Memphis World
Memphis World Publishing Co.
1957-05-01
Raymond F. Tisby

MEMPHIS WORLD
The South's Oldest and leading Colored Semi-Weekly
Newspaper
Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO.
Every TUESDAY and FRIDAY at 564 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-Clam mail
under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870
RAYMOND F. TISBY Manager Editor
MRS. ROSA BROWN BRACY Public Relations and Advertising
ALYSON E. WISE Circulation Promotion
SUBSCRIPTION RATES:
Year $5.00—6 Months $3.00—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 the interest of its readers and opposing those
things
against the interest of its readers.

The Nation's Greatest Wealth
Three of the notion's top leaders, including the President of
the United States, have joined in urging the country's young
people 
to stay in school and graduate.
"I urge every boy and girl," said President Eisenhower," to
continue as students in school until they have developed
their
God-given capacities to the full. Only in this way can they
hope
to make their finest contributions to the strength of the
nation
and reach the fulfillment of their own life purposes."
The President was strongly supported in his statement by
Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare, Marion B. Folsom
and Labor Secretary James P. Mitchell.
It is not difficult for one to realize that the wealth of a
nation
lies in its young people; for they so plainly represent
that vast
reservoir of skills and vision so vital to a nation's
continuous
growth and strength. Such would be of little use without the
basic
elements of training, all the way from the home, through the
schools and institutions of higher learning. There is no other
recourse. 
Education stands at the top of the list. One cannot
man
city at a safe level without training. We no longer merely
feed
ourselves. We must produce enough goads and services to help
the whole free world. We must help lo feed andshelter other
nations 
so that we might continue to be free ourselves.
In a society, so complex, the necessary skills are constantly
in
demand in more ways than one.
First, there must be a sense of moral values, fair play and
competition that come only with education.
Second there must be a deep sense of spiritual evaluation,
based on the concept of human values that will help us to
sense
more adequately, the proper use of our skills.
Advice of this nature, from the top leaders of the nation,
could not hove been more adequately limed. The street corners
should be cleared of young people, and our schools and
institutions 
should be filled. The greatest waste facing us is not
form
parity, or dollars to be sent abroad, but the vast reserve of
youngsters drilling along without education. Within them lies
the nation's greatest natural resource.

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Jewish Group Urges
End To Rights Delay
Pressing
for an end to what it termed "dilatory 
tactics" by Congress the
American Jewish committee ended
its five-day 50th anniversary observance 
last week by calling for
support of the Administration's
civil rights program and assailed
Congress for its "delay" on the
bill.
In a resolution, the committee
denounced Congress and asserted
that it had been 80 years since that
body last enacted any legislation
dealing with the "protection of the
civil rights of the people."
The group also assailed "the ex
tended 
congressional deliberations
which frustrate the passenger of federal 
civil rights legislation," and
urged Congress, to erect a bipartisan 
commission on civil rights.

SEEING and SAYING
BY WILLIAM A. FOWLKES
"KEEP 'EM APART!" certain bigots of the South keep saying
about the races. To complement their loud talk, they have gone
into the legislators and state board sessions and have had
confusing 
laws and resolutions passed to forbid whites and
Negroes
from meeting together as brothers.
Such acts are odious and evil, intended to
divide and conquer the best thinking that the
South might produce and nurture. The bigots
know that when the races get together, talk and
work out their problems, there can be but one
conclusion among them; "We are like children of
God, with kindred blood, mind and aspiration."

THERE HAS been scattered opposition to the ban, but unless
the people of Georgia wake up enmasse to the sinister plot to
weaken the real integrity and brotherhood objectives of all of
us,
this resolution will stand.

Our State Board's action does us no good al home or abroad.
IT IS MOST apparent and admitted that the certain cure for
such irresponsibility to this state's citizens is the ballot
and its
wise usage. Those people who hove kept putting off
registration
and voting for so long are their own worst enemies, wherever
they are and whoever they are.
The State Board of Education, charged with the responsibility 
of administering to the needs of all the children of
our great
common wealth, should be ashamed of itself. Above all other
arms
of government. It should not deliberately be trying to warp or
close
the minds of Georgia's future citizens. It should stop, trying
to
"cripple the little horses" of tomorrow's manpower.
Citizens of Georgia ought to rise up and tell the board to
change its recent mind!

Weak Up, Georgians!
BY WILLIAM A. FOWLKES
"KEEP 'EM APART!" certain bigots of the South keep saying
about the races. To complement their loud talk, they have gone
into the legislators and state board sessions and have had
confusing 
laws and resolutions passed to forbid whites and
Negroes
from meeting together as brothers.
Such acts are odious and evil, intended to
divide and conquer the best thinking that the
South might produce and nurture. The bigots
know that when the races get together, talk and
work out their problems, there can be but one
conclusion among them; "We are like children of
God, with kindred blood, mind and aspiration."

THERE HAS been scattered opposition to the ban, but unless
the people of Georgia wake up enmasse to the sinister plot to
weaken the real integrity and brotherhood objectives of all of
us,
this resolution will stand.

Our State Board's action does us no good al home or abroad.
IT IS MOST apparent and admitted that the certain cure for
such irresponsibility to this state's citizens is the ballot
and its
wise usage. Those people who hove kept putting off
registration
and voting for so long are their own worst enemies, wherever
they are and whoever they are.
The State Board of Education, charged with the responsibility 
of administering to the needs of all the children of
our great
common wealth, should be ashamed of itself. Above all other
arms
of government. It should not deliberately be trying to warp or
close
the minds of Georgia's future citizens. It should stop, trying
to
"cripple the little horses" of tomorrow's manpower.
Citizens of Georgia ought to rise up and tell the board to
change its recent mind!

REVIEWING
THE NEWS
BY WILLIAM GORDON
He was still a young man, yet his face had been beaten
and tanned by the South African sun. Neither he nor his wife
believed 
in the rancid practices of South African racism. He
called,
himself a Christian. His name will not be mentioned - here for
obvious reasons.
"When we accepted the teachings of Christ, we accepted the
methods of His work. We begin with the little children,
teaching
them that God created us all; that different shades and colors
were
incidental.
"We can be no different, for we believe in God."
It look nerve for this man and his wife to speak out. They
come from South Africa.
It also look nerve for a group of Georgia Methodist women
recently to speak out against the Stale Board of Education's
resolution, 
last week, banning student participation in
organizations
that include young people of all races in national and
regional
meetings. They labeled the stand un-Christian.
Even though it was almost two thousand years ago when
the Savior said "Suffer little Children To Come Unto Me," we
don't seem too far, removed from the, year 32 AD, when this
statement was made.
In light of the Georgia Board's resolution, we are not yet at
that point in Christian history where the Apostle met the
first
black man around 37 AD somewhere in the Middle East.
The man was an officer in the Ethiopian Army. He was sitting 
in his carriage along the rood reading the Scriptures
when
the Apostle came up.
"Do you understand the Scriptures?", the Apostle asked.
"Yes," the reply came from the Ethiopian. "Hero is water," the
Ethiopian said. "Baptize me." It was done.
The Apostle who was a white man had no trouble with his
conscience because the man was black. Christ before him, would
not have considered color as a criteria, It was man's soul
that
counted. It counted almost two thousand years ago, and
it counts
today.
The picture of Christ with the little children near Galilee,
the
Ethiopian and the white man and his wife from South Africa,
are examples of the thinking of Christ. We are sure that if He
walked the earth today. He would make no distinction. Over
two
thirds of the peoples of the world today arc Colored. The
Creator
must love them, otherwise there would not be so many. The
best method to use in dealing with race, it seems is to
follow
Christ and his dealings with little children.

Christ And The Little Children...
BY WILLIAM GORDON
He was still a young man, yet his face had been beaten
and tanned by the South African sun. Neither he nor his wife
believed 
in the rancid practices of South African racism. He
called,
himself a Christian. His name will not be mentioned - here for
obvious reasons.
"When we accepted the teachings of Christ, we accepted the
methods of His work. We begin with the little children,
teaching
them that God created us all; that different shades and colors
were
incidental.
"We can be no different, for we believe in God."
It look nerve for this man and his wife to speak out. They
come from South Africa.
It also look nerve for a group of Georgia Methodist women
recently to speak out against the Stale Board of Education's
resolution, 
last week, banning student participation in
organizations
that include young people of all races in national and
regional
meetings. They labeled the stand un-Christian.
Even though it was almost two thousand years ago when
the Savior said "Suffer little Children To Come Unto Me," we
don't seem too far, removed from the, year 32 AD, when this
statement was made.
In light of the Georgia Board's resolution, we are not yet at
that point in Christian history where the Apostle met the
first
black man around 37 AD somewhere in the Middle East.
The man was an officer in the Ethiopian Army. He was sitting 
in his carriage along the rood reading the Scriptures
when
the Apostle came up.
"Do you understand the Scriptures?", the Apostle asked.
"Yes," the reply came from the Ethiopian. "Hero is water," the
Ethiopian said. "Baptize me." It was done.
The Apostle who was a white man had no trouble with his
conscience because the man was black. Christ before him, would
not have considered color as a criteria, It was man's soul
that
counted. It counted almost two thousand years ago, and
it counts
today.
The picture of Christ with the little children near Galilee,
the
Ethiopian and the white man and his wife from South Africa,
are examples of the thinking of Christ. We are sure that if He
walked the earth today. He would make no distinction. Over
two
thirds of the peoples of the world today arc Colored. The
Creator
must love them, otherwise there would not be so many. The
best method to use in dealing with race, it seems is to
follow
Christ and his dealings with little children.

10,526 Negroes

is done, the voter remains registered
without, having anything more to
do except notify the registration office 
in case of a change of address.
State law requires that once a
year the Election Commission must
check Hip voter rosier. Early this
year the job of doing thru all of
the registered voters began under
a staff headed by Mrs. J. E. Bartz,
register, and Mrs. Margaret Hilbun, 
assistant and was reported
completed Friday.
Some 38,374 Memphians and Shelby 
contains were found to have
falled to vote in a statewide election 
since 1952.
This was reported as the largest
number of non-voting voters since
permanent registration began in
1949.
This week letters are being mailed
to 38,374 non-voting voters, informing 
them they must go to the permanent 
registration office. Third
and Adams; southeast corner of
the Courthouse ground floor, and
register again to vote.

Sending Jet Planes
To Yugoslavia
Senate 
GOP leader William F. Knowland 
said Wednesday he is "still
very much opposed" to sending jet
fighter planes to Communist Yugoslavia. 

The Californian said he "certainly 
hopes the administration will not
take any such action while Congress, 
is in its (current Easter recess." 
Knowland assorted this country 
has many non-communist allies 
that need jet fighters and they
should have priority over. "Communist 
dictator Tito" of Yugoslavia
Knowland also told reporters that
be expects the Senate will make
another attempt this year to write
a ban on such aid to Tito in the
foreign aid bill.
Secretary of State John Foster
Dulles was reported last Sunday to
be weighing the suggestion that
this country unfreeze about 220
jet fighters and permit their delivery 
to Yugoslavia. Congressional
sources backed this up by saying
they undestand the decision is under 
consideration at the highest
level.

KNOW YOUR
LIBRARY
BY

The adult education movement
in this country has become a vital
force in dally living and has attracted 
millions of people who, for
a variety of reasons are eager to
continue their education. One outstanding 
reason is the desire on the
part of many persons to gain a better, 
understanding of our perplexing 
society and to equip themselves
with knowledge and skill in order
to comprehend the vast problems
that the world faces in this second
half of the twenty-first century.
In a democratic society the citizens 
must actively participate in
that affairs of this society
He needs to be informed,
in order to make judgments and
decisions, and needs to gain practical 
experience in democratic participation. 
Adult education can and
must provide opportunities for such
active participation and involvement
based upon intelligent discussion
of the issues that this country and,
in fwact, the entire world face.
Group work is a democratic

method. It provides for individual
participation in a group and, at
the same time, by respecting the
worth and dignity of the individual,
assures him that his contribution
to the total group is worth while.
In an age in which the individual
is often submerged in the totality
of the mass, we have an obligation
to re-assert the uniqueness of the
individual and his value as a participating 
citizen. Despite the fabulous 
communication systems at out
disposal today, we are often at a
loss to communicate our thoughts
and feelings to one another. We are
frequently misunderstood as individuals 
as groups, and as a nation.
We need to learn anew the art and
skill of adequate communication
The small intimate group offers an
opportunity to do this.
Call by your Vance Avenue Branch
of the cossitt Library, and get your
copy of "Adult Education and
Groups Work" by Louis Lowy and
read it through and you will be
inspired to Improve your present
status.

KNOW YOUR LIBRARY
Mauddean Thompson Seward
BY

The adult education movement
in this country has become a vital
force in dally living and has attracted 
millions of people who, for
a variety of reasons are eager to
continue their education. One outstanding 
reason is the desire on the
part of many persons to gain a better, 
understanding of our perplexing 
society and to equip themselves
with knowledge and skill in order
to comprehend the vast problems
that the world faces in this second
half of the twenty-first century.
In a democratic society the citizens 
must actively participate in
that affairs of this society
He needs to be informed,
in order to make judgments and
decisions, and needs to gain practical 
experience in democratic participation. 
Adult education can and
must provide opportunities for such
active participation and involvement
based upon intelligent discussion
of the issues that this country and,
in fwact, the entire world face.
Group work is a democratic

method. It provides for individual
participation in a group and, at
the same time, by respecting the
worth and dignity of the individual,
assures him that his contribution
to the total group is worth while.
In an age in which the individual
is often submerged in the totality
of the mass, we have an obligation
to re-assert the uniqueness of the
individual and his value as a participating 
citizen. Despite the fabulous 
communication systems at out
disposal today, we are often at a
loss to communicate our thoughts
and feelings to one another. We are
frequently misunderstood as individuals 
as groups, and as a nation.
We need to learn anew the art and
skill of adequate communication
The small intimate group offers an
opportunity to do this.
Call by your Vance Avenue Branch
of the cossitt Library, and get your
copy of "Adult Education and
Groups Work" by Louis Lowy and
read it through and you will be
inspired to Improve your present
status.

St. Andrews

Lord Supper, portrayed. Jesus seated 
as the table's center surrounded 
by six of his disciples, with Judas
at his immediate right.
Jesus said aloud, "One of you will
betray me this night." Looking Judas 
in the eye, Jesus exclaimed,
"Thou hast said."
Following the historical facts as
related in the Bible, the play, realistically 
moves thru the stages
leading up to Judas' betrayal of
his Lord, the trial before Pontius
Pilate, the tragic and agonizing
climb up the tortuous hill to Golgotha 
and the Crucifixion.
Then, the night of utter darkness 
and doom .... disappointment..
and the laying of Him in the tomb.
Then Mary's visit to the tomb, the
rolling away of the stone... and
"Jesus, the Christ had arisen from
the dead."
Triumphantly the choir sang, "I
Know He Lives For He Lives in my
Heart," with the capacity filled
church joining in the singing.
Rev. Jackson masterfully produced 
and conducted this wonderful 
passion play. Each member of
the cast played his part with
warmth and realism. The rapt audience, 
thru their thunderous applause, 
has already demanded its
reproduction in 1958.

DOCUMENTARY SEQUENCE

Lord Supper, portrayed. Jesus seated 
as the table's center surrounded 
by six of his disciples, with Judas
at his immediate right.
Jesus said aloud, "One of you will
betray me this night." Looking Judas 
in the eye, Jesus exclaimed,
"Thou hast said."
Following the historical facts as
related in the Bible, the play, realistically 
moves thru the stages
leading up to Judas' betrayal of
his Lord, the trial before Pontius
Pilate, the tragic and agonizing
climb up the tortuous hill to Golgotha 
and the Crucifixion.
Then, the night of utter darkness 
and doom .... disappointment..
and the laying of Him in the tomb.
Then Mary's visit to the tomb, the
rolling away of the stone... and
"Jesus, the Christ had arisen from
the dead."
Triumphantly the choir sang, "I
Know He Lives For He Lives in my
Heart," with the capacity filled
church joining in the singing.
Rev. Jackson masterfully produced 
and conducted this wonderful 
passion play. Each member of
the cast played his part with
warmth and realism. The rapt audience, 
thru their thunderous applause, 
has already demanded its
reproduction in 1958.

Complete Report

schools was composed of Prof. Charles 
R. Spindler, Professor of Marketing 
Memphis State College;
Mrs. Connie Clark. Director of Advertising, 
Keystone Laboratories of
Memphis and Mr. Walter Chandler, 
former Mayor of Memphis. The
judging committee for Negro entries 
was composed of Mr. John
Arnold, president of Arnold and
Associates Advertising and Public
Relations Agency; Mr. Raymond
Tisby, Editor of The Memphis
World and Mr. B. F. Hooks, attorney. 

Each judge picked, by number,
the best entry from each school
and then chose the first and second
place winners.
Awards to all winners will be
made at the school assemblies, if
possible, with the committee members 
and the co-chairman for the
white or colored divisions participating. 

We received a total of 3.012 entries, 
which. I think, is exceptionally 
good for Memphis. As in all
contests these entries ranged from
poor to excellent, but, as a group,
we feel that they were far above
average. The following is a summary 
of entries submitted, winners
and Advertising club members for
each school:
BTW—1,054; Alberta M. McAfee;
Don' Kern
Central—87; Joan Clarke: Bill
Rocker
CBC—54: Harold William Schaef
gen. Jr.: James Harpster
Douglass—163; Sidney Bowen;
Archie Grinalds.
East—63; Patia Young; Bill Davidson 

Hamilton—298; Angela G. Owen:
Don Kern
Humes—4; Delores Jean Womble
Jamie Mitchell
Immaculate Conception—17; Mary
Anne Kearney; Marion McAuley
Lausanne—25: Anne Stone; James
Bedwell"
Lester—10; Martha Evelyn Wilson; 
Archie Grinalds
Manassas—215; William Thomas
Edmonds: Hull Withers
"Melrose—576; Juanice Cornelia
Tucker; Hull Withers
Memphis University School—25;
Robert Dillard; Charles Montgomery 

Messick—121; Carol Johnson; Jack
Bolton
Messick—lTgt6fg. aw tg Wr.
Porter—5: Mona Louise "Brooks;
Archie Grinalds
Sacred Heart—10: Nadia Bugg;
Jerry Thomas
St. Agnes—42; Patricia Harris;
Marion McAuley
St. Augustine—14; Charles Alexander; 
Archie Grinalds
South Side—146, John Morris
Burk; Larry Dick
Tech Hi—28; Morgan Briggs;
Varl Barnes
Treadwell—44; Leslie Palmer, carl
Seiffert
White Station—4; David Berney;

Dallas Nelson
From the above group of winners 
from each, school the Judgingcommittees 
selected the entry of
John Morris Burk, of South Side,
as the first prize winner in the
white division and Sidney Bowen,
of Douglass, as winner in the colored 
division.
Second place winners were Jenks
Etter of Miss Hutchinson's and
Charles Alexander of St. Augustine. 
As a part of this report I
would like to express my sincere
appreciation to everyone who has
worked so hard to make this contest 
successful. This, naturally, includes 
everyone on the committees,
the judges, the Memphis media,
the principals, teachers and students 
who cooperated so wholeheartedly; 
Susan O'Brien for the

bibliographical information; Bill
Carrier for taking pictures; Janie
Holiday for alt of her help, and
Holton 'Rshu, for his experience,
advice and suggestions.
In spite of the large amount of
work entailed in this contest. I
have thoroughly enjoyed it and
hope that Memphis will be heard
from when the national winners
are announced.
Submitted by Boone F. Nevin,
chairman of the Essay Contest
Committee.

The Brass and the Blue
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1954, by James Keene. Reprinted by permission Randoms
House. Inc. (King Features Syndicate)
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
had had a year of dreary inaction 
with the Cavalry at Fort Laramie, 
Wyoming. He felt pent up, under
the infallibly exacting, coldly reserved. 
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn. 
Even the thought of his flancee.
Henrietta, was not consoling, for she
was back in Vermont, a painful memory. 

The patrol which took him to Ryndlee's 
ranch changed his career. A company 
of infantry had been sent to reinforce 
Fort Laramie. Jocelyn's troop
had been ordered to rendezvous with
the foot soldiers at the ranch and
escort them. A mile from Ryndlee's,
the cavalrymen saw the infantry position 
ringed by attacking Indians.
Jocelyn sent Emil with part of the
troop to flank the Indians while Jocelyn 
pushed through to the infantrymen's 
aid. When the two-pronged assault 
had forced the Indians to draw
back, Emil and Jocelyn found the
company of infantry shattered, and
who had run away from a medical career 
to the Army, amputated the arm.
Then, in a renewed Indian attack.
Jocelyn was wounded, and it was up
to Schwabacker to take command and
try to save the force. As a trick, he
arranged what appeared a disorderly
retreat to Fort Laramie. The Cheyleave, 
boldly attacked. But concealed
troopers ambushed the Indians.
Though Captain Kincald died before
the force got back to Fort Laramie.
Jocelyn is saved from death by treatment 
at the fort. Emil is promoted to
first lieutenant and given regular
command of the company for an expedition 
to Fort Kearny. It is inevitable 
that Spotted Tail, seeking revenge 
will seize an opportunity to attack 
him.
FIRST LIEUTENANT EMIL
Schwa backer's troop passed
through the palisade gates an
hour after daybreak and was
waiting oh the flats north of the
post when the massive supply
train of Beal and Hughes, sutlers,
began to trickle into position.
Schwabacker gave the hand signal 
to move and the command
proceeded west at a slow walk.
The day was dull and low
clouds moved across the sky like
balky cotton while the threat of
rain lingered on the perky wind.
Schwabacker had his scouts out,
his flankers in position, and before 
the command could settle
into the routine of the march,
hostile Indians were reported
flanking them to the north.
Schwabacker kept this bit of
intelligence to himself but thereafter 
he maintained constant
communication between his command 
position and the scouts.
There was little need, he believed,
to alarm his command now.
When the first feathered warrior
made his Ominous appearance on
some hill crest, then a soldier
could steady down and earn his
money.
Schwabacker conducted the
march according to the manual—
halt, rest, walk—although this
was difficult in the rain-soft
ground. That evening he drew
the command into bivouac on the
bank of a small creek. To their
rear, massive rocks loomed skyward 
and a short mountain range
built up in jagged rises. He put
the sutler's wagons in the center;
cavalry squad fires burned in a
circle around them. As commander, 
Schwabacker found a
dozen pressing tasks to occupy
him. By the time he completed
his rounds, the cook fires had
gone out and the wagons were
silent. Sergeant Finnegan had
saved him a mess kit full of rations 
and his waterproof ground

cloth was spread, Emil Schwabacker 
ate in silence, then settled 
down for the night.
He was up before daybreak,
had his coffee and bacon and was
taking his horse from the picket
line when the bugler blew reveille. 
When the ringing echoes
of that call died, Schwabacker
instructed the bugler to saddlereached 
Fort Kearny. He had no
immediate wish to call the hostiles 
down on him like Gabriel at
the walls of Jericho.
The march continued, a regulation 
four miles an hour when
accompanying wagons from the
prarilike river bottom the
Platte suddenly swung left
through cliffs a hundred feet
high. Schwabacker bunched his
command to a closer interval until 
this section was passed and
the land again became prairie.
Late in the afternoon a misting 
rain commenced, stayed with
them for an hour, then left,
leaving a chill and wet blankets
to make the night miserable.
Fires sputtered, half refusing to
burn. Finnegan was waiting
after the evening rounds, his face
concerned. "Them Cheyennes is
studyin' us all th' time, sor. I
don't like it."
Schwabacker said. "I think
Spotted Tail wants to pick his
own ground, Sergeant Maybe we
can beat him to it."
"Aye, sor, that's likely. But it
makes a man Jumpy neverthecan 
beat him to it."
Overhead the clouds were
breaking and a sliver of moonlight 
appeared. There was the
promise of fair weather in the
morning, for a strong wind was
coming up, dissipating the storm.
One by one the squad fires died
to ashes and the command rested.
The weather in the morning
held, and during the next five
days the sun and strong winds
firmed up the trail until the
march rate could he increased to
six miles an hour. Dally reports
assured Schwabacker that Spotted 
Tali's warriors still clung to
the outfringes of the hills, waiting 
for a time dictated by Cheyenne 
medicine.
After they passed Fort Connor
without stopping, the weather
turned freakish. The sky became
an inverted blue dome, startlingly
clear, and the wind died to nothing. 
The heat began to mount
steadily and all day the sun
stood molten. Emil Schwabacker
days came in a burst of orange,
spreading as though the edge of
the world were oh fire. The first
blue of the day turned to a pale
purple and the sun's color was
brightly polished copper.
The green sage and soapweed 
turned to gray beneath
this thick, heat. Temperatures
hovered near a hundred in the
afternoon. Oust rose in choking
quantities and the insects, came
in clouds. Dust sifted into everything—the 
food, the weave of
clothing—to become a flesh-eating 
abrasive.
That night the scout reported
medicine being made in the hills.
Schwabacker felt the first ratgnew 
of suspicion, and when it
would not crystallize, it turned

to worry. Each day ha studied
his troopers, cheeks reddened by
sun and dust, bloated by insect
bites. Their clothing was stiff
with ground-in dirt. He looked
at them and they looked back
with dull stares. He was the
commander.
Finnegan was a rock in this
sea of discomfort. Over the
evening meal, Schwabacker said,
"Sergeant, I can't do anything
about the weather. Why don't
they blame it on the Cheyennes'
medic . . ." He stopped talking
and sat that way, his mouth a
round O, his food dribbling off
his fork.
"What is it, sor?" Finnegan's
voice was concerned.
Schwabacker put his plats
aside. "Bugler!" he shouted, and
the youth came up on the run.
"Bugler, from now on I want all
garrison calls sounded properly
and on the minute."
"All, sir?" He was inclined to
think his commander had gone
mad; his expression said so anyway. 

"Yes," Schwabacker said, smiling. 
" 'Mess call,' 'work call,'
'fatigue'; the whole thing."
"Yes," sir," the bugler said and
walked away to get his horn.
For a moment Sergeant Finnegan 
said nothing. Finally, "Sor,
if he toots that durn horn th'
Injuns will flock to it like Bible
readers to a meetin' house."
"More than likely," Schwabacker 
said. He was no longer
worried; there was no trace of it
in his face or voice. "Sergeant,
we said that Spotted Tail would
want to pick his ground. Well, I
don't think I'll let him. I'm going
to pick it for him and make him
come to me. Look at this
weather. It dawns on me that
Spotted Tail's taking credit for
bringing it on with his medicine.
If that's so, he must think the
time's right to fight, but if we
stay here, hell have to come to
us. We'll be ready for him:"
The first call blown was "retreat," 
just before dark. By the
time the first bell tones died, the
entire command were on their
feet, trying to figure it out
Schwabacker watched and waited,
and just before the gray shades
of night gave way to black, there
was a rising smudge of smoke on
a distant bluff.
Finnegan saw it: every man
saw it.
Finnegan shifted his weight
first on one foot then the other
"Sor, I surely hope you know
what you're doin',"
"Don't you know, Sergeant?"
Finnegan shook his head, "I
take orders good, sor, but Im
poorly at makin' em up."
With a double guard walking
the perimeter, Schwabacker
rolled into his blankets and slept
well and in the morning was up
before the sun. The bugler blew
reveille on time. "mess call"
froty minutes later, then followed 
it with "inspection."
"work" and "fatigue." By ten
o'clock the brass than Schwabacker's
command.
The hills began to bristle with
Cheyenne.


WHAT IS HAPPENING
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1954, by James Keene. Reprinted by permission Randoms
House. Inc. (King Features Syndicate)
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
had had a year of dreary inaction 
with the Cavalry at Fort Laramie, 
Wyoming. He felt pent up, under
the infallibly exacting, coldly reserved. 
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn. 
Even the thought of his flancee.
Henrietta, was not consoling, for she
was back in Vermont, a painful memory. 

The patrol which took him to Ryndlee's 
ranch changed his career. A company 
of infantry had been sent to reinforce 
Fort Laramie. Jocelyn's troop
had been ordered to rendezvous with
the foot soldiers at the ranch and
escort them. A mile from Ryndlee's,
the cavalrymen saw the infantry position 
ringed by attacking Indians.
Jocelyn sent Emil with part of the
troop to flank the Indians while Jocelyn 
pushed through to the infantrymen's 
aid. When the two-pronged assault 
had forced the Indians to draw
back, Emil and Jocelyn found the
company of infantry shattered, and
who had run away from a medical career 
to the Army, amputated the arm.
Then, in a renewed Indian attack.
Jocelyn was wounded, and it was up
to Schwabacker to take command and
try to save the force. As a trick, he
arranged what appeared a disorderly
retreat to Fort Laramie. The Cheyleave, 
boldly attacked. But concealed
troopers ambushed the Indians.
Though Captain Kincald died before
the force got back to Fort Laramie.
Jocelyn is saved from death by treatment 
at the fort. Emil is promoted to
first lieutenant and given regular
command of the company for an expedition 
to Fort Kearny. It is inevitable 
that Spotted Tail, seeking revenge 
will seize an opportunity to attack 
him.
FIRST LIEUTENANT EMIL
Schwa backer's troop passed
through the palisade gates an
hour after daybreak and was
waiting oh the flats north of the
post when the massive supply
train of Beal and Hughes, sutlers,
began to trickle into position.
Schwabacker gave the hand signal 
to move and the command
proceeded west at a slow walk.
The day was dull and low
clouds moved across the sky like
balky cotton while the threat of
rain lingered on the perky wind.
Schwabacker had his scouts out,
his flankers in position, and before 
the command could settle
into the routine of the march,
hostile Indians were reported
flanking them to the north.
Schwabacker kept this bit of
intelligence to himself but thereafter 
he maintained constant
communication between his command 
position and the scouts.
There was little need, he believed,
to alarm his command now.
When the first feathered warrior
made his Ominous appearance on
some hill crest, then a soldier
could steady down and earn his
money.
Schwabacker conducted the
march according to the manual—
halt, rest, walk—although this
was difficult in the rain-soft
ground. That evening he drew
the command into bivouac on the
bank of a small creek. To their
rear, massive rocks loomed skyward 
and a short mountain range
built up in jagged rises. He put
the sutler's wagons in the center;
cavalry squad fires burned in a
circle around them. As commander, 
Schwabacker found a
dozen pressing tasks to occupy
him. By the time he completed
his rounds, the cook fires had
gone out and the wagons were
silent. Sergeant Finnegan had
saved him a mess kit full of rations 
and his waterproof ground

cloth was spread, Emil Schwabacker 
ate in silence, then settled 
down for the night.
He was up before daybreak,
had his coffee and bacon and was
taking his horse from the picket
line when the bugler blew reveille. 
When the ringing echoes
of that call died, Schwabacker
instructed the bugler to saddlereached 
Fort Kearny. He had no
immediate wish to call the hostiles 
down on him like Gabriel at
the walls of Jericho.
The march continued, a regulation 
four miles an hour when
accompanying wagons from the
prarilike river bottom the
Platte suddenly swung left
through cliffs a hundred feet
high. Schwabacker bunched his
command to a closer interval until 
this section was passed and
the land again became prairie.
Late in the afternoon a misting 
rain commenced, stayed with
them for an hour, then left,
leaving a chill and wet blankets
to make the night miserable.
Fires sputtered, half refusing to
burn. Finnegan was waiting
after the evening rounds, his face
concerned. "Them Cheyennes is
studyin' us all th' time, sor. I
don't like it."
Schwabacker said. "I think
Spotted Tail wants to pick his
own ground, Sergeant Maybe we
can beat him to it."
"Aye, sor, that's likely. But it
makes a man Jumpy neverthecan 
beat him to it."
Overhead the clouds were
breaking and a sliver of moonlight 
appeared. There was the
promise of fair weather in the
morning, for a strong wind was
coming up, dissipating the storm.
One by one the squad fires died
to ashes and the command rested.
The weather in the morning
held, and during the next five
days the sun and strong winds
firmed up the trail until the
march rate could he increased to
six miles an hour. Dally reports
assured Schwabacker that Spotted 
Tali's warriors still clung to
the outfringes of the hills, waiting 
for a time dictated by Cheyenne 
medicine.
After they passed Fort Connor
without stopping, the weather
turned freakish. The sky became
an inverted blue dome, startlingly
clear, and the wind died to nothing. 
The heat began to mount
steadily and all day the sun
stood molten. Emil Schwabacker
days came in a burst of orange,
spreading as though the edge of
the world were oh fire. The first
blue of the day turned to a pale
purple and the sun's color was
brightly polished copper.
The green sage and soapweed 
turned to gray beneath
this thick, heat. Temperatures
hovered near a hundred in the
afternoon. Oust rose in choking
quantities and the insects, came
in clouds. Dust sifted into everything—the 
food, the weave of
clothing—to become a flesh-eating 
abrasive.
That night the scout reported
medicine being made in the hills.
Schwabacker felt the first ratgnew 
of suspicion, and when it
would not crystallize, it turned

to worry. Each day ha studied
his troopers, cheeks reddened by
sun and dust, bloated by insect
bites. Their clothing was stiff
with ground-in dirt. He looked
at them and they looked back
with dull stares. He was the
commander.
Finnegan was a rock in this
sea of discomfort. Over the
evening meal, Schwabacker said,
"Sergeant, I can't do anything
about the weather. Why don't
they blame it on the Cheyennes'
medic . . ." He stopped talking
and sat that way, his mouth a
round O, his food dribbling off
his fork.
"What is it, sor?" Finnegan's
voice was concerned.
Schwabacker put his plats
aside. "Bugler!" he shouted, and
the youth came up on the run.
"Bugler, from now on I want all
garrison calls sounded properly
and on the minute."
"All, sir?" He was inclined to
think his commander had gone
mad; his expression said so anyway. 

"Yes," Schwabacker said, smiling. 
" 'Mess call,' 'work call,'
'fatigue'; the whole thing."
"Yes," sir," the bugler said and
walked away to get his horn.
For a moment Sergeant Finnegan 
said nothing. Finally, "Sor,
if he toots that durn horn th'
Injuns will flock to it like Bible
readers to a meetin' house."
"More than likely," Schwabacker 
said. He was no longer
worried; there was no trace of it
in his face or voice. "Sergeant,
we said that Spotted Tail would
want to pick his ground. Well, I
don't think I'll let him. I'm going
to pick it for him and make him
come to me. Look at this
weather. It dawns on me that
Spotted Tail's taking credit for
bringing it on with his medicine.
If that's so, he must think the
time's right to fight, but if we
stay here, hell have to come to
us. We'll be ready for him:"
The first call blown was "retreat," 
just before dark. By the
time the first bell tones died, the
entire command were on their
feet, trying to figure it out
Schwabacker watched and waited,
and just before the gray shades
of night gave way to black, there
was a rising smudge of smoke on
a distant bluff.
Finnegan saw it: every man
saw it.
Finnegan shifted his weight
first on one foot then the other
"Sor, I surely hope you know
what you're doin',"
"Don't you know, Sergeant?"
Finnegan shook his head, "I
take orders good, sor, but Im
poorly at makin' em up."
With a double guard walking
the perimeter, Schwabacker
rolled into his blankets and slept
well and in the morning was up
before the sun. The bugler blew
reveille on time. "mess call"
froty minutes later, then followed 
it with "inspection."
"work" and "fatigue." By ten
o'clock the brass than Schwabacker's
command.
The hills began to bristle with
Cheyenne.


CHAPTER 12
By
JAMES KEENE
© Copyright, 1954, by James Keene. Reprinted by permission Randoms
House. Inc. (King Features Syndicate)
Second Lieutenant Emil Schwabacker 
had had a year of dreary inaction 
with the Cavalry at Fort Laramie, 
Wyoming. He felt pent up, under
the infallibly exacting, coldly reserved. 
First Lieutenant Temple Jocelyn. 
Even the thought of his flancee.
Henrietta, was not consoling, for she
was back in Vermont, a painful memory. 

The patrol which took him to Ryndlee's 
ranch changed his career. A company 
of infantry had been sent to reinforce 
Fort Laramie. Jocelyn's troop
had been ordered to rendezvous with
the foot soldiers at the ranch and
escort them. A mile from Ryndlee's,
the cavalrymen saw the infantry position 
ringed by attacking Indians.
Jocelyn sent Emil with part of the
troop to flank the Indians while Jocelyn 
pushed through to the infantrymen's 
aid. When the two-pronged assault 
had forced the Indians to draw
back, Emil and Jocelyn found the
company of infantry shattered, and
who had run away from a medical career 
to the Army, amputated the arm.
Then, in a renewed Indian attack.
Jocelyn was wounded, and it was up
to Schwabacker to take command and
try to save the force. As a trick, he
arranged what appeared a disorderly
retreat to Fort Laramie. The Cheyleave, 
boldly attacked. But concealed
troopers ambushed the Indians.
Though Captain Kincald died before
the force got back to Fort Laramie.
Jocelyn is saved from death by treatment 
at the fort. Emil is promoted to
first lieutenant and given regular
command of the company for an expedition 
to Fort Kearny. It is inevitable 
that Spotted Tail, seeking revenge 
will seize an opportunity to attack 
him.
FIRST LIEUTENANT EMIL
Schwa backer's troop passed
through the palisade gates an
hour after daybreak and was
waiting oh the flats north of the
post when the massive supply
train of Beal and Hughes, sutlers,
began to trickle into position.
Schwabacker gave the hand signal 
to move and the command
proceeded west at a slow walk.
The day was dull and low
clouds moved across the sky like
balky cotton while the threat of
rain lingered on the perky wind.
Schwabacker had his scouts out,
his flankers in position, and before 
the command could settle
into the routine of the march,
hostile Indians were reported
flanking them to the north.
Schwabacker kept this bit of
intelligence to himself but thereafter 
he maintained constant
communication between his command 
position and the scouts.
There was little need, he believed,
to alarm his command now.
When the first feathered warrior
made his Ominous appearance on
some hill crest, then a soldier
could steady down and earn his
money.
Schwabacker conducted the
march according to the manual—
halt, rest, walk—although this
was difficult in the rain-soft
ground. That evening he drew
the command into bivouac on the
bank of a small creek. To their
rear, massive rocks loomed skyward 
and a short mountain range
built up in jagged rises. He put
the sutler's wagons in the center;
cavalry squad fires burned in a
circle around them. As commander, 
Schwabacker found a
dozen pressing tasks to occupy
him. By the time he completed
his rounds, the cook fires had
gone out and the wagons were
silent. Sergeant Finnegan had
saved him a mess kit full of rations 
and his waterproof ground

cloth was spread, Emil Schwabacker 
ate in silence, then settled 
down for the night.
He was up before daybreak,
had his coffee and bacon and was
taking his horse from the picket
line when the bugler blew reveille. 
When the ringing echoes
of that call died, Schwabacker
instructed the bugler to saddlereached 
Fort Kearny. He had no
immediate wish to call the hostiles 
down on him like Gabriel at
the walls of Jericho.
The march continued, a regulation 
four miles an hour when
accompanying wagons from the
prarilike river bottom the
Platte suddenly swung left
through cliffs a hundred feet
high. Schwabacker bunched his
command to a closer interval until 
this section was passed and
the land again became prairie.
Late in the afternoon a misting 
rain commenced, stayed with
them for an hour, then left,
leaving a chill and wet blankets
to make the night miserable.
Fires sputtered, half refusing to
burn. Finnegan was waiting
after the evening rounds, his face
concerned. "Them Cheyennes is
studyin' us all th' time, sor. I
don't like it."
Schwabacker said. "I think
Spotted Tail wants to pick his
own ground, Sergeant Maybe we
can beat him to it."
"Aye, sor, that's likely. But it
makes a man Jumpy neverthecan 
beat him to it."
Overhead the clouds were
breaking and a sliver of moonlight 
appeared. There was the
promise of fair weather in the
morning, for a strong wind was
coming up, dissipating the storm.
One by one the squad fires died
to ashes and the command rested.
The weather in the morning
held, and during the next five
days the sun and strong winds
firmed up the trail until the
march rate could he increased to
six miles an hour. Dally reports
assured Schwabacker that Spotted 
Tali's warriors still clung to
the outfringes of the hills, waiting 
for a time dictated by Cheyenne 
medicine.
After they passed Fort Connor
without stopping, the weather
turned freakish. The sky became
an inverted blue dome, startlingly
clear, and the wind died to nothing. 
The heat began to mount
steadily and all day the sun
stood molten. Emil Schwabacker
days came in a burst of orange,
spreading as though the edge of
the world were oh fire. The first
blue of the day turned to a pale
purple and the sun's color was
brightly polished copper.
The green sage and soapweed 
turned to gray beneath
this thick, heat. Temperatures
hovered near a hundred in the
afternoon. Oust rose in choking
quantities and the insects, came
in clouds. Dust sifted into everything—the 
food, the weave of
clothing—to become a flesh-eating 
abrasive.
That night the scout reported
medicine being made in the hills.
Schwabacker felt the first ratgnew 
of suspicion, and when it
would not crystallize, it turned

to worry. Each day ha studied
his troopers, cheeks reddened by
sun and dust, bloated by insect
bites. Their clothing was stiff
with ground-in dirt. He looked
at them and they looked back
with dull stares. He was the
commander.
Finnegan was a rock in this
sea of discomfort. Over the
evening meal, Schwabacker said,
"Sergeant, I can't do anything
about the weather. Why don't
they blame it on the Cheyennes'
medic . . ." He stopped talking
and sat that way, his mouth a
round O, his food dribbling off
his fork.
"What is it, sor?" Finnegan's
voice was concerned.
Schwabacker put his plats
aside. "Bugler!" he shouted, and
the youth came up on the run.
"Bugler, from now on I want all
garrison calls sounded properly
and on the minute."
"All, sir?" He was inclined to
think his commander had gone
mad; his expression said so anyway. 

"Yes," Schwabacker said, smiling. 
" 'Mess call,' 'work call,'
'fatigue'; the whole thing."
"Yes," sir," the bugler said and
walked away to get his horn.
For a moment Sergeant Finnegan 
said nothing. Finally, "Sor,
if he toots that durn horn th'
Injuns will flock to it like Bible
readers to a meetin' house."
"More than likely," Schwabacker 
said. He was no longer
worried; there was no trace of it
in his face or voice. "Sergeant,
we said that Spotted Tail would
want to pick his ground. Well, I
don't think I'll let him. I'm going
to pick it for him and make him
come to me. Look at this
weather. It dawns on me that
Spotted Tail's taking credit for
bringing it on with his medicine.
If that's so, he must think the
time's right to fight, but if we
stay here, hell have to come to
us. We'll be ready for him:"
The first call blown was "retreat," 
just before dark. By the
time the first bell tones died, the
entire command were on their
feet, trying to figure it out
Schwabacker watched and waited,
and just before the gray shades
of night gave way to black, there
was a rising smudge of smoke on
a distant bluff.
Finnegan saw it: every man
saw it.
Finnegan shifted his weight
first on one foot then the other
"Sor, I surely hope you know
what you're doin',"
"Don't you know, Sergeant?"
Finnegan shook his head, "I
take orders good, sor, but Im
poorly at makin' em up."
With a double guard walking
the perimeter, Schwabacker
rolled into his blankets and slept
well and in the morning was up
before the sun. The bugler blew
reveille on time. "mess call"
froty minutes later, then followed 
it with "inspection."
"work" and "fatigue." By ten
o'clock the brass than Schwabacker's
command.
The hills began to bristle with
Cheyenne.


MY WEEKLY
SERMON
REV. BLAIR T. HUNT
PASTOR
MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH,
MEMPHIS
by
Rev. Blair T. Hunt, Pastor.
Mississippi Boulevard Christian
Church

Rom. 12:5.
I wish to say a good word for
Jesus' church, the church of Christ,
the church that grew out of His
life and ministry. His church is
often referred to in such eloquent
figures as His "Body" and His
"Bride"
The church is the "bride" of
Christ. If we wish to please the
bride-groom we will treat His bride
well. How intensely does Jesus love
His church. It is a love of choice
and special regard, It is a love of
unselfishness, a love of sympathy,
a love of communion, a love of
unity. "So we, who are many, are
lone body in Christ." In our relationship 
we declare: in essentials
unity, in opinions liberality, in all
things love.
Jesus proved His love for His

church by giving His life for His
church, leading heaven and becoming 
incarnate that he might
assume her nature. He gave Himself 
through His earthly life by
spending His strength to bless her,
His bride. He gave Himself in death,
the ransom for His church. He gave
Himself in His Eternal life, rising,
ascending, reigning, pleading, all
for His church.
It Jesus the Christ loved the
church we should love it, join, it,
serve it promote it's growth. The
church is a divine institution provided 
to prepare an inherent need
in our nature. It is vestibule of
paradise, the dressing room of
Heaven. "Blessed are they that
dwell in thy house, they will still
be praising Thee."
Yes, God's church is very near
and dear to Him and greatly blessed
are we when we love and serve it
too.
The church is universal, it is the
spiritual common-wealth, the company 
of those who walk by faith
the world over. We may say. "we
belong to this or that church."
What we should say is that the
church and all the preachers and
evangelists, of whatever denomination 
belong to us, recause we are of
the church.
From the pulpits of the churches
the good news of a gracious God is
preached. The church alone cantransform 
this beautiful but shadowed 
world into one family of
God. . . . A world in which all men
and women, boys and girls will
feel an know themselves as brothers 
and sisters, recognizing the
Fatherhood of God. FW indeed God
is our Father and the earth is our
mother.
Let us be added to the church,
let us join the church and be apart
of that number witnessed by John,
vanished on the isle of Patmos,
who had washed their robes and
made them white as snow using as
the spiritual detergent clorox, the
Blood of Jesus Christ.

THE CHURCH OF CHRIST
(Sermontte)
REV. BLAIR T. HUNT
PASTOR
MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH,
MEMPHIS
by
Rev. Blair T. Hunt, Pastor.
Mississippi Boulevard Christian
Church

Rom. 12:5.
I wish to say a good word for
Jesus' church, the church of Christ,
the church that grew out of His
life and ministry. His church is
often referred to in such eloquent
figures as His "Body" and His
"Bride"
The church is the "bride" of
Christ. If we wish to please the
bride-groom we will treat His bride
well. How intensely does Jesus love
His church. It is a love of choice
and special regard, It is a love of
unselfishness, a love of sympathy,
a love of communion, a love of
unity. "So we, who are many, are
lone body in Christ." In our relationship 
we declare: in essentials
unity, in opinions liberality, in all
things love.
Jesus proved His love for His

church by giving His life for His
church, leading heaven and becoming 
incarnate that he might
assume her nature. He gave Himself 
through His earthly life by
spending His strength to bless her,
His bride. He gave Himself in death,
the ransom for His church. He gave
Himself in His Eternal life, rising,
ascending, reigning, pleading, all
for His church.
It Jesus the Christ loved the
church we should love it, join, it,
serve it promote it's growth. The
church is a divine institution provided 
to prepare an inherent need
in our nature. It is vestibule of
paradise, the dressing room of
Heaven. "Blessed are they that
dwell in thy house, they will still
be praising Thee."
Yes, God's church is very near
and dear to Him and greatly blessed
are we when we love and serve it
too.
The church is universal, it is the
spiritual common-wealth, the company 
of those who walk by faith
the world over. We may say. "we
belong to this or that church."
What we should say is that the
church and all the preachers and
evangelists, of whatever denomination 
belong to us, recause we are of
the church.
From the pulpits of the churches
the good news of a gracious God is
preached. The church alone cantransform 
this beautiful but shadowed 
world into one family of
God. . . . A world in which all men
and women, boys and girls will
feel an know themselves as brothers 
and sisters, recognizing the
Fatherhood of God. FW indeed God
is our Father and the earth is our
mother.
Let us be added to the church,
let us join the church and be apart
of that number witnessed by John,
vanished on the isle of Patmos,
who had washed their robes and
made them white as snow using as
the spiritual detergent clorox, the
Blood of Jesus Christ.
the top.
Mr. Eisenhower anted up a second 
time after receiving a report
from his old friend, Gen. Alfred
M. Gruenther, President of the
Red Cross, noting that the drive is
still $20, 000, 000 short of the $95,
000,000 goal.
The President expressed hope
that the Red Cross will be able to
carry out its traditional services to
the Nation.

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