Memphis World Memphis World Publishing Co. 1954-03-16 Mrs. Rosa Brown Bracy MEMPHIS WORLD 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. Rosa Brown Bracy Acting Editor Charles W. Hairgrow, Jr. Circulation Manager 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) Negro Newspaper Week Surely in the march of weeks the fellow craft of the Fourth Estate should come in for a hand among other struggling creatures of the earth. So, we are here to observe National Newspaper Week from March 14-20. Since it is agreed that the pen is mightier than the sword, we realize that as molders of public sentiment the great task for honesty is incumbent upon us. In a large measure, we are the only Grammar that many people study; we are looked upon to this age of errors and imperfections to be the spelling guide, the users of the proper words and modifiers and the last authority in quotes and their authors. We stand before the public as arbiters, the fair minded individuals to be trusted in every phase of activity touching community and state welfare. We must be ready with fixed opinions on all issues and men, with the attendant explanation as to why. Many of us came up from the printers' devil and the dingy copy-room where we ourselves studied spelling and grammar from copies and exchanges. Thrift and native industry had to be our watchword in order that we might exist. In that our schooling and environment are to be transplanted to the four corners of the earth—if there be corners. The nation's press today commands the respect of every citizen in the land. These history keepers, ever on the alert to keep the record straight, are the time honored archives of the world. These symbols of fair play and vigilant exporters of the age, shall gain courage and inspiration for the future from the wholesome environ afforded by their clientele. As just stewards on the frontier of public opinion, may they ever prove worthy of the trust accorded them as well as the worthy heirs of those brave and brilliant minds—gone before. May we take fresh courage in this newspaper week striving to carry on in human uplift and in the dissemination of those ideals and sentiments, dedicated to a lasting peace and brotherly love which have made this nation great. This Shows Who Controls The Republican Party The newspapers and commentators are having their piece over the choice of Vice-President Nixon to reply to Adlai Ewing Stevenson in his blistering attack on the Republican party, in lieu of Senator McCarthy, much headlined, editorialized and cartooned at the present time in the spotlight of his crusade against Commonism. The wisdom of the President can be trusted; in a rigid executive capacity, he of course would have the last word to say as to who should be the mouthpiece to repel a general overall — "give 'em hell" lambast in all its biting satire and humor native to Adlai Stevenson. History recalls from the early life of history itself, those men whose talents and mental mechanism, such as McCarthy possesses, played the leading roles in their character and the drama they brought to the stage of time. "Talents differ — but all are well and wisely put" said the squirrel to the mountain. Because of a man's peculiar approach to his task does not necessarily coincide with the thinking of many of his time, does not necessarily thrust him into the discard of rejected prophets and unworthy, of an audience of patience and reason. Such men have been responsible for many of our social reforms, our adjustments to the demands of a changing era and many worthwhile suggestions to be regimented, from their first radical symptoms, into a conservative order. The noise of so-called rebels and obstinate objectionists has aroused many a worthwhile sleeping cause to the fore of action. One does not have to agree with the technique employed by an individual to find some merit in his contrivances. MY WEEKLY SERMON REV. BLAIR T. HUNT, PASTOR MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH, MEMPHIS If you can't quit, don't begin. If you can't, stop your automobile, don't you start it. If you know what to quit and when to quit, and quit what you ought to quit when you ought to quit, you have acquitted yourself nobly in wisdom and self development. We must learn when to quit... when to quit eating.. when to quit sleeping... when to quit working... when to quit playing. When to quit! There is a point beyond which all joys turn to bitterness, all attraction to disenchant ment, all delights satiety. Each human sould has to use is own judgement in the matter of "when to quit. Pray God for good judgement... let God have the reins of your judgement. Without letting God in on your judgement, your judgement may be very, very poor judgement. A God-directed judgement will tell you where, and when, and What to quit. Someone was asked what drink makes a drunkard. This someone replied: "The first drink." If drink you must... then quit before you get drunk. The spendthrift is the man or woman, boy or girl, who doesn't quit. The gambler is a man who doesn't quit. The liar is a man who doesn't quit lying. The glutton is the person who doesn't quit. Learn to quit. Do not drink the cup of life dry. At the bottom of the cup are bitter dregs. Let us learn when to quit. In many things, in all things evil, it is still better never to begin. Let us put up a "quit sign." Each of us has a voice within us which calls out clearly, "quit". It is conscience that calls out the "quit sign.." If we fail to listen and obey, danger and loss will be ours. Sometimes it is so very hard to quit. We need help. Let Jesus be your helper. Give Jesus the reins of your life. He will aid you in (ceasing) quitting to do evil. Like the Apostles you then will be able to say truthfully with Jesus, "I can quit from evil for in Jesus who strengthens me, I am ready for anything." Quit your foolishness quit being a child in your ripened and matured age. Quit lying. Quit hating. Quit putting into your mouth that which steals away your brain. Quit being a victim of the loan shark. Quit getting swamped with debts. Quit all. Let Jesus, "The Carpenter's son" help you. He will forgive your past, wipe it all out.. save you from the guilt of the past and give you a new start. Cease to do evil. Learn to do good. Pray God for quitting sense, before it is too..late... ere you bang yourself against the hot, iron gates of hell! HAVE YOU GOT QUITTING SENSE? REV. BLAIR T. HUNT, PASTOR MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN CHURCH, MEMPHIS If you can't quit, don't begin. If you can't, stop your automobile, don't you start it. If you know what to quit and when to quit, and quit what you ought to quit when you ought to quit, you have acquitted yourself nobly in wisdom and self development. We must learn when to quit... when to quit eating.. when to quit sleeping... when to quit working... when to quit playing. When to quit! There is a point beyond which all joys turn to bitterness, all attraction to disenchant ment, all delights satiety. Each human sould has to use is own judgement in the matter of "when to quit. Pray God for good judgement... let God have the reins of your judgement. Without letting God in on your judgement, your judgement may be very, very poor judgement. A God-directed judgement will tell you where, and when, and What to quit. Someone was asked what drink makes a drunkard. This someone replied: "The first drink." If drink you must... then quit before you get drunk. The spendthrift is the man or woman, boy or girl, who doesn't quit. The gambler is a man who doesn't quit. The liar is a man who doesn't quit lying. The glutton is the person who doesn't quit. Learn to quit. Do not drink the cup of life dry. At the bottom of the cup are bitter dregs. Let us learn when to quit. In many things, in all things evil, it is still better never to begin. Let us put up a "quit sign." Each of us has a voice within us which calls out clearly, "quit". It is conscience that calls out the "quit sign.." If we fail to listen and obey, danger and loss will be ours. Sometimes it is so very hard to quit. We need help. Let Jesus be your helper. Give Jesus the reins of your life. He will aid you in (ceasing) quitting to do evil. Like the Apostles you then will be able to say truthfully with Jesus, "I can quit from evil for in Jesus who strengthens me, I am ready for anything." Quit your foolishness quit being a child in your ripened and matured age. Quit lying. Quit hating. Quit putting into your mouth that which steals away your brain. Quit being a victim of the loan shark. Quit getting swamped with debts. Quit all. Let Jesus, "The Carpenter's son" help you. He will forgive your past, wipe it all out.. save you from the guilt of the past and give you a new start. Cease to do evil. Learn to do good. Pray God for quitting sense, before it is too..late... ere you bang yourself against the hot, iron gates of hell! WISHING WELL Registered U. S. Patent Office. H is a pleasant little game that will give you a message every day. It is a numerical puzzle designed to spell out your fortune. Count the letters in your first name. If the number of letters is 6 or more, subtract 4. If the number is less than 6, add 3. The result is your key number. Start at the upper left hand corner of the rectangle and check every one of your key numbers, left to right. Then read the message the letters under the checked figures give you. QUEST ELSIE MACK Copyright, 1953 by Elsie Mack Distributed by King Features Syndicate IT WAS sheer joy for Dale to drive her car over the familiar roads again, to stop and chat with Joe Gillespie at his service station, with Joshua Wragge in the general store, and the portly Reverend Spencer pulling weeds in his carrot bed. "Where," he said, "I always compose my best sermons." Everyone was unfeignedly glad to see her with the exception of Armorel Crosland. On the day she stopped her green convertible at the house on the hilltop, Dale saw Armorel, a shadowy figure behind the low fence, relentlessly uprooting a jungle of hollyhocks. "Armorel!" Dale called out, her voice friendly in greeting. But the gray-haired woman did not look up as Dale got out of the car and slammed the door. She picked her way gingerly along a pathway overgrown with Queen Anne's lace and plantain and ragged, dusty grasses. A Scotch thistle scratched her ankle, leaving a circlet of thin red on her skin. Dale stifled exasperation as she went through a second gate, which swung reluctantly on unoiled hinges under her hand. Armorel turned at last, straightening slowly. Small drops of perspiration ridged her upper lip; her sallow skin flushed. She ran her green-stained palms absently down the hips of her faded dress, and gradually, as she looked at Dale, her eyes focused. "Why did you come back?" she asked abruptly. Her voice was brittle, her arms akimbo in resentfulness. Dale felt her smile fade; her heart was beating like a metronome. Armorel took a step toward her. "You won't find Kelly here," she said, in a low, intense voice. "Is that why you came back? Because it won't do you any good. Kelly's gone." Dale reached behind her for the solidness of a great elm's trunk. "Armorel," she said sharply. "what's wrong? You are ill." Armorel shook her head in slow, assured negation. "I am perfectly well, thank you. Perfectly well. The hollyhocks multiply so rapidly, don't they? I am pulling them all before they reseed themselves." Slyness crept into her tone. "If everything stopped going to seed, time would stand still, wouldn't it?" Dale pressed her palms hard against the rough bark. She was vaguely afraid, but beneath her tear was an aching compassion for something she did not entirely understand. "Time never stands still, Armorel," she said gently. "Ah, but it does." She moved another step closer and put her earth-stained hand on Dale's arm. "Come, I will show you." And, as Dale hesitated, her conspiratorial tone turned harsh. "Come!" she ordered. "Some other day, Armorel." Dale flattened her "whole body against the tree, more than ever afraid of something nameless, something dark and frightening, here. Armorel's hand dropped. A shutter of blankness dropped over her eyes. "Any day," she said tonelessly. "Any day, my dear." Dale fled, as on that other autumn afternoon, from the big brick mass of a house, the slovenly garden, the rusty cedars with cobwebs that clung stickily to her face and meshed in her eyelashes. She drove quickly through the village and down the straight road to the lake. A car with New York license plates was parked by the gate. Phil Parrish. It couldn't be anyone else. Dale hesitated, stroking back her hair from her hot forehead, trying to shake off the mood of depression. Then, thinking of the fresh-breeze atmosphere that always accompanied Phil, she went in quickly. He was with Grandy in the living room. He looked big and cool in tan tropicals, and he was holding a glass of Grandy'a homemade elderberry wine. "Hello," she said. "I hope Grandy has warned you about that stuff, Phil. It sneaks up and deals you a body blow when you're not looking." Phil said innocently, "You'll never see me under the influence of anything more than a fine glow." The subtly stressed pronoun reddened Dale's cheeks; with relief, she saw Grandmother, wearing an apron, come into the living room. "Take your young man for a swim, dear," Grandmother said. "There's plenty of time before dinner." "Quaint old phrase, that," Phil remarked, laughing into Dale's eyes. "No one has said, 'Your young man'—meaning me—before, that I recall." "It's a wonder Aggie hasn't," Dale retorted. "Aggie doesn't get to meet very many of my girls," he said. "And she has an amazing penchant for accuracy." Grandy looked up from a thoughtful contemplation of the deep-red liquid in his glass. "Quite a hop for a grasshopper, Dale Manhattan to Swanscombe. Quite a hop." "I don't suppose you've ever been called a grasshopper, either!" Dale said, laughing at his puzzled Look. Didn't come for just the ride, young man, did you?" Grandy shot at him. "I came after this girl of yours." "Aggie sent you,"' Dale said accusingly. "Yup," he confessed, "Aggie's got a job for you." "Woman boss, this time. Safer," he grinned, "she says." Grandy nodded approval at Dale. "One sting less, my girl. One of the rebuffs you won't have to endure, again." "Your grandfather does talk in riddles, Dale," Phil said aggrieveedly. "Stop trying to fathom them," she laughed, "and come for a swim." Grandmother said, "I've put one of your grandfather's swim suits in Mr. Parrish's room, Dale." So Phil was staying all night! He ingratiated himself. "Brace yourself,". Dale warned Phil. "Grandy's bathing costume is one of those blue cotton models of the gay nineties. It was. "Very chic," Dale said innocently as they walked to the dock. "A fine figure of a man." Which, teasing aside, was quite true. The ridiculous garment in no way detracted from Phil's brown, squareshouldered, well-put together bulk. "I thought all city men were lily-white," she murmured. "Only their morals." Phil said righteously. "You should follow me around on one of my long week ends. I get my share of the great outdoors." They walked out to the end of the L-shaped dock. The water was spring clear, with a ridged sandy bottom. Before Dale could divine Phil's intention, he had scooped her high in his arms. "Laugh at me, will you?" His face was close, his breath warm on her throat— and then he dropped her into the lake. Dale laughed sputtered, went under. When the thrashed her way to the surface again, Phil was on the springboard dangling his legs over. Dale snatched both his ankles and yanked him in. "Reprisal!" she laughed, when he surfaced. "Supposing I hadn't been able to swim?" "Suppose I hadn't? She buried her face in the water and scissored her legs on the surface, first rioting with approval Phil's slashing, powerful crawl. She remembered the gallant clumsiness or Kelly's improvised stroke (To Be Continued) CHAPTER EIGHTEEN ELSIE MACK Copyright, 1953 by Elsie Mack Distributed by King Features Syndicate IT WAS sheer joy for Dale to drive her car over the familiar roads again, to stop and chat with Joe Gillespie at his service station, with Joshua Wragge in the general store, and the portly Reverend Spencer pulling weeds in his carrot bed. "Where," he said, "I always compose my best sermons." Everyone was unfeignedly glad to see her with the exception of Armorel Crosland. On the day she stopped her green convertible at the house on the hilltop, Dale saw Armorel, a shadowy figure behind the low fence, relentlessly uprooting a jungle of hollyhocks. "Armorel!" Dale called out, her voice friendly in greeting. But the gray-haired woman did not look up as Dale got out of the car and slammed the door. She picked her way gingerly along a pathway overgrown with Queen Anne's lace and plantain and ragged, dusty grasses. A Scotch thistle scratched her ankle, leaving a circlet of thin red on her skin. Dale stifled exasperation as she went through a second gate, which swung reluctantly on unoiled hinges under her hand. Armorel turned at last, straightening slowly. Small drops of perspiration ridged her upper lip; her sallow skin flushed. She ran her green-stained palms absently down the hips of her faded dress, and gradually, as she looked at Dale, her eyes focused. "Why did you come back?" she asked abruptly. Her voice was brittle, her arms akimbo in resentfulness. Dale felt her smile fade; her heart was beating like a metronome. Armorel took a step toward her. "You won't find Kelly here," she said, in a low, intense voice. "Is that why you came back? Because it won't do you any good. Kelly's gone." Dale reached behind her for the solidness of a great elm's trunk. "Armorel," she said sharply. "what's wrong? You are ill." Armorel shook her head in slow, assured negation. "I am perfectly well, thank you. Perfectly well. The hollyhocks multiply so rapidly, don't they? I am pulling them all before they reseed themselves." Slyness crept into her tone. "If everything stopped going to seed, time would stand still, wouldn't it?" Dale pressed her palms hard against the rough bark. She was vaguely afraid, but beneath her tear was an aching compassion for something she did not entirely understand. "Time never stands still, Armorel," she said gently. "Ah, but it does." She moved another step closer and put her earth-stained hand on Dale's arm. "Come, I will show you." And, as Dale hesitated, her conspiratorial tone turned harsh. "Come!" she ordered. "Some other day, Armorel." Dale flattened her "whole body against the tree, more than ever afraid of something nameless, something dark and frightening, here. Armorel's hand dropped. A shutter of blankness dropped over her eyes. "Any day," she said tonelessly. "Any day, my dear." Dale fled, as on that other autumn afternoon, from the big brick mass of a house, the slovenly garden, the rusty cedars with cobwebs that clung stickily to her face and meshed in her eyelashes. She drove quickly through the village and down the straight road to the lake. A car with New York license plates was parked by the gate. Phil Parrish. It couldn't be anyone else. Dale hesitated, stroking back her hair from her hot forehead, trying to shake off the mood of depression. Then, thinking of the fresh-breeze atmosphere that always accompanied Phil, she went in quickly. He was with Grandy in the living room. He looked big and cool in tan tropicals, and he was holding a glass of Grandy'a homemade elderberry wine. "Hello," she said. "I hope Grandy has warned you about that stuff, Phil. It sneaks up and deals you a body blow when you're not looking." Phil said innocently, "You'll never see me under the influence of anything more than a fine glow." The subtly stressed pronoun reddened Dale's cheeks; with relief, she saw Grandmother, wearing an apron, come into the living room. "Take your young man for a swim, dear," Grandmother said. "There's plenty of time before dinner." "Quaint old phrase, that," Phil remarked, laughing into Dale's eyes. "No one has said, 'Your young man'—meaning me—before, that I recall." "It's a wonder Aggie hasn't," Dale retorted. "Aggie doesn't get to meet very many of my girls," he said. "And she has an amazing penchant for accuracy." Grandy looked up from a thoughtful contemplation of the deep-red liquid in his glass. "Quite a hop for a grasshopper, Dale Manhattan to Swanscombe. Quite a hop." "I don't suppose you've ever been called a grasshopper, either!" Dale said, laughing at his puzzled Look. Didn't come for just the ride, young man, did you?" Grandy shot at him. "I came after this girl of yours." "Aggie sent you,"' Dale said accusingly. "Yup," he confessed, "Aggie's got a job for you." "Woman boss, this time. Safer," he grinned, "she says." Grandy nodded approval at Dale. "One sting less, my girl. One of the rebuffs you won't have to endure, again." "Your grandfather does talk in riddles, Dale," Phil said aggrieveedly. "Stop trying to fathom them," she laughed, "and come for a swim." Grandmother said, "I've put one of your grandfather's swim suits in Mr. Parrish's room, Dale." So Phil was staying all night! He ingratiated himself. "Brace yourself,". Dale warned Phil. "Grandy's bathing costume is one of those blue cotton models of the gay nineties. It was. "Very chic," Dale said innocently as they walked to the dock. "A fine figure of a man." Which, teasing aside, was quite true. The ridiculous garment in no way detracted from Phil's brown, squareshouldered, well-put together bulk. "I thought all city men were lily-white," she murmured. "Only their morals." Phil said righteously. "You should follow me around on one of my long week ends. I get my share of the great outdoors." They walked out to the end of the L-shaped dock. The water was spring clear, with a ridged sandy bottom. Before Dale could divine Phil's intention, he had scooped her high in his arms. "Laugh at me, will you?" His face was close, his breath warm on her throat— and then he dropped her into the lake. Dale laughed sputtered, went under. When the thrashed her way to the surface again, Phil was on the springboard dangling his legs over. Dale snatched both his ankles and yanked him in. "Reprisal!" she laughed, when he surfaced. "Supposing I hadn't been able to swim?" "Suppose I hadn't? She buried her face in the water and scissored her legs on the surface, first rioting with approval Phil's slashing, powerful crawl. She remembered the gallant clumsiness or Kelly's improvised stroke (To Be Continued) Reuther Cites 6 Reasons For FEPC Legislation Now CIO President Walter P. Reuther cited six reasons why the need for Federal fair employment practice legislation is "greater and more urgent now than it has ever been in the past." Reuther testified here Tuesday before the Senate Labor and Public Welfare Committee in support of S. 692. He was testifying in behalf of both the CIO and the UAWCIO of which he is also president. Mr. Reuther listed the six reasons as follows: 1. Because the the spread between the incomes of white and non-white families, which had narrowed during the wartime FEFC, has widened again since; 2. Because since 1947 the number of states having enforceable FEPC laws has increased from 4 to 9 and the number of cities having enforceable FEPC ordinances has increased to 30, but this progress, giving most relief where least needed and no relief at all where most needed, has sharpened the contrasts, the double standards and the feeling of wrong and bitterness; 3. Because unemployment, which has risen sharply in the recent months, seem likely to increase in 1954, making the need for FEPC Acute: 4. Because members of minority groups and millions of other citizens who are in earnest about abolishing discrimination in employment after being told year after year that the remedy is in (a) education, or (b) State FEPC laws, or (c) local FEPC ordinances, have, with few exceptions, been defeated by combination: of disproportionate representation in State legislatures, local prejudice, false propaganda, and fear of inter-state or inter-city competition: 5. Because, today, in 1954, our loss of moral standing and leadership among the members of the United Nations that results from the continuing shame of injustice on the job front in hiring and in upgrading, promotions, seniority and all the other necessities for industrial democracy is greater than it was seven years ago, when the facts about discrimination in employment within our borders were not as well known throughout the world as they are today: 6. Because white dominion is dead or dying everywhere in the world not only in Africa, but also here in the U. S. A. "FEPC is morally right it is economically light," Reuther said Both nationally and internationally it is a political necessity." The CIO president cited the report of Vice-President Nixon who said, after his recent round-theworld trip: "Every act of racial discrimination or prejudice in the United States hurts America as much as an espionage agent who turns over a weapon to a foreign enemy. Every American citizen can contribute toward creating a better understanding of American ideals abroad by practicing and thinking tolerance and respect for human rights every day of the year." He recalled that President Elsenhower during the 1952 campaign pledged to make "equality of opportunity a living reality for every American. There is no room left in America for second-class cityzenship for anybody." At the same time, Reuther said. Eisenhower had stated that the job should be done on a state and local, rather than a federal, basis and that he would "enlist the help of all the Governors to press in their states the fight on discrimination in employment. Individuals and organization working toward the goal of an effective permanent FEPC have made "the circle trip from Washington to State Capitals and City Halls and back again" over and over, and yet the "worst areas" are still left "untouched," Reuther declared leaving the inevitable conclusion that only federal legislation can be effective. Earlier efforts to enact federal FEPC legislation have been blocked by Senate Rule 22, permitting unlimited debate and thus making possible the thwarting of the will of the majority. "Members of minority groups and millions of other Americans who want FEPC are sick, tired and dis gusted," Reuther said, "with the endless repetition of a solemn political Virginia Reel wherein speeches are made, planks are inserted in platforms or are left out of platforms and pencilled into campaign speeches, bills are introduced and re-introduced, hearings are postponed and finally held with the expenditure of great time, effort, money and the re-assembly of wellknown facts about justice on the job front and at the end all action is boxed in by the dead end of Filibuster Alley while hope of FEPC is strangled by the anti-democratic action of a filibustering minority." The CIO president pointed out that rising unemployment aggravates the problem, since members of minority groups are most often the last hired and the first laid off "The men and women who will suffer most during a decline in economic activity will be Negroes and members of other minority groups against whom discrimination is practiced at all times and more in bad times than good," he said. Reuther offered government statistics which show that the gap between the incomes of white and non-white families is "widening again alter narrowing during the war years and the years of postwar prosperity. CIO unions, including the UAWCIO, have done much to combat discrimination in their industries, Reuther said. He told of two instances in which the UAW-CIO was involved. In one, the union revoked he charter of a local of 1,000 members because they would not admit Negro workers to their ranks. In another, the International Unon promptly ended an unauthorized strike in protest against the pronation for her kindly manners and when it informed both local union officers and company officials that the union would not handle the grievances of workers disciplined for participating in such a strike. "But labor's ability to solve the problem is limited," he said. "The basic trouble arises at the hiring gate. "Just as unions interested in fair play for minorities can have effect only within limited areas, state can have only a limited effect. The process of getting individual states to pass anti-discrimination laws is just too slow. Where discrimination is worst, where justice on the job is most needed, there is no prospect of remedy by State or local legislation. Why should Negro families continue to eat less and wear less and sleep in worse housing and die a years earlier: than white workers for the next 10 or 15 or 20 or 50 years while we try to do in 48 separate places what needs to be done at one place and time? "The problem is a national one; the solution should be a national one. "In today's world we cannot afford delay in established justice on the job throughout the United States." Book Of Armstrong Association as is IndusTrial Secretary, under Forrester B. Washington, who was at that time head of the organization. She is a graduate of Girls High Schools and has studied at Temple University. Last summer her book was called "most beautiful in cover and contest" by the Los Angeles Book Fa "To No Special Land," is her second extensive literary effort, the first having been a book of poems published in 1936, called, "No Albaster Box." LETTERS TO THE Dear Editor: Those who feel that they have much in common along the line of quality character, culture and the necessities of life should be together and exclude others. Even those who don't have all those desirable fine qualities, it is often thought should be together, birds of a feather flock together, that theory might hold good With animals and bird life but since human beings think that makes the difference. Man can be developed to great heights if he has the capacity and the training. So called savages from the jungle of Africa have received the modern university degrees with honor and that is not true with animals. With animals the physical breeding is important. The junkman's horse never can run in the Kentucky Derby, but the junkman's son can become a Harvard professor although the junkman never gave education a thought. The Romanoff of Russian royalty in their days set the social pace for Europe created and introduced Ballet Dancing and many other fine arts but did not produce a fine mind within the Romanoff family. It takes years to produce a cost system and wherever that has been produced the lower status of society has to bare the meanest brunt of the burden. In modern times the cost and class systems have vanished rapidly and especially in America. Reason so many got rich quick, sent their children to the finest schools and got top ratings, and also some of them in the so-called "Blue Book" becomes so rotten that no one wish to follow nor copy their customs and habits. During the three hundred years of the whites in America, they have been able to establish a class and cast system of some rate to meet their needs: The poor whites are just about in same circumstances now as they were 300 years ago comparatively speaking, but their brilliant sons when they appear once in a while may move in the higher brackets and kiss their former environments good bye. It is a dog eat dog proposition and the theory of the survival of the fittest is forever present here. Lets take a look at the sons of Negroes, who landed in Virginia in 1607. It was many years later before he was recognized officially as a slave the primary reason for bringing him to America was to have him do the rough hard work. He was not made a slave immediately, because some of the best people in America tried to practice Christianity. Whenever a conflict arises between religion and money in America, religion has always followed the reasoning of the ruling class. Before slavery religion sanctioned freedom. When the Negroes were held in bondage as chattel slaves the church not only sanctioned it but said it was the will of God. When the slaves were freed the church paid Ame. After freedom all Negroes were in one class and the are in one class now according to the ruling class point of view. That is true especially in the south. Here is an example in Chicago, Illinois, last Christmas week about seven hundred Negroes dived in a big down town loop hotel and the next night 1,200 amended a bull at another big Down town hotel. There were no Incidents or no notice of this by the general public. That has not happened in the south yet. Would there be an unpleasant incident if the best hotels were to open to Negroes in the South? I think not. The novelty would wear off and it would just be one other incident of life here. Riding the pullman and eating in the diner is no longer a novelty in the south. It goes on and is received as any other public service would be received and go likewise. Since the Negroes are placed in one class and none of them are first class citizen, it is logical for t them to try being class conscious. It is true that every individual reflects the influence of his environment. A red cap will travel with good luggage and a waiter in a first class hotel will dress well. The Negro also who becomes successful and rich will ape those who were rich before him. This would not be too bad of the Negroes were copying after Negroes, but he copies one with whom he can't associate with socially and places the same burden on those Negroes under him the higher up whites do. For his social activities the Negro millionaire, the mail carrier, the waiter and servants of various levels have to lie together. This prevents the Negroes from being class conscious and the further he stops away from the idea the better it will be for his business. As Byron says in his poem. "The Prisoner Chillon" we are together, but yet apart. The best state of consciousness for the Negro to be in at the present time is race consciousness. Since we are placed in a class and since we are in the class we should take every advantage of it. We should face reality and cope with our environment and circumstances think logically and plan wisely. First of all let us learn and teach Negro history. Our heritage is fine as the finest and so is our background. Let us be proud of ourselves rather than damn ourselves for being black. I hear this every day. I don't know a single person as proud of being Negro as my grandmother was. We have no choice so therefore let us dedicate ourselves to race consciousness. What will that get us? Mutual self respect, erase selfishness, promote confluence. In the end that will get the Negro business, millions that he is losing daily. We just can't as Negroes insult Negroes tonight and get his business tomorrow nor can we robe him today because we are Negroes and robe him again tomorrow. We must build and establish confidence in each other which is not based on empty and light weight deception. Since we can't profit by class consciousness let us develop a race consciousness. We have no choice. Chas Fisher. REVIEWING THE NEWS BY WILLIAM GORDON Managing Editor, Atlanta Daily World Flowing from the throat of a beautiful Negro girl, the voice was like that of an angel. One could sense the genuineness of the white guests, for they scattered themselves about the auditorium, asking no special privilege or recognition. They were interested in social status or class levels. They came to hear an angel sing. I know nothing about music from a technical sense, and would be completely lost if asked if Miss Mattiwilda Dobbs was singing Bach or Chopin in her recital in Atlanta last Thursday night. There was another feeling which struck me along with the tones of beautiful music coming from the throat of this young genius. My thoughts went back to F. L. Olmstead's account of the inherent quality of a people and this is not to say, as Miss Dobbs also believes, that music is restricted to our group. Olmstead in his "Cotton Kingdom" gives an account of the Negro servant who is allowed to attend an opera with his master, and returns the next day to sing and hum tunes from the opera with utter perfection. There is also the account of the quartets which he followed night after night near Mobile, Alabama. These people who had been denied the opportunity to rise above a servant's status, achieved despite their circumstances. One can imagine some of the thoughts in the minds of the people at the recital Thursday night. Before them was a young Negro singer, the best in the world today and who is not even yet at her peak, singing to both races in her native Southland. She stood before two groups, one like herself, which had been denied the opportunity for full development, and another, although sympathetic, were victims of a heritage they had not to do with. The important thing is that those people came to hear Miss Dobbs. Like many who are not hard to convert to the idea of fair play, these people will go away with the same realization as that of Olmstead. The fact that some people work hard to depress others is no indication that genius will not be able to emerge. And in many instances, out of this comes the best diplomatic relations we could ever hope for. The voice of Miss Dobbs will someday be heard around the world, and with it will flow the strains of brotherhood, goodwill and all of the things the people in our great country have worked for. On the wings of her voice will flow other things. Some in particular will be the prayers and devotions of a race of people who, despite their circumstances, will rise but of the ashes of waste and deprivation. The white people who heard her will have to return to their communities, not out of hate or ill feeling for the Negro, but for respect and the appreciation that the dignity of the human being is not restricted to pigmentation or religion. Like the hundreds of whites who came to hear Miss Dobbs, the greatest in her field today, others will hear and respect Negroes in every profession in the days to come. That is what good music means to me. What Good Music Means To Me BY WILLIAM GORDON Managing Editor, Atlanta Daily World Flowing from the throat of a beautiful Negro girl, the voice was like that of an angel. One could sense the genuineness of the white guests, for they scattered themselves about the auditorium, asking no special privilege or recognition. They were interested in social status or class levels. They came to hear an angel sing. I know nothing about music from a technical sense, and would be completely lost if asked if Miss Mattiwilda Dobbs was singing Bach or Chopin in her recital in Atlanta last Thursday night. There was another feeling which struck me along with the tones of beautiful music coming from the throat of this young genius. My thoughts went back to F. L. Olmstead's account of the inherent quality of a people and this is not to say, as Miss Dobbs also believes, that music is restricted to our group. Olmstead in his "Cotton Kingdom" gives an account of the Negro servant who is allowed to attend an opera with his master, and returns the next day to sing and hum tunes from the opera with utter perfection. There is also the account of the quartets which he followed night after night near Mobile, Alabama. These people who had been denied the opportunity to rise above a servant's status, achieved despite their circumstances. One can imagine some of the thoughts in the minds of the people at the recital Thursday night. Before them was a young Negro singer, the best in the world today and who is not even yet at her peak, singing to both races in her native Southland. She stood before two groups, one like herself, which had been denied the opportunity for full development, and another, although sympathetic, were victims of a heritage they had not to do with. The important thing is that those people came to hear Miss Dobbs. Like many who are not hard to convert to the idea of fair play, these people will go away with the same realization as that of Olmstead. The fact that some people work hard to depress others is no indication that genius will not be able to emerge. And in many instances, out of this comes the best diplomatic relations we could ever hope for. The voice of Miss Dobbs will someday be heard around the world, and with it will flow the strains of brotherhood, goodwill and all of the things the people in our great country have worked for. On the wings of her voice will flow other things. Some in particular will be the prayers and devotions of a race of people who, despite their circumstances, will rise but of the ashes of waste and deprivation. The white people who heard her will have to return to their communities, not out of hate or ill feeling for the Negro, but for respect and the appreciation that the dignity of the human being is not restricted to pigmentation or religion. Like the hundreds of whites who came to hear Miss Dobbs, the greatest in her field today, others will hear and respect Negroes in every profession in the days to come. That is what good music means to me. Court Orders Daddy Grace To Pay $3,800 Bishop Charges M. (Daddy) Grace was in Norfolk last week at the House of Prayer for All People and found himself in trouble. A seven-man Circuit Court jury ordered the long maned preacher to pay $3,870.72 for two air-conditioned unite installed in his flamboyant, thirdfloor apartment in the 2100 block of East Princess Anne road in August, 1952. The bishop, who ridiculed Negroes and considers it a disgrace to be considered a Negro, was in Norfolk to appear at his church on Church Street. A large crowd greeted him. Daddy Grace was represented by Max M. Broudy, a white lawyer, as his Negro lawyer W. Hale Thompson, of Newport News, Va., was reportedly insulted by the bishop and withdrew from the case. Broudy made a motion for a new trial. The motion was continued by Judge Clyde H. Jacob. The bishop was impressive with his curly grey hair hanging to his shoulders and polished fingernails an inch or more long. The god of thousands of Negroes stayed on the witness stand about 15 minutes. Sandwiched in heavily between his talk were scriptural quotations. Daddy insisted that he didn't order the air conditioning units because he didn't need their. He claimed that he thought the plaintiffs, L. T. Zoby and Sons, were installing a cooling unit as an integral part of the heating unit they put in the apartment. "Are you in need of all the 12 Cadillacs you own?" asked Zoby's attorney, Frederick T. Stant Jr. Stroudy objected to the question but not before the bishop nodded. The bishop, individually and as a trustee of the House of Prayer for All People, was named a defendant. Named with him were Elder Claude Wilkerson and the House of Prayer, but early in trial, Zoby took a non-suit against the latter two defendants. Daddy Grace was originally represented by Atty. Thompson of Newport News, but a copy of his withdrawal disclosed that Thompson regarded his client as a "most disagreeable client," and has repeatedly made statements 'which I consider both ungentlemanly and distasteful. After you called me a liar during our telephone conversation, I resolved that I no longer could represent you." ORDER QUESTIONED Bishop Charges M. (Daddy) Grace was in Norfolk last week at the House of Prayer for All People and found himself in trouble. A seven-man Circuit Court jury ordered the long maned preacher to pay $3,870.72 for two air-conditioned unite installed in his flamboyant, thirdfloor apartment in the 2100 block of East Princess Anne road in August, 1952. The bishop, who ridiculed Negroes and considers it a disgrace to be considered a Negro, was in Norfolk to appear at his church on Church Street. A large crowd greeted him. Daddy Grace was represented by Max M. Broudy, a white lawyer, as his Negro lawyer W. Hale Thompson, of Newport News, Va., was reportedly insulted by the bishop and withdrew from the case. Broudy made a motion for a new trial. The motion was continued by Judge Clyde H. Jacob. The bishop was impressive with his curly grey hair hanging to his shoulders and polished fingernails an inch or more long. The god of thousands of Negroes stayed on the witness stand about 15 minutes. Sandwiched in heavily between his talk were scriptural quotations. Daddy insisted that he didn't order the air conditioning units because he didn't need their. He claimed that he thought the plaintiffs, L. T. Zoby and Sons, were installing a cooling unit as an integral part of the heating unit they put in the apartment. "Are you in need of all the 12 Cadillacs you own?" asked Zoby's attorney, Frederick T. Stant Jr. Stroudy objected to the question but not before the bishop nodded. The bishop, individually and as a trustee of the House of Prayer for All People, was named a defendant. Named with him were Elder Claude Wilkerson and the House of Prayer, but early in trial, Zoby took a non-suit against the latter two defendants. Daddy Grace was originally represented by Atty. Thompson of Newport News, but a copy of his withdrawal disclosed that Thompson regarded his client as a "most disagreeable client," and has repeatedly made statements 'which I consider both ungentlemanly and distasteful. After you called me a liar during our telephone conversation, I resolved that I no longer could represent you." Named IWA Associate Director Of Education As a result of A expansion of educational activities by the International Woodworkers of America, Earl W. Davis, Trustee and former vice-president of the CIO Transport Workers Union, has been horned IWA Associate Director of Education for the South. The appointment was announced by A. P. Hartung, IWA president, and E. W. Kenney, IWA Director of Research and Education. Davis has been on the organizing staff of national CIO,, which has assigned him to IWA for the purpose of carrying on full-time educational work. Davis, 42, has had a colorful career in organized labor. In addition to the above mentioned duties, he served as vice-president of the Ohio CIO Council, where he worked with now is Political Action Director of the CIO. Later Davis was with the CIO organizing committee in the CIO State president Jack Kroll, who Ohio Valley and more recently ill, the South. In connection with this, he worked with the IWA and with the CIO Brewery Workers as an organizer in the South. Davis obtained his college trying at West Virginia State College, Wheeling, W. Va., is married and has two sons. Earl Jr., 18, a sophomore at Virginia Union University, Richmond, Va., and Edward, 16. TheDavis family lives at Richmond, which will be Mr. Davis' headquarters for the time being. He is carrying on an extensive educational program among Woodworker local unions in the South Atlantic States, working in close cooperation with IWA and CIO Representatives and Organizers in the area. The Woodworkers union recently received high praise from the President of the Transport Workers Union, Willard Townsend for the union's attempt to combat race discrimination. The IWA recently held in interracial meeting in an Atlanta, Ga., hotel without objections from the management which previously had not permitted such meetings. WORLD WAR I VETS The Veterans Administration has announced it would pay a regular dividend of $21,000,000 next pay on 375,000 Government life insurance policies held by World War I veterans. The payment will go those with permanent plan policies. About 24,000 World War I veterans who have term insurance, will not share in the payment. John Morgan, End; Marion Barnes, Center: Robert Byrd. Tackle; James McCall, Guard; William Watson, Guard. SAVANNAH STATE The Southeastern Athlete Conference awarded gold footballs to players picked on the 1953 all-conference team immediately following the championship game between Savannah State and Morris College last Saturday night. President W. K. Payne made presentations to Coach Ted Browne Claflin College; Coach Rennie Thomas, Florida Normal: Coach Henry Daggert, Paine College, Coach Obie O'Neal, Albany State, Duke Brown Morris College and Ted Wright, Savannah State. Players on the '53 all-conference team ware as follows. Willie Scott, End; Alfred Walker, Quarterback: Joseph Washington, Halfback; Selene Manning, Fullback; William White, Tackle; Lindsey Hoard Halfback: John Morgan, End; Marion Barnes, Center: Robert Byrd. Tackle; James McCall, Guard; William Watson, Guard. FLYING HEARSE Louis Marshall an undertaker bought a plane for pleasure. Then he thought of using it to replace an ambulance for long trips. Then he made it into a hearse and has transported bodies from such distance points as El Paso, Kansas City and New Orleans. WOOSTER, OHIO— A father and his son, bound for different churches, were killed along with two other members of the family, when their car crashed head-on. The dead were Charles Garrison, 34 and his wife, Naomi, 33 who were in one car his sister, Faye 14 and his father, Willard 61, who were in the other vehicle. The father and son lived about eight miles apart. FATHER, SON IN FATAL CRASH Louis Marshall an undertaker bought a plane for pleasure. Then he thought of using it to replace an ambulance for long trips. Then he made it into a hearse and has transported bodies from such distance points as El Paso, Kansas City and New Orleans. WOOSTER, OHIO— A father and his son, bound for different churches, were killed along with two other members of the family, when their car crashed head-on. The dead were Charles Garrison, 34 and his wife, Naomi, 33 who were in one car his sister, Faye 14 and his father, Willard 61, who were in the other vehicle. The father and son lived about eight miles apart.