Newspapers / The Franklin Press and … / April 10, 1958, edition 1 / Page 2
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^ntitJtl in ^r^ss attb Hh* Jlitgklaitits ^arxxmatt Second clua mall privileges authorized at Franklin. N. C. Puollfthed every Thursday by The Franklin Press Telephone 24 Established in list at The Franklin Pre ? Member: N. C. Press Association, National Editorial Association, Carolina * Press Photographers Association. Charter member. National Conference of weekly Newspaper Editors BOB S. SLOAN Publisher and Advertising Manager J. p BRADY News Editor WEIMAR JONES Editor MBS ROBERT BRYSON Office Manager MRS. BOB SLOAN 8oclety Editor CARL P. CABE . Operator - Machinist PRANK A. 8TARRETTE . . Compositor CHARLES E. WHITTINGTON Pressman O. E. CRAWFORD Stereotyper DAVID H. SUTTON . ....... Commercial Printer SUBSCRIPTION RATES Outbids Macon Coontt Ins mi Macon Coontt One Year . ... *3.00 One Tsar t2M Six Months . . 1.75 Six Months 1.T1 Three Months .... 1.0S Three Months .... IjM Two rears . M9 Two Years ?JS . Thru Yean TJO Three Yean M* APRIL 10, 1958 Whose Job? About this time last year, a group of volunteers rolled up their sleeves and gave uptown Frank lin's streets and sidewalks a good scrubbing. It had been a long time since anybody had so much as glimpsed the pavement beneath the dirt, and everybody was surprised at how good the town looked, reasonably clean for once. The improvement was so great, in fact, that it was believed the town authorities would keep the streets and sidewalks clean. But they probably have never been dirtier than they are today. Must volunteers do the job, again? Out Of The Hat The Eisenhower administration has asked Con gress to appropriate $750,000 for the Civil Rights Commission. Why does that commission need three quarters of a million dollars? The question is raised with out reference to the controversy about civil rights ; it would be an equally good question about any similar commission. How can such a commission advantageously , spend three quarters of a million dollars? And how did the administration hit on a round figure like that? Why didn't the need come out at $675,000 or $825,000, or some other odd figure? Well, in this age of billion-dollar appropria tions, three quarters of a million is chicken feed. And we'd guess that's the answer. It's a nice, round figure that was just pulled out of the hat. And as long as you and I sit back and meekly pay the bills, the figures that are pulled out of the hat, for this and other purposes, will get bigger and bigger, and will be pulled out with less and Jess care. Bouquets Three bouquets: Bouquet No. 1, to the Town of Franklin for a nice job on those big holes in the street that leads from Palmer to Main at the post office. Bouquet No. 2, to the Town of Franklin, ditto. Bouquet No. 3, ditto, ditto. A Yardstick * We never know how much a kindly word, a thoughtful little act, may mean. We don't, that is, until something like Miss Elsie Lee's letter, on this page, comes along. That letter points up a thing that is more ap parent to the visitor or newcomer than it is to those of us who live here all the time ? the great-1 est thing we have here in Macon County is the atmosphere of kindliness, neighborline&s, thought ful consideration of others. It's a thing we cannot afford to lose. If, in striv ing for physical progress and material prosperity, we should lose this .priceless intangible, the prog ress and prosperity would come at a high price indeed. It does not follow that we cannot have a reas onable amount of progress and prosperity and these human assets, too. It does follow that every i proposed program of change should be measured against this yardstick : What will it do to the ] Macon County that is such a good place to live i because of the people who live here? < Shattered Legend (Salisbury Etenlng Post) A nation la sustained by many things, including its legeoda, large and small. When one of these dies, we are all perhaps a bit poorer. For lcW years, former President Harry Truman's name has been linked In seemingly happy association with "The Mis souri Waltz." Both as President and as piano player, Mr. Tru man was presumed to have adopted It as his theme song. He would play It at the drop of a chord, smiling, willingly as he gave It his mellowest Inflections. Two notes of the piece from any comedian Instantly Invoked Mr. Truman's image. Now, blow of all blows. It turns out he does not like the "Waltz" at all, but thinks It's bad music. Evidently, all these years, only politeness, political or otherwise, kept him from saying so. At this point, if anyone dares to say that Franklin D. Roosevelt didn't like ''Home on the Range", our foundations may start to totter. Letters Thanks Macon People Editor, The Press: I want to take this opportunity of saying that, though per sonal circumstances made It necessary for me to return to South Carolina, I hope someday to be able to return to Franklin. I shall never rest entirely happy until I do, and shall always twist the arm of anyone who will listen, to tell them of that wonderful area. Many years ago, following the death of my beloved grand father, I accidentally stumbled Into Franklin. I was on this trip to attempt to ease some of the pain of my loss. Nothing on the entire trip Interested me until I took a road that led me to your fine town. I loved It from the very first; and as soon as I saw Wayah Valley, I felt life would never be worth a plug nickel without someday being there. The people were so friendly and nice, so unpretentious ? it didn't seem to mat ter whether you drove a Cadillac or lived in a big Colonial home, just as long as you were friendly to your fellow man, square with them, and seetmed to care about others. I want you' to know that, in a spot in my life where there was danger of my becoming bitter, due to many personal losses, God seemed to take me by the hand and lead me to Franklin and area. From the very first, years ago, I realized that people In that area judged you by what you were as a person; that life was more simple there, and more worth while living. I want you and the fine folks of that area to know how I feel about them; and the happiness that being there brought. I want to thank them for being kind to a stranger, for being the real deciding point in my life ? bitter, selfish, sarcastic or able to still be friendly ? and love people. I just happened into your area almost eight years ago, when' a crisis had arisen in my life; though your fine people never knew X had my own personal crisis, they were grand, friendly, accepting, sharing, wonderful people; and they made the DIFFERENCE In my entire outlook on life. I want to thank everyone In that area for all their friendli ness, and for helping me be happy there. They have convinc eed my heart that man is never at so low an ebb that some one, some place, or some town does not come along to lift them up. Someday, I hope to be able to come back, for I shall always, in my heart, think of it as home. Please convey my heartfelt thanks to all In Macon County, and my wishes for the very best in life. (MISS) ELSIE R. LEE. Kingstree, S. d. DO YOU REMEMBER? Looking Backward Through the Files of The Press 63 TEAKS AGO THIS WEEK ? (1893) Mr. F. R. Hewitt, of Hewitt's, N. C., was In town a day or two of last week, talking up a scheme for an electric railroad from Franklin to Almond, at the mouth of the Nantahala. After a suspension of several months, the Mountain Eagle spread its pinions again last Wednesday and soared aloft on the balmy atmosphere of Highlands, and promises to be regu lar in its visits to all sections of the surrounding country. It is now in charge of Rledout Brothers as editors and pro prietors. 25 TEARS AGO (1933) The relief seeds, which the welfare department is to re ceive from the state, are expected to arrive here the latter part of this week. The Macon County Chapter of the U. D. C. held Its monthly meeting with Miss Nora Leach Monday. 1* TEARS AGO Mrs. Lester Conley has been appointed county commander of the American Cancer Society's field army. A mutual aid association has been organized at the Frank lin planj of the Van Raalte company. Directors are Miss Hallle Cabe, Mrs. Alleen Angel, Miss Catherine Conley, Mrs. Dolly Angel, Mrs. Margaret Neal, and Mrs. Beatrice De Weese. RECALLS LIFE IN SO's Ignore Big, Bad Wolf And Maybe He'll Go Away Carlton Morris in Hertford County Herald The cry of depression Is on in full swing. First one party and then the other comes up with qure fire solutions to halt the recession. One writer has suggested that we soft pedal the whole mess. He advances the Idea that talk ing about it only makes it worse. In other words, he believes that If we Ignore It completely, then it will go away. Surely there are enough of us left to remember the great de pression of the thirties, and I wish to assure the Republicans right now that it will not go away by ignoring or ignorance. We had a sample of that back In those days, ignoring and Ignorance, and some of us pretty near starved to death In the process. That is the one time of lift that I will never forget. As though he looked down on our ignorance In pity, the good Lord blessed us with bountiful crops In those years, but you can't eat stock beans and our civilisa tion has advanced to the point that we can produce cotton and wool but are helpless from that point on. I remember my uncle hired me to help him harvest some beans, rhese were produced principally tor hay and were very small. A ?omblne would not harvest them In those days and we had to cut them by hand and haul them to a threshing machine. This was back-breaking work that began at 7 a jn and ended at 9 pjn. every day. Before the depression, the little beans sold for $8 per bushel. They were down to 40 cents per bushel that year and my pay was 60 cents per day with no regards to the number of hours I labored, which was usually about 12 to 15. My uncle also operated a little country store, and during the long week I- purchased a drink occas ionally and sometimes I would supplement my lunch with a candy bar or a can of beans. On Saturday afternoon a group of the boys who owned an old at$o were going into town to see a Saturday night movie and asked me to go along. I waited and waited at my uncle's store to get my pay until the boys were almost at the point of leaving me. Finally I screwed up my nerve and went in and asked for my pay. My uncle pulled down the old ledger on which he kept his accounts and after numerous interruptions, he arrived at my total debt. I had worked five and a half days, which made him owe me a total of $3.30. I later estimated that I had worked 75 hours. But there was a slight hitch to pay ing me off. I owed his store 00 cents more than my total Income for the week. But he obligingly loaned me a dollar so I could go into town with the boys. People sometimes tell me that my writing is sad and that I must have had a lonely life. They ask me to write humorous pieces for my column more often. I believe the influence of the depression years made a lasting impression on me that I will never be able to forget. ' I remember the year my dad was building a big home for a lumber man In our community. My dad was a first class mechanic and he was drawing top pay of 25 cents per hour. We had an old mule and I undertook to farm our little place as well as another farm about five miles away. In the spring and summer I arose at 4 a.m. and drove the mule the five miles and worked him all day and drove back home. He lay down and died the week after the crop was laid by. Papa always said I plowed him to death. One day Papa Jumped on me good and proper about my appear ance. All the summer I followed the old mule with only a pair of ragged dungarees for adornment and he felt that I was Indecent since I had torn the pants off above the knees and wore no shoes. He turned quickly away ? Continued Back Page 1st See. "Chicken, Sir. Reporting Home To Roost, Sir" m, EfSS ?I^SBS? Strictly Personal By WEIMAR JONES Strange and amusing things can happen to a man who is near sighted. (Webster's Dictionary de fines "nearsighted" as "seeing dis tinctly at short distances only" and I can testify the man who wrote that definition knew exact ly what he was talking about.) Well, after some ten years of "seeing distinctly at short dis tances only" (plus seeing virtually nothing when there's either too much or too little light), I thought surely I'd made every blunder possible. And a lot of 'em are possi ble! Imagine, for example, how it feels to pass a man on the street without speaking, or with merely a nod; then, half a block away, to realize, from the familiarity of his posture or his walk or some thing else, that that was John Smith, a good friend of many years you hadn't seen in months! And I have that experience almost every day. ( And how embarrassing to see a woman you think Is someone you've known a long time, walk up and speak cordially, and then be warned ? too late! ? by the chill that comes your way, that you've never seen her before In your life! That sort of thing can take some remarkable twists. Just last summer, for example, Mrs. Jones and I went up to Highlands to see a play. We were among the first to enter the audi torium and take our seats. In a few minutes, a man approached us and spoke. Supposing him to be a Highlands friend I hadn't seen recently, I jumped up, pump ed his hand, and told him how glad I was to see him again. The obvious puzzlement in his voice, as he acknowleged my greet ing, told me something was wrong. Then I realized it was Bob Sloan! ? whom I'd seen and talked to at The Press office not two hours earlier. ? ? ? And I know I'll never live down that candlelight tea at Chapel Hill a few years ago. I started off by mistakenly taking Gordon Gray, then president of the Uni versity, for a stranger, and wel coming him to his own campus! (I'd talked to him, too, not an hour before.) And before that social function was over, I'd smil ingly acknowledged an introduc tion to a lady, grabbing and shaking the hand not of the lady I was speaking to, but df my wife! (And I didn't even know I'd done that until Mrs. Jones told me, a week or so later.) That story has gone the rounds so much that most of my friends over the state (and this is an illustration of how thoughtful and considerate people are) make a point of unobstruslvely telling who they are: "Hello, Weimar . . . this is Bill Jackson". * ? ? Well, I thought surely I'd had every possible funny experience as a result of being nearsighted. But on tliat trip to Missouri, the other day, I found still more Adventures in Myopia were in store for me. I can travel fairly well. When a porter tells you to "go right up those steps" to reach the sta tion and you don't see any steps, you know all you have to do is follow the crowd. And if you really get in a jamb about finding a train, the red caps always are re markably dependable and effici ent. Generally, though, I insist on being independent. And that can have complications. I had to change trains at both Cincinnati and St. Louis, for in stance, and it seemed to me the railway stations in those cities were the biggest buildings I'd ever seen. There were electric signs all over the place, most of them with arrows telling you plainly just where to find what ever you were looking for. But what good, to me. Is an electric sign a half mile away? I'd walk that half mile only to find, when 1 got there, that what I thought was going to be the baggage check room was an exit to taxi stands. In St. Louis, I walked from one end of the station to the other, twice, looking for a restaurant. Finally, I gave It up, and went into a sandwich place. I asked the waitress what kind of sand wiches she had. A sour looking creature, she stared at me as though that were the most fool ish question she'd ever heard. Then, being the kind who never wastes a word, she simply point ed to a big sign, fifteen or twenty feet away. ''I can't read that", I told her. "You can't read?" "I can't read that. What kind of sandwiches have you?" "Ham", she' snapped. "What other kinds?" "Chicken salad." "What others?" and I kept on till I made her give me the full list. Then I ordered ham! It was my first experience on a train roomette, though, that proved the big adventure of that trip . . . probably of all trips. I got Into Springfield at mid night. My train was to leave at 3 ajn.; and I was so tired I felt I'd give everything I possessed for some place to lie down. So, when the ticket agent told me I could get on the Pullman car and go to bed then, but that all he had was a roomette. I didn't argue, even with myself, about the price of a roomette. On the train, I told the porter I'd like to go right to bed. "Your bed's all ready", he said, ushering me to the entrance to my space. I blinked; for I saw no bed. All I saw was a little room. Then he must have pressed a but ton or something, for out of the wall came down a bed, all made up. Never have I seen a place with so many switches, buttons, and other gadgets. Next morning, in daylight, I discovered they were all labeled, but in the artificial light that night. I couldn't even see the labels, much less read them. If I could have. I probably would have taken them for grant ed, like anybody else; not seeing the labels whetted my curiosity. And so, still being a small boy at heart, I had to try them all. After I'd turned on each of the electric switches to see what hap pened, I started pushing buttons. When I touched the first one. the sliding door to my roomette quick ly shut ? and I was frantic till I found I could open it again. And, at every switch turning and button pushing, I shuddered a bit; that might be the one that would firmly (and literally) Imbed me in the wall where the bed had come from. I looked, and then felt, for the green hammock thing the regular berths have; it wasn't there. I looked, and felt, for clothes hang ers: they weren't there. Then I turned a knob and a door opened and revealed Just what I wanted something like an old-fashioned wardrobe. At the foot of the bed, I found a little door fastened with what looked like an old-time door but ton. I turned it ? and Jumped, when there was a flash. The flash was the reflection of the electric light in the highly polish ed surface of something that look ed like a wash basin, which drop ped from a vertical to a hori zontal position. I felt around un til I found the hot and cold water that proved It really was a wash basin. Sleepy as I was, I played With that thing for minutes, turn ing on the water, then seeing it slush out as I pushed the basin back into its cabinet. Having tried everything. X un dressed. Reaching for my pajama pants, I looked up. There, In the next roomette, was a naked man, staring at me. Indignantly, I reached for the bell to summon the porter. To reach It, though, I had to lean forward, and when I did. the other fellow leaned forward, too ? and then grinned . . . that was the finest mirror I've ever looked into! A train roomette expensive? Well, that one wasn't. Never did I get so much for my money ? a million dollars' worth of fun.
The Franklin Press and the Highlands Maconian (Franklin, N.C.)
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April 10, 1958, edition 1
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