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STIRRING SCENES AT VALDOSTA
An Eye-Witness Tells the Story of the Victory Ober Saloons in Loivndes.
HE story can never be told! The
scene can never be described! The sit
uation can never be understood by one
who is not there! I came all the way
back from Mississippi just to see it —
to be in it —to have the privilege of
being part of it! But it was worth
crawling across a continent to see —
that great day; that rare day, that high
T
day, that good day, that glorious day, that un
speakable, indescribable day —
4 4 When the lips of Heaven, stooping,
Fell the lips of Earth upon”—
the day when the prayers of women were answered
—when the cries of children were hoard —when the
voices of brave men sounded, and the ballots of
brave men fell! Oh, that was the day when the
Queen City of Valdosta, and the great county of
Lowndes went 44 dry”!—overwhelmingly and ever
lastingly 4 4 dry”!
Since fifty years ago, when Valdosta was a strag
gling village, saloons had hung like serpents and
clung like barnacles around Valdosta’s neck. De
spite all these —because of natural advantages and
the stalwart type of her citizenship —Valdosta had
grown to be a splendid city of ten thousand peo
ple. But over yonder was Waycross of the same
size, with no saloons —which had only three hun
dred and font teen arrests last year —while Val
dosta, with saloons, had nearly fifteen hundred.
The contrast was too terrible. Years ago the sa
loons had been partly outlawed. Indeed, if they
were a proper business, they had been grossly mis
treated, for mayor and council had driven them
from the main street and made their license one
thousand dollars each, while other men made for
tunes selling dry goods and groceries under a tax
of only fifteen dollars a year. The people of Valdos
ta grew tired —sick at heart —-confessing every *4ay
their partnership in one of two things: either a
flagrant and unjust discrimination between their
citizens, or else a partnership in a b’ood-stained
nuisance, that should no longer be endured!
A Heroic Leader.
Judge Oscar Smith, a brave, Christian jurist, who
presides over the city court, was pyt at the head
of affairs, and ne’er did Spartan General o’er
Pyrenees Mountains, or ’neath Attic skies, lead
a more valiant fight. He worked himself into a
shadow, and on the day of victory his thin face
shone as did a face of old, tho’ he wist not that
it beamed with light! At his side were the stal
wart Morgan, the Methodist pastor; the intrepid
Wallace, leading the Discopies band; the magnetic
Christie, of the Baptist fold; the scholarly Col
lins, of the Presbyterian Church, and Elder Sims,
the glorious 4 ‘Hard Shell,” 44 Primitive” brother,
who gave an everlasting lie to the charge that
44 Primitive Baptists” are always on the side of anti
prohibition. And there was Sheriff Passmore, who
said he didn’t care how much the perquisites of
his office were cut down if he could only save the
people from liquor and from crime; and there was
Will Thomas, the vigilant Solicitor of the Superior
Court, who had been quietly planning for years
the downfall of the power that brought him so
many criminals to prosecute. And there vas Jim
Johnson, the brilliant young Solicitor of the City
Court, new in the cause, but not afraid ot 44pov
erty, the poor-house, death, nor the devil”! And
there were the legislators from Lowndes D. C.
Ashley, the prudent business man. and J. Randall
Walker, the eloquent young lawyer, who stood four
square in the face of the champions of the saloon.
I (pan mention only these officers. there veie
hundreds as brave as they whom I cannot mention
jwre, but;
4 4 Whose names are writ
Where stars are lit.”
Th© Golden Age for July 4, 1907.
And the workers outside —Judge Anderson Rod
denberry, of Thomasville, from whose eyes and
tongue the lightning flashed; Judge Lon. Covington,
of Moultrie, as brilliant as he is brave; Judge Har
rell, of Bainbridge, who led to victory what at first
seemed a hopeless fight in the whiskey-soaked
county of Decatur; Judge Tom Parker, of Way
cross, who prays on the bench during the week
and fights liquor on Sunday every time he gets a
chance; Seaborn Wright, of Rome, who has caught
the music of the mountain streams in his voice,
and carries the logic of Wm. L. Yancy in his brain;
J. A. Maples, of Greenville, Texas, who can catch
a crowd on the street corner with his homely
phrases, or sweep a cultured audience in the city
thedter, and who simply set the woods on fire
wherever the torch of his zeal was lif'ed or the
fire of his eloquence fell; and 44 Cyclone” Davis,
from the Lone Star Empire, who has turned from
die political arena to give his rcmarii'iblf p-nvcis
to the downfall of the saloon; and there was J. C.
Solomon, Superintendent of the Georgia Anti-Sa
loon League, who was first in the city, then out
Ik* /
GOVERNOR HOKE SMITH OF GEORGIA.
In his inaugural Address he said: 44 My idea of liquor
legislation is to put it where people cannot get it to
drink. In local elections I have always voted ‘dry,’
and if a state prohibition bill is passed by the pres
ent legislature I will certainly sign it.”
among the pines, pouring the gallantry of his
manner and the sweetness of his spirit into the
hearts and consciences of men: and last and best
of all, was that marvelous woman, Mrs Mary Har
ris Armor, the indefatigable president of the W. C.
T. U. in Georgia, whose heart is warm with Chris
tian love, and whose tongue is dipped in flame!
NO WONDER THE SALOONS HAD TO GO!
It was counted by the writer the privilege of a
lifetime to work and speak in company like this.
I felt like crying aloud in the words of England’s
modern genius: “God be thanked, I have wrought
with men!”
Not knowing when the election would occur I had
made lecture dates in Mississippi, covering the
very day of the battle. I was in Mississippi, but
as the eventful dav draw near, the words of Judge
Smith kept ringing in my heart: ' 4 r pshaw, we
need you on election day.” These words conquered,
and Monday morning, about suu’ise, when no one
dreamed that I was near, I stepped from the
Georgia-Southern train and smarted toward the
court house square. The saloon men had been
claiming so much that I still felt anxious. Im
agine, then, what a wave of gladness and gratitude
sw’ept my soul when half a dozen leaders in the
conflict met me half way down the street and said,
with radiance on tlreir faces; 44 The victory is
won! The two brass bands brought here to play
for the whiskey men have gone back to Savannah
and Fitzgerald, one of them playing 4 Dixie,’ apd
the other 4 Home, Sweet Home’!” One of the
strongest liquor men in town threw up his hands
when he saw that great company of women and
children this morning, guarded by their husbands,
fathers, brothers and sweethearts, and said: “Gen
tlemen, I surrender. I can bluff it out no longer.
I cannot stand before such a scene as this. I know
where there is a good bed of bream not far from
town, and I’ll just go fishing today. I give up the
fight! ’ ’
And when I reached the court house square —•
The wondrous scene before me
“Filled my eyes with tears.”
The court house lawn was covered with women
ami children who had been up since long before
day- —and men and boys who had been up all night,
Judge W. A. Covington, the great prohibition
leader in the House of Representatives, was speak
ing to the crowd his last stirring message before
catching the six o’clock train. Shouts and songs
rent the air when he had done. And then came
Roddenberry. But his latent sarcasm was gone,
and his native wit was drowned in an ocean of
tenderness. Tears were in his eyes and in his Voice
as he rose to speak, while tears Hashed answer in
hundreds of eyes all over that great throng. “There
is no hard word now, my countrymen. We are
ready to forgive and love. Our neighbors who are
on the other side have just been mistaken —woe-
fully mistaken. Let us take them to our hearts
and our prayers as never before. 1 never felt so
much in all my life like I wanted to dedicate my
home, my wife and children, and all 1 have to God
and my country’s service!”
Thus the polls opened at Valdosta on the 24th
of June.
His First Vote.
Look! the fair women have formed as.in line of
battle on either side of the walk' from the street,
to the court house door where the ballot box is
open, and every man who votes must walk down
that long aisle between those batteries of eyes ami
smiles or reproaches and tears. See! yonder comes
a fair faced boy—only a stripling, he seems, but
he has just reached his majority and is casting his
first vote —and it -is a ballot without a stain!
Maidens and matrons cheer him while a shout
from his older brothers rends the air and school
boys of tender years look on and wish they could
vote and be a hero, too! And thus the battle
wages. If a man fails to lift tho prohibition, ballot
above his head they know he is wrong and they
give him the vacant stare and the marble heart !
My, my! it is about all a poor fellow’s life is
worth to walk down that long line of Valdosta’s
noble women —with the’ wrong ballot in his hand.
And many who would have voted wrong, maybe,
have stayed away because they cannot 44 face the
music.” Yes, and there is music—for the piano
is ringing and a great choir is singing—and the
church bell is tolling every five minutes reminding
the voters of another soul sent to death and dark
ness by the liquor demon’s snare.
On the Brink of the Grave.
An old man bending beneath the weight of per
haps eighty years came down the side walk. The
wrong ticket was in his hand. Some faithful wom
en, watching, persuaded with melting tenderness.
He gave up his “wet” ticket and supported by
them up the aisle voted against barrooms. Then
the old man talked about his soul, not yet given
to God, and before an open Testament, said. “I
surrender all to Christ.”
Telegrams began pouring in from all over the
county’. Every precinct “dry.” And then the
Hahira people, headed by the band, came down,
with their shining placard. “167 dry—ls wot.”
and marched around tho square. Thousands gath
ered for the final tidings. W. D. U.
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