Memphis World Memphis World Publishing Co. 1954-09-07 Mrs. Rosa Brown Bracy MEMPHIS WORLD AMERICAN'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 Office 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. Ross Brown 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) Shivers Victor In Texas The victory of Governor Allan Shivers in Texas, in winning a third term as Governor of the Lone Star State, foreshadows another hot battle at the National Democratic Convention in 1956. Had the Liberal element of the State of Texas won the election, it is logical to assume that a so-called Liberal-minded delegation would have been sent to the National Convention. As it now appears, a more conservative group of Democrats will probably be in attendance, since the powers-that-be will have considerable influence on the make-up of that delegation. Conservative Southern delegations to National Conventions have traditionally caused rough sailing at these conventions. When the Southerners were in the majority, they managed to nominate candidates with a Jefferson Democratic philosophy. However, in later years the senior major party has concentrated on candidates generally conceded to have been further to the left, in a play for the vote in huge metropolitan areas. In the last Democratic National Convention, at which Adlai Stevenson was nominated, three or four Southern States came within an eyelash of walking out of the convention and thus splitting the party on the eev of a national election. Such a split would have played into the hands of those who were hoping that President Eisenhower, running on the Republican ticket, would carry several Southern Slates. At is turned out, Eisenhower carried several Southern States anyhow, and there was quite a battle between Conservative and Liberal Democrats in the South, where the fight between these two factions is similar to the fight between the Republican and Democrats in other states. The significant of the Conservative victory in Texas is that it counters an earlier trend in most parts of the South of a resurghad appeared lately as if Conservative Democrats were on the ence of Liberal Democratic strength. In several Southern States it run, but the Texas election upsets the trend and provides a good point for those who would dispute the claim that a Republican candidate cannot carry any Southern States in 1956 in a contest with a Liberal Democrat. REVIEWING THE NEWS BY WILLIAM GORDON Managing Editor, Atlanta Dairy World A very pleasing and friendly voice spoke up at the other end of the telephone. "Yes, this is the Senator's campaign headquarters, the lady said. "And we are grateful for all you have done in the papers for us." It was not a question about the sincerity here. Such a statepent was part of a familiar ring echoing throughout the region for many months now. And the feeling, generated from the experiences, is definitely on the increase throughout America. The whole thing became clearer to me a few nights ago when I attended my first political rally. Standing there in the dim-light of the moon, among rickety buildings, it was a wonderful sight to see people trudging gently to the church to hear what the candidates had to say. Strangely, nobody had to pull them out of their homes or smoke them out of beer parlors or pool halls, As one speaker puts it: "These people have become of political age. They have advanced to the level of political maturity; their interests are definitely concerned with the kind of people in elective office who make the laws of the community and help to plan the future for their youngsters. So they came to the rally, the young, the aged, the lame and the afflicted. Moreover, these were the ordinary, hard-working people only recently freed from the shackles of political slavery. They came hungry for action. When the candidates came, some brought their families with them. There were wives, and children who milled through the crowd to their heart's content; rubbing elbows with the rank and file. There was no friction. Mind you, these were the same ordinary people who cook the meals in restaurants, man the machines at the factories, work as porters, maids in down town buildings but who also maintain the level of intelligence and alertness which makes them want to know how their government is being run. This perhaps could best be explained by the words of one of the candidates. "I am glad to be your humble servant. I shall be glad to serve you again as I have in the past. So please send me back to public office so that I might serve you better in the future." There are thousands such candidates throughout America today, pleading and asking for the vote. They are pleading for what has become a valuable instrument in the hands of millions. And they have reasons to do so. In almost every large city in the nation, the concentration of Negroes into the hovels and restrictive areas have brought about an alertness of mind and will power. Bent on becoming firstclass citizens, they have been forced to use the ballot and the courts to free themselves from social and economic bondage. This alertness has had its effects in several national elections in recent years. It has been even more effective in local areas where Negroes have been named to the public school boards, given seats in city councils, and named to the police force. On a national level, some significant achievements have also been made, and the trend continues. Like the Senator, running for reelection and the candidate standing and pleading before the small church group, more and more, they are glad to be "your humble servants." Glad to be Your Humble Servant BY WILLIAM GORDON Managing Editor, Atlanta Dairy World A very pleasing and friendly voice spoke up at the other end of the telephone. "Yes, this is the Senator's campaign headquarters, the lady said. "And we are grateful for all you have done in the papers for us." It was not a question about the sincerity here. Such a statepent was part of a familiar ring echoing throughout the region for many months now. And the feeling, generated from the experiences, is definitely on the increase throughout America. The whole thing became clearer to me a few nights ago when I attended my first political rally. Standing there in the dim-light of the moon, among rickety buildings, it was a wonderful sight to see people trudging gently to the church to hear what the candidates had to say. Strangely, nobody had to pull them out of their homes or smoke them out of beer parlors or pool halls, As one speaker puts it: "These people have become of political age. They have advanced to the level of political maturity; their interests are definitely concerned with the kind of people in elective office who make the laws of the community and help to plan the future for their youngsters. So they came to the rally, the young, the aged, the lame and the afflicted. Moreover, these were the ordinary, hard-working people only recently freed from the shackles of political slavery. They came hungry for action. When the candidates came, some brought their families with them. There were wives, and children who milled through the crowd to their heart's content; rubbing elbows with the rank and file. There was no friction. Mind you, these were the same ordinary people who cook the meals in restaurants, man the machines at the factories, work as porters, maids in down town buildings but who also maintain the level of intelligence and alertness which makes them want to know how their government is being run. This perhaps could best be explained by the words of one of the candidates. "I am glad to be your humble servant. I shall be glad to serve you again as I have in the past. So please send me back to public office so that I might serve you better in the future." There are thousands such candidates throughout America today, pleading and asking for the vote. They are pleading for what has become a valuable instrument in the hands of millions. And they have reasons to do so. In almost every large city in the nation, the concentration of Negroes into the hovels and restrictive areas have brought about an alertness of mind and will power. Bent on becoming firstclass citizens, they have been forced to use the ballot and the courts to free themselves from social and economic bondage. This alertness has had its effects in several national elections in recent years. It has been even more effective in local areas where Negroes have been named to the public school boards, given seats in city councils, and named to the police force. On a national level, some significant achievements have also been made, and the trend continues. Like the Senator, running for reelection and the candidate standing and pleading before the small church group, more and more, they are glad to be "your humble servants." BRIEF COMMENT We know a number of local gardners who have already abdicated. Experience is rarely valued by the ones who really need it most. Advertise your business in anyway you want to but advertise It! Not many people think that the dictionary is a good book to study. MY WEEKLY SERMON REV. BLAIR T. HUNT, PASTOR MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH, MEMPHIS TEXT: "Go ye also into the vineyard.... we are laborers with God—Matt. 20:4; Rev. 3:9. * * * * Yesterday our nation paid tribute to labor. It was Labor Day. I sat, and in my thoughts I turned back the pages of history. What a parade of thoughts surged through my mind! In memory I saw my father, a horny-handed son of toil. He was the hero of my early boyhood days. I can see, even now, his bulging Muscles muscles developed by hard toil. Too, in memory I saw the Labor Day parades. I thought of the carpenters, the hod-carriers, the tinners, the factory workers, the roustabouts on the steamboats, laborers of many sorts. I marveled at the progress that labor has made and silently thanked God for our labor, our labor unions and for the friends of labor and for the labor that has been expended to make progress a reality. There is a great labor union that we are all asked and invited to join God's Labor Union! Jesus commands us to go into His vineyard and work.... and what is right will be paid us. Jesus wants us to join God's Labor Union. It is a union of believers. It is an open shop.... whosoever is willing to work may join. Down here we call it the church The church is no closed shop. Its members are not forced to pay dues. There is a pay envelope given you every day and the wages extended throughout eternity. No deductions your... "take home pay" is air of it... all that you earn. For whatsoever is right God will pay us. I could not leave God out of my thoughts on Labor Day... for God is the Great Worker of the Universe! God created. And even now He is a continuing Creator... with man as His partner, His coLaborer. It is Divinely true that we (man) are co-laborers with God. God made the forests... for "only God can make a tree. But man made the furniture in your house, and that frame house in which you live. God made the stone... the mantle. But man made yonder marble palace and stone cathedral. God made the herbs, man made the medicine for the healing of the body. God made the soil, the sun, the rain, the dew... but man made the beautiful crops. God made the deserts, but man through irrigation is making "the desert to bloom like a rose." Indeed, we are co-laborers with God. The settlement of the great labor questions will come when the employer realizes that under God he is the true servant of every man in his employ that it is his privilege to make money through them and for them as well. The employee must realize and practice the Golden Rule He must give an honst day's work for an honest day's pay. He must not kill the goose that lays the golden egg. All men must practice fair employment irrespective as to race, creed, or color. Else, in the golden ige of eternity men will be found to have destroyed their very souls Jesus, the Carpenter, said "I sent me, while it, is day: the night cometh, when no man can work." So must you and I work... ere our sun goes down. God excludes no man from a chance to work. In God's labor union there is no black list. Let us join God's labor union and work We are like God when we work. The first mention of God in the Bible is the mention of Him as a Worker. "In the beginning God created... Jesus was a Worker Said Jesus, "Mv father worketh even until now, and I work." Join the Labor Union of God the Father and God the Son! GOD'S LABOR UNION REV. BLAIR T. HUNT, PASTOR MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH, MEMPHIS TEXT: "Go ye also into the vineyard.... we are laborers with God—Matt. 20:4; Rev. 3:9. * * * * Yesterday our nation paid tribute to labor. It was Labor Day. I sat, and in my thoughts I turned back the pages of history. What a parade of thoughts surged through my mind! In memory I saw my father, a horny-handed son of toil. He was the hero of my early boyhood days. I can see, even now, his bulging Muscles muscles developed by hard toil. Too, in memory I saw the Labor Day parades. I thought of the carpenters, the hod-carriers, the tinners, the factory workers, the roustabouts on the steamboats, laborers of many sorts. I marveled at the progress that labor has made and silently thanked God for our labor, our labor unions and for the friends of labor and for the labor that has been expended to make progress a reality. There is a great labor union that we are all asked and invited to join God's Labor Union! Jesus commands us to go into His vineyard and work.... and what is right will be paid us. Jesus wants us to join God's Labor Union. It is a union of believers. It is an open shop.... whosoever is willing to work may join. Down here we call it the church The church is no closed shop. Its members are not forced to pay dues. There is a pay envelope given you every day and the wages extended throughout eternity. No deductions your... "take home pay" is air of it... all that you earn. For whatsoever is right God will pay us. I could not leave God out of my thoughts on Labor Day... for God is the Great Worker of the Universe! God created. And even now He is a continuing Creator... with man as His partner, His coLaborer. It is Divinely true that we (man) are co-laborers with God. God made the forests... for "only God can make a tree. But man made the furniture in your house, and that frame house in which you live. God made the stone... the mantle. But man made yonder marble palace and stone cathedral. God made the herbs, man made the medicine for the healing of the body. God made the soil, the sun, the rain, the dew... but man made the beautiful crops. God made the deserts, but man through irrigation is making "the desert to bloom like a rose." Indeed, we are co-laborers with God. The settlement of the great labor questions will come when the employer realizes that under God he is the true servant of every man in his employ that it is his privilege to make money through them and for them as well. The employee must realize and practice the Golden Rule He must give an honst day's work for an honest day's pay. He must not kill the goose that lays the golden egg. All men must practice fair employment irrespective as to race, creed, or color. Else, in the golden ige of eternity men will be found to have destroyed their very souls Jesus, the Carpenter, said "I sent me, while it, is day: the night cometh, when no man can work." So must you and I work... ere our sun goes down. God excludes no man from a chance to work. In God's labor union there is no black list. Let us join God's labor union and work We are like God when we work. The first mention of God in the Bible is the mention of Him as a Worker. "In the beginning God created... Jesus was a Worker Said Jesus, "Mv father worketh even until now, and I work." Join the Labor Union of God the Father and God the Son! Negro Officers Lieut Col Redham Routledge, Wilson said that at the time the Communists wanted the POWs to sign three "appeals," Fleming advised the group that it was a question conscience how far each would yield to pressure. Wilson said he signed appeal, urging the "five great powers" to sign a nonagression pact. He and others refused to sign those, that urged Americans to surrender and called on President Truman and General Douglas MacArthur to get the Americans out of Korea. As far as the round table broadcast was concerned, Wilson said Fleming and the others worked diligently to find meaningless words which would also satisfy their Red captors. Fleming was also one of several instructors, Wilson said. In his class Fleming read from a required Communist book describing the structure of the Soviet government, then in discussions pointed up the fallacies by comparison with the United States, Wilson testified. New Jersey ago and verified on September 15, 1953. Despite their $15-a-day reservations, the ladies were told by the hotel management on their arrival that there were no available rooms. The complaint was registered with Harold Lett, a member of the N. J. Commission Against Discrimination. The facts were relayed to Gov. Robert B. Meyner, who informed Dr. Milligan of the situation. Gov. Meyner assured Mrs. Flemming that everything would be done to ascertain the facts fully and to remedy any acts of discrimination which have occurred or which might occur in the future. son, and declared voters have Just one choice. He said: "The race is clearly now an issue between the pro-segregation candidate Marvin Griffin and the anti-segregation candidate M. E Thompson." Thompson was equally as confident of victory as he spoke at Monroe, Ga. "We will carry every congressional district in Georgia, He said. Fireside Chat You can eat your cake and have too. The only business which has closed down is the business of making war supplies or business which is thereto related. When Eisenhower campaigned or the Presidency, he promised to o to Korea, and if possible end the War. He did that very thing, and as a result of closing the war, the production of munition and war supplies, has been minimized. The ansitition has of course created to degree, and unemployment sitution and perhaps not as much money is in circulation. What really would you prefer an abundance of things, while tousands of our boys and the boys the world face terror and death, a moderate income and all of or boys and men at home living confortably under peaceful conditions. Eisenhower has done more than ed a war. He has produced an atmosphere which will eliminate is second class citizenship to which the Negro has been subject in America. If Americans all will give cooperation to our great president in America. If Americans will give cooperation to our eat President. America, will entrue freedom and the greatest perity the world has ever know l result. Africa, Soundina CPP (government party) for the Western Region of the Gold Coast, said. "I want to take this ideology of Moral Re-Armament to the millions of my country." Miss B. I Reynolds, a Pretoria optometrist and managing director of six firms, said, "I have been one of those liberal English people who wants to lead an easygoing life. But that will not answer the crisis or bring unity to my copntry I have made a total commitment to this ideology, so that with God's power I can have not only good will but a decisive answer." Nicholas Kearns, president of the Colored Ex-Servicemen's Association (mixed races) of South Africa, referring to the newly found unity among the South African people which MRA has begun to Africa we as colored people alcreate, said, "This is the South ways visualized and many of us were prepared to shed blood for, but which never materialized I thank God for Frank Buchman's vision and we are going to follow his leadership to the end of our days Here I have learned what part I as a colored man have to play in my country The whole world has pitied us that but did not ring us anything. I am going to live MRA regardless of what any other race does." An African girl from the Gold Coast said she had decided to give all her savings to advance the work of MRA in the world. Veterans Whirl The American Legion parade Tuesday was billed as the biggest in Legion convention history and the biggest ever to move down, historic Pennsylvania Avenue There were both racially mixed and all-colored units in the parade, which started at 10 p m., tied up all traffic, and lasted more than ten hours. The parade began with a halfhour display of military might in which Army, Navy. Air Force and Marine Corps units participated immediately following the grand marshal and the honorary grand marshal. It ended with the marchers and exhibits of the District of Columbia Department of the American Legion The host city customarily brings up the rear. The parade was the greatest spectacle in the history, of the Nation's Capital, which is accustomed to seeing inaugural parades every four years, parades for visiting heads of state, homecoming heroes. Cherry Blossom and other civic festivals. It contained some 75,000 marchers, over 10,000 more than appeared in the 1953 St. Louis convention parade More than 350 drum and bugle corps and other musical aggregations were in line, exceeding the 320 or more which highlighted the St. Louis parade There was only one thing to mar it from the viewpoint of colored spectators, That was the Forty and-Eight units, a fun making affiliate, but colored spectators saw nothing funny in the fact that Forty-and-Eight units bar colored veerans from membership The parade formed at Fourth Street and Pennsylvania Avenue Northwest, moved west on Pennsylvanla Avenue to Fifteenth Street, south on Fifteenth street to the broad, spacious Constitution Avenue and west again to Eighteenth St., where it broke up. Reviewing stands were located at Sixteenth Street and Constitution Avenue At vantage points on Fifteenth street an dalong Cons stitution Avenue, between Fifteenth and Seventeenth Streets spectator stands were erected, seating approximately 17,000 persons. The parade was headed by Major General John H Stokes, commanding general of the military district of Washington, as grand marshall and Lewis K. Gough, past national commander of the Legion as honorary grand marshal. Behind them moved the military units, heading the first division. The second division was led by the Legion's championship band, selected during a pre-parade competition. In this division marched units and attractions of the Legjor General. John H. Stokes, comments—Hawaii, Puerto Rico, Panama, Canada, Mexico, France, Italy and the Philippine Islands. Rank and-file Legionnaires took their places in the third division, with the North Dakota unit leading the groups from the forty-eight state departments. Constitution Avenue from Fifteenth to Seventeenth Streets, was known as the "Corridor of Victories." Hung high across the wide parade path, at intervals of seventy five feet, were huge banners depleting fifteen of the famous battles of World Wars I and II and the Korean conflict. The battle scenes included St Mihiel, the Somme, Meuse-Argonne and Ardennes or World War I World War II was represented by Bataan, Midway, Coral Sea, Leyte Gulf. St Lo. Rurtgen Forest and the Normandy, Landings as well as Okinawa and Two Jima. The Korean victories depicted were Pusan and Invasion Inchon. HOLLOW SILVER By HELEN TOPPING MILLER Pens Houk senses that something Grave is troubling her uncle, Senator Elihu Storey when, unexpectedly, be leaves Washington for his homestate in the West. Is his mission linked to the ugly story which their young neighbor. Marsh Nichols, a war vet is spreading? Something to the effect that years before Senator Storey had swindled the Nichols fine Maryland homestead from them, causing the senior Nichols untimely death, leaving Marsh and his mother destitute. The old Nicholas place is the Storey family seems aware of the ageing statesman's distress and none of them seems to care. His wife, Maude, is steeped in the social whirl. And his sons Gregg and Rufe have grown to manhood childishly immature. Gil, the younger, had ling ago rejected Penn Houk in favor of his frivolous wife, Winifred. Brooding over the Senator's plight. Penn thinks of Quincy, her twin-sister. They'd always been close. But Quincy young Yates Underwood, a bachelorlawyer. So, in desperate aloneness and hopeful of clearing her uncle of the charges made against him by Marsh Nichols. Penn boldly drives to the rundown farm house where Marsh and his ailing mother dwell. PENN noted the heavy, beautiful furniture in the dim rooms on either side, the portraits in great gold frames, tall Jars of Oriental ware, rich, deep, shabby rugs, spread over the old pine floors. The dining-room was at the left, with windows opening on a riotously brilliant fall garden, and on a couch under a window a woman rose on her elbow and looked at her out of great, hollow dark eyes. A woman not old, but thin as a wisp, with groping hands turning back the faded woven counterpane that covered her fleshless little body. "I'm Penn Houk. I'm a neighbor," Penn began breathlessly. "Your son told me your were ill, so I brought you these." She laughed a bit nervously. "But yon don't need flowers, do you?" She gestured toward the colorful blaze outside. The woman got up, reached for the dahlias, her eyes excited. "My Harvest Moon!" she exclaimed. "I lost It," She caressed a great golden blossom with trembling, fingers. "These came from up there—but, of course— you're a Houk. I remember. Would he give me a cutting, do you think? Who sent these?" "I brought them. It was my idea," Penn said anxiously. "I'm sure you'll be more than welcome to a cutting, Mrs. Nichols." "I don't know," she sighed. But you wouldn't know—you were just little girls then. You're twins— the orphans. You wouldn't know. Lula!" she called. "Bring something—a big jar. Deep And, Lula, you scald them now—just the bottoms of the stems. Do you know —maybe I could root this Harvest Moon. Lula, you try. Cut it diagonally and take wet sand—Lula can grow anything," she said when the Negroes had gone out with the bouquet. "Sit down, won't you? Maybe you'd rather not sit near me. It's a fibroid thing—you know, in my lungs. One of those slow things. Marsh wants me to have the lung taken out. He talks about it all the time. He was Medical Corps-they discharged him last month and now he's going back to finite his school. He only needs one more year. You've met my son, you said?" "Yes, I met him— I almost ran over him one night when he was changing a tire." Penn took a chair not too politely distant. "They do operate on lungs you know—very successfully. But Mrs. Nichols' mind was elsewhere. "That old car—He'll kill himself with it yet." She sat up again, her face taking a sly, conspiratory look. "If Marsh comes in, don't mention the flowers. He'd throw them out if he knew they came from up there and I do want my Harvest Moon back—that was Marie Antoinette, too, the purple one." "Why," Penn asked boldly, "does your son hate us so fiercely?" Mrs. Nichols looked distressed, "I tell him it's all wrong. The Bible says seventy times seven. Over and over Christ said, forgive your enemies. When you're going downhill as I am, toward the end you think about those things. You don't know, of course —you were too young. Marsh was young, too, but the young take things harder. Marsh adored his father." A car door slammed outside. Perm's heart gave a painful jerk and her toes drew up tight in her sandals. But she sat still, holding her hands quiet in her lap. She did not turn her head but she was aware of him behind her. His mother's eyes were full, shining, worshipful. "We have a visitor, son," she said a bit eagerly. "I see." His voice was flat. He murmured a gruff greeting and turned to his mother. "You take it easy. Don't you get too tired." "I was just leaving." Penn got up, facing him, her eyes level. Mrs. Nichols reached a hot, quivering hand. "You come again," she begged. "You come often. Nobody knows how lonesome I get lying here day after day with nobody to talk to but Lula, You come to see me." "I will," promised Penn firmly. The promise was a defiance, an answer to that remoteness in Marsh Nichols' eyes. She tilted her head as she passed him, let a haughty coldness drift from the corners of her eyes, but when she let herself out the front door he followed her. She turned at the foot of the steps and faced him. "If you want to hate us," she said coldly, "you are perfectly free to go on with it, but you can't intimidate me. I've, been glared at before and I'm quite impervious, I assure you." "If you want to come," he said a bit lamely, "I can't stop you." "You heard your mother invite me." "She doesn't know who you are." "Oh, yes, she does. I had no reason to deceive her. She remembered me, when we were very young. She doesn't harbor malice —not against innocent people, at least." "She has reason enough," he answered. "You could be wrong—about several things," she persisted. You nurse an idea of having been wronged and part of it could be imagination. It might be smart to have the facts before you sit in judgement." "The facts are court record and on the minutes of important committees in the Congress of the United States." And so I am condemned for something I never even heard of You hold it against our family— your father's death, your mother's illness. How could we have infected her with tuberculosis? We aren't germ carriers. "The trouble she's been through caused her arrested leisons to break down—and Elihu Storey caused the trouble. He also caused my father to be so overwhelmed with the catastrophe of losing all that he had and money his friends had entrusted to him that he took his own life. It's a complicated business," he said soberly and a trifle sadly. "I wouldn't attempt to explain it to you. Why don't you ask your uncle to explain?" "I shall," Penn said. "Meanwhile, all we ask for is peace and a chance to forget the whole thing. In all decency you could at least allow us that much." "You mean, you'd like me to stay away?" "Why do you want to come here, anyway?" he asked unhappily. "If you're still bothered about that business on the road, you can forget it. There was no harm done." "The harm," she argued, "was that you found somebody new to hate. Hate can destroy you if you let it." "I'm trying to forget the destruction. "He smiled almost indulgently, as though she were a clever child mouthing platitudes, parroting something from a book. "Now I'm trying to gather up the fragments and put something together to make a new life for her —for myself. Tearing open did sores doesn't help any." It had not been a nice smile. It had had an edge of ice upon it, but even so it had changed him, from stony aloofness to a person who could be vulnerable, who could be exciting. Penn said: "I didn't come here to open old wounds. I came hoping to beat them. Maybe I can. I'm not going to promise to stay away. I can be stubborn, too." At dinner that night she swallowed bard, stiffened herself and launched her question boldly. "Uncle Elihu, who was Marsh Nichols? Why did he kill himself?" SYNOPSIS By HELEN TOPPING MILLER Pens Houk senses that something Grave is troubling her uncle, Senator Elihu Storey when, unexpectedly, be leaves Washington for his homestate in the West. Is his mission linked to the ugly story which their young neighbor. Marsh Nichols, a war vet is spreading? Something to the effect that years before Senator Storey had swindled the Nichols fine Maryland homestead from them, causing the senior Nichols untimely death, leaving Marsh and his mother destitute. The old Nicholas place is the Storey family seems aware of the ageing statesman's distress and none of them seems to care. His wife, Maude, is steeped in the social whirl. And his sons Gregg and Rufe have grown to manhood childishly immature. Gil, the younger, had ling ago rejected Penn Houk in favor of his frivolous wife, Winifred. Brooding over the Senator's plight. Penn thinks of Quincy, her twin-sister. They'd always been close. But Quincy young Yates Underwood, a bachelorlawyer. So, in desperate aloneness and hopeful of clearing her uncle of the charges made against him by Marsh Nichols. Penn boldly drives to the rundown farm house where Marsh and his ailing mother dwell. PENN noted the heavy, beautiful furniture in the dim rooms on either side, the portraits in great gold frames, tall Jars of Oriental ware, rich, deep, shabby rugs, spread over the old pine floors. The dining-room was at the left, with windows opening on a riotously brilliant fall garden, and on a couch under a window a woman rose on her elbow and looked at her out of great, hollow dark eyes. A woman not old, but thin as a wisp, with groping hands turning back the faded woven counterpane that covered her fleshless little body. "I'm Penn Houk. I'm a neighbor," Penn began breathlessly. "Your son told me your were ill, so I brought you these." She laughed a bit nervously. "But yon don't need flowers, do you?" She gestured toward the colorful blaze outside. The woman got up, reached for the dahlias, her eyes excited. "My Harvest Moon!" she exclaimed. "I lost It," She caressed a great golden blossom with trembling, fingers. "These came from up there—but, of course— you're a Houk. I remember. Would he give me a cutting, do you think? Who sent these?" "I brought them. It was my idea," Penn said anxiously. "I'm sure you'll be more than welcome to a cutting, Mrs. Nichols." "I don't know," she sighed. But you wouldn't know—you were just little girls then. You're twins— the orphans. You wouldn't know. Lula!" she called. "Bring something—a big jar. Deep And, Lula, you scald them now—just the bottoms of the stems. Do you know —maybe I could root this Harvest Moon. Lula, you try. Cut it diagonally and take wet sand—Lula can grow anything," she said when the Negroes had gone out with the bouquet. "Sit down, won't you? Maybe you'd rather not sit near me. It's a fibroid thing—you know, in my lungs. One of those slow things. Marsh wants me to have the lung taken out. He talks about it all the time. He was Medical Corps-they discharged him last month and now he's going back to finite his school. He only needs one more year. You've met my son, you said?" "Yes, I met him— I almost ran over him one night when he was changing a tire." Penn took a chair not too politely distant. "They do operate on lungs you know—very successfully. But Mrs. Nichols' mind was elsewhere. "That old car—He'll kill himself with it yet." She sat up again, her face taking a sly, conspiratory look. "If Marsh comes in, don't mention the flowers. He'd throw them out if he knew they came from up there and I do want my Harvest Moon back—that was Marie Antoinette, too, the purple one." "Why," Penn asked boldly, "does your son hate us so fiercely?" Mrs. Nichols looked distressed, "I tell him it's all wrong. The Bible says seventy times seven. Over and over Christ said, forgive your enemies. When you're going downhill as I am, toward the end you think about those things. You don't know, of course —you were too young. Marsh was young, too, but the young take things harder. Marsh adored his father." A car door slammed outside. Perm's heart gave a painful jerk and her toes drew up tight in her sandals. But she sat still, holding her hands quiet in her lap. She did not turn her head but she was aware of him behind her. His mother's eyes were full, shining, worshipful. "We have a visitor, son," she said a bit eagerly. "I see." His voice was flat. He murmured a gruff greeting and turned to his mother. "You take it easy. Don't you get too tired." "I was just leaving." Penn got up, facing him, her eyes level. Mrs. Nichols reached a hot, quivering hand. "You come again," she begged. "You come often. Nobody knows how lonesome I get lying here day after day with nobody to talk to but Lula, You come to see me." "I will," promised Penn firmly. The promise was a defiance, an answer to that remoteness in Marsh Nichols' eyes. She tilted her head as she passed him, let a haughty coldness drift from the corners of her eyes, but when she let herself out the front door he followed her. She turned at the foot of the steps and faced him. "If you want to hate us," she said coldly, "you are perfectly free to go on with it, but you can't intimidate me. I've, been glared at before and I'm quite impervious, I assure you." "If you want to come," he said a bit lamely, "I can't stop you." "You heard your mother invite me." "She doesn't know who you are." "Oh, yes, she does. I had no reason to deceive her. She remembered me, when we were very young. She doesn't harbor malice —not against innocent people, at least." "She has reason enough," he answered. "You could be wrong—about several things," she persisted. You nurse an idea of having been wronged and part of it could be imagination. It might be smart to have the facts before you sit in judgement." "The facts are court record and on the minutes of important committees in the Congress of the United States." And so I am condemned for something I never even heard of You hold it against our family— your father's death, your mother's illness. How could we have infected her with tuberculosis? We aren't germ carriers. "The trouble she's been through caused her arrested leisons to break down—and Elihu Storey caused the trouble. He also caused my father to be so overwhelmed with the catastrophe of losing all that he had and money his friends had entrusted to him that he took his own life. It's a complicated business," he said soberly and a trifle sadly. "I wouldn't attempt to explain it to you. Why don't you ask your uncle to explain?" "I shall," Penn said. "Meanwhile, all we ask for is peace and a chance to forget the whole thing. In all decency you could at least allow us that much." "You mean, you'd like me to stay away?" "Why do you want to come here, anyway?" he asked unhappily. "If you're still bothered about that business on the road, you can forget it. There was no harm done." "The harm," she argued, "was that you found somebody new to hate. Hate can destroy you if you let it." "I'm trying to forget the destruction. "He smiled almost indulgently, as though she were a clever child mouthing platitudes, parroting something from a book. "Now I'm trying to gather up the fragments and put something together to make a new life for her —for myself. Tearing open did sores doesn't help any." It had not been a nice smile. It had had an edge of ice upon it, but even so it had changed him, from stony aloofness to a person who could be vulnerable, who could be exciting. Penn said: "I didn't come here to open old wounds. I came hoping to beat them. Maybe I can. I'm not going to promise to stay away. I can be stubborn, too." At dinner that night she swallowed bard, stiffened herself and launched her question boldly. "Uncle Elihu, who was Marsh Nichols? Why did he kill himself?" CHAPTER TWELVE By HELEN TOPPING MILLER Pens Houk senses that something Grave is troubling her uncle, Senator Elihu Storey when, unexpectedly, be leaves Washington for his homestate in the West. Is his mission linked to the ugly story which their young neighbor. Marsh Nichols, a war vet is spreading? Something to the effect that years before Senator Storey had swindled the Nichols fine Maryland homestead from them, causing the senior Nichols untimely death, leaving Marsh and his mother destitute. The old Nicholas place is the Storey family seems aware of the ageing statesman's distress and none of them seems to care. His wife, Maude, is steeped in the social whirl. And his sons Gregg and Rufe have grown to manhood childishly immature. Gil, the younger, had ling ago rejected Penn Houk in favor of his frivolous wife, Winifred. Brooding over the Senator's plight. Penn thinks of Quincy, her twin-sister. They'd always been close. But Quincy young Yates Underwood, a bachelorlawyer. So, in desperate aloneness and hopeful of clearing her uncle of the charges made against him by Marsh Nichols. Penn boldly drives to the rundown farm house where Marsh and his ailing mother dwell. PENN noted the heavy, beautiful furniture in the dim rooms on either side, the portraits in great gold frames, tall Jars of Oriental ware, rich, deep, shabby rugs, spread over the old pine floors. The dining-room was at the left, with windows opening on a riotously brilliant fall garden, and on a couch under a window a woman rose on her elbow and looked at her out of great, hollow dark eyes. A woman not old, but thin as a wisp, with groping hands turning back the faded woven counterpane that covered her fleshless little body. "I'm Penn Houk. I'm a neighbor," Penn began breathlessly. "Your son told me your were ill, so I brought you these." She laughed a bit nervously. "But yon don't need flowers, do you?" She gestured toward the colorful blaze outside. The woman got up, reached for the dahlias, her eyes excited. "My Harvest Moon!" she exclaimed. "I lost It," She caressed a great golden blossom with trembling, fingers. "These came from up there—but, of course— you're a Houk. I remember. Would he give me a cutting, do you think? Who sent these?" "I brought them. It was my idea," Penn said anxiously. "I'm sure you'll be more than welcome to a cutting, Mrs. Nichols." "I don't know," she sighed. But you wouldn't know—you were just little girls then. You're twins— the orphans. You wouldn't know. Lula!" she called. "Bring something—a big jar. Deep And, Lula, you scald them now—just the bottoms of the stems. Do you know —maybe I could root this Harvest Moon. Lula, you try. Cut it diagonally and take wet sand—Lula can grow anything," she said when the Negroes had gone out with the bouquet. "Sit down, won't you? Maybe you'd rather not sit near me. It's a fibroid thing—you know, in my lungs. One of those slow things. Marsh wants me to have the lung taken out. He talks about it all the time. He was Medical Corps-they discharged him last month and now he's going back to finite his school. He only needs one more year. You've met my son, you said?" "Yes, I met him— I almost ran over him one night when he was changing a tire." Penn took a chair not too politely distant. "They do operate on lungs you know—very successfully. But Mrs. Nichols' mind was elsewhere. "That old car—He'll kill himself with it yet." She sat up again, her face taking a sly, conspiratory look. "If Marsh comes in, don't mention the flowers. He'd throw them out if he knew they came from up there and I do want my Harvest Moon back—that was Marie Antoinette, too, the purple one." "Why," Penn asked boldly, "does your son hate us so fiercely?" Mrs. Nichols looked distressed, "I tell him it's all wrong. The Bible says seventy times seven. Over and over Christ said, forgive your enemies. When you're going downhill as I am, toward the end you think about those things. You don't know, of course —you were too young. Marsh was young, too, but the young take things harder. Marsh adored his father." A car door slammed outside. Perm's heart gave a painful jerk and her toes drew up tight in her sandals. But she sat still, holding her hands quiet in her lap. She did not turn her head but she was aware of him behind her. His mother's eyes were full, shining, worshipful. "We have a visitor, son," she said a bit eagerly. "I see." His voice was flat. He murmured a gruff greeting and turned to his mother. "You take it easy. Don't you get too tired." "I was just leaving." Penn got up, facing him, her eyes level. Mrs. Nichols reached a hot, quivering hand. "You come again," she begged. "You come often. Nobody knows how lonesome I get lying here day after day with nobody to talk to but Lula, You come to see me." "I will," promised Penn firmly. The promise was a defiance, an answer to that remoteness in Marsh Nichols' eyes. She tilted her head as she passed him, let a haughty coldness drift from the corners of her eyes, but when she let herself out the front door he followed her. She turned at the foot of the steps and faced him. "If you want to hate us," she said coldly, "you are perfectly free to go on with it, but you can't intimidate me. I've, been glared at before and I'm quite impervious, I assure you." "If you want to come," he said a bit lamely, "I can't stop you." "You heard your mother invite me." "She doesn't know who you are." "Oh, yes, she does. I had no reason to deceive her. She remembered me, when we were very young. She doesn't harbor malice —not against innocent people, at least." "She has reason enough," he answered. "You could be wrong—about several things," she persisted. You nurse an idea of having been wronged and part of it could be imagination. It might be smart to have the facts before you sit in judgement." "The facts are court record and on the minutes of important committees in the Congress of the United States." And so I am condemned for something I never even heard of You hold it against our family— your father's death, your mother's illness. How could we have infected her with tuberculosis? We aren't germ carriers. "The trouble she's been through caused her arrested leisons to break down—and Elihu Storey caused the trouble. He also caused my father to be so overwhelmed with the catastrophe of losing all that he had and money his friends had entrusted to him that he took his own life. It's a complicated business," he said soberly and a trifle sadly. "I wouldn't attempt to explain it to you. Why don't you ask your uncle to explain?" "I shall," Penn said. "Meanwhile, all we ask for is peace and a chance to forget the whole thing. In all decency you could at least allow us that much." "You mean, you'd like me to stay away?" "Why do you want to come here, anyway?" he asked unhappily. "If you're still bothered about that business on the road, you can forget it. There was no harm done." "The harm," she argued, "was that you found somebody new to hate. Hate can destroy you if you let it." "I'm trying to forget the destruction. "He smiled almost indulgently, as though she were a clever child mouthing platitudes, parroting something from a book. "Now I'm trying to gather up the fragments and put something together to make a new life for her —for myself. Tearing open did sores doesn't help any." It had not been a nice smile. It had had an edge of ice upon it, but even so it had changed him, from stony aloofness to a person who could be vulnerable, who could be exciting. Penn said: "I didn't come here to open old wounds. I came hoping to beat them. Maybe I can. I'm not going to promise to stay away. I can be stubborn, too." At dinner that night she swallowed bard, stiffened herself and launched her question boldly. "Uncle Elihu, who was Marsh Nichols? Why did he kill himself?" THE TIP-OFF BY EMORY O. JACKSON BIRMINGHAM, Ala. — (SNS)— Two-party politics depend upon something more than talk. Its built upon a clash of ideas, competitive leadership and sides-taking followship. Writing in the August 21 Issue of The Saturday Evening Post, Hodding Carter gives six reasons of how "The Republicans Muffed the Ball in Dixie." He lists them as "long habit of one-way voting; (2) the fightless conduct of President Eisenhower; (3) the smart strategy of the Democratic high command; (4) Senator McCarthy's unchecked national role which involved the religious issue; (5) civil rights issue and (6) a conglomeration of Southern objections to presidential or party pronouncements. One of the most vocal of the newly-converted Alabama Republicans is Publisher Tom Abenerthy who is running for the governship of Alabama. He is scheduled to address a statewide Republican rally at Temple Theater Monday night, Sept. 13. He is a former member of the Alabama Democratic Executive Committee, was a walkout delegate at the 1950 National Democratic Convention in Philadelphia in 1948, supported the States' Righters in the 1948 presidential election. He was speaking in the Black Belt which apparently believes in one-race politics which is partly the blame for one-partyism in the South. None of the reports coming from his speech-making mentions anything he is saying about racial disfranchisement. The Black Belt is beginning to feel the pinch of denying the vote to a majority of its citizens for no better reason than prejudice. The Republican Party was founded on civil rights and the ballot is the finest symbol of such rights. Hodding Carter points out in his article: "To the race-conscious white Southerner, determined to retain political and economic controls, the Republican Party, from the Civil War until the New Deal, was the party of the Negro, and the Democratic Party the refuge of the white man in the South. Under Roosevelt and Truman, the party wooed and won the bulk of the Negro vote, with little regard for Southern feelings, and with a resultant Southern frustration that was climaxed by the Unavailing States' Rights rebellion of 1948, when four Southern states supported a Southern third-party presidential ticket." "The disenchantment in this respect has been complete. It is possibly provable that in the past two years the Negro has gained more advantages, and with more governmental spearheading of his progress, than he had in the previous twenty years. Anyway, that's what the Gop is telling the Negro voter. A good many Southerners believe that Mr. Eisenhower was unnecessarily active-and acted contrary to what they had been led to expectwhen, for example, he ordered his Attorney General to take part in the school-segregation cases when they reached the Supreme Court." LETTERS TO THE Editor The question of juvenile delinquency is the most important item facing the nation today. The juveniles of today is only a reflection o what their forefathers left behind them a few generations ago You cannot legislate morality, therefore juvenile delinquency can not be eliminated by placing law in the statutes. The "do-gooders" nor business men have done nothing, about juvenile delinquency because to do so would not be financially profitable. On meeting the problem of delinquency we as a nation have the cart before the horse. First, of all, the cause for juvenile delinquency must be removed before any adequate remedy for curving the evil can be developed. If punishment had been a cure for crime and delinquency then the middle ages, as dark as they were would have produced a fine world of descendants. We have a great increase in crime because there is not enough general respect for the law. The law is violated too much by those in whose hands the machinery of the law is placed. Children need the proper kind ot recreation and that, would not be idleness. Juvenile delinquency costs the government $20 million dollars a year and if this amount was spent at the beginning of the year to prevent it much more progress would be made. To show that punishment makes very little difference: in Illinois there is capital punishment, but there is more crime in Chicago alone than in all Europe. There is no capital punishment in Michigan and there is about as much crime there as in other areas the same size that have capital punishment. A workshop in each community might help the situation, but the parents should be held more responsible for the acts of their offspring than they are. Parents should be punished for many of the acts of their children. If the churches would hire social workers who are trained and interested in their job they would help much. Retired men should be glad to donate their services free and this would help to solve the problem. We must remember that at present the infant is in an environment, where the majority of the adult are at breakneck speed in quest of the almighty dollar which they do not have and probably will never have and even if most of them get it, it would not in itself amount to enough to make a full, successful and happy life. To solve the problem of Juvenile delinquency the cause must be removed. So let's do that. —Charles H. Fisher, Jr. COMMENTS ON RECENT ARTICLE ON JUVENILE DELINQUENCY The question of juvenile delinquency is the most important item facing the nation today. The juveniles of today is only a reflection o what their forefathers left behind them a few generations ago You cannot legislate morality, therefore juvenile delinquency can not be eliminated by placing law in the statutes. The "do-gooders" nor business men have done nothing, about juvenile delinquency because to do so would not be financially profitable. On meeting the problem of delinquency we as a nation have the cart before the horse. First, of all, the cause for juvenile delinquency must be removed before any adequate remedy for curving the evil can be developed. If punishment had been a cure for crime and delinquency then the middle ages, as dark as they were would have produced a fine world of descendants. We have a great increase in crime because there is not enough general respect for the law. The law is violated too much by those in whose hands the machinery of the law is placed. Children need the proper kind ot recreation and that, would not be idleness. Juvenile delinquency costs the government $20 million dollars a year and if this amount was spent at the beginning of the year to prevent it much more progress would be made. To show that punishment makes very little difference: in Illinois there is capital punishment, but there is more crime in Chicago alone than in all Europe. There is no capital punishment in Michigan and there is about as much crime there as in other areas the same size that have capital punishment. A workshop in each community might help the situation, but the parents should be held more responsible for the acts of their offspring than they are. Parents should be punished for many of the acts of their children. If the churches would hire social workers who are trained and interested in their job they would help much. Retired men should be glad to donate their services free and this would help to solve the problem. We must remember that at present the infant is in an environment, where the majority of the adult are at breakneck speed in quest of the almighty dollar which they do not have and probably will never have and even if most of them get it, it would not in itself amount to enough to make a full, successful and happy life. To solve the problem of Juvenile delinquency the cause must be removed. So let's do that. —Charles H. Fisher, Jr. Miami NAACP Not To Seek School Entry This Fall The acting president of the Miami Chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People said Tuesday that no Negroes will attempt to register in the areas white schools this fall. Dr G. W. Hawkins, mindful o recent claims to the contrary said: "There will be no effort by the NAACP or any other organization that I know of—to register anybody either Sept. 1 or when school opens Sept. 7." Global Jottings Washington, D. C.: A. L. Cooke, one of the grand guys of D. C. took time out to visit with Lou LuTour during his stay in New York. He and Lou are old, old friends. LONG BRANCH, N. J.: Albreco Anchorage, summer resort supreme got quite a plug at the unique Hair Style and Fashion Show presented last week at Royal Manor in Jamaica, L. I. by "The Sisters— Florence Ellerbee and Reevie Bottoms. The show started with several charming, gals preparing to go to Albreco Anchorage for the Labor Day weekend, then after "arriving" at the resort, they presented a Fashion Show for the "guests." DR LAWRENCE NICHOLSON spent some interesting days here in New York and is now returning to ST LOUIS. MISSOURI where he Joins the teaching staff at Harris Teachers College, along with several other Negro professors. Among these will be Dr. Herman S. Dreer, Dr. Victor Reef and his wife, Mrs. Naomi Guthrie Reef. We hear that Dr Ruth Harris, the former President of Stowe College now has a supervisory Job with the Board of Education there in St. Louis, Stowe College now becomes an elementary school. Opr good friend, Grace Outlaw of Featherbed Lane, has had a grand time seeing the country this summer. After visiting with old friends on her old stomping ground in Chicago, she took to them air again, flying out to California to visit friends in Los Angeles and San Francisco. She will be back again, with both feet on the ground, on September. 13, to resume her teaching duties at PS 84 in Brooklyn MONTGOMERY, ALABAhome after her enjoyable summer MA will welcome Susie Whelstone here in the big city.