Newspaper Page Text
] Like The Depression
I Editorial by Henry Ansley,
Anjurilloo (Tex.) Globe-News)
1 like the depression. No more
prosperity for me.
1 liave had more fun ajnce the de
pression started than I ever had in
my life; I had forgotten how to live,
what it meant to have real friends,
what it was like to eat common
every-day food. Fact is, I was fet
ti n*t just a little high-hat.
Th ree years ago, only one man of
the News-Globe organization could
he ut of town at a time. He had
to leave at the last minute and get
hark as soon as possible. Many
times I have driven 100 miles to a
banquet, sat through three hours of
bunk in order to make a 5 minute
speech, then driven the 100 miles
bark so as to be ready for work the
next morning.
•Nowadays, as many News-Globe
cynployees as are invjted make those
trips and we stay as long as we want
to. The whole outfit could leave
the office now and' it wouldn’t make
aany difference.
I like the depression. 1 have
time tef visit my friends, to make
new ones. Two years ago when I
went to a neighboring town, I al
ways stayed at, a hotel. Now, I go
home with my friends, stay all night
auu 1 enjoy home-cooking. I have
even spent the week-end with some
of the hoys who have been kind
enough to invite me.
it’s great to drop into a store and
feel that you can spend an hour or
two or throe or a half day just
visiting and not feel that you are
wasting valuable time. I like the
depression.
1 am getting acquainted with my
neighbors. In the last six months I
have become acquainted with folks
who have been living next door to
me for three years. I am following
the Bible admonition, “Love your
neighbors.” One of my neighbors
has one of the best-looking wives I
have ever seen. She is a dandy. I
am getting acquainted with my
neighbors and learning to love them.
Three years ago I ordered my
clothes from a merchant-tailor —
two and three suits at a time. All
ray clothes were good ones. I was
always dressed up. But now, I
haven’t bought a suit of clothes in
two years. I am mighty proud of
my Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes.
When 1 dress up, 1 am dressed up,
and I don’t mean maybe. I like the
depression.
Three years ago 1 was so busy
*inil my wife was so busy that we
dill n’t see much of each other, con
sequently we sort of lost interest in
each other. I never went home to
lunch. About twice a week I went
lw>mo for dinner —at 6.30 o’clock.
1 never had time to pro anywhere
with her. If I did go an a party,
I could never locate her, ;*d since
there was always a “blonde” or a
♦‘red head” available, I didn’t wor
ry much about it.
My wife belonged to all the clubs
in town. She even joined the young
mothers club. We don’t have any
children, but she was studying—
and between playing bridge and go
ing to clubs, she was never at home.
We got stuck up and hifalutin.
We even took down the old family
bed and bought a set of twin beds —
ei the installment plan.
When I would come home at
night, if my wife was at home, she
would already be in her bed and I
would crawl in mine. Ii I came in
first, it i,vas vice versa.
We like the depression. We have
come down off our pedestal and are
really living at My house now. The
twin beds are stored in the gaiage
sand the old family affair is being
used. We are enjoying life. In
stead of taking a hot water bottle
to bed those cold night, she sticks
her heels in my back just like she
fid before Hoover was elected.
1 haven’t been out on a party in
18 months. I have lost my book of
telephone numbers. My wife has
dropped all the clubs. I believe
we are falling in love all over again.
I am pretty well satisfied with my
wife. Think I will keep her, at least
until she is forty and then if I feel
like 1 do now, 1 may trade her for
two twenties.
I am feeling better since the de
pression. I take more exercise. I
walk to town and a lot of folks who
used to drive Cadilaes are walking
with me. 1 like the depression.
My digestion is better. I haven’t
been to see a doctor in a year. I
can eat anything 1 want to.
I am getting real honest-to-good
ness food. Three years ago, we
had a filet mignon once a week, now
we have round steak and flour
jgravy. Then we had roast breast
of guinea hen, now we are glad to
get sow-bosom with the buttons on
it.
1 like the depresson. My salary
has been cut to where I can’t af
ford to buy lettuce and spinach and
A POETIC APPEAL
A popular member of one of the
professions in New%an finding that
some of his patrons in arrears were
unmoved by the formal statements
sent them regularly the first of each
month, decided to employ anew
form of appeal—something that
woukl stir their emotions and stimu
late an apparently dormant remem
brance of their obligations. This is
what he sent them--
"The rose is red, the violet’s blue,
This little bill is overdue.
“Please pay it now; don’t wait ’till
when
The rose and violet bloom again.
“Por if you do delay it thus,
No rose or violet will bloom for us.
“Unless you pay the rose will rest
Upon our fair and manly chest.
“The birds will sing, but what of
that
We’ll not hear them where we’re at.
“So come across; we need the
dough,
Not in the fail, but now, you know.
“The rose is red, the violet’s blue;
Do we need cash, I’ll say we do.”
—From The Newnan Herald.
SONGS THAT LIVE
(From Waycross Georgian)
A little more than 100 years ago
there was born near Pittsburgh, Pa.,
Stephen Collins Foster, whose best
known songs have stirred the emo
tions of four generations and live
today in the hearts of his country
men as do those of no othei; Ameri
can.
Millions who have sung and heard
them never knew the name of their
author, who was of a quiet and re
tiring disposition, delicate as a child
and never robust.
He began writing songs at the
age of 13, and by the time he was
20 his composition had gained con
siderable favor. He wrote in all
about 125 songs, of which the most
famous have a southern setting, al
though he was born, lived and died
in the north.
Among Foster’s songs which had
a universal appeal may be mention
ed “Old Black Joe,” “Old Folks at
Tome,” “Massa’s in de Cold, Cold
Ground” and the exquisitei vocal
quartette, “Come Where My Love
Lies Dreaming.” These and others
have been popular on both sides of
'.he Atlantic, and their words have
Been translated into many langu
ages. Great musicians incorporated
several of these melodies into ela
borate concert fantasies.
Foster wrote both words and
music of his songs, which made an
epoch in popular "music. He died
in New York in 1864, but his plain
tive, haunting melodies seem des
tined to immortality/
PLAN TO USE SCHOOL
AS MENTAL HOSPITAL
Sparta, Ga.—Dr. Roger Swint,
superintendent of the Georgia State
Hospital for the Insane, at Milledge
ville, spent some time here Friday
afternoon making a survey of the
buildings and grounds of the Tenth
District A. & M. school.
Dr. Swint has been urged by the
local Lions Club and other citizens
to move the mentally defective chil
dren from the hospital here and
form anew unit. The buildings
are said to be well adapted to the
purpose if a few alterations are
made.
FIVE LYNCHINGS RECORDED
FOR FIRST SIX MONTHS
OF 1932
According to the records compiled
at Tuskegee Institute in the depart
ment of records and research, there
were five lynchings in the first six
months of 1932. This number is
the same as the number for the first
six months of 1931. In 1922, that
is ten years ago, there were 30 per
sons lynched in the first six months
of the year.
parsley and we can’t afford to have
sandwiches and frozen desserts and
all the damfoolishness which has
killed more good men than the
World War.
1 like the depression. Three
years ago, I never had time to go
to church. I played golf all day
Sunday and besides I was so darn
ed smart that there wasn’t a preach
er in West Texas who could tell me
anything.
Now I am going to church regu
larly, never miss a Sunday.
And if the depression keeps on, I
will be going to prayer meeting be
fore long.
I like* the depression .
Bertha Goes to
the Dance
By JOHN GRAY
(Copyright.)
IT WAS the day before the nll-l nh
portunt Junior ball ht Tilton col
lege. On the “spare room" bed I#
the Den by farmhouse lay the pink
cnifToti frock that Bertha had bought
for the great e\ent. Silver slippers
and stockings lay beside it.
The whole house was Ip pn nlr of
expeetnney and even the cows and
chickens in the bnmynrd and pas
ture must have suspected that some
thing was In the nlr from the happy,
preoccupied nlr of Bill Donb.v, gruff
and usually Indifferent, as lie went
about his dnlly chores. Bill Penby
was Bertha’s brother, her elder by
ten years, who, though he avoided
society himself, never seemed more
content than when his pretty sister
was Included In the festivities at near
by Tilton college.
Then George Fulton came with the
news that changed all this air of
pleasurable expectation to one of
gloom and dejection.
“I’ve done the tliTng that seems
most honorable,” lie annoumed. "It
means that I can’t take you to the
ball.” And with much faltering and
many hesitations he proceed 'd. 1
“Last summer 1 met a girl who
lives out in Wyoming. We played
tennis together and went swimming
and soiling and—well, before we part
ed I asked her to go to my Junior
ball with me. That was before I had
met you. Well, we wrote once or
twice and nothing more was said
about the ball, and then we didn’t
write any more. I had met you and
she didn't ceem to care whether 1
wrote or not. This morning I had a
letter from her. It Just says: Tm
coming for the ball. Will arrive at
five Friday. I know you haven’t for
gotten your invitation.”
“It’s too late to prevent .her com
ing—she Is almost here. I didn't know
what to do. Of course, I want to take
you more than anything else. But I
made up my mind that the right thing
for fellow to do In the circumstances
was te go to the girl he really cared
for and tell her.”
It was not till George had gone
and Bertha had gone to nurse her
grief in si;,lit of the pink frock laid
out so neptl.v that stie permitted tears
to flow 1 . Bill Denby, who had looked
in vain for his sister downstairs, found
her there in the spare room. Bertha
explained.
“1 don’t care so much about going
with Idm,” she fibbed, “but I wanted
to wear the dress. I never bad such
a pretty dress before.”
“I’ll take you.” Hill said firmly.
“But they won’t let you in—
you’re an outsider.”
"See here." said Bill, shaking a de
fiant finger in her face, “you said this
George is the boss of the dunce. I’ll
show him I’m no outsider this time.
I’m going.”
In tlie thirty hours that were to
elapse bpfore the dance Hill found
only a few for sleep. There was a
hasty trip by motor to Tilton in quest
of evening clothes.
lie came buck with numerous bun-
“Here’s everything from soup
to nuts,” lie announced; “dancing
pumps, silk socks and everything.
Now start in and show me the steps.”
The next evening at half-past
eight, when Bertha, dressed in her
pink chiffon, started off with her
brother to Tilton college, she was in
clined to think that this smooth
shaven, well-dressed young man must
be someone else than her brother.
It was an uncomfortable moment
for Bertha at the door when the
student whose duty it was to receive
tickets, barred the way and looked
skeptical when Bill said he would see
the chairman of the committee, who
would fix tilings up for him. George
came forward, sensed the situation in
a flash, and escorted the Donbys past
the dismayed door committee.
What followed made Bertha feel 9
if she had suddenly been swept off
her feet. The girl, beautiful, stately
and brunette, but certainly older than
George, took both Bill’s hands in hers.
“What a wonderful surprise," she
said. “I was going to send for you
tomorrow, but I never knew you’d
he at the dance.” Then she and Bill
gravitated to some chairs behind some
palms, and when the music started
for the first dance, and George was
expected to he the first on the floor,
he did not even try to find Bill and
tlie mysterious girl from Wyoming,
hut stepped nut on the smoothly
waxed floor with Bertha.
They danced for a few minutes and
then sought two chairs at the side of
the Poor. '‘That’s Helen Dawson,"
George said. ‘‘She’s the girl Bill was
engaged to. One of the hoys was out
in Wyoming a few weeks ago and told
her about Bill—how he'd never mar
ried and didn't like girls, so she de
cided to come and look him up. She
found out when the dance came off,
remembered I’d asked her, and took
th.it ns an excuse to come East. She
didn't think how she * might have
spoiled things for us. But everything
is going to turn out ail right, I
guess.” added George, ns lie looked
over in the palni-shnded corner of the
room where Bill and Helen Dawson
were still talking, oblivious of music,
dancers and possible onlookers.
At.d that night when Helen and
her new-found friend, Bertha Dcnby,
whom she had seen onee before as
a little girl, said good night. Helen
whispered to Bertha that site was en
gaged to Bill and Bertha an non need
in a lower whisper that site and just
accepted George. /
WHEN ADVERTISING TALENT PAYS
o -
During periods of depression, the exceptionally gift
ed salesman has opportunity to prove his worth. If he is
able to make sales when others are going lame—to hold
up his head in the face of odds and take the barriers with
out flinching—his reputation and his future are assured.
What is true of the salesman is true of the publicity
man. The best test of his equipment for his job is his
success in creating and holding interest when his public
is “in the dumps.” .Something more than mere ballyhoo
is required when business is dull, and then it is that the
man with original ideas has, or should have, his advertis
ing inning.
During the flush periods there is little chance to know
whose publicity efforts are contributing most to the suc
cess of a business. Nor is it possible to determine with
accuracy, the relative value of various forms of advertis
ing. The checkup comes when economy demands dis
crimination and employment only of the best men and
methods.
It is significant that in recent months successful ad
vertisers have given preference to newspaper space; that
they have greatly improved the attractiveness of their
displays and that they have abandoned stilted phrasing
of their announcements. There is life and warmth in the
new advertising. It is apparent that the man of talent is
coming into his own.—Springfield (111.) State Journal.
MOSE GORDON LUMBER CO.
ADDS MORE STOCK
We have purchased the stock
of building material formerly
owned by the Commerce Brick
and Lumber Cos. This stock is
being moved to our warehouse,
which is located at our planer
mill on the Commerce-Mays
ville Road. We will carry the
same line and grade of ma
terial that has been carried
heretofore, and will appreciate
your patronage. Phone 9003
for your requirements, and de
livery will be made.
MOSE GORDON LUMBER CO.
Jefferson Insurance Agency,
General Insurance,
Jefferson, Georgia.
-SEABOARD-
Arrival and Departure of Train*
Athens, Ga.
To And From South And Wet
Arrive: Depart
10.18 P. M. Atlanta 6.20 A. M.
” Birmingham ”
1.30 A. M. Atlanta 4.10 A. M.
3.03 P. M. Atlanta 2.20 P. M.
” B’ham.-Memphis
To And From North And Ea*t
Arrive: Depart
4.10 A.M. N.York-Wash. 10.18 P.M.
Rich.-Norfolk
6.20 A. M. N.York-Wash. 1.30 A. M
” Richmond ”
2.20 P. M. N. York-Wash. 3.03 P. M.
” Rich.-Norfolk ”
For Further Information write
J. T. PERKINS, TPA
Atlanta, Ga.
WEEK-END FARES
To Atlanta and other
points via
SEABOARD
Ask Ticket Agent
SI,OOO
REWARD
for the Capture of
KING KOBRA
This Fascinating Nev;
Mystery Game in
Thrills anti! Fan for Everybody
Just Raying Detectives
J. FOSTER ECKLES
AGENT
FIRE AND TORNADO INSURANC
JEFFERSON, GEORGIA.
LET US PAY YOUR TAXES
" ” aV oid e^
Under our Financing Plan, advertising and sale (or 1
PENALTY SAVED, NO RED TAPE, NO DELAY, NO
SIGN, NO ENDORSERS REQUIRED. SERVICE CHARGES M
ATE
Call or write our local representative for inform* 11
Interstate Bond Company, Atlanta, Ga
J. E. Palmour, Jr., Gainesville, Ga.