Memphis World Memphis World Publishing Co. 1957-05-18 Raymond F. Tisby MEMPHIS WORLD AMERICA'S STANDARD RACE JOURNAL The South's Oldest and Leading Colored Semi-Weekly Newspaper Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO. Every WEDNESDAY and SATURDAY at 546 BEALE — Ph. JA. 6-4030 Member of SCOTT NEWSPAPER SYNDICATE W. A. Scott, II, Founder; C. A. Scott, General Manager Entered in the Post Office at Memphis, Tenn., as second-class mall under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870 RAYMOND F. TISBY Managing Editor MRS. ROSA BROWN BRACY Public Relation and Advertising ALYSON E. WISE Circulation Promotion SUBSCRIPTION RATES: Year $5.00 — 6 Months $2.00 — 3 Months $1.50 (In Advance) The MEMPHIS WORLD is an Independent newspaper — non-sectarian and non-partisan, printing news unbiasedly and supporting those things it believes to be of interest to his readers and opposing those things against the interest of its readers. Don't Be A Polio Victim The polio vaccine is among the greatest of recent medical discoveries. The vaccine is safe, marvelously effective, and it is now in abundant supply. Yet, despite this, the national vaccination program is lagging. The situation is so critical that the trustees of the American Medical Association recently called a meeting of state and territorial medical association representatives to plan and promote a gigantic polio vaccine program. The idea was born at a prior meeting between one of the trustees and representatives of the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Academy of General Practice, the Surgeon General of the U. S. Health Service and others. A general program was agreed upon. Points stressed are that the vaccine is both safe and effective; that everyone should be vaccinated, and especially those under 40; that inertia and apathy are primarily responsible for the failure of large segments of the public to be vaccinated, and that the medical profession should go all out in an effort to promote the use of the vaccine. It was also recognized that the principal responsibility for implementation of the program rests with state and local medical societies. It is certainly to be hoped that the medical profession is successful in this great undertaking - and that public lethargy will be dissipated once and for all. Some 80,000 Americans have been crippled by polio - legions more will be needlessly crippled in the future if the vaccination program continues to lag. Don't be one of them! Negro Among year's prison sentence imposed by Judge Taylor at the beginning of the school term for allegedly causing racial is orders. That sen tence is on appeal. The Brass and the Blue By JAMES KEENE © Copyright 1956, by James Keene, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate] IF I could give Jocelyn the will to go on," Emil Schwabacker said, "would you help me relieve him of his command, Cove?" Cove Butler let his breath whistle through his teeth. "That will get you court-martialed, son. But quick." "I know that," Schwabacker said. "Jocelyn is the kind of man who'll go as far as his legs will carry him, then he'll travel a little farther on guts, but there has to be an end. I give him six weeks at the outside if he doesn't get to bed and stay there." Butler shook his head. "I don't owe Jocelyn a thing, Emil. He can make up his own mind; I've told him the truth, what would happen if he didn't rest. You be smart and keep out of It" Schwabacker looked around the camp. The infantry were lounging in the army's manner of systematic disorder. The cavalry were dismounted, but still waiting On the flanks. "Who picked this bivouac, Cove?" "The captain. To tell you the truth, he couldn't go any farther and didn't, want to admit it. Pretty poor, isn't it?" "From a military standpoint," Schwabacker said, "it's terrible." "There are hostiles around here too," Butler said softly. "More than I care to think about. They've been pacing us all the way from Fort Laramie." "Cheyennes?" "Sioux too," Butler said. "Between you and me, I think Jocelyn means to make a last-man stand here." Schwabacker shook his head. "Not with one troop of fresh cavalry recruits and a regiment of infantry too fat to run." "Two troops of cavalry," Butler contradicted. "He's got yours now, boy." He paused to scan the bracketing hills for several minutes. "I saw smoke up there all afternoon. I wish they'd drop the other shoe. It nearly kills a man to know they're out there and have to wait for them." "Who's in command of the infantry?" "Captain Blaine. This is his first tour in Indian country." Butler smiled. Emil Schwabacker went back to his own bivouac, where he found Sergeant Sean Finnegan inspecting the surrounding terrain and not liking a bit of it No one had to tell this troop of hardbitten fifty-cent regulars that host lies were out there or what they were there for. Finnegan said, "How's th' capt'n, sor?" "Very poorly," Schwabacker said. "Well, Sergeant, what would you say our chances were here?" Finnegan took off his kept and made a mess of his hair with probing fingers. "Well, sor, it surely is hard to say. Them duckfooted infantry men is mighty temptin" to a mounted Sioux. Then again, there's somethin' holdin' 'em back or they'd have attacked already. Meanin' no disrespect, sor, but it sure ain't th' capt'n's cavalry. I'd say medicine, sor. Them heathens is sure funny when it comes to their medicine." "In short, Sergeant, you don't know any more than I do." "Aye, sor," Finnegan said, grinning, "but I was sort of hopin' you wouldn't find that out" He scuffed dust into a small pile, then kicked it into a cloud. "I just don't like this danged country here, sor." He was Justified, Schwabacker decided. Jocelyn's camp was in the only open stretch of land for the next fifteen miles. His picket line formed in the grove near the bend of a stream. A circular bivouac could be formed here, but Schwabacker struck the possibility out of his mind. The only answer was to move, with or without Captain Temple Jocelyn's consent. "Sergeant," Schwabacker said, "what are the possibilities of making a night march?" "Poorly, sor. It's all right for the cavalry, sor, but them poor foot sojers'll stumble all over themselves." "They'll have to get along the best they can," Schwabacker said with finality. "Sergeant, you took me into your confidence once concerning Captain Jocelyn's past. I want you to go a step further and give me his wife's address." "I couldn't do that, sor." "Finnegan, I don't mean to pull rank on you, but I haven't time or inclination to explain at this time. I simply want his wife's address. If the man insists on dying, then I think she has the right to choose between being with him at the end or not Now, will you give me her address?" "Yes, sor. Sexton's Junction, Virginia, sor." He paused to wipe a hand across his mustached mouth. "I sure hope this is right, sor." "If you can save a man's life it's right," Schwabacker said. "He's been waiting for a letter from her. Maybe I can get what he wants." He touched Finnegan on the arm. "Fetch my dispatch case and select a man who can ride. I want this letter taken to Laramie in time to catch the Wednesday stage." "Yes, sor," Finnegan said and turned away. With the letter to Temple Jocelyn's wife sealed and in the hands of Trooper Johnson, Schwabacker walked over to Captain Jocelyn's tent. Jocelyn was sitting in the camp chair, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. He heard the trooper ride out and his eyes followed him until he passed from sight. Then they focused on Emil Schwabacker. "Lieutenant, I authorized no one to leave this bivouac." "He left on my authorization, sir," Schwabacker said firmly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but. I would like a word concerning the disposition of the troops." "As you can see they are in bivouac," Jocelyn said flatly. "Lieutenant, I suggest that you unite your troops Wth mine." "Does that mean that I am relieved of my command, Captain?" "No, no, of course not," Joce lyn said with a trace of irritability. "I'm only suggesting a solidification of command for safety and maximum security." "Sir," Schwabacker said bluntly, "I believe that this bivouac violates every concept of field security. It's unwise to remain here." The look Temple Jocelyn gave Schwabacker was a shock to the young officer, for something of Schwabacker's father came into Jocelyn's eyes and the stony cast of his cheeks. Sergeant Finnegan chose that time to come over. He stood to Schwabacker's left, near Jocelyn, but the captain did not even favor him with a glance. "Lieutenant, are you pitting your picayune experience against my years of service?" He waved his hand. "You've served me: you know I'm not a martinet! But I believe I'm the best judge in this case." "I have no intention of debating ..." "Neither have I, Lieutenant! As your senior officer I might remind you that your conduct is bordering on the disrespectful. I'm not going to be tied to a saddle again, do you understand? As long as I have voice to command, command I will!" For a moment Schwabacker could only stare in stunned disbelief. Even Sergeant Finnegan with his long relationship, could not quite hide, his shock. At first, Schwabacker was unable to understand Jocelyn's meaning, but the pieces fell into place like a difficult puzzle. All along, he had mistakenly believed Jocelyn was grateful for having been saved at Ryndlee's. But Temple Jocelyn was not! Instead of uniting them, Schwabacker's action had only pushed them further apart Jocelyn, like Schwabacker's father, felt shame, not gratitude, when a weakness was exposed. With this new knowledge, Emil Schwabacker was certain that the only thing that would ever right this would be a time when he was weak and Jocelyn could bestow his strength. In that moment he learned a startling truth about Jocelyn. Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker said slowly, "Captain, I'm sorry, but I deem it inadvisable to remain here. I'm ordering the command to move in one hour." "In that event," Jocelyn said evenly, "I will see that you face a general court-martial." He coughed and flecks of blood came to his lips. Quickly he covered his mouth with his handkerchief. "Sergeant Finnegan," Schwabacker said, "ask Dr. Butler to come here. I want the captain removed to the ambulance." Finnegan started to turn, but stopped when Temple Jocelyn unflapped his pistol holster and drew his gun. The cocking hammer was a series of snapping sticks, then the bore settled on Emil Schwabacker's belt buckle. "Your saber, sir. I'm placing you under arrest" CHAPTER 17 By JAMES KEENE © Copyright 1956, by James Keene, Reprinted by permission of Random House, Inc. [King Features Syndicate] IF I could give Jocelyn the will to go on," Emil Schwabacker said, "would you help me relieve him of his command, Cove?" Cove Butler let his breath whistle through his teeth. "That will get you court-martialed, son. But quick." "I know that," Schwabacker said. "Jocelyn is the kind of man who'll go as far as his legs will carry him, then he'll travel a little farther on guts, but there has to be an end. I give him six weeks at the outside if he doesn't get to bed and stay there." Butler shook his head. "I don't owe Jocelyn a thing, Emil. He can make up his own mind; I've told him the truth, what would happen if he didn't rest. You be smart and keep out of It" Schwabacker looked around the camp. The infantry were lounging in the army's manner of systematic disorder. The cavalry were dismounted, but still waiting On the flanks. "Who picked this bivouac, Cove?" "The captain. To tell you the truth, he couldn't go any farther and didn't, want to admit it. Pretty poor, isn't it?" "From a military standpoint," Schwabacker said, "it's terrible." "There are hostiles around here too," Butler said softly. "More than I care to think about. They've been pacing us all the way from Fort Laramie." "Cheyennes?" "Sioux too," Butler said. "Between you and me, I think Jocelyn means to make a last-man stand here." Schwabacker shook his head. "Not with one troop of fresh cavalry recruits and a regiment of infantry too fat to run." "Two troops of cavalry," Butler contradicted. "He's got yours now, boy." He paused to scan the bracketing hills for several minutes. "I saw smoke up there all afternoon. I wish they'd drop the other shoe. It nearly kills a man to know they're out there and have to wait for them." "Who's in command of the infantry?" "Captain Blaine. This is his first tour in Indian country." Butler smiled. Emil Schwabacker went back to his own bivouac, where he found Sergeant Sean Finnegan inspecting the surrounding terrain and not liking a bit of it No one had to tell this troop of hardbitten fifty-cent regulars that host lies were out there or what they were there for. Finnegan said, "How's th' capt'n, sor?" "Very poorly," Schwabacker said. "Well, Sergeant, what would you say our chances were here?" Finnegan took off his kept and made a mess of his hair with probing fingers. "Well, sor, it surely is hard to say. Them duckfooted infantry men is mighty temptin" to a mounted Sioux. Then again, there's somethin' holdin' 'em back or they'd have attacked already. Meanin' no disrespect, sor, but it sure ain't th' capt'n's cavalry. I'd say medicine, sor. Them heathens is sure funny when it comes to their medicine." "In short, Sergeant, you don't know any more than I do." "Aye, sor," Finnegan said, grinning, "but I was sort of hopin' you wouldn't find that out" He scuffed dust into a small pile, then kicked it into a cloud. "I just don't like this danged country here, sor." He was Justified, Schwabacker decided. Jocelyn's camp was in the only open stretch of land for the next fifteen miles. His picket line formed in the grove near the bend of a stream. A circular bivouac could be formed here, but Schwabacker struck the possibility out of his mind. The only answer was to move, with or without Captain Temple Jocelyn's consent. "Sergeant," Schwabacker said, "what are the possibilities of making a night march?" "Poorly, sor. It's all right for the cavalry, sor, but them poor foot sojers'll stumble all over themselves." "They'll have to get along the best they can," Schwabacker said with finality. "Sergeant, you took me into your confidence once concerning Captain Jocelyn's past. I want you to go a step further and give me his wife's address." "I couldn't do that, sor." "Finnegan, I don't mean to pull rank on you, but I haven't time or inclination to explain at this time. I simply want his wife's address. If the man insists on dying, then I think she has the right to choose between being with him at the end or not Now, will you give me her address?" "Yes, sor. Sexton's Junction, Virginia, sor." He paused to wipe a hand across his mustached mouth. "I sure hope this is right, sor." "If you can save a man's life it's right," Schwabacker said. "He's been waiting for a letter from her. Maybe I can get what he wants." He touched Finnegan on the arm. "Fetch my dispatch case and select a man who can ride. I want this letter taken to Laramie in time to catch the Wednesday stage." "Yes, sor," Finnegan said and turned away. With the letter to Temple Jocelyn's wife sealed and in the hands of Trooper Johnson, Schwabacker walked over to Captain Jocelyn's tent. Jocelyn was sitting in the camp chair, his head thrown back, his eyes closed. He heard the trooper ride out and his eyes followed him until he passed from sight. Then they focused on Emil Schwabacker. "Lieutenant, I authorized no one to leave this bivouac." "He left on my authorization, sir," Schwabacker said firmly. "I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but. I would like a word concerning the disposition of the troops." "As you can see they are in bivouac," Jocelyn said flatly. "Lieutenant, I suggest that you unite your troops Wth mine." "Does that mean that I am relieved of my command, Captain?" "No, no, of course not," Joce lyn said with a trace of irritability. "I'm only suggesting a solidification of command for safety and maximum security." "Sir," Schwabacker said bluntly, "I believe that this bivouac violates every concept of field security. It's unwise to remain here." The look Temple Jocelyn gave Schwabacker was a shock to the young officer, for something of Schwabacker's father came into Jocelyn's eyes and the stony cast of his cheeks. Sergeant Finnegan chose that time to come over. He stood to Schwabacker's left, near Jocelyn, but the captain did not even favor him with a glance. "Lieutenant, are you pitting your picayune experience against my years of service?" He waved his hand. "You've served me: you know I'm not a martinet! But I believe I'm the best judge in this case." "I have no intention of debating ..." "Neither have I, Lieutenant! As your senior officer I might remind you that your conduct is bordering on the disrespectful. I'm not going to be tied to a saddle again, do you understand? As long as I have voice to command, command I will!" For a moment Schwabacker could only stare in stunned disbelief. Even Sergeant Finnegan with his long relationship, could not quite hide, his shock. At first, Schwabacker was unable to understand Jocelyn's meaning, but the pieces fell into place like a difficult puzzle. All along, he had mistakenly believed Jocelyn was grateful for having been saved at Ryndlee's. But Temple Jocelyn was not! Instead of uniting them, Schwabacker's action had only pushed them further apart Jocelyn, like Schwabacker's father, felt shame, not gratitude, when a weakness was exposed. With this new knowledge, Emil Schwabacker was certain that the only thing that would ever right this would be a time when he was weak and Jocelyn could bestow his strength. In that moment he learned a startling truth about Jocelyn. Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker said slowly, "Captain, I'm sorry, but I deem it inadvisable to remain here. I'm ordering the command to move in one hour." "In that event," Jocelyn said evenly, "I will see that you face a general court-martial." He coughed and flecks of blood came to his lips. Quickly he covered his mouth with his handkerchief. "Sergeant Finnegan," Schwabacker said, "ask Dr. Butler to come here. I want the captain removed to the ambulance." Finnegan started to turn, but stopped when Temple Jocelyn unflapped his pistol holster and drew his gun. The cocking hammer was a series of snapping sticks, then the bore settled on Emil Schwabacker's belt buckle. "Your saber, sir. I'm placing you under arrest" REVIEWING THE NEWS BY WILLIAM GORDON He look me over to the window where the light of the Sun was strong. "Take a look," he said, "good look. This city is being run with men of character. We have Negroes on every important city government committee, not as Negroes, but as men of character." The thought has remained. It became alive again last week when we had two Negroes to run in the Atlanta primary election, both of substantial character. I don't, need to sell the names of Dr. Rufus E. Clement, president of Atlanta University and T. M. Alexander, Atlanta businessman to the public. They have already made their marks. Both represent the calibre and kind of men seeking public office that the Mayor of a North Carolina town talked about a few months ago. In this particular Southern city Negroes are represented at almost every governmental level. They have been picked for various posts, without opposition. They sit on the library and hospital boards, and represent their communities with distinction. Many other deep South cities are gradually beginning to accept the Negro public official for what he is, a capable, well trained skillful person, not narrowed by prejudice. "The letter I received from a Negro candidate the other day," said a Southern businessman, "was superior in every sense. It actually put his opponents far into the background." The Negro public servant can learn a lesson from his white counterpart. He will not make the mistakes of the demagogues, the corrupt-minded official seeking office for his own personal gains. He knows the brunt of neglect, the poverty and the grind linked with being without. The Negro public official has too much at stake, not only his own reputation, but that of an entire race which rests on his shoulders. He must make good wherever he serves. The South is gradually getting around to accepting this. The Negro public servant takes his lesson from history. Where dishonesty, corruption and inefficiency prevail, not a few but many people have lost and failed. Decisions in government cannot be made on the basis of race, color or creed. Public office is a sacred trust and that principle cannot be sacrificed for the sake of expediency. Good government prevails only when character sits in office. When Character Sits In Office... BY WILLIAM GORDON He look me over to the window where the light of the Sun was strong. "Take a look," he said, "good look. This city is being run with men of character. We have Negroes on every important city government committee, not as Negroes, but as men of character." The thought has remained. It became alive again last week when we had two Negroes to run in the Atlanta primary election, both of substantial character. I don't, need to sell the names of Dr. Rufus E. Clement, president of Atlanta University and T. M. Alexander, Atlanta businessman to the public. They have already made their marks. Both represent the calibre and kind of men seeking public office that the Mayor of a North Carolina town talked about a few months ago. In this particular Southern city Negroes are represented at almost every governmental level. They have been picked for various posts, without opposition. They sit on the library and hospital boards, and represent their communities with distinction. Many other deep South cities are gradually beginning to accept the Negro public official for what he is, a capable, well trained skillful person, not narrowed by prejudice. "The letter I received from a Negro candidate the other day," said a Southern businessman, "was superior in every sense. It actually put his opponents far into the background." The Negro public servant can learn a lesson from his white counterpart. He will not make the mistakes of the demagogues, the corrupt-minded official seeking office for his own personal gains. He knows the brunt of neglect, the poverty and the grind linked with being without. The Negro public official has too much at stake, not only his own reputation, but that of an entire race which rests on his shoulders. He must make good wherever he serves. The South is gradually getting around to accepting this. The Negro public servant takes his lesson from history. Where dishonesty, corruption and inefficiency prevail, not a few but many people have lost and failed. Decisions in government cannot be made on the basis of race, color or creed. Public office is a sacred trust and that principle cannot be sacrificed for the sake of expediency. Good government prevails only when character sits in office. MEALTIME MELODIES! Pilaf, Pilaff and Pilau are names used in Turkey, Pakistan and neighboring countries for a highly seasoned combination of rice, meat or poultry, spices and dairy products. The chicken Pilaf has reached away off to bring Turkey to us. But with the exception of the spices it uses products that are produced right in our neighborhood. According to the USA chicken, dairy products and rice are listed as plentifuls. Ever though occasionally I run into someone who has not seen rice growing it is grown right in our own backyards so to speak Farmers are vying with the weather these days trying to get this year's rice seeded. So just try this tie-up between the foreign and local using a very tender frying chicken and your results will be most satisfactory. Generous proportions of tumeric, ginger and hot peppers are expected so that a cool-off chutney is the usual companion for Pilaf. There are many versions of chutney. In this Americanized uncooked recipe, the sour cream and yoghurt are sub stituted for the curd-base of very rich-buffalo milk used in Pakistan. 2 or 3 pound frying chicken (cut up) 1 cup butter 1-2 cup chopped onion 1 cup chopped green pepper 1-4 cup dry chili peppers 1 tablespoon tumeric 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1 teaspoon pepper 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon salt 2 1-2 cups (two 104-2 oz cans) tomato puree 2 cups rice, cooked (The 1 teaspoon pepper should be red pepper if dried chili peppers are not used.) Melt butter in a large skillet. Add onion and chicken. When chicken is browned, add green peppers, chilli peppers, tumeric, ginger, pepper, cinnamon, salt and tomato puree. Stir. Cover and cook slowly until chicken is fork-tender. Sread cooked rice in the bottom of a 3-qt baking dish or pan. Arrange chicken and sauce on top. Bake in a moderate Oven (375 degrees F) for 20 minutes. Serve with uncooked Chutney. Uncooked Chutney: Combine 1 cup commercially soured cream and 1 cup Yoghurt, cut a large unprepared cucumber into 8 portions. lengthwise, then cut into 1-2-inch chunks. Cut a tomato into half sections. Combine ligtly cucumber, tomato, some chives, onions and celery with soured cream and yoghurt. Chill. Serves 6. Chicken Pilax Pilaf, Pilaff and Pilau are names used in Turkey, Pakistan and neighboring countries for a highly seasoned combination of rice, meat or poultry, spices and dairy products. The chicken Pilaf has reached away off to bring Turkey to us. But with the exception of the spices it uses products that are produced right in our neighborhood. According to the USA chicken, dairy products and rice are listed as plentifuls. Ever though occasionally I run into someone who has not seen rice growing it is grown right in our own backyards so to speak Farmers are vying with the weather these days trying to get this year's rice seeded. So just try this tie-up between the foreign and local using a very tender frying chicken and your results will be most satisfactory. Generous proportions of tumeric, ginger and hot peppers are expected so that a cool-off chutney is the usual companion for Pilaf. There are many versions of chutney. In this Americanized uncooked recipe, the sour cream and yoghurt are sub stituted for the curd-base of very rich-buffalo milk used in Pakistan. 2 or 3 pound frying chicken (cut up) 1 cup butter 1-2 cup chopped onion 1 cup chopped green pepper 1-4 cup dry chili peppers 1 tablespoon tumeric 1 teaspoon ground ginger 1 teaspoon pepper 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 1 teaspoon salt 2 1-2 cups (two 104-2 oz cans) tomato puree 2 cups rice, cooked (The 1 teaspoon pepper should be red pepper if dried chili peppers are not used.) Melt butter in a large skillet. Add onion and chicken. When chicken is browned, add green peppers, chilli peppers, tumeric, ginger, pepper, cinnamon, salt and tomato puree. Stir. Cover and cook slowly until chicken is fork-tender. Sread cooked rice in the bottom of a 3-qt baking dish or pan. Arrange chicken and sauce on top. Bake in a moderate Oven (375 degrees F) for 20 minutes. Serve with uncooked Chutney. Uncooked Chutney: Combine 1 cup commercially soured cream and 1 cup Yoghurt, cut a large unprepared cucumber into 8 portions. lengthwise, then cut into 1-2-inch chunks. Cut a tomato into half sections. Combine ligtly cucumber, tomato, some chives, onions and celery with soured cream and yoghurt. Chill. Serves 6. Poor Summer for our larger firms to create a few Jobs for our young people. It would be the cheapest advertising that they cou'd buy for their firm and would establish for them as abondance of good will plus an investment in good citizenship. The urban League has appealed through the press, to all . Who are interested in the economic welfare of the community to give its Negro youth opportunities to work. We are unable at this time to determine how successful we shall be in find ing jobs in the broader industrial field in Memphis. But it is one thing certain, we must do something for ourselves. We must provide Job opportunities for ourselves. Negroes in this area of the country enjoy tremendous buying power. Those whom they patronize are not always aware of the Negroe's contribution to their economic wellbeing. There are numerous businesses that would go out of business if they lost their Negro patrons, but these same firms employ only a very limited number of Negroes, in menial capacities. Negroes have little or no opportunity to make nor distribute the millions of dollars worth of commodities that they consume. Let's take a look at the other side. People must merit the opportunities they seek. The first requirement is preparedness, second a will to work, alertness, ability to think and cooperate with associates and manifest a loyalty to the organization, with which one works. The future will really belong to those who prepare themselves. This is emphasized in every vocational guidance program conducted for youth. It is not enough to have limited training, "a little learning is a dangerous thing." Hard work to obtain ones goal is essential. There will be some jobs for young men in this area. It will consist of hard work, common labor, at $1.53 per hour. Shall we be able to find the strong willing worker to tackle these as a means to an "end." There is really no such thing, any more as light office work or easy jobs Work is Work. New Curriculum For Lincoln Journalists A new journalism curriculum will go into effect at Lincoln University (Mo.) with the fall semester of 1567, following a report by the College Policies Committee to the effect that the plan meets the requirements for a bachelor of arts degree. Planning for the curriculum has been going on since two years ago when the decision was made to convert the School of Journalism into a department of the College of Arts and Sciences. The purpose is to integrate the curriculum into the college system in order to serve the needs of students in all departments as well as those anticipating careers in journalism. According to Lee S. Cole, acting head of the department, the curriculum new look is an effort to provide students with courses which will better enable them to exploit skills developed in other areas of the university as business, the sciences, art, etc. The program still provides for the cultural background necessary for successful careers in professional communications and specialized studies and practices that will fit students for work on business, advertising, news, and editorial staffs of publications; in teaching public relations and research. The new program also offers a minor in journalism for students of all departments. Your friendly Sinclair Dealer has a new gasoline that... WORKS LIKE A FREE ENGINE TUNE-UP in Sinclair Power-X Gasoline tunes up your engine automatically every time you drive. That's because this amazing X-Chemical "Octane Booster", developed by Sinclair Research, eliminates harmful engine deposits that ruin power and performance. In an older car, after 3 tankfuls of Power-X, you'll feel a new surge of power - as if you just had an engine tune-up. In a new car, Power-X brings out all the full power of the highest compression engine — helps keep it running like new, year after year. They get friendly, efficient service from 25,000 Sinclair Dealers in 36 states. Motorists tell us Power-X gives them mote mileage, too — up to 40 miles more per tankful. You can depend oh Sinclair Power-X — a product of Sinclair's 40 years of refining experience. says Dino, the Sinclair Dinosaur POWER UP WITH POWER-X THE SUPER FUEL Senator Symington Science on Saturday. The meeting was held at Central Missouri State College, Warrensburg, with students from five Missouri colleges and universities including the University of Missouri, competing for awards. Top award went to, Robert C. Schroer of Jefferson City Senior chemistry major at Lincoln. Schroer's prize-winning paper, entitled "The Preparation, Equilibrium Pressures and Thermodynamic Constants of the Decomposition of the M-Bromoaniline-Sulfur Dioxide Complex" was based on a research project which he has been carrying on in the chemistry department since last September. Schroer, an assistant in the department, and president of the Chemistry club, receive his B. S. degree in June. He is the son of Mr. and Mrs. Ed ward Schroer, and a graduate of of Jefferson Junior College. Honorable mention was warded Albert Williams, junior of Jefferson City, and Lawrence Bee, senior of Gary, Indiana, both biolog ymajors. Their jointedly prepared paper was entitled "A Study of the Distribution of the Arthropods in the Five Strata: Soil, Leaf Layer, Herbs Shrubs and Trees. Williams is the retiring president of the organization, and presided at the meeting on Saturday. Second and third place wards went to students from Williams Jewel college and the University of Missouri, respectively. A William Jewel student was also given honorable mention. In addition to the prize winners others from Lincoln who attended the meeting were Carl Smith, Hilliard Scott, Dr. U. S. Maxwell and Dr. Willis E. Byrd. "Sense Of Humor" their examinations that day. Senior Class Day on May 25 begins the final exercises which include Baccalaureate May 26 and Commencement May 27. Georgia Hughes, Junior from Birmingham, Ala., was recently crowned Sweetheart of Kappa Al Pha Psi Fraternity. She succeeds Jamesetta W. Lewis, a Knoxvillian who is also Miss Knoxville College for 1956-57. The new sweetheart is a math major and chemistry minor, and ah Alpha Kappa Alpha soror. Wise Critiques provide during these occasional periods of Stygian darkness. Should you read Rev. McNeill's vehicle you will see "prophecized," the extinction of the Ku Klux Kan, White Citizens Councils, rabble rousers, exit of the apathetic Negro, emergence of an interracial leadership which will pave trails of workable understanding, brotherly love, and last, but not least, a cohesive, application of Christianity in practice. Having avidly read this article thru tout once-at this writing-I have decided that when current racial problems and incidents become unbearable and seemingly lost, here is my guidance and refuge in Rev. Robert B. McNeill's timely article, Solution For The Louth. Employee Earnings In South Advance Average hourly earnings at straight-time for the 6,033,000 nonsupervisory retail trade employees covered by a survey late in 1956 varied from $1.16 in the South to $1.68 in the West, according to Brunswick A. Bagdon, Southern Regional Director of the U. S. Department of Labors Bureau of Labor Statistics. Average hourly earnings nationally were $1.41. Overall, men average $1.53, and women $1.11; men on a 40-hour work schedule averaged $1.89 and women $1.23. In releasing tne report, Mr. Bagdon pointed out that the distribution of goods at retail is carried on through a vast network of Industries with varying labor force requirements, methods of wage payment and other distinctive characteristics. The survey revealed a wide range of earnings for men and women classified by weekly hours of employment, region, and size of community. An estimated 611,00 employes, or 10 percent of the total, earned less than 75 cents an hour; 26 percent earned less than $1. About" 50 percent of the nonsupervisory employees earned under $1.25 an hour; at the upper end, almost 900,000 workers, or 15 percent of the total, earned $2 or more an hour. BUY BONDS