cry, “Oh, Bran—Bran—” She had seen Wills holding her in his arms. Suddenly she was old and lonely, and this was death ly ing face up to the hostile sky—and out of the aloof hills a winter wind howled in desolation. Suddenly she was sorry for Wallace Withers. He had been lonely, too! They found Tom Pruitt at dawn. Men with lanterns and dogs had crashed and slid through the icy night, cursing the storm and the darkness. And all night Virgie had sat by the stove in Wallace With ers’ house, looking straight ahead of her, musing on the tangled tragedy of life—and the way greed snarled the twisting strands, wove traps and nooses and webs for hopes and high ambitions to be choked in. Wills and Marian had gone for help and met a posse on the road. But light was under the hemlocks along the river bluff when they found Tom. Virgie saw them coming, slowly, up the f.'ozen lane, and knew what they had found. “He went over them rocks —down there where the river runs under the cliff,” a deputy said. “He was heading back toward your place I reckon, Mis’ Morgan, and he missed his footing in the dark. I wouldn't take on. Mis’ Morgan—l reckon it’s just as well.” “Yes,” said Virgie, tonelessly, "it’s just as well.” Somehow she got home. Riding in somebody’s rackety car, cold and weary and aching from head to foot with a sorrow that was rigid and steely like bonds around her heart and throat. The mountains and the woods were frigidly incased in a coating of icy glass. The streams were hidden and from the stack of the mill a wan steam drifted. The fires were banked and tomor row the barkers would whirl again, gnashing their steel teeth into un resisting wood, grinding and spew ing and sucking away the life-blood of a green tree so that missals could be printed for praying nuns and let ters written to old mothers. The mill would go on. The mill would go on and Tom would not be there. David would not be there. A sudden, stark, awful loneliness got Virgie JVlorgan by the throat as she walked into her own house, and sank into the chair that had the print of David Morgan’s thin shoulder-blades. She couldn’t go on—she couldn't— alone! And then suddenly she was not alone. Youth was there, with lights and hot coffee and gentle hands. Marian and Branford Wills. “We’ve stopped fighting. Mother— we found out we were terribly in love with each other. Do you mind. Mother? Take off her shoes. Bran, and rub her feet. I’ll get her slip pers.” Branford Wills knelt at her feet, lean and brown, with his deep voice and gentle eyes. ■» “1 can’t go on without her,” he said. "I know what a presumptuous fool I am—” "I’m glad," said Virgie numbly. She would have liked a son like this lad, she was thinking. Lucy was there—and Stanley Dan iels, looking sheepish and relieved and eager to help. They were scram bling eggs, they announced. “We thought you’d need us, Mrs. Morgan,” Lucy said, brightly, littie red coins shining in her cheeks. Suddenly Virgie began to sob. They were so brave and so reck less and so gallant. Their eyes wue so clear. They were youth—going on! “Yes, I need you!” she saic hoarsely. [THE END] Members of the Raleigh Music Club are planning to provide the Central nso i auditorium with a new piano as a result of a series of minslrei entertainments. i which netted several hundred dollars for the State's quota of Holds to iu* Det ain. Governor Broughton and a’group of officials are shown e •]•■>> hv, i re <• perfomance. Left to right they are: Ren Hoeck, Prison Recreation Director; Governor Broughton; Warden Ralph McLean; T. Boddie Ward, new Motor \e hide Commissioner; Prison Director Oscar Pitts; and Ben Prince, SH&iWC Chairman. Section 102, Motor Vehicle Laws of North Carolina :“(h) No person shall drive a motor vehicle at such a slow speed as to impede or block the normal and reasonable movement of traffic except when reduced speed is neceftary for safe operation or in compliance with law'. Police officers arc hereby au I I DISPATCH—JUNE 30, 1941: “ELECTRICAL STORM WORST AND LONGEST IN MEMORY OF MANY OLD RESIDENTS—". “The thunderstorm was the most intense and prolonged in the memory of many old timers, beginning about dark and continuing until well after 1 a. m., today—“ Rainfall during the storm was officially reported today as 4.64 inches, one of the heaviest measurements on record here in a like period of time." That You Might Be Served i INDOORS—SECURITY, PEACE AND REST—Families enjoyed the safe pro tection of their homes, while children slept as the storm raged throughout the night. OUTDOORS- Men, servants of your comfort, some from distant points and from homes to which they, like you, had retired for their well earned eve ning's rest, battled the elements to maintain in service lines not already down, and to replace those which had been twisted and torn from their proper places. YOUR electric company did this that YOU might have the convenience of complete electric service at the earliest possible moment. ONLY an organization of loyal men and women bent on service to YOU at all times and hazards could have accomplished such a vast undertaking in the short period of only a few hours. Your Organization of Service CAROLINA POWER & LIGHT COMPANY thorized to enforce this provision by directions to drivers, and in the event of apparent willful dis obedience to this provision and re fusal to comply with direction of any officer in accordance here with the continued slow operation by a driver shall be a misde meanor." FRIDAY, JULY 11, 194 L In other words, don’t poke along on ihe highway and hold up traffic, getting on the nerves of other drivers and provoking them to arts of recklessness. Drive slowly when safety demands or the law 1 requires that you do so. Other* wise, drive at a normal and reas* .table speed.
Zebulon Record (Zebulon, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
July 11, 1941, edition 1
2
Click "Submit" to request a review of this page. NCDHC staff will check .
0 / 75