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The Golden Age
Published Ebery Thursday by the Golden Age Publishing
Company (Inc.)
OFFICES: LOWNDES 'BUILDING. ATLANTA. GA.
WILLIAM D. UPSHAW - - - - Editor
MRS G. S. LINDSEY - ■ Managing Editor
LEN G. RROUGtiTON - - - Pulpit Editor
Price: $2 a Year
Ministers $1.50 per Year
In cases of foreign add* ess fifty cents should be added to cober
additional postage
Entered in the Post Office in Atlanta, Ga.
as second-class matter
We Habe Plowed.
After spending four delightful years in the
Lowndes Building, on Pryor street, the offices of The
Golden Age have
Come to been moved to the
See Us Austell Building, on
In the the Forsyth street
“Austell” — viaduct. The re-
Dear Old Lowndes, Good-bye! moval of all ten
ants in the Lowndes
Building was made necessary because the great finan
cier, Mr. Asa G. Candler, who, as a local newspaper
put it, seems “about to buy up everything in At
lanta except the State Capitol and the U. S. Post
Office Building,” has purchased the Lowndes and
intends to enlarge and improve it from top to bot
tom.
In our new quarters we shall miss the minstrelsy
of voice and instrument about us that relieved the
monotony of the work-a-day world (for the Lowndes
was the Music Temple of Atlanta), and we shall
miss also the urbane and unfailing kindness of Mr.
George S. Lowndes, the proprietor—for no gentler
gentleman ever owned a building or cared for ten
ants than George S. Lowndes. And, too, let us say
it now —“lest we forget”—we shall surely miss
“Jesse,” the genial and accommodating janitor, and
“Robert,” his son, at the elevator, who greeted us
each morning with a welcome smile and stayed
sometimes at night “overtime” to save the flagging
steps of a tired office force, landing us on the ground
floor with a benediction that made us feel all the
way home that we had been “elevated” instead of
being “brought down.”
And right on the same fifth floor were our nearest
neighbors—Drs. R. B. and Robin Adair, those bril
liant dentists, close enough to save us from the
toothache and bless us with their fellowship; and
Dr. Hoye, the “Viava” man, ready always to “change
a dollar” or swap an exquisite joke or two; and last,
but by no means least, the gifted Barili, nephew of
the -world-renowned Patti and son of ‘ltaly’s sunny
clime —flinging at us his jaunty “Buenos dias” at
morning and “Adios” when we went away on a trip
to “slay the Philistines” with a platform lecturette,
or a “booze-fighting” pronunciamento—Barili mak
ing his studio ring and sing with “matins to the ris
ing and vespers to the setting sun” —to these, to all
of these, we must say a fond good-bye!
Dear old Lowndes Building, cradle of The Golden
Age in the troublous days of its infancy, consecrated
by the trying quartette of years when Launching,
Panic and Purpose strove for daily mastery and be
came glorified at last by the beams and gleams of
light that began to splinter the eastern sky, we
speak the fond farewell almost “through a mellowed
mist of tears.”
But be it said with a note of gladness that we are
delighted with our new location, right in the heart
of the newspaper district of Atlanta, and we hang
the latch-string on the outside of “514 Austell” and
heartily invite our readers everywhere to come in
and “shake hands” when they visit the Gate City of
the South.
Cheer the Editor’s heart by sending
in your subscription to The Golden
Age now.
The Golden Age for March 10, 1916.
THANKS YOUNG ROCKEFELLER
Well done, John D. Rockefeller, Jr.! Whatever the
cheap penny-a-liners say about you just because you
were born to millions which
He Has Set a they wish they had, we dare
Wholesome Example to deal you justice! And that
for the Young Men justice includes a “pat on your
of America. back” and a chaplet on your
brow —not because of your
money—not a bit of it —but because, in the midst of
fabulous wealth which has sent many sons of multi
millionaires reeling to the devil, you have kept your
head on your shoulders and your heart in your
bosom.
With clean hands, a sober life and a sane demea
nor you have pursued the even tenor of your way,
and while so many other sons of wealth have nau
seated the American public with social scandals and
WILL D. UPSHA W HUR T
This announcement, we know, will bring a gasp of horror and sorrow from the thousands of
friends of our genial Editor all over the Union.
Just as we go to press, a message comes, advising us that on Monday, March seventh, at Wi
nona, Miss., Mr. Upshaw fell from a buggy and broke his leg. He was in Winona Sunday, held a
glorious trio of services at the Baptist Church, and on Monday night was advertised to give one of
- his famous platform lectures. Down town on business Monday morning, he started to alight from
the buggy of a friend. The horse started suddenly; and without warning he was hurled to the
ground. A physician, and sympathetic by-standers rushed to, his assistance, made a hurried exami
nation, and found that his leg was broken by the fall.
Mr. Ujishaw is being tenderly cared for in the home of Rev. and Mrs. Martin Ball until his wife
can reach him. She left immediately and will bring him home as soon as his physicians pronounce
him strong enough to undertake the trip.
indolent folly, you have worked like your father be
fore you, and kept yourself unspotted from the
world.
and for this wholesome example to young men ev
erywhere not only America, but the whole wide
world owes you everlasting thanks.
Os course, we understand that you do not count
that you have done anything great. You only know
that you have done your plain, simple duty—and
your own modest disclaimer makes your example
and your influence all the more rare and splendid.
This personal salutation “came unbidden” as we
began to make mention of the press announcement
that John D. Rockefeller, Jr., has resigned as a di
rector in both the United States Steel corporation
and the Standard Oil Company in order to give his
life to the management of the Rockefeller Founda
tion for world-wide benevolence.
Some foolish newspapers deal lightly, if not harsh
ly, with this announced purpose of “the son of the
richest man in the world,” and we declare unequiv
ocally that we are ashamed of any weak editor or
cheap reporter who makes such a comment just to
make the rabble laugh, when every atom of testi
mony over every inch of the way proves that young
Mr. Rockefeller’s course, ever since he became old
enough to enter into the fellowship manhood and
money of his father has been exemplary —we might
say ideal in the fact of his living and the force of his
example. John D. Rockefeller, Jr., could not help
being born in the lap of millions. They had come
to him because his great father had a vision beyond
his time and his fellows. And the wonder is, to all
human eyes, that he did not become dizzy and fall
to the ground—or into the mire, as so many simple
sons of Euclid avenue and Wall street have done.
No, not so much wonder, either. To one who has
seen that sturdy father of his (looking so much like
a country deacon) and that plain, sensible, devout
old mother of his always at prayer-meeting during
the week and at the Bible School and church on
Sunday, setting the example in practice and ideals
which have made the boy the man he is, it is no
wonder that John D. Rockefeller, Jr., gives refresh
ing evidence of having two mighty essential things—
common sense and old-time religion!
Young and vigorous, both physically and intellec
tually as he is, and confronted with the greatest op-
portunity which any young man in America ever
had to write his own name higher yet on the rising
tide of millions, he has simply and sanely refused
to “cut any capers” or say to the world of finance
and fashion: “You just must look at me a while.”
But now in the morning splendor of unspeakable
temptations and possibilities he turns from the glit
ter and glare of things that blight and blind, and
with his father’s blessing on his head, and in his
heart he dedicates his purse and his power—the
Morning splendor, the Meridian glory and the Even
ing peace and beauty of his life in scattering in
love and wisdom the million’s which others would
squander on self and sin.
Thank God for such a sacred concept of steward
ship as John D. Rockefeller, Sr., and Jr., are thus
giving to the world.
Mallory ’s Majestic Manhood.
Over in Alabama the political horizon is again
ominous with cloud —and a moral question involved.
While absolutely all prohibi-
We Hope He tionists may not be supporting
Will be Governor Hon. H. S. D. Mallory, it is safe
of Alabama. to say that all liquor men in Ala-
bama are supporting his oppo
nent, and all liquor interests out of the State are
praying—if they ever pray—for Mallory’s defeat.
It is significant that while Mallory was a staunch
supporter of the constitutional amendment in the
recent campaign he is being supported now by a
number of democratic leaders who opposed the
amendment. Some of these leaders say that they
are now, and always have been, opposed to the sa
loon —that they oppose the amendment on other
grounds ,and now that the amendment is a dead
issue, they are supporting Mr. Mallory because of
the majesty of his manhood and the spotless strength
of his character.
Other leaders who have been honestly opposed to
statewide prohibition have declared themselves for
Mallory because they agree with him in his splendid
declaration that the prohibition law ought to be
given a fair chance and that “it can better have that
chance in the hands of its friends.”
How any Alabamian who opposes the liquor busi
ness can fail to support Mallory when the whiskey
politicians are solidly trying to compass his defeat
is a wonder indeed. In a state that believes in law
and order, clean manhood and clean politics Mallo
ry’s nomination ought to be unanimous.
Col. H. S. D. Mallory has long been a leading law
yer in Alabama and his name in Selma where he
has lived for many years is a synonym for majestic
Christian manhood. He is devoted to his church, he
is his pastor’s “right hand man” and is prominent in
the councils of the brave and the true. For the sake
of the peace and sobriety, harmony and happiness
of the great state of Alabama we hope he will be
the next Governor.
Don’t forget our proposition to give
you that bright little paper, the Geor
gian's Weekly News Briefs, Free with
the Golden Age.
