Newspaper Page Text
EDITORIAL, PAGE
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday
By THE GEORGIAN COMPANY
At 20 East Alabama St., Atlanta. Ga.
Entered as second-class matter at postoffice at Atlanta, under act of March 3, 1879.
The Standard Oil Letters
Published in Hearst’s
Magazine
These Letters Tell Yon SOMETHING REAL About the Gov
erament Under Which You Live. And They Cure You
of Any Faint Doubts as to the Power of Money in This
Country.
In the May number oI Hearst s Magazine and the \\ eld loday,
which has just appeared on the newsstands, W l» Hearst publishes
an article entitled “The Lesson of th“ Standard Oil Letters, and
presents a certain number of the »* famous documents, of which a
great many have not as yet been made public.
To a rnan who studies the government of his country and who
is interested in the relative importance of men and of money, these
letters, revealing the inside of political activities, arc most valuable
and instructive.
One of the letters—not published hitherto, and printed in fac
simile in ‘ Hearst’s Magazine was written by Mark Hanna to
John D. Archbold, of the Standard Oil.
And it reads as follow?
UNITED ST A FES SENATE.
Cleveland, Ohio, September 22.
John D Archbold. Esq.
My Dear John .
I am in receipt of yours of the 18th instant.• with
enclosures as stated, for which lam obliged lam hold
ing the bag." and this is going to he an expensive cam
paign. 1 can see where I will land before the thing is over,
so 1 have no doubt I will have Io call again. I feel a
delicacy about this, a: it is my funeral. I can bog for others
better than when I have a personal interest.
There are many important interests in this fight.
Should Johnson carry the legislature, corporations will
catch it, ar, 1 am their representative so called.
Sincerely yours.
M. A. HANNA.
Is, not the wording of tbit letter vow interesting'’
Mark Hanna, the most powerful man in politic . addresser, as
“My Dear John" Mr. Archbold, the most powerful man in finance,
since he acted as the representative in politics of the Standard Oil.
Mark Hanna acknowledges with thanks John L). Archbold S
letter “of the 18i.h instant, with enclosures."
And he announces at the same time that he will soon be coming
back for more.
The reader docs not need to be told what, sort oi an enclosure
was in Archbold's letter, or for what reason Mr. Hanna would
“call again " on the Standard < »il paymaster.
As you read this letter, remember that the man that wrote it
and the man to whom it was addressed were engaged in an election.
Mr. Hanna describes himself as “holding (lie bag that is to
say, collecting the money that was to decide an election.
And John D. Archhold, of the Standard Oil, is the man to
whom he goes T<* F ILL I T THAT BAG.
This and other letters of the kind, published in the May num
ber of Hearst ’s Magazine, and to be published in a series of issues
of that magazine for some lime, will constitute an important page
LN THE REAL HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES, when mir
Republic and the birth of Hie financial and industrial trust are ana
lyzed in days to come.
Another letter in the May number of Hearst’s Magazine is
written by John D. Archbold to Mark Hanna. In this letter Mr.
Archbold, who is called upon when the bag needs tilling, tells why
he wants “very objectionable legislation at Columbus killed per
manently.
Many letters from Mr Archbold, of the Standard Oil. appear
in this .May number of Hearst 's Magazine and every one is im
portant to the maii who wants to understand HO\V THINGS ARE
DONE on the inside of politics ami finance in the United States.
A very intelligent man is Mr. Archbold, a good paymaster and
political director lor a great trust.
And a very good thing it is for Hu country at large that these
letters arc <ri vmi to the people. TO \\ HOM TH FA BELONG. prov
ing. as they d<>. a conspiracy against government by the people, and
a plan to rule by financial organization.
The Bungalow
By M IN N A th’\’lNG.
H.F ar'.- are in the bum! •!-. m- .or m lie ,
The only water we can uet is carried from th- s.ream.
—• ti lp farmers will not ’•! th'-! . bus, they ■<y th. % -ait th 1 m down
And al' thei fruit and u-grtahh < th-y -■ nd awaj m town.
The planks Iwrmath out air tu ! of ,-r,v k, bmb <-.<p an.l wi<b,
And snails and slues, and crawling hues . <>m<- . rc-pms up inside.
1 found a caterpillar one- <-n iit|« i).«n my toe.
But that is what you must expert when in a bungalow.
We can not sit upon the pon-11. - cornet's nest Is ih»n .
At every sound they all tiw out with ti.■ • . and angry air.
The - hingle roof c leaky, too. , <> u wak< and And the bed
~ soaking from the -honei bath in action overhead
M-- face and arm are a'! t,-’t -• i wit - re m .jnito hit-..
And concerts by the owl and make horrible the nights
Bu' when «e write to city friends " -a "U r dor t you jo
Aaid buy an acre tn the woods and build a bungalow 7"
The Atlanta Georgian
THURSDAY, MAY 16. 1912.
IT MIGHT BE WORSE H
By T. E. POWERS.
Copyright, 1912. by International News Service.
— ——l —————————
800 Moo They , j [ tell y ou -ne
WANT lb RECALL I w. COUNTRY
Judges J 'aillcototme
00 . 5 ir Then
keep on 2
ATTACKING, US I
x J 1
Judge ' a
WHAT 5 OWt I
i The
MATTER/ g
Vi JBIh? 6 IB
CL • ■ ig L '—
Ye TisTool
That THE PEOPLE SADI
Do NOT TRUST " . >
yTME JUDGES I
'wU J** ‘
gv :: stry vKr
A LETTER. ' TTWEMBER i hamEht'i
\ HAD A CHANCE To /
• \ < EXPLAIN !
-tfoufauw! W'
UL. Iteaas; . 7--M /
DOROTHY DIX WRITES
()}
I'he Married W Oman Who Flirts With Boys Meanest
on Earth
fTAHERE are men who are ivolvfvs
I in : hecp's clothins. who pryy
upon young g'irlr. and " hoare
one of the menaces of society.
There are women who are ser
pents in satins ami laces ami dia
monds. who prey upon young boys,
who are equally dangerous, and
who do just as much harm In the
world.
Everv mothci is on her guard
against the evil man. and does the
best she can to protect her daugh
ter from him. but few mothers ever
realize the danger their son is in
from the unprincipled woman, or
seek to guard him from an expa
t-feu,-,, that may lie as blighting to
him as any misfortune that could
befall his sister would he to her.
I do mu speak here of tin so
called. bad woman.'' the recognized
and publicly branded painted, lady.
She is an enemy out in the open,
who may be openly fought. Re
sides which, she is not half so dan
gerous to a boy as is the woman
who is smug and good without and
a charnel house_jvithin; who ob
serves the lettei of morality while
breaking its spirit. At th, worst,
the scarlet woman only pilfers his
pocket, but the white robed hypo
crite robs him of his soul.
Therefore, w hen your Jimmy sud
denly begins to hang around Mrs.
Blank, and to be always at her
'. house, and running her errands, and
driving her • ar for her. and plac
ing tennis with her. and is out on
the links with her. don't be idjot
enough to laugh good-naturedly at
his infatuation, and congratulate
yourself that he's fallen in love
with a woman old enough to be his
mother instead of with some girl
of his own ago that he might want
to marry .
Send Your Boy Far From
the Temptress.
And don t talk about what a good
• -man Mrs- Blank if and -a- hew
glad you are tha’ hi has fallen un-
I der such a noble and refining infiu-
By DOROTHY DIN
enee. Break up.the intimacy before
- Jimmy is 24 hours older. Send
him away for a while, as far from
.the temptress as you've got tlte
nhbney to buy railroad fare. Pull
him back as you would if lie stood
on th. brink of ihe pit Itself.
Every married woman who flirts
is a courtesan at heart, Coward
ice. or greed, or the desire to hold
her plat e in society, may keep her
w ithin the hounds of reaper lability
and make her short of,actual'
criminality, but at the core of her.
being she is immoral, and there is
neither truth .nor honor in her.
Meanest Woman on Earth
Is Married Flirt.
Th* married woman who. not
content with her husband's affec
tion plays at love with other men.
and seeks their admiration, the
while she eats het husband's bread
and weats the clothes be gives her
as she drags his name through the
mud. is a contemptible enough fi& -
tire, heaven knows, but the meanest
woman on earth iS ' the married
flirt who is a cradle snatcher.
Such a woman does not even play
the game squarely, because she pits
her knowledge of life again*! a
boy's ngnorance. her. experience
against his inexperience, her art’
and wiles against his unsophisti
cation. Against her flatteries, her
cajoleries, he is as helpless as a
bahw in the hands of a giant. It
is as easy for any married women
who is a flirt to make a boy fall
in love with her as it would be for
| a prize fighter to take candy money
away from a child. And about as
reputable
As a matter of fact, it is only the
timid among flirtatious married
women who go in for kidnaping.
The bolder sort prefer to have
their affairs with men. but the for
mer ar® too much afraid. People
would talk if Mr. Jones and Mr.
Smith "ere too much in evidence
in their company, but their friends
only laugh when the Jones hoy or
the Smith boy is forever dangling
at their apon strings The boys
are safe gams Therefore the: “
w omen, whose hungm vanity must
be continually fed by the flatteries
of lovers, and who play wi.tb pas
sion as.a'child play swith ttrC. sac
rifice—the lads to their egotism.
They lure the boys ofi.“ They
coax the very hearts out’jjj! their
bosoms They bind therri'ltand and
foot, and make ■ slaves of ■'-them.
They fan every flame of desire. and
then, when, their evil w ork is done,
and tlte buy. no.longer a toy. but
suddenly, turned man., gulps out
some w ild love appeal to-them. they
turn and laugh at . him. They are
so surprised. So virtuously indig
nant. They never should have
thought it of Jimmy. Or Tommie,
whom they thought such a nice
lad.
It is the fashion to, ridicule calf
love; it is the best and purest love
of a man's w hob- life, and the pity
• of it is that so .many boys brqak
the alabaster casket ,at their tin
worthy feet For no.youth eve
comes out of a flirtation with a
married woman unscathed It
loaves him with broken faith and
blasted trust, and' every ideal of
. womanhood smirched.
In the beautiful odd play of
Name Oldfield” a voting toy. w ho
is a poet, falls in love with an ac
tress who is much his elder, and
the lad's father ind.uc.es her Jo cure
him of his romantic fancy. Sh*
does this by dispelling the Illusions
with which he has sur: minded her.
and by showing herself to him so
fat. and middle-aged, and sordid,
and vulgar, that he turns from her
in disgust. The father comes back
and asks: "Did you cure him?"
"Tes." answers the actress. "but
I have done a terrible thing. I
have put out the light upon, the al
tar for him.”
Parents' Duty to Guard
Young Boys.
That is what the married flirt
does for every young boy who
comes under het baleful influence.
She kills the high and holy things
for him. She slays his enthusiasm.
Such an affair leaves a wound, on
his soul that never heals.
It is the duty of parents to pro
tect their young toys against these
vampires as much as thev can. and
they are found even among your
own friends, fie craftily suspicious
of an v married-woman who has a
horde of young cub; following her.
There i; only one woman on earth
who lya; .a legitimate liking for the
socletv of a young boy, and that is
his owa mother.
THE HOME PAPER
The Easy Way Out
By LOUIS E. THAYER. ___
HAVE you ever been tired of living and felt that it wasn t worth
while?
Have you ever been tied to a miserable grouch that wouldn 1 per
mit you to smile ?
If you have, you have been where the whole world looks black and
the minutes actually crawl,
And you couldn’t help thinking how easy 'twould be to just put an
end to it all.
You’re right, it is easy to just put an end to all of this trouble and
strife;
The river is waiting for those who despair and for those who are
weary of life.
You say you hare fought just as long as you could —yott have
toiled just as long as you can.
AH. WELL. IT IS EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG. BUT IT'S HARD
TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN 1
You say you are bitter to all of mankind, and even God s goodness
you doubt.
There’s nothing but darkness and trouble around and never a
brighter way out.
You've faithfully toiled at your task, you declare, but everything
seems to go wrong.
And your eyes have lost sight of the beauty around, while your ears
have grown deaf to all song.
So you think it is better to simply withdraw—to just take a leap
. from the dock :
The ripples will hardly close over your head ere your friends will
be over the shock. '
There’s nothing else left for the chap who’s in bad. whom Fortune
has held under ban—
BESIDES, IT’S SO EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG, AND SO HARD
TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN.
Ah. yes. it is easy to say you are licked, to give up thb struggle
and yield; \
It's a cinch to turn your back on the foe and heedlessly run from
the field.
It is easy to throw down the burden because you find it too heavy
to bear,
And it's easy to shy at your duties because you know that some
trouble lurks there.
But don’t be a weakling and do easy things, but go to the work of
the strong.
Go wage your fight where the-labor is«hard and the hours are weary
and long!; .
Cling to your smile as you go on your way and sing as each trouble
you scan.
FOR. REMEMBER. IT'S EASY TO DIE LIKE A DOG. BUT IT’S
HARD TO LIVE ON LIKE A MAN.
My Old Friend’s Son
Bv WINIFRED BLACK
I, SAW him at 'the theater the
other ; day—my old friend’s son.
He had only a few lines to
say in the play, but there was
something in his voice and In the
way he carried his head' that at
tracted tny attention. I'looked on
he bills—yeW it was the same name
—let's see. ten. fifteen, sixteen, sev
enteen, ~iust about that by now, my
friend's son—the little tyke who
dragged me to the nursery to see
his new rocking horse—January’ he
called him, I remember, the last
time l saw him. - What bright eyes
he had. and what a smile! ' He
looked as. if there never , was going
to be anything for him in the world
but music and laughter. And now’
his .father’is dead and’his• mother
lies in her tlow grave, too, and he!s •
out in the world alone, fighting bifl., .
own flgh».- "Shall. Look him up,” I
thought. "No, he’ll think me a bore
—he looks happy- and prosperous.
I'll just send him a-loving' thought “
over the-footlights and let it go at •
that.” . , ,
But in the next act the boy stood
silent for a while and watched the
star and her troubles, as his part
hade him do. and there was some
thing wistful and stramed about
his face that called to me like a
w‘ell loved and well remembered
voice, and 1 cahnged my mind.
I went back and hunted up the
boy. and he looked at me with eyes
full of unshed tears when I men
tioned his mother's 'name, and all
the rest of that - week we- were
friends, the boy and,]. And now
we shall be friends as long as we
live, the tw.o of us. And he did
need me that very day. too. ’ He
was trying to make up his mind
about something, and we talked th»
whole tangled, foolish, complicated
affair all over, the boy and I. and
I helped him decide to do the .
square thing, even if it did turn
out to be a little troublesome, and
I almost heard my old friend's
voice calling to me in the March
wind, and-it never sounded sweeter
in all the times I have ever heard it.
What's become of the children of
our old friends?
Some of them are little yet and
some are at school somewhere away
from home, perhaps in the very
city- where we are.
What's become of the girl that
was the. idol of the home we used
to visit? Wonderfully clever w e all
thought her—she bored us some
times w’ith het caprices and her
little spoiled ways, but we never
dared let her mother think so. Foor
child, she's spoiled no longer
She is making her own way now
alone—and nobody marvels a’ her
cleverness or thinks the gray old
world not good enough for her —•
j now. . -. ■
The little hands that were so
white arid so useless —what heavy
work they- do now, and’ how well
and courageously they do it. too!
*"• Let us-look her. up and. tell her
about the good times we used to
have with her mother, when .all the
world was full of love songs and
the only thing the moon was for
. was to lodk.pr.etty for us and tqrn
an ordinary walk into a romantic
adventure.
Who is that hobbledehoy over
there? Come to town tn go to
school, they say. Doesn’t seem to
know many people, and he's always
on the porch waiting for the. post
man every morning Some of the
boys in his' class call him “the
’Jay." I wonder if he's sb-very
homesick yet,
■- Why. his father used to drag you
on his sled when you were not half
so big as this boy of his Why not
tell the hobbledehoy about it. and
tell him what a fine fellow his fath
er was. and is, too" ’He is a little
worried about it now. he is so dif
ferent from the rest of the kind in
his class.
Who is so lonesome on earth as
a boy away from home among
strangers?
Rest light, little mother, in your
low grave. I knew you once and
■ loved you. and for your sake that
boy- of yours shall never w-ant for a
friend as long as J shall live. Give
me your hand, dear boy -with your
mother's eyes. No. T won't senti
mentalize over you. I won't lecture
you I'll just love you and never
say a word about it—boy fashion.
Hard! Whose voice was that in the
March wind—the voice that used to
sing so clear and gay?
"Chillen keep in de middle of de
road.
Oh. den. chillen, keep in de middle
of de road;
Don't you look to de right.
Don't y ou look to de left.
But keep in de middle of de road."
H hat a quaint darky accent he
could make and how we used .to
love to hear her sing the old jubilee
song. 'Des Keep to de Middle of de
Road."
Deal- friend, your little dancing
feet walked down shadowed roads
before you came to the end. didn't
they ?
But you sang all the way . they
tell me "Keep in de middle of de
road.” Well, that boy of yours
shall keep there too. if there 1= any
virtue tn love and earnest effort to
help him to remember.
