Newspaper Page Text
8
RIGHTING "JOHN 'BARLEYCORN” IN ILORIDA
(Continued from Page 1.)
“But, Mr. Upshaw,” he said, his color rising, “I
am a Southern man. I don’t propose to have my
wife insulted at the polls.”
“Who will insult her?” I asked.
“We prohibition gentlemen will not do it, and
surely you local option, ‘liquor option,’ gentlemen
will not.”
And like the king’s marriage guest found without
a wedding garment on, “he was speechless.”
Finally, I said in bidding my lawyer friend good
bye: “My brother, you are wrong, terribly wrong.
Your wife’s ‘principle’ makes her want to fight sa
loons. Your ‘principle’ makes you vote to keep them
in Florida. And,” —then I looked him straight in the
eye: “Remember, that any man who will carry a
quart of liquor home in his valise and drink it along
on the train, has no business telling his wife that
she shall not take part in a prohibition campaign.”
And he looked —'well, have you ever heard of a
man’s “looking like thirty cents"?
That lawyer husband looked like “30 cents,” with
the 3 gone and the rim rubbed off of the nought.
Selah.
Then I shook hands warmly with him, saying:
“God bless you, my brother. My heart is in this
matter. Just acknowledge that you are wrong and
that your wife and children are right, and write me
a letter and tell me you are going to work and vote
with your wife against saloons.”
He looked convinced, and there was joy in my
heart.
But the momentary joy was marred when he an
swered my appeal for him to leave the side of the
whiskey men and line up under the white banner.
He said, with stammering tongue: “Mr. Upshaw,
I am a lawyer. I must remain neutral —it will hurt
my profession if I take sides.”
And then you can imagine what happened—how I
pointed out the beauty, the duty and the glory in the
conduct of a man in public or private life who takes
his stand in every battle between Right and Wrong
and fights for the Right, till the stars tumble down!
In Cultured, Conservative Madison.
It was a real treat to me to speak that night to
a big crowd in one of the most cultured, conserva
tive towns in Florida. The W. C. T. U., under the
presidency of Mrs. Columbus Smith, had advertised
the meeting well. My visit to the famous Cates
Normal School that afternoon had served to let the
folks know that the “Georgia Booze-Fighter” had
come to town, and the superb speech of introduction
by Col. Columbus Smith, the husband of the Presi
dent, showed that as a “discoverer” of charming
phrases he must be akin to that other Columbus,
who discovered our favorite part of this terrestrial
ball.
Trying to impress that generous audience that
Madison’s prohibition “conservatism” needs setting
on fire, I dashed in Hardee’s automobile to catch the
Bishop Candler on the Country Church
(Continued from Page 4.)
made to laugh or cry, or they soon cease coming
to the church.”
Bishop Candler’s severe arraignment of city ten
dencies is all the sadder because it is true; but
thank the Lord, “there be seven thousand yet” in
the cities that have not “bowed the knee to Baal,”
(and no better people live on earth), but most of
these noble city workers who stem the tide of “soda
pop” preaching and wanton worldliness, got their
theological bearings in the country church before
“Reuben came to town.”
Bishop Candler concludes with the following burst
of sacred eloquence:
“Let the country preacher and the country church
know that they are working at the very center of
things. They may be as completely overlooked as the
parents of Moses- were unknown to the historians
of ancient Egypt; but for all that, they may be con
troling the currents of the future as none others
among us. We may be sure that the decisive forces
of history are not battles on bloody fields, but spirit-
The Golden Age for September 22, 1910.
train that would put me in Monticello at “midnight’s
holy hour.”
Back in the royal town where I first heard the
inspiring campaigning of the Stetson Quartette, I
gladly greeted friends, old and new, until the hour
for the farmers’ meeting at 2:00 o’clock that after
noon.
All the merchants, except one, agreed to close their
doors for the meeting, even if it was Saturday, and
after a speech of presentation by Mayor Bailey, that,
as the old darky said, was more generous than “judg
matic,” I tried to show the farmers their right and
duty to rise up in their right and might of Democracy,
and stop the inroads of the prevaricating “local (?)
option" saloons into the dry rural districts.
Mrs. Barnett, the consecrated President of the local
W. C. T. U. proved her right to the crown of leader
ship, while Editor Atkinson, of The Monticello News
showed the loyalty of a real prohibition editor by
bringing out his force, editor, devil and all. Jeffer
son county will go gloriously dry.
In Florida's Beautiful Capital,
It w T as my first visit to the sylvan shades and
beautiful vistas of historic Tallahassee. All the
evangelical churches entered into the services held
under the auspices of the plucky Tallahassee chap
ter of the W. C. T. U., who, under the intrepid lead
ership of such brave, active women as Mrs. J. G.
Collins, Mrs. W. G. Rugely and Mrs. Carrie Jones, are
fighting the White Ribbon battle under the very dome
of Florida’s capitol. They are organizing W. C. T. U.’s
in adjacent towns and getting the women ready to
fight and pray and WIN!
I sorely missed the fellowship of Pastor J. B. Pruitt,
who is in far-away New Mexico, with a sick wife.
But the three services of the day culminated in a
big union rally at the handsome new Methodist
Church. Pastor Patterson preaching at a suburban
mission, Dr. Zeigler, the Prohibition Warhorse of the
Presbyterian Church, presided, while stirring music
by two members of the Southern Star Quartette and
the Methodist choir got the speaker and the audi
ence “ready for business.”
The editor of “Florida,” the local liquor paper,
tried to “tear up the patch” with my argument, but
acknowledged that the Georgia man was a “right
nice gentleman,” and could do lots of good in the
world if he would just let Prohibition alone. Ha! ha!
And in tne same issue this same editor, who has
talents worthy a better cause, confessed that because
of the boycott of the prohibition people, his paper
had had to live “almost wholly on the income from
liquor ads.”
Verily, as President Pollock, of Mercer, used to say,
“Young gentlemen, it is not necessary for you to live,
but if you DO LIVE, it is necessary for you to live
right.”
Perry Saloon-Keepers and the Mayo Debate.
Perry was royal. Two fearless young lawyers, Col.
Calhoun and Col. Blanton, took charge of me at the
ual conflicts on bloodless arenas. And these decis
ive contests are in our section at least oftener waged
and won in the rural churches than elsewhere. In
these retired and quiet places spiritual truth falls
on ears most inclined to hear, and spiritual forces
operate under conditions most favorable to success.
“The blessing of the God of Israel rest on our
country people, with their family altars upon which
the fires go not out and their plain houses of worship
in which God delights to meet them’ There is His
pillar of cloud and of fire.”
M *
The Habit of Prayer.
Stonewall Jackson having once used the expres
sion “instant in prayer,” was asked what was his
idea of‘its meaning. “I will give you,” he said, “my
idea of it by illustration if you will allow it, and
will not think that I am setting myself up as a model
for others.” On being assured that there would
be no misjudgment, he went on to say, “I have so
fixed the habit in my own mind that I never raise a
glass of water to my lips without a moment’s asking
of God’s blessing I never seal a letter without put-
depot and went with me to the jumping off place.
In company with a Rev. F. P. McCall, a young
Methodist evangelist, we visited the four saloons
(having witnesses so that our innocence might be
established), shook hands with the proprietors and
invited them to close at 8:00 o’clock and hear me.
And they did!
I have found that kindness wins, but bitterness
never. Bless their poor hearts, those boys are too
fine to be in that dirty business, and I told them
I was trying to get them into a better business.
That night the lightnings flashed, the thunders
rolled and the electric lights went out, but Uncle
John D.’s lamps were fetched and the meeting
went merrily on. W. E. Inman, the new editor of
The Taylor County Herald, is “all wool” and sev
eral yards wide (perpendicular) and is every inch
for statewide prohibition.
Mrs. C. T. Culpepper, the vigilant leadei 4 of the
W. C. T. U. forces is getting ready to sow down the
county with white ribbons and winning enthusiasm.
But the Mayo saloonists wouldn’t “play in my yard
nor holler down my rain barrel, nor slide dow§; my
cellar door.” One of them told me “prohibition
wouldn’t prohibit.” I looked him in the face and
said: “No wonder—because you, claiming to be a
“local optionist” shipped liquor this morning—l saw
it at the depot—to four different dry counties around
here. Local option with you, my friend, means liq
uor option.”
In Which I Debate —
But the second night at Mayo was enlivened by a
debate. Hon. John Garnto, member-elect of the next
Legislature, took up the gauntlett and defended the
“local option” side.. He declared it was dangerous
to tell school children or citizens of Florida: “Thou
shalt not,” for it would make ’em go right straight
and try to do the thing.
I replied that his argument would cancel all fam
ily authority, all governmental authority and all
Divine Authority and subvert every law from Sinai
to Tallahassee.
He said he had suffered from whiskey and hated
it worse than any woman. I replied that he ought
then to join the women in this crusade, and drive
saloons out of Florida and help keep them out till
the Judgment Day.
Professor Kennedy, the new school superintendent
treated me royally and his children sang for the
first time my improvised chorus “John Barley corn
Must Die.”
Pastor Brantley of the Methodist Church was a
“wheel horse” in planning and advertising. Presid
ing Elder Moore was a whole team in “aiding and
abetting” the speaker; Mrs. Ware, President of the
W. C. T. U. gave me a mother’s “God bless you” and
Mrs. Felton at the Hotel Felton gave me ammunition
for the battle, and I rushed away to Ft. White simp
ly champing the bits for another lick at desperate
“John Barleycorn.”
ting a word of prayer under the seal. I never take
a letter from the post without a brief sending of my
thoughts heavenward. I never change my classes in
the section room without a minute’s petition on the
cadets who go out and those who come in.” “And
don’t you sometimes forget this?” “I think I can
say that I scarcely do; the habit has become almost
as fixed as breathing.”
H *
T)on ’t Mention the Briars.
A man met a little fellow on the road carrying a
basket of blackberries, and said to him, “Sammy,
where did you get such nice berries?”
“Over there, sir, in the briars?”
“Won t your mother be glad to see you come home
with a basket of such nice, ripe fruit?”
“Ye' sir,” said Sammy, “she always seems glad
when I hold up the berries, and I don’t tell her any
thing about the briars in my feet.”
Jhe man rode on. Sammy's remark had given him
a lesson, and he resolved that henceforth he would
try and hold up the berries and say nothing about
the briars.
