Memphis World Memphis World Publishing Co. 1954-05-07 Mrs. Rosa Brown Bracy MEMPHIS WORLD AMERICA'S STANDARD RACE JOURNAL The South's Oldest and Leading Colored Semi-Weekly Newspaper Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO. Every TUESDAY and FRIDAY at 164 BEALE — Phone 8-4030 Entered in the Post Officer at Memphis, Tenn., as second-class mail under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870 Member of SCOTT NEWSPAPER SYNDICATE W. A. Scott, II, Founder; C. A. Scott, General Manager Mrs. Rosa Brown Bracy Bracy Acting Editor The MEMPHIS WORLD to an independent newspaper — non-sectarian and non-partisan, printing news unbiasedly and supporting those things it believes to be of interest to its readers and opposing those things against the interest of its readers. SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Year $5.00 — 6 Months $3.00 — 3 Months $1.50 (In Advance) "Gets" Committee Gets Results "It is always gratifying to note the successful achievements of a campaign from which the public benefits. It is especially so when that endeavor is a drive to save human lives, is the 'Go Easy—Travel Safely' campaign for April being staged by the Governors Emergency Traffic Safety Committee. "Reports by the State Safety Department show that the effort is paying off with noticeable results. During the first 25 days of this month, 49 persons were killed in traffic accidents as compared with a total of 66 in the corresponding period last year. That's a reduction of 17 in the number of highway fatalities. Percentagewise, the improvement comes to more than 25 per cent. "Such success cannot be ignored and the GETS group is to be commended for its decision to adopt its April education-enforcement program as a permanent plan of operation. It will be hoped that the organization continues to receive the support of the state's mayors, sheriffs, criminal and circuit court judges and other cooperating civilian agencies in the weeks ahead as it has during the current month. It must receive that cooperation if the successful record to date is to be maintained. "But the person who must play the most important role in making Tennessee highways safe is the individual driver. His is the final responsibility, and if he observes and abides by the common-sense rules of driving, he will help to have many lives, including his own." (Editor's note: The final figure on the death roll for April, 1954, was 56 as compared with 78 for the same month in 1953, a drop of 22. This represents an improvement of 28 per cent.) Mothers Day Annie Jarvis, who gave birth to the Mother's Day idea when she influenced the people of her immediate community in Pennsylvania to wear a red rose if their mother was living and a white rose if she was gone, on the second Sunday in May, will be observed on May 9th this year throughout the length and breadth of the civilized world. Little did she think when she started the movement that it would catch on fire and spread so quickly to the various parts of the world. On this Mother's Day multiplied thousands of people will send cards, telegrams and letters telling mother how much they appreciate her. Those that will be fortunate enough to wear a red rose which indicates that their mother is yet with them, have much to be thankful for. While those that will wear a white rose tell the story that mother has gone from among us. To them, we express our heartfelt sympathy. As we observe this Mother's Day Sunday there will be plenty of people that will travel thousands of miles to spend the day with their mother and that will be a fine thing to do because, Mother needs all of the encouragement that you can give her. Mother is the greatest friend that any person ever had. When everyone else has turned their backs on you, mother is there to give some type of alibi for your sins of commission or omission. The great statesman that made the statement, "Whatever I am, whatever I hope to be, I owe it to my mother," was eminently correct, in that, Mother is your best friend. Since it is conceded that Mother will stay by your side long after others have deserted you, why not make every day throughout the calendar year Mother's Day? If those who will express great love and admiration for Mother this Mother's Day would continue to express that love and admiration every day throughout the year, how beautiful this world would be. Unfortunately, too many people when Mother's hair turns grey, her eyes grow weak and her steps short, forget her. Some children remain away from Mother for years and will not take the time to sit down to write her a letter notifying her of their whereabouts. Any child that would so forget himself, and he will remain only a few hundred miles from his mother for months and years and refuses to write her a letter is not fit to live and God knows he is not fit to die. Suppose we all resolve, those of us that will wear the red Flower Sunday, to start Sunday and confer upon Mother all of the love and admiration that goes with Mother's Day every day throughout the remainder of her life. If you will do that, in the evening of your life, just before the sun goes down, you can look back across a well-spent life and have the satisfaction of knowing that you never forgot your mother. Those that will wear the white flower, you should observe Mothers Day by doing those things that are uplifting and right, those things that you know your mother would be pleased, if she were here, for you to do. You owe that to the memory of a good mother. Quest by ELSIE MACK Copyright, 1953 by Elsie Mack Distributed by King Features Syndicate DALE watched him elbow his disgruntled way through the raspberry canes along the path to the big house. The mid-afternoon air was warm as June. Yellowed leaves, seasonal and patternless drifted slowly down from the old eim. A sense of emptiness and bereavement assailed her. She lifted her hand unconsciously to her heart. Paper crackled reassuringly under the pressure of her palm An entire day's search had brought to light no further messages from Kelly. The three, and the one Grandmother had found under the teapot and given her in April, were all she'd ever have... She unbuttoned her pocket flap, drew them out, read them over again. Then she sat through the long, quiet hours of the afternoon, watching the sun on the water, and the evening shades lengthening out, and the lake take on the sunset-touch of rose and amber. With an unbroken, unconscious rhythm, her hand dipped again and again into the box of chocolates at her elbow. Only when she could no longer see the outlines of Kelly's image in the mirror over the mantel did she leave her chair by the window and turn on the lights. Later, bathed and robed in red from ankle to chin, she lay on the couch reading the sad, despairing poetry of Baudelaire. Kelly had burst out once, "So talented, and so pitiful in his love of defeat! What made him dwell on the decadent and stress mankind's helplessness? What conflicts in the man made him so dramatically destructive?" But Dale, lost in the cadence of words touched by genius, closed her eyes to conflicts her and Baudelaire's as the clock ticked on toward midnight, and the room was wreathed with twining smoke from her cigarette. A few days later, counting change into Dale's outheld hand in the general store, Joshua Wragge said, "Sixty-five, seventyfive, ten... When're you coming back to work for me, Dale?" His white apron ucked up as he thrust his hands under it into his trouser pockets. "I haven't mentioned it before. Thought I'd wait and see if you'd come home to stay." "I have, Josh." "Your old job's here, whenever you want it." "Thank you," she said. "But I shan't be coming back to work for you, Josh." "Well—" He teetered uncertainly from heel to toe. "Your grandpa said it wouldn't do no harm to mention it. Seems to think, he does, that working in the store here'd be good for you." A slow anger rose in Dale. She said coldly. "Grandy doesn't know best." Joshua Wragge regarded her curiously. "You've changed," he said, outspoken with the privilege of friend to friend and age to youth. "That trip you took to New York made a different girl of you." Her shrug could have been in difference, denial, or acquiescence, as she picked up her package from the counter. Outside, nursing a sack of groceries in her arm. Armorel Crosland was standing beside Dale's car. The summer had aged the solitary woman. She looked as dried and shriveled as an empty milkweed pod. Her eyes, lifted to Dale, were as lusterless as her voice. "Would you mind giving me a lift home with my groceries, Dale? The hill," she gestured vaguely with her free hand, "gets higher every day." She added, sounding faintly surprised, "Or I get older." "Of course," Dale said, sliding under the wheel and motioning Armorel in. "Put your groceries on the floor." Armorel got to beside Dale. "They've changed," she said. "What?" "Automobiles," said Armorel. "Arthur's car—" She shook her head. "Not at all like this." Arthur? And from what far source in Armorel's mind had sprung the basis for comparison? On top of the hill. Dale turned right and drew up at Armorel's gate. Armorel got out clumsily with her groceries. "Come in with me," she said. "For a cup of tea? You said you'd come 'some other day —do you remember? I was going to show you something. Now what was it?" That time stands still... "You never came," Armorel said plaintively. Dale looked beyond her at the house, square and vine-grown in the jungle of neglected garden. She looked back at Armorel, saw gray wisps of hair sticking through the broken net, the wrinkled, notquite-clean dress, and she made her voice gentle in refusal. "Not today, Armorel." "Don't be frightened. Dale." A wistfulness of tone, an obscure sense of kinship with Armorel, and the prospect of satisfying a long-dormant curiosity, changed Dale's mind. "Just for a few minutes," she said. "And don't bother with tea." CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO by ELSIE MACK Copyright, 1953 by Elsie Mack Distributed by King Features Syndicate DALE watched him elbow his disgruntled way through the raspberry canes along the path to the big house. The mid-afternoon air was warm as June. Yellowed leaves, seasonal and patternless drifted slowly down from the old eim. A sense of emptiness and bereavement assailed her. She lifted her hand unconsciously to her heart. Paper crackled reassuringly under the pressure of her palm An entire day's search had brought to light no further messages from Kelly. The three, and the one Grandmother had found under the teapot and given her in April, were all she'd ever have... She unbuttoned her pocket flap, drew them out, read them over again. Then she sat through the long, quiet hours of the afternoon, watching the sun on the water, and the evening shades lengthening out, and the lake take on the sunset-touch of rose and amber. With an unbroken, unconscious rhythm, her hand dipped again and again into the box of chocolates at her elbow. Only when she could no longer see the outlines of Kelly's image in the mirror over the mantel did she leave her chair by the window and turn on the lights. Later, bathed and robed in red from ankle to chin, she lay on the couch reading the sad, despairing poetry of Baudelaire. Kelly had burst out once, "So talented, and so pitiful in his love of defeat! What made him dwell on the decadent and stress mankind's helplessness? What conflicts in the man made him so dramatically destructive?" But Dale, lost in the cadence of words touched by genius, closed her eyes to conflicts her and Baudelaire's as the clock ticked on toward midnight, and the room was wreathed with twining smoke from her cigarette. A few days later, counting change into Dale's outheld hand in the general store, Joshua Wragge said, "Sixty-five, seventyfive, ten... When're you coming back to work for me, Dale?" His white apron ucked up as he thrust his hands under it into his trouser pockets. "I haven't mentioned it before. Thought I'd wait and see if you'd come home to stay." "I have, Josh." "Your old job's here, whenever you want it." "Thank you," she said. "But I shan't be coming back to work for you, Josh." "Well—" He teetered uncertainly from heel to toe. "Your grandpa said it wouldn't do no harm to mention it. Seems to think, he does, that working in the store here'd be good for you." A slow anger rose in Dale. She said coldly. "Grandy doesn't know best." Joshua Wragge regarded her curiously. "You've changed," he said, outspoken with the privilege of friend to friend and age to youth. "That trip you took to New York made a different girl of you." Her shrug could have been in difference, denial, or acquiescence, as she picked up her package from the counter. Outside, nursing a sack of groceries in her arm. Armorel Crosland was standing beside Dale's car. The summer had aged the solitary woman. She looked as dried and shriveled as an empty milkweed pod. Her eyes, lifted to Dale, were as lusterless as her voice. "Would you mind giving me a lift home with my groceries, Dale? The hill," she gestured vaguely with her free hand, "gets higher every day." She added, sounding faintly surprised, "Or I get older." "Of course," Dale said, sliding under the wheel and motioning Armorel in. "Put your groceries on the floor." Armorel got to beside Dale. "They've changed," she said. "What?" "Automobiles," said Armorel. "Arthur's car—" She shook her head. "Not at all like this." Arthur? And from what far source in Armorel's mind had sprung the basis for comparison? On top of the hill. Dale turned right and drew up at Armorel's gate. Armorel got out clumsily with her groceries. "Come in with me," she said. "For a cup of tea? You said you'd come 'some other day —do you remember? I was going to show you something. Now what was it?" That time stands still... "You never came," Armorel said plaintively. Dale looked beyond her at the house, square and vine-grown in the jungle of neglected garden. She looked back at Armorel, saw gray wisps of hair sticking through the broken net, the wrinkled, notquite-clean dress, and she made her voice gentle in refusal. "Not today, Armorel." "Don't be frightened. Dale." A wistfulness of tone, an obscure sense of kinship with Armorel, and the prospect of satisfying a long-dormant curiosity, changed Dale's mind. "Just for a few minutes," she said. "And don't bother with tea." MEALTIME MELODIES! BY MRS. GRACE WILLIAMS Carnival is a magic word! — and already we can feel the spirit of Cotton Carnival everywhere. You sense it in the laughter and gaiety around you, from the little make-believe majorette playing on the street, to the hustle and bustle of the adults that make Carnival time possible. You may think that you can remain unaffected by the noise and glitter of Carnival Activities, but if you have "one ounce of adventure left in your bones you'll find yourself following the parades and being thrilled by the performers under the carnival canvas. If you have children the spirit of carnivaltime will be brought right into your home — even into the kitchen. This means that meal-time, in many instances, must be served either late or early so that the family can go to the parade. It also means that you are going to have some excited youngsters "under foot" upon returning home. A good way to keep the merrymakers busy and be voted the "Mother of the Year" among the younger set is to have a candy making party. You may have some good candy recipes but here is one you will want to add to your collection. It's a candy that is smooth as satin and sweet, but not too sweet. It will satisfy the children's sweet tooth, but best of all it's an easy way to have a simple carnival party. 1 1-2 cups granulated sugar 1 1-2 cups firmly packed brown sugar 1-4 teaspoon baking soda 2 tablespoons butter 1-4 teaspoon salt 1 cup sour cream 1 tablespoon light corn syrup 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Combine sugar, baking soda, salt, sour cream syrup in a heavy 3quart saucepan. Stir over low heat until sugar is dissolved. Boil over moderate heat, stirring gently back and forth until candy thermometer registers 236° F (soft ball stage). Remove from heat. Do not remove thermometer. Add butter and vanilla extract. Do not stir in. Cool, without, stirring, until thermometer registers 110° F (lukewarm). Beat with a spoon until mixture loses its gloss and becomes creamy. Quickly spread candy in an oiled 8 × 8 × 2 inch pan. Mark into squares. Makes 1 1-2 pounds. If yon have some sweet cream on hand you can sour it by adding one tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar to each cup of cream. Your Health Department needs your support to help fight venereal disease. Get your blood test today. Watch this paper for daily team schedules. SOUR CREAM PANOCHA BY MRS. GRACE WILLIAMS Carnival is a magic word! — and already we can feel the spirit of Cotton Carnival everywhere. You sense it in the laughter and gaiety around you, from the little make-believe majorette playing on the street, to the hustle and bustle of the adults that make Carnival time possible. You may think that you can remain unaffected by the noise and glitter of Carnival Activities, but if you have "one ounce of adventure left in your bones you'll find yourself following the parades and being thrilled by the performers under the carnival canvas. If you have children the spirit of carnivaltime will be brought right into your home — even into the kitchen. This means that meal-time, in many instances, must be served either late or early so that the family can go to the parade. It also means that you are going to have some excited youngsters "under foot" upon returning home. A good way to keep the merrymakers busy and be voted the "Mother of the Year" among the younger set is to have a candy making party. You may have some good candy recipes but here is one you will want to add to your collection. It's a candy that is smooth as satin and sweet, but not too sweet. It will satisfy the children's sweet tooth, but best of all it's an easy way to have a simple carnival party. 1 1-2 cups granulated sugar 1 1-2 cups firmly packed brown sugar 1-4 teaspoon baking soda 2 tablespoons butter 1-4 teaspoon salt 1 cup sour cream 1 tablespoon light corn syrup 1 teaspoon vanilla extract Combine sugar, baking soda, salt, sour cream syrup in a heavy 3quart saucepan. Stir over low heat until sugar is dissolved. Boil over moderate heat, stirring gently back and forth until candy thermometer registers 236° F (soft ball stage). Remove from heat. Do not remove thermometer. Add butter and vanilla extract. Do not stir in. Cool, without, stirring, until thermometer registers 110° F (lukewarm). Beat with a spoon until mixture loses its gloss and becomes creamy. Quickly spread candy in an oiled 8 × 8 × 2 inch pan. Mark into squares. Makes 1 1-2 pounds. If yon have some sweet cream on hand you can sour it by adding one tablespoon of lemon juice or vinegar to each cup of cream. Your Health Department needs your support to help fight venereal disease. Get your blood test today. Watch this paper for daily team schedules. South Shifting To Tolerance, Catholic Magazine Reveals The "New South" is making the shift from segregation to tolerance for the Negro, Milton Lomask, reporter and writer for The Sign, national Catholic magazine published here, declares in the pubation's May issue. In an article on Greenville, North Carolina, titled "Main Street, The South," Lomask says the South is making the change "in her own time, of course, and nobody could call that pell mell. Even after legal separation goes, real segregation will still taint many hearts." But e points out that in his recent visit to Greenville to gather material for the article, "I heard startling talk on this subject—good talk, charitable, talk, talk of the kind that measures the strides Dixie is taking.' He quotes Greenville citizens, from civic loaders to the man on the street. Said H. Rose, the city's superintendent of schools: "No one can say when Jim Crow's last day is coming, but all the better thinking people here will tell you it IS coming." A handsome old lady whispered: "When we get rid of this inequality thins, we'll all be so relieved. It's a burden to us spiritually, morally, financially and it always has been." A young professional man deClared. "Only some of the older heads want things as they are now. My generation wants brotherhood, and Brother, I don't mean 'but separate." To these opinions, Lomask found only two dissenters, one white and one Negro cab driver. Said the Negro cabbie: "Nobody way up there in Washington is gonna come down here and non-segregate us. Man, these white folks don't pay no mind to the laws they make themselves. You're crazy if you think they're gonna pay attention to somebody eles's." However, the feeling is general in Greenville against "interference" from Washington. Said a prominent Greenville citizen: "The color line doesn't part us. It join's us. Granted, it joins us in mutual bondage But that's our mistake. And were the ones to rectify it." Other things in Greenville are changing besides segregation. For one thing Greenville is growing. "Ten years ago," declares Lomask, "in the Greenville area, few wheels turned outside of the tobacco stemming and redrying, plants. Now there are 59 industries, including, a battery-making factory, a textile mill, a new 100,000-watt television station and, 18 miles down the road, a 35-million-dollar Dupont subsidiary with 1700 employees." "Greenville is a town of striking contrasts," says Lomask. "Some people are poor, some rich, some desperately poor, and some desperately rich, even as in your town and mine." "In new residential sub-divisions, all architecture is courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright and Better Homes & Gardens. In the 'Bama', a Negro section over the hill and beyond the tracks, it is firetrap Gothic," Lomask points out. He continues: "Sheppard Memorial Library on Evans Street is a spacious brick building with 37,810 volumes—for white readers only. The George Washington Carver Library on Sheppard Street is a 30by-20 foot clapboard shack with 2,082 volumes—for Negroes only. The irony is that, percentagewise, according to the latest report from the head librarian, the Negroes make more use of their bibliotheca than the whites of theirs." Greenville, however, is making Progress—concrete progress. Says Lomask: "In Greenville's old hosPital, now turned over to county and municipal offices, Negro doctors could not use the operating room. In the new 120-bed Pitt Memorial Hospital, they have full privilegss." "Two years ago," he adds, "for the first time since Reconstruction, Greenville put a Negro, Caesar Corbett, on its 29-man-police force. Corbett patrols "The Block,' business district of the three Negro areas and a 'troublespot.'" "The Daily Reflector, the lively intelligent local paper, refers to Negroes as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.', and I can recall being unceremoniously fired from a newspaper in East Texas 20 years ago for doing just that," the writer asserts. In education, too, there are signs of change, the article declare. "There was a time, according to one of the Negro teachers, when most of the facilities in Greenville's three Negro schools were hand-me-downs from the five white schools. Now, when ew things are bought, they are bought for all. "There are 55 Negro teachers in the public school system, and their salaries, on-the average, are higher than those of the 75 white teachers. This is because there are more higher degrees among them and Negro teachers, having fewer opportunities elsewhere, tend to remain longer on the job." The article quotes school superintendent Rose: "We sometimes feel that you people up North are a little hysterical about this segregation issue. We segregate, you don't. But we give jobs to Negro teachers and most of your small towns do not." "NO ONE CAN SAY" The "New South" is making the shift from segregation to tolerance for the Negro, Milton Lomask, reporter and writer for The Sign, national Catholic magazine published here, declares in the pubation's May issue. In an article on Greenville, North Carolina, titled "Main Street, The South," Lomask says the South is making the change "in her own time, of course, and nobody could call that pell mell. Even after legal separation goes, real segregation will still taint many hearts." But e points out that in his recent visit to Greenville to gather material for the article, "I heard startling talk on this subject—good talk, charitable, talk, talk of the kind that measures the strides Dixie is taking.' He quotes Greenville citizens, from civic loaders to the man on the street. Said H. Rose, the city's superintendent of schools: "No one can say when Jim Crow's last day is coming, but all the better thinking people here will tell you it IS coming." A handsome old lady whispered: "When we get rid of this inequality thins, we'll all be so relieved. It's a burden to us spiritually, morally, financially and it always has been." A young professional man deClared. "Only some of the older heads want things as they are now. My generation wants brotherhood, and Brother, I don't mean 'but separate." To these opinions, Lomask found only two dissenters, one white and one Negro cab driver. Said the Negro cabbie: "Nobody way up there in Washington is gonna come down here and non-segregate us. Man, these white folks don't pay no mind to the laws they make themselves. You're crazy if you think they're gonna pay attention to somebody eles's." However, the feeling is general in Greenville against "interference" from Washington. Said a prominent Greenville citizen: "The color line doesn't part us. It join's us. Granted, it joins us in mutual bondage But that's our mistake. And were the ones to rectify it." Other things in Greenville are changing besides segregation. For one thing Greenville is growing. "Ten years ago," declares Lomask, "in the Greenville area, few wheels turned outside of the tobacco stemming and redrying, plants. Now there are 59 industries, including, a battery-making factory, a textile mill, a new 100,000-watt television station and, 18 miles down the road, a 35-million-dollar Dupont subsidiary with 1700 employees." "Greenville is a town of striking contrasts," says Lomask. "Some people are poor, some rich, some desperately poor, and some desperately rich, even as in your town and mine." "In new residential sub-divisions, all architecture is courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright and Better Homes & Gardens. In the 'Bama', a Negro section over the hill and beyond the tracks, it is firetrap Gothic," Lomask points out. He continues: "Sheppard Memorial Library on Evans Street is a spacious brick building with 37,810 volumes—for white readers only. The George Washington Carver Library on Sheppard Street is a 30by-20 foot clapboard shack with 2,082 volumes—for Negroes only. The irony is that, percentagewise, according to the latest report from the head librarian, the Negroes make more use of their bibliotheca than the whites of theirs." Greenville, however, is making Progress—concrete progress. Says Lomask: "In Greenville's old hosPital, now turned over to county and municipal offices, Negro doctors could not use the operating room. In the new 120-bed Pitt Memorial Hospital, they have full privilegss." "Two years ago," he adds, "for the first time since Reconstruction, Greenville put a Negro, Caesar Corbett, on its 29-man-police force. Corbett patrols "The Block,' business district of the three Negro areas and a 'troublespot.'" "The Daily Reflector, the lively intelligent local paper, refers to Negroes as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.', and I can recall being unceremoniously fired from a newspaper in East Texas 20 years ago for doing just that," the writer asserts. In education, too, there are signs of change, the article declare. "There was a time, according to one of the Negro teachers, when most of the facilities in Greenville's three Negro schools were hand-me-downs from the five white schools. Now, when ew things are bought, they are bought for all. "There are 55 Negro teachers in the public school system, and their salaries, on-the average, are higher than those of the 75 white teachers. This is because there are more higher degrees among them and Negro teachers, having fewer opportunities elsewhere, tend to remain longer on the job." The article quotes school superintendent Rose: "We sometimes feel that you people up North are a little hysterical about this segregation issue. We segregate, you don't. But we give jobs to Negro teachers and most of your small towns do not." COLOR LINE The "New South" is making the shift from segregation to tolerance for the Negro, Milton Lomask, reporter and writer for The Sign, national Catholic magazine published here, declares in the pubation's May issue. In an article on Greenville, North Carolina, titled "Main Street, The South," Lomask says the South is making the change "in her own time, of course, and nobody could call that pell mell. Even after legal separation goes, real segregation will still taint many hearts." But e points out that in his recent visit to Greenville to gather material for the article, "I heard startling talk on this subject—good talk, charitable, talk, talk of the kind that measures the strides Dixie is taking.' He quotes Greenville citizens, from civic loaders to the man on the street. Said H. Rose, the city's superintendent of schools: "No one can say when Jim Crow's last day is coming, but all the better thinking people here will tell you it IS coming." A handsome old lady whispered: "When we get rid of this inequality thins, we'll all be so relieved. It's a burden to us spiritually, morally, financially and it always has been." A young professional man deClared. "Only some of the older heads want things as they are now. My generation wants brotherhood, and Brother, I don't mean 'but separate." To these opinions, Lomask found only two dissenters, one white and one Negro cab driver. Said the Negro cabbie: "Nobody way up there in Washington is gonna come down here and non-segregate us. Man, these white folks don't pay no mind to the laws they make themselves. You're crazy if you think they're gonna pay attention to somebody eles's." However, the feeling is general in Greenville against "interference" from Washington. Said a prominent Greenville citizen: "The color line doesn't part us. It join's us. Granted, it joins us in mutual bondage But that's our mistake. And were the ones to rectify it." Other things in Greenville are changing besides segregation. For one thing Greenville is growing. "Ten years ago," declares Lomask, "in the Greenville area, few wheels turned outside of the tobacco stemming and redrying, plants. Now there are 59 industries, including, a battery-making factory, a textile mill, a new 100,000-watt television station and, 18 miles down the road, a 35-million-dollar Dupont subsidiary with 1700 employees." "Greenville is a town of striking contrasts," says Lomask. "Some people are poor, some rich, some desperately poor, and some desperately rich, even as in your town and mine." "In new residential sub-divisions, all architecture is courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright and Better Homes & Gardens. In the 'Bama', a Negro section over the hill and beyond the tracks, it is firetrap Gothic," Lomask points out. He continues: "Sheppard Memorial Library on Evans Street is a spacious brick building with 37,810 volumes—for white readers only. The George Washington Carver Library on Sheppard Street is a 30by-20 foot clapboard shack with 2,082 volumes—for Negroes only. The irony is that, percentagewise, according to the latest report from the head librarian, the Negroes make more use of their bibliotheca than the whites of theirs." Greenville, however, is making Progress—concrete progress. Says Lomask: "In Greenville's old hosPital, now turned over to county and municipal offices, Negro doctors could not use the operating room. In the new 120-bed Pitt Memorial Hospital, they have full privilegss." "Two years ago," he adds, "for the first time since Reconstruction, Greenville put a Negro, Caesar Corbett, on its 29-man-police force. Corbett patrols "The Block,' business district of the three Negro areas and a 'troublespot.'" "The Daily Reflector, the lively intelligent local paper, refers to Negroes as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.', and I can recall being unceremoniously fired from a newspaper in East Texas 20 years ago for doing just that," the writer asserts. In education, too, there are signs of change, the article declare. "There was a time, according to one of the Negro teachers, when most of the facilities in Greenville's three Negro schools were hand-me-downs from the five white schools. Now, when ew things are bought, they are bought for all. "There are 55 Negro teachers in the public school system, and their salaries, on-the average, are higher than those of the 75 white teachers. This is because there are more higher degrees among them and Negro teachers, having fewer opportunities elsewhere, tend to remain longer on the job." The article quotes school superintendent Rose: "We sometimes feel that you people up North are a little hysterical about this segregation issue. We segregate, you don't. But we give jobs to Negro teachers and most of your small towns do not." LATEST REPORT The "New South" is making the shift from segregation to tolerance for the Negro, Milton Lomask, reporter and writer for The Sign, national Catholic magazine published here, declares in the pubation's May issue. In an article on Greenville, North Carolina, titled "Main Street, The South," Lomask says the South is making the change "in her own time, of course, and nobody could call that pell mell. Even after legal separation goes, real segregation will still taint many hearts." But e points out that in his recent visit to Greenville to gather material for the article, "I heard startling talk on this subject—good talk, charitable, talk, talk of the kind that measures the strides Dixie is taking.' He quotes Greenville citizens, from civic loaders to the man on the street. Said H. Rose, the city's superintendent of schools: "No one can say when Jim Crow's last day is coming, but all the better thinking people here will tell you it IS coming." A handsome old lady whispered: "When we get rid of this inequality thins, we'll all be so relieved. It's a burden to us spiritually, morally, financially and it always has been." A young professional man deClared. "Only some of the older heads want things as they are now. My generation wants brotherhood, and Brother, I don't mean 'but separate." To these opinions, Lomask found only two dissenters, one white and one Negro cab driver. Said the Negro cabbie: "Nobody way up there in Washington is gonna come down here and non-segregate us. Man, these white folks don't pay no mind to the laws they make themselves. You're crazy if you think they're gonna pay attention to somebody eles's." However, the feeling is general in Greenville against "interference" from Washington. Said a prominent Greenville citizen: "The color line doesn't part us. It join's us. Granted, it joins us in mutual bondage But that's our mistake. And were the ones to rectify it." Other things in Greenville are changing besides segregation. For one thing Greenville is growing. "Ten years ago," declares Lomask, "in the Greenville area, few wheels turned outside of the tobacco stemming and redrying, plants. Now there are 59 industries, including, a battery-making factory, a textile mill, a new 100,000-watt television station and, 18 miles down the road, a 35-million-dollar Dupont subsidiary with 1700 employees." "Greenville is a town of striking contrasts," says Lomask. "Some people are poor, some rich, some desperately poor, and some desperately rich, even as in your town and mine." "In new residential sub-divisions, all architecture is courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright and Better Homes & Gardens. In the 'Bama', a Negro section over the hill and beyond the tracks, it is firetrap Gothic," Lomask points out. He continues: "Sheppard Memorial Library on Evans Street is a spacious brick building with 37,810 volumes—for white readers only. The George Washington Carver Library on Sheppard Street is a 30by-20 foot clapboard shack with 2,082 volumes—for Negroes only. The irony is that, percentagewise, according to the latest report from the head librarian, the Negroes make more use of their bibliotheca than the whites of theirs." Greenville, however, is making Progress—concrete progress. Says Lomask: "In Greenville's old hosPital, now turned over to county and municipal offices, Negro doctors could not use the operating room. In the new 120-bed Pitt Memorial Hospital, they have full privilegss." "Two years ago," he adds, "for the first time since Reconstruction, Greenville put a Negro, Caesar Corbett, on its 29-man-police force. Corbett patrols "The Block,' business district of the three Negro areas and a 'troublespot.'" "The Daily Reflector, the lively intelligent local paper, refers to Negroes as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.', and I can recall being unceremoniously fired from a newspaper in East Texas 20 years ago for doing just that," the writer asserts. In education, too, there are signs of change, the article declare. "There was a time, according to one of the Negro teachers, when most of the facilities in Greenville's three Negro schools were hand-me-downs from the five white schools. Now, when ew things are bought, they are bought for all. "There are 55 Negro teachers in the public school system, and their salaries, on-the average, are higher than those of the 75 white teachers. This is because there are more higher degrees among them and Negro teachers, having fewer opportunities elsewhere, tend to remain longer on the job." The article quotes school superintendent Rose: "We sometimes feel that you people up North are a little hysterical about this segregation issue. We segregate, you don't. But we give jobs to Negro teachers and most of your small towns do not." FIRED FROM NEWSPAPER The "New South" is making the shift from segregation to tolerance for the Negro, Milton Lomask, reporter and writer for The Sign, national Catholic magazine published here, declares in the pubation's May issue. In an article on Greenville, North Carolina, titled "Main Street, The South," Lomask says the South is making the change "in her own time, of course, and nobody could call that pell mell. Even after legal separation goes, real segregation will still taint many hearts." But e points out that in his recent visit to Greenville to gather material for the article, "I heard startling talk on this subject—good talk, charitable, talk, talk of the kind that measures the strides Dixie is taking.' He quotes Greenville citizens, from civic loaders to the man on the street. Said H. Rose, the city's superintendent of schools: "No one can say when Jim Crow's last day is coming, but all the better thinking people here will tell you it IS coming." A handsome old lady whispered: "When we get rid of this inequality thins, we'll all be so relieved. It's a burden to us spiritually, morally, financially and it always has been." A young professional man deClared. "Only some of the older heads want things as they are now. My generation wants brotherhood, and Brother, I don't mean 'but separate." To these opinions, Lomask found only two dissenters, one white and one Negro cab driver. Said the Negro cabbie: "Nobody way up there in Washington is gonna come down here and non-segregate us. Man, these white folks don't pay no mind to the laws they make themselves. You're crazy if you think they're gonna pay attention to somebody eles's." However, the feeling is general in Greenville against "interference" from Washington. Said a prominent Greenville citizen: "The color line doesn't part us. It join's us. Granted, it joins us in mutual bondage But that's our mistake. And were the ones to rectify it." Other things in Greenville are changing besides segregation. For one thing Greenville is growing. "Ten years ago," declares Lomask, "in the Greenville area, few wheels turned outside of the tobacco stemming and redrying, plants. Now there are 59 industries, including, a battery-making factory, a textile mill, a new 100,000-watt television station and, 18 miles down the road, a 35-million-dollar Dupont subsidiary with 1700 employees." "Greenville is a town of striking contrasts," says Lomask. "Some people are poor, some rich, some desperately poor, and some desperately rich, even as in your town and mine." "In new residential sub-divisions, all architecture is courtesy of Frank Lloyd Wright and Better Homes & Gardens. In the 'Bama', a Negro section over the hill and beyond the tracks, it is firetrap Gothic," Lomask points out. He continues: "Sheppard Memorial Library on Evans Street is a spacious brick building with 37,810 volumes—for white readers only. The George Washington Carver Library on Sheppard Street is a 30by-20 foot clapboard shack with 2,082 volumes—for Negroes only. The irony is that, percentagewise, according to the latest report from the head librarian, the Negroes make more use of their bibliotheca than the whites of theirs." Greenville, however, is making Progress—concrete progress. Says Lomask: "In Greenville's old hosPital, now turned over to county and municipal offices, Negro doctors could not use the operating room. In the new 120-bed Pitt Memorial Hospital, they have full privilegss." "Two years ago," he adds, "for the first time since Reconstruction, Greenville put a Negro, Caesar Corbett, on its 29-man-police force. Corbett patrols "The Block,' business district of the three Negro areas and a 'troublespot.'" "The Daily Reflector, the lively intelligent local paper, refers to Negroes as 'Mr.' and 'Mrs.', and I can recall being unceremoniously fired from a newspaper in East Texas 20 years ago for doing just that," the writer asserts. In education, too, there are signs of change, the article declare. "There was a time, according to one of the Negro teachers, when most of the facilities in Greenville's three Negro schools were hand-me-downs from the five white schools. Now, when ew things are bought, they are bought for all. "There are 55 Negro teachers in the public school system, and their salaries, on-the average, are higher than those of the 75 white teachers. This is because there are more higher degrees among them and Negro teachers, having fewer opportunities elsewhere, tend to remain longer on the job." The article quotes school superintendent Rose: "We sometimes feel that you people up North are a little hysterical about this segregation issue. We segregate, you don't. But we give jobs to Negro teachers and most of your small towns do not." DOCTORS KNOW ... this specialized aspirin for children is made to best fit children's needs! She Was Blessed with LONG HAIR! Dryness bad set in causing brittle hair ends to break off—often much faster than hair will grow. Thus in a matter of time shorter and shorter hair! With horror she discovered the havoc dryness was causing her once beautiful long hair— that feminine charm we all know is our most valuable possession. 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