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The Summerville News
The Official Legal Organ of Chattooga Countv
WINSTON E. ESPY DAVID T. ESPY, JR. WILLIAM T. ESPY
PUBLISHER GENERA! MANAGER ADVERTISING MANAGER
TOMMY TOLES
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Address All Mail to: THE SUMMERVILLE NEWS, P. O. Box 310, Summerville, Ga. 30747
Editorials
Reduce Water Use
It’s tough to watch a lawn die. It's even
more difficult to watch a garden shrivel,
turn brown and expire.
But it's even worse to do without water
to drink, to bathe in and to use for personal
hygiene.
Because of the recent hot temperatures
and almost six-month-long drought, the
ground water table is extremely low. Many
wells have gone dry and others are en
dangered. In a rural county such as Chat
tooga, such problems border on
disastrous.
The city of Summerville has had few
supply problems but Menlo and the Chat
Lifeline A Plus
The Chattooga County Hospital
Authority made a wise decision when it
decided to buy the Lifeline system. It
should be in place by early fall and provide
more peace of mind to the elderly or han
dicapped, and their families.
Lifeline is simple. A subscriber will
lease an individual ‘‘button” and telephone
unit'for sls a month. About the size of a
matchbook, the “button” may be worn on
a chain about the neck. If a person
becomes ill, needs assistance or becomes
frightened by an intruder, all he has to do
is push the button. It will send a silent
message to the person’s telephone unit,
which will then call the main Lifeline unit
at Chattooga Hospital. Help will be
Reflects Attitude?
Fifth District Congressman Wyche
Fowler last week sent out a press release
to The News, and presumably to other
media outlets in Georgia, saying Congress
should preserve Individual Retirement Ac
counts (IRAs).
The release was written on Congres
sional stationary, prepared by a member
of Fowler's Congressional staff and mail
ed out using Congressional envelopes. But
rather than using the frank, Fowler did use
a postage stamp. Whether the stamp came
from his Congressional supply or from his
U.S. Senate campaign treasury is
FromOurEarlyFil
%
39 YEARS AGO
The following are excerpts from the July 24, 1947 edition of The Summer
ville News.
* * *
J.F. HARMON APPOINTED CITY SCHOOL SUPERINTENDENT —
J. F. Harmon, former superintendent of the schools of Blue Ridge, was recent
ly selected superintendent of the Summerville city schools, succeeding C. B.
Akin, who last week resigned to become head of the county schools.
* * *
SLUGGERS LOSE TO LINDALE TEAM — Summerville’s junior
American Legion baseball team, the Sluggers, advanced to the finals in the
Seventh District Tournament in Dalton before losing Monday to the tourna
ment winners, a strong team from Lindale.
* * *
COUNTY FARM SOLD MONDAY FOR $4,000 — At a meeting last Mon
day of the Chattooga County Board of Commissioners of Roads and Revenue,
the old county farm, abandoned in 1946, was sold to H. C. Berry, Dry Valley
Road, for $4,000. Paupers who occupied the old home were removed when J. D.
Pledger resigned as manager and they were moved to the present county farm
north of Summerville. The property on which the original home was located
had been owned by the county since 1896.
* * *
DANCE SPONSORED BY W.E.T. TUESDAY — A semi-formal dance was
sponsored by the Welfare Enterprising Teeners at the Sturdivant Gymnasium
in Summerville on Tuesday night. Approximately 100 persons from several
towns in the county were present. Music for the affair was furnished by Jackie
Scott and her Orchestra, Rome. The gymnasium was decorated with blue and
white crepe paper in a tent-like fashion. An entrance tunnel at the doorway
added to the color of the decorations . . . The Welfare Enterprise Teeners was
founded in 1945 to furnish recreation for the young people of Summerville and
surrounding communities. Mrs. Charles Rudicil serves as a paid chaperone of
the club and she is present for all functions of the group.
tooga Water District, which get their
water from wells, have asked residents to
reduce usage for such things as watering
gardens, lawns and washing cars. Trion
also had to seek reductions of unnecessary
water use because of the drought.
The state is threatening to ban such
water usage on a mandatory basis after
July 31 unless the weather changes
dramatically.
In the meantime, Chattooga County
residents on public water systems, or even
those with “bottomless” private wells, will
serve to be good neighbors by cutting
down on water use where possible.
notified and sent to the person’s home
immediately.
Or, if a person becomes unconscious
and can’t push the “‘button,” the telephone
unit can be set to automatically notify the
Lifeline system at the hospital within a
specified period of time if the person does
not use his telephone to “reset’” the device.
Help will be forthcoming.
In other communities, Lifeline has pro
ved to be an increasingly popular program.
The Hospital Authority performed a
valuable public service when it approved
purchase of the central unit.
It won't be surprising to learn that it
has saved the lives of several people dur
ing coming months and years.
unknown.
It wouldn’'t be unusual for such a
release to be mailed to the media in
Fowler’'s Atlanta area district. But sen
ding it to The News and other media
outlets around the state?
Admittedly, it's a small matter, but it
does seem to indicate Fowler’s cavalier at
titude on spending the taxpayers’ dollars.
It would have been more appropriate for
a news release that's geing to be sent out
side his district to have been prepared on
campaign stationary by his Senate cam
paign staffers.
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Viewpoint
By Tommy Toles, Editor
Doe The Atheist
Doc was a wino.
He also had a Ph.D. and a brilliant
mind.
When he could manage to stay off the
sauce, he was a professor at a large univer
sity in the west. Evidently, he had tenure
because he could always seem to go back
to work after one of his binges.
Whether because of the politics of the
university or personal problems, Doc could
never manage to handle life on its own
terms. So, periodically, he would just
“‘drop out.” It was easier back in the late
'6os and early '7os than it is now. Then,
it was looked on by a lot of people like one
might feel today if one’s son #rmounced he
was becoming a stockbroker. .
For some reason unfathomable to even
Doc himself, he always ended up in Atlan
ta — usually in the gutter . . . literally.
He's one of the few winos in Atlanta
who always seemed to be wearing a S4OO
suit. Filthy, but expensive. And he had
short hair which, at the time, was unheard
of. Even weeks on the street didn’t seem
to affect the length of his hair, although
he always grew a scruffy ‘‘Miami Vice''-
type beard.
Doc was also an atheist.
Over a bowl of hot soup on a cold
winter night in the middle of Atlanta, he
could expound for hours on why he
“knew"” there was no God. His arguments
were always couched in scientific terms
and he tossed references to the laws of
physics, space and time, archaeology and
astronomy around like toothpicks.
Funny thing about most winos. They
may be able to down a quart of cheap vino,
sleep in a doorway or under a bush, go
without food for days and cuss like the
proverbial sailor. But you better not tell
them you don’t believe in God.
So it was no surprise, then, when Doc
would get into arguments and near
Guest Column
Love Or Sex?
I was attending a wedding. The bride
was beautiful. The groom was handsome.
When the ceremony ended, 1 found
that the bridegroom’s ‘“‘happy’’ parents
had been divorced for almost two decades,
never speaking for that whole time, and
their happiness and togetherness charade
this day was in response to a request from
the newlyweds.
I discovered that the bride’s parents
had a squabble about a half decade back,
divorced and then remarried.
As I'looked around the room where the
wedding dinner-dance was occurring, I
wondered what chance a 1986 marriage
had for success. I was concerned because
one of my daughters had just called to let
me know that she was engaged to be mar
ried in September, and wanted mom to
plan a wedding at our home.
Responding to a phone call, I had to
walk past a table occupied by a young cou
ple. They were speaking so loudly that
anyone with 20 feet could hear their con
versation. The woman asked, ‘Do you
want me or don't you? I owe my husband
an explanation if I leave him, and I think
you owe your live-in girl friend some
fistfights that would make some of the
Cassius Clay-Sonny Liston battles — ver
bal and otherwise — look tame by com
parison. What was especially infuriating
to the winos was Doc’s cool detachment
and use of big words and scientific terms
they’d never heard of. And he could do it
when he was drunker than they were.
Most of them didn’t know a “‘light year”
from a heavy date.
Once, someone tried to get Doc to
analyze himself — why a fellow with a doc
torate, a good job and a family would go
off the deep end on occasion and spend
months in the gutter. He was content with
an explanation nobody else seemed to buy:
he said he just liked winos as friends bet
ter than the sophisticated fakes he met at
most faculty socials — at least they'd
share a last sip of wine from a bottle in
side a grimy paper sack.
Doc didn’t mind accepting handouts,
whether a jacket or blanket on a cold night
or a bowl of something hot that vaguely
resembled hobo stew. He felt no shame. He
also said the food, clothing and help didn’t
come from God, as he was told on
numerous occasions.
“You just do it because it makes you
feel good inside,” he said. “‘And that's
nothing but selfishness. ‘God’ has nothing
to do with it. It’s just human.” He never
admitted to being otherwise convinced.
Eventually, Doc’s family would find
out where he was. Why they seemed to
look in Atlanta last, no one could figure
out. Doc always ended up there. Somehow,
they’'d get him back to his home, dry him
out and he’'d go back to work with tweed
jacket, gray flannel pants and briefcase.
But always, always — whether in
months or years — he ended up back in the
gutter in Atlanta.
He may be there today.
BY ALBERT D. HATTIS
answers, too!”’
Something appears to be wrong in this
mixed up world in which we live. It isn’t
the external environment that seems to
bother me, knowing that it is carefully
surveyed by the EPA, OSHA, NRC and
so many other experts intent on making
life ““more attractive and safe.” There are
the police and fire people serving and pro
tecting. The SEC, FTC, 888, and more
are trying hard to help.
But no one seems to be working on the
preservation of the family unit, the basis
for everything, which appears to be in real
trouble.
There are about 2.5-million marriages
each year. There are about half that
number of divorces each year. Two mar
riages for every divorce appears to be the
national average. There are regional dif
ferences. California, Florida, New Mexico,
North Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Ten
nessee, Washington, West Virginia,
Wyoming and the District of Columbia all
exceed the national family breakup
average. .
- Some of our states have lower divorce
see GUEST COLUMN, pace 10-A
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On The )
Funny Side
By GARY SOLOMON <
How To Move
When my wife and I moved from Texas to Georgia last
August to begin new jobs, things did not go exctly as
planned . . .
“I'm so excited!” I said to her at breakfast the morn
ing before we were to leave the Lone Star State. ““Since
we're driving both cars, we'll finally get to use our CB
radios. Two cars traveling together — we got ourselves
a real convoy! 10-4?"
My wife slowly folded the paper and laid it aside. ‘I
don’t know quite how to break this to you,” she said, ‘‘but
I sold the two CB'’s at the flea market last year because
we never used them. They're gone. Vamoosed. Out of our
lives forever.”
“You sold our CB radios, those beloved instruments
of salvation for America's highways?"’ I asked with a
slight break in my voice.
“They were still in the original boxes, brand new after
six years,” she replied without a hint of remorse.
“What do we do now, then?”’ I asked, disheartened.
““How can you convoy without radios?”’
“Easy,” she said matter-of-factly. “‘Just come up with
a set of signals to communicate with. Say if I'm ready for
lunch, I'll flash you a sign we've agreed will mean ‘lunch.’
If you need gas, just catch my eye in the mirror and let
me know somehow. We don’t need radios for that.”
“Well, okay,” I answered with a glimmer of hope. ‘‘But
do you mind if I handle everything? It’ll be some consola
tion for not having the radios.”
“Sure, go ahead,” she said, eagerly returning to her
paper. I immediately settled on two rules for our trip.
Which, as it turned out, was about 20 shy of what we
needed.
Rule 1: Use Simple Signals. For example, I made
several hand-printed signs to display in the window as
needed. One said “potty,” another “lunch,” ete. Unfor
tunately, when seen in the wife’s rear view mirror at 55
miles an hour they read “yttod” and ‘honul,” respective
ly. Eventually we agreed that if my face was glowing red
and I appeared to be holding my breath for several miles,
a restroom break was definitely in order.
There are, by the way, better times to learn your wife
is color-blind.
Rule 2: Make Necessary Adjustments. We eliminated
some signals during our travels for a very practical reason:
survival. Waving and blowing kisses at my wife told her
the Rolaids were working after a Mexican dinner, but other
folks misunderstood.
A rather huffy woman slapped my face repeatedly at
a rest stop because she thought I'd been trying to pick
her up for the past 37 miles. That is the bad news. The
good news is that it saved me from a large trucker who
thought I'd been making eyes at him.
Rule 3: Start Off Right. I added this final precept for
use in our next move as aresult of the wisdom gained this
time around. To start the trip on the same tone on which
it will inevitably end, simply do the following: Open the
door for your mate and help her into the car. Then close
the door gently behind her, lean inside the window and
sweetly whisper, “And try to stop at a rest area where the
bathrooms are open for once, will ya, stupid?”
Now you're all set to go.
Clips
News
DO YOU?
Believing all you hear is matched only
by telling all you know, — Mason City (la.)
Globe
* * *
NEVER DIE
Thanks to television, old movies never
die — no matter how long ago they were
shot. — Louisville Journal
* * *
DEFINITION
An optimist is a bridegroom who
thinks he has no bad habits. — Winter
Harbor Scoop
* * *
IMPOSSIBLE?
Nothing is impossible — if you don’t
have to do it yourself, — Grit