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EDITORIAL. PAGE
THE ATLANTA GEORGIAN
Published Every Afternoon Except Sunday
By THE GEORGIAN COMPANT
At 20 East Alabama St., Atlanta, Ga.
Entered as second-class matter at postoffice at Atlanta, under act of March 3, IS7S
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Do You Really Want To Be
Thankful?
* * *
I Stop Something Foolish Today—Don't Wait Any Longer.
“What have I to he thankful for?” auk ten million men—with
a heavy emphasis on the I.
You may he thankful for many things. You have more than a
month left in which to hurry up and attend to those good resolu
tions made last New Year’s day.
You are still ALlVE—and have still OPPORTUNITY ahead
of you.
When we are thankful in this world, it is because of something
we have DONE. Other people do not bother trying to make us
thankful.
Do you want to he really thankful today? Stop some foolish
thing that yon do every day. YOU know what it is—and your
wife probably knows, or your mother or friend—but no one tells
you.
YOU KNOW
Stop it. Get rid of some one particular foolishness, some weak
ness. some self-deception, some waster of time, money, health or
nerve force.
Wake up tomorrow morning with just ONE less bad and fool
ish habit, and you will be thankful then as you should be today.
Only YOU can give cause for thankfulness to YOU.
What Can the President Do?
R M M
It Depends on WHAT THE PRESIDENT IS. His Opportunities
Are Great.
Mr. Wilson, when he hwnmes president of the United States
on the fourth of next March, will have powers greater—if be is able
to utilize them—than any other human being—king, emperor or pri
vate citizen —living.
His power will exceed that of the emperor of Russia, first, be
cause he will be the head of a nat ion much greater and more power
ful than Russia: second, because the Russian emperor, dull natu
rally, living in a state of panic, is controlled by the physically de
bauched grand dukes and the mentally debauched heads of the Rus
sian church, and is really no emperor at all.
The greatest power possessed by our president is THE POWER
TO TALK TO ALL OF THE PEOPLE EVERY DAY if he chooses
io do so.
I
His utterances are recorded conspicuously. He has the oppor
tunity to put the thoughts that are in his mind into millions of other
minds -provided he can make his thoughts interesting.
That power to reach the minds of others is the greatest power
that any man can possess.
Mr. Wilson will have practically the power to make war or
peace as president of the United States. Controlling the army and
navy, able to take important steps without consulting con
gress, he could easily precipitate a war, if that seemed to him desir
able, or by wisdom and discretion he could make war impossible.
The president has the power to make treaties. The senate must
give its approval and advice. But the real power is with the presi
dent—a very great power. The president, in his messages to con
gress. recommends and initiates legislation. This gives him prac
tically the power to MAKE laws. For the members of congress de
pend upon him for favors; he has the power to veto the laws and
appropriations that they desire, and they are not apt/to ignore his
wishes.
It is possible for Mr. Wilson to do a great deal for the people of
the United Slates between 1913 and 1917. He can do a great deal
of initiating and carrying through good ideas. ’ And he can do a
great deal by refraining from harmful, premature experimenting
and very disturbing acts.
Let us hope that all promises made by him or on his behalf will
be more than fulfilled, and that he will shine in history not only as
one who knew what to DO. but as one of the very few and very wise
that know WHAT NOT TO DO.
Baldheaded Women
Alas! now comes a Washington physician with the awful an
nouncement that we may expect a race of bald-headed women. He
thinks tlie children ol bald-headed fathers are developing a new
species of the human family. He even makes the flattering asser
tion that loss of hair is indicative of mental elevation and a step in
the evolution of man from the hairy beast to the highest type of
ouiture.
Let us hope the day oi the bald-headed woman is far distant,
it paralyzes the imagination to picture a bevy of beautiful women
with bald heads. Would they be beautiful?
Says Pope:
fair tresses man s imperial race ensnare
And beauty draws us with a single hair.”
If the physician is right in declaring that increased mental
•■flort means tin- loss of hair, our women are facing a serious situa
tion in these days ol suffrage and feminine activity.
<>t course, even at the cost of becoming bald-headed, that work
must go on. but there will always remain wigs, and as our ancestors
wore wigs when there was cal hair a-plenty, thev mav solve the
when hair is scarce.
The Atlanta Georgian
Three Thanksgiving Dinners
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I 1913.
The home life; the gay life, and the life it leads to.
Responsibility For Many Killings
By THOMAS TAPPER.
I.
HE recent instance of a young
| woman shooting her mother in
a sleeping ear because site
thought her a robber is full of mis
fortune for the young lady, and full
of suggestion for the rest of the
population.
Whenever there is a revolver
handy, the chances are many to
one that some one will get hurt, if
not killed. And some one else,
without evil intent, will become the
murderer of a fellow being.
Why Do We Need Them?
The sale of liquor as a national
menace has so impressed the Amer
ican people that many of them are
neither Republicans nor Democrats
—they are not even Bull Moosers.
They are Prohibitionists.
I’airly satisfactory laws govern
tlie sale of poison. But »it seems
absolutely easy for men. women
and children in most communities
to buy firearms, and to maim or
kill through ignorance, misunder
standing or intent.
Wliy do we need firearms"
\t e do not need them —at ali
<oeiits. in domestic life.
The army and the police make
bad enough use of them at times.
The hunter often shoots his friend's
heati off. thinking he is bagging a
moose. It is all a strange coinin 11-
tary on the Sunday preachment on
"Thou shall not kill.”
11.
p ERHAPS the international peace
I . congress has discussed this
question of tin amateur and tlie
gun. But if it has the reverbera
tion of its oratory on the subject
has not sounded very far.
“Ho didn’t know it was loaded”
has become well-nigh a joke in the
recording of accidental shooting.
Might Prove Wholesome.
\ll historians hat. deplored the
shooting of Lincoln. Garfield and
Mi Kinl< y. but none of (hem has
commented even briefly on the
-late of civilization that makes ft
ta-y lor the criminal mid the in
-ara to 1 rwure tin means of kill
ing presidents
THURSDAY. NOYEMBER 28. 1912
” Two recent pistol shootings in
New York have become notorious
because of the matters involved,
but little or no attention was paid
to the fact that it is as easy to get
a revolver as it is to buy a sewing
machine.
It would be thoroughly whole
some to imprison the dealer who
sold the revolver that was aimed at
Mr. Roosevelt. New York city has
considered the question with some
degree of earnestness, but the bag
ging of Rosenthal was easy.
It would be a thoroughly whole
some step to class firearms with
dynamite, cocaine, opium, cyanide
of potassium, and all the rest of the
quick ways to death.
The daily record of murders
throughout the L’nited States in a
single week is appalling, and most
of them are primarily made possi-
:: The Turk ::
By JAMES J. MONTAGUE.
1
X X 7 is it that cries to the smoke cobwebbed skies
yy That war's horrid horrors must cease?
Who is it that yells through the dark Dardanelles
J That he is a person of peace?
Who rise- to beg that the Court .of The Hague
Put an end to this awful rough work"
Why. tiie always unbearable.
i Formerly terrible,
5 Recently scareable
Turk.
" is it that spread his dominion of dread
Over neighboring terror filled lands?
Who was it the while wore a hideous-smile
,' A.- lie stretched forth his blood dripping hands?
Who. all unconcerned, slew, and pillaged, and burned,
f Putting all who opposed to the dirk?
The seldom courageous.
The often rampageous,
The alway s outrageous
Old Turk.
AND wito. now he knows that the wrath of his foes
4 “"\ At last into fury has Hared,
Pleads, with fear shaken breath, as lie looks upon Death.
I’bal the life that is in him b< spared?
Who begs to retain the blood-builded domain
W here he once like a beast loved to lurk?
( That prince of bravado,
That black desperado. '
That gory tornudo.
Tiie Turk.
d* ble not because the murderer has a
• gun, but because it is easy to get
j one.
If every state in the Union would
pass a uniform law on the sale and
possession of all varieties of fire
arms, we would conserve a consid
erable number of citizens.
Let Him Get a License.
If a man Is afraid to go to sleep
at night without having a revolver
handy’, let him be permitted to take
out a license to supply all his doors
and windows with a twelve-inch
gun, to be worked from the bed.
This would, at least, insure him
against killing his wife if she
chanced to get up without giving
him due notice. And if, by mistake,
he should turn on the battery to
the menace of his neighbors, they
might, by license, do the same
• • thing.
THE HOME PAPER
WINIFRED BLACK
Writes on
The Real and the' False
Bohemia
The Imitation Is Sordid and Vul
gar, Not to Say Worse, But
the Original Is Place Where
One Need Only Be Natural.
rip HERE’S a man of sense In
I America. He lives in Kansas
City.
The other night he heard that his
seventeen-year-old daughter had
gone down town to a Bohemian
dinner. The man of sense hopped
into hts motor car and began look
ing for that dinner and that daugh
ter.
It took him some little time to
find them, but he did. He arrived
at the "smart case” just as the
wine came on the table —the cock
tails had already gone.
"Daughter,” said the man of
sense, "daughter, come home with
me."
Daughter stood up, then she sat
down. She flushed and bit her fool
ish little lip. “I’m dining here, fa
ther,” said the girl, "and I can’t
break up the party.”
“Daughter, Come Home.”
"Daughter,” said the man of
sense, "daughter, come home.”
The man who took the girl to the
Bohemian dinner stood up. He did
his best to look like the hero in
the last society play. "Sir,” said
the young man, huskily—he really
wasn’t a bad fellow, but the two
cocktails had already gone to his
not overly strong head. "Sir, I
brought your daughter here. We are
having a little Bohemian dinner—
my friends and I and”
"Young man,” said the man of
sense, "what you and your friends
are having does not interest me In
the least, I want my daughter to
come home, and she’s coming.” And
daughter came.
Bohemian dinner! If I had a
young daughter at the dinner age,
and any man, woman or child dared
to utter the word Bohemian to her,
I’d forbid my daughter ever to look
at, speak to or think of the per
son who said that obnoxious word
in her presence ever again as long
as she lived —or at least as long
as she depended on me for board
and lodging and clothes.
Bohemian! No real Bohemian
ever mentions the thing, or even
knows what you mean when .you
mention it—if you are that sort of
person.
Bohemian! That’s tiie name and
tie right name, too, for a lot of
cheap little dives witli red curtains
all over the place, bad cooking, im
itation wine and cheap vulgarity
that is not imitation at all.
I remember the first “Bohemian"
place I ever saw. I was eighteen,
wide-eyed and romantic.
Some friends took me to dine
over somewhere, with a saloon on
both sides of the door, a cheap
dance hall opposite, and a blond
with black eyes at the cashier’s
desk.
"A regular grisette,” whispered
one of my friends, as we passed
the blond cashier at her desk in
the cage.
“A regular what?” 1 gasped.
"S-sh!” said my friend, ‘‘she’ll hear
you.” So I knew that a grisette
was something mysterious and not
exactly—er—a
Some of the “Notables.”
The dinner was bad, distinctly
bad. Thin soup, fish that you really
couldn't think of, something they
called "roti,” two leaves of wilted
lettuce for salad, and 9, dab of vil
lainous pink stuff they said was ice
cream. But, oh, the atmosphere!
Oh, the art for art’s sake! Oh.
the wild adventurous air of the
whole place!
I looked at an elderly person
with two pink spots on her cheeks
and a mouth so red it really wasn’t
quite nice to look at.
“Blank, the famous dancer,’’ said
my friend. "Dying of consumption.
See that young fellow with her?
He has devoted his life to her. Gave
up everything on earth to stay with
her until she dies —beautiful story.”
The elderly person took a little
too much wine and made eyes at
the waiter. Somehow I could not
fee! quite so romantic when I saw
that.
"Bunny Bunstone, the great wit,”
said my friend again, when a roly-
By WINIFRED BLACK.
!• poly man with a pig's face and 1
pair of twinkling. selfish, coi.
greedy pig’s eyes, came by. Bunny
looked as if he bad never beer
quite sober in his life.
"So and So, the violinst.” V.- ,
-eedy the violinist, and very sullen
he looked, and tiie woman with
him looked half scared to death
every time he looked at Iter.
Old, young, pretty, ugly, seedy
and flashy—every one of the Bo
hemians. and posing ana false and
self-conscious, too, every mother’s
daughter and every mother’s son of
them.
They talked too loud, they, laugh
ed too loud, they looked at the
waiters for approval, they ogled
each other too odiously when they
began dinner, and before they were
' through—dear me! I wished so
hard that I was at home.
Bohemian! Drunk and disorder
ly, that’s what they were in plain
police court language, and Td rath
er see any girl of mine a prim
Puritan to the day of her death
.than to have her get accustomed to
seeing that sort of thing and taking
it as a matter of course.
What right has a man to take a
girl to a place like that anfl tell her
who this faded notoriety Is. and
who it is that sits guzzling at the
disreputable taple with her disrep
utable friends?
What right has a middle-aged
woman to chaperon a decent girl
to any such place?
Bohemia! The real Bohemia—ah,
that’s a different thing. You don’t
have to drink more than is good for
you to live there. You don’t have
to eat messy food and tell risky
stories. You don’t have to pre
tend to admire elderly berougetl
persons because they once rai
away with somebody's husband. o r
completely ruined somebody’s son.
A Bad Half Hour.
You just have to be natural, and
real, and honest and perhaps >
little clever. You may dress in
gingham or in silk, or walk in
purple and rustle in lace; no on,
will care and many will not ev t,
know. It is you they will like, no
some posing, self-scheming crea
ture that pi etends. Hut you—jus
you as your mother bore you—ant
<f you are kind and generous mi,
simple as well as wise and elev
or even judt kind and simple me
nothing more, they will love you
in the real .Bohemia, even if yi.u
like things to he clean and pretv
ham and eggs to “rotis” anti wiin.
salad.
So you took her home, did y
father home to mother, home m
little brother?
Bohemia! For her. for tin lit.
girl whose first tooth you tun
somewhere sat in some absurd rh
or other?
And she cried all the way hoi.
did she, and tried to be digniii
and indignant? Her soft diet
tvas flushed with the cocktail >.
drank before you arrived, and -
kept saying that she would net
step out of the house again as I'.'i
as she lived. You had huniilht.
and shamed her so.
Well, well, it was a bad halfir.
but it is past, now, all past, a .
some day the little girl will tell L
daughter how you came and niti.it
her go home with you.
Il may be Bohemian to have tht
curtains yellow instead of red, tn
the cocktails will doubtless have
new name, but they have tin- sain,
old-fashioned effect, just the san
and if you are a wise mother yeti
will keep daughter away from B -
hernia ami keep her far away at
that.
Stop aiiy one out of a doz< 11 poor
things who slip by in the dark
these chill evenings—painted. l>< -
dizened, ogling, poor things, poo
things, and it she; tells you the
truth, you’ll hear something aboe
tlie first Bohemian dinnei that wi
make you glad daughter has '■on
one to protect her. from them aw
all their ilk and kind.
Here's to you. Mr. Kan.-a- ' >
num. Some day little daught*
thank you for taking her honi
time