Memphis World
Memphis World Publishing Co.
1957-01-02
Raymond F. Tisby

MEMPHIS WORLD
The South's Oldest and Leading Colored Semi-Weekly Newspaper
Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO.
Every WEDNESDAY and SATURDAY at 546 BEALE—Ph. JA. 6-4030
Member of SCOTT NEWSPAPER SYNDICATE
W. A. Scott, II, Founder; C. A. Scott, General Manager
Entered in the Post Office at Memphis, Tenn. as second-class mall
under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870
RAYMOND F .TISBY Managing Editor
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ALYSON E. WISE Circulation Promotion
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The MEMPHIS WORLD is an independent newspaper—non-sectarian
and non-partisan, printing news unblasedly and supporting those things
it believes to be of interest to its readers and opposing those things
against the interest of its readers.

The Law and the Facts
(From The Christian Science Monitor)
Federal District Judge William H. Atwel has refused to order
Dallas to desegregate its public schools "at the present time."
In so ruling he is acting within the Supreme Court's implementing
decree of May 31, 1955, which directs judges to retain jurisdiction
to proceed with "all deliberate speed," but to take account of
local situations.
At this distance it would not be fair to access Judge Atwell's
decision with respect to the local scene. Dallas has some 83,000
white and 17,000 Negro children of school age.
Judge Atwell, however, went beyond this ruling into an
"obiter dictum" criticizing the Supreme Court for basing its 1954
decision on "no law" but on "mere authoritative modern psychological 
knowledge." This is a more temperate and comprehending 
criticism than has come from other sources which refer to
psychology and sociology as though they were subversive doctrines 
Nevertheless, it repeats a sophistry that may need repeated 
refutation.
The Supreme Court's decision hinged on the meaning of the
Constitution's guarantee of "equal protection of the laws"—equal
protection in the America of 1954. The answer here lies in psychology 
and sociology as well as in law.
For psychology is simply an academic label for the systematic, 
observation of how and why individuals respond to various
situations; sociology, of how groups behave and why they behave 
that way. The Fourteenth Amendment represented a response
to the "common sense" as well as the scholarly psychological
and sociological observations of the America of 1868. The "separate 
but equal" decision was a response to such observations
of the America of 1896.
Law and findings of fact are wedded. And this means, also,
finding about how and why people think and act as they do.

It was Left For Mobile To Set The Example
This tempest in a teapot around what the court has ordered
long ago should simmer down in its tempo in the face of the
grace with which the city of Mobile, Alabama accepted the law
of the land without a formal specific decision regarding that
particular city.
In deporting from a transportation practice in the field of
segregation. Mobile simply told the world — "we will no longer
enforce segregation on its vehicles." This announcement came
from the Mobile City lines and in its graceful action, this public
service agency sets an example for those of the sister cities making
no contribution in their refusal to accept desegregation without
expensive and useless litigation.
More than this, R. J. Curtright, Mobile City lines manager
declared, "We feel that the Supreme Court's decision applies to
all cities."
There it is in a nutshell; and with Mobile's bus manager,
there are thousands who feel that the causing of suits, bad relations 
and bombing are not the answer in these trying times when
sanity and level-headed are the resources so much needed for
the solution of our trying problems.
Quire to the contrary, Birmingham is paying the heavy price
of resistance; a Negro minister's home has been bombed and
several persons have been hit in property damage.
In the face of what finally came to Montgomery after a
better than a year was spent in confusion over the bus situation,
we must agree with Mobile's Transit manager, that the decision
"applies to all cities in Alabama." In that the order should be
accepted gracefully, thereby laying an example for all cities and
states.
Let it be said for noble that a laudable example has been
set and beyond a doubt there will be other cities following suit.
Nashville in considering voluntary action regarding its buses.
While segregation should never have been in the first place,
this is truly the only American way out. Mobile shows the way.

Rail Bias On The Wane
(From The New York Times)
Eighteen railroads operating in New York and New Jersey
have rendered a signal service to American democracy for which
they deserve the nation's applause. They have given public assurance 
that their employment policies – and practice – are now
free of all discriminations against Negroes and that many Negroes 
are being employed, including some in supervisory positions. 
Credit for all this is also due in part to Charles Abrams,
Chairman of the New York State Commission Against Discrimination, 
and to Dr. John P. Milligan, his opposite number in New
Jersey, and to their associates, who have been working for over
a year to end racial bias on the roads.
Because discrimination has been more deeply entrenched in
the railroad industry than probably any other, the action of
the eighteen companies is particularly welcome. As every traveler
knows. Negroes have been conspicuous for their absence in railroad 
trains, offices and yards – except for waiters and porters
in dining, parlor and sleeping cars – and through no wish of their
own. Organized labor has had to share the blame for this with
management. The constitutions of all the operating brotherhoods
close the door of membership to Negroes.
But the unions can now also share the credit for at least
a partial removal of these blocks. They have assured the state
authorities that these provisions of their charters are being waived
in New Jersey and New York, as is being done also in the eleven
other states that have similar anti-discrimination laws.
What has happened in New Jersey and New York should, of
course, happen in every other state in the union. Negroes should
be freely admitted to union membership, not by waiver of existing
discriminatory constitutional provisions, but by their complete and
speedy removal. And railroad managements in other states should
follow the lead of the enlightened eighteen.

Let Mr. Nixon Do It
The latest proposal to set up the Vice Presidency as some
such designation as assistant to the President what the office
originally should have meant. Down the annals of history, there
might not have been much importance attached to the office,
nevertheless, it was a post just one heart-beat from the Presidency
of the United States. In that any person occupying the office of
Vice-President was liable to be called upon at any moment to
be sworn in as President.
Some of the elected to the post admittedly were not
capable to hold the office with that dignify and credit expected
from the man heading the ticket. Maybe some two or three
out of the few who ascended to the Presidency upon the depth

of the President, upon test might not have measured up to the
high standard of the office.
Two Republicans have succeeded to the Presidency upon the
death of Presidents – Theodore Roosevelt and Calvin Coolidge.
Both, after the expiration of their terms of office were elected
on their own hooks. Both made excellent contributions to the high
office.
Andrew Johnson succeeded Lincoln, but he was not a Republican; 
he was a Tennessee Democrat and was placed on the ticket
more for his Union sympathies than his party affiliations.
Of later years more attention is being paid to the selection
of the man to occupy the office of Vice-President. The present
vice-President is one of those carefully screened and found titled
for the office of President.
After all, he was twice the choice of President Eisenhower,
who refused to adhere to some critic who sought to place someone 
else on the ticket.
The proposal according to press releases would relieve Mr.
Nixon of his post as president of the Senate, leaving that job to be
filled like that of Speaker of the House of Representative. That
would give the Vice-President more time to follow up things
executive and in line with the training needed if and when he
should ascend to the Presidency.
The Vice-President should be directly in the understudy of
the President; he should be eligible to attend most of the conferences 
engaged in by the President and that ready person of
top counsel in matters relating to the office of the President.
Just how far the proposal will go cannot be envisioned at
present, however, it will doubtless be one of the main questions
to be settled by the incoming Congress.
Yes, let Mr. Nixon do it. The fact is, he has been and still is
the most active Vice-President in the history of the nation. Many
missions and services have been performed by Vice-President
Nixon at the request of President Eisenhower.

REVIEWING
THE NEWS
BY WILLIAM GORDON
Managing Editor
Atlanta Daily World
Mob rule is always void of logic, and any segment of society
submitting to its practices is likely to become the victim of its
methods. This may account for the position the South finds itself
today.
The strong resistance against bus integration in sporadic
areas over the deep South may account for this action. Even
stupidity has a history. They run deep into the soil of superstition
and fear, born out of ignorance. There are many instances that
document the above. But the most important thing it seems, is
what's actually back of action by Negroes in the South in their
fight against bus segregation.
The story of the woman standing to board a bus in a small
Arkansas town may be a case in point.
"I stood there, at the head of the line, with ticket in hand,
waiting for the driver to open the door of the bus. When he did,
I entered and walked to the jim crow section for Negroes in the
back. But the driver did not seem content with this. He come
back, grabbed me by the arm and pushed me off the bus."
"Wait until all white people have boarded," he said.
"This finally concluded, I had to enter the bus again and
push my way through the crowd of whites and take a seat at the
rear." There are other stories, much more embarrassing and
brutal.
Isaac Woodard, a World War II veteran, will never see again
because a policeman in South Carolina beat him, finally poking
his night stick into the eyes of Woodard, blinding him for life. The
reason; The soldier got into an argument with the driver of the
bus over seating arrangements.
The number of Negroes, taken off buses, insulted, beaten,
and finally jailed because they attempted to talk back to the
driver is still prevalent in many Southern cities. And most of it
stems from segregation. This alone should be reason enough for
them to protest segregated public facilities.
Mobsters are without mentality, assuming that some will
beat women, molest children, even shoot them. Even the outlaws
of the old West had a credo. They would not shoot men in the
back, or dynamite homes.
Where the South has failed is through willfully permitting
mob rule to take the lead in protesting against what is now the
law. The fact is, mobsters emerge during every period of social
change, whether they make up the Ku Klux Klan, the White Citizens 
Council, the Know Nothings and Anti-Masonic or anti-Catholic 
elements. They are still moving out of line with law and should
be dealt with. The South will finally have to deal With these
elements if it wants to avoid further stagnation, economically and
politically. For those who tie themselves to lawless elements will
finally become the victims themselves.
This was true as far back as 1826 when William Morgan
wrote a book exposing certain secrets of the Masonic Order.
Morgan was taken out and reported killed. His death gave rise
to a lawless movement which finally died, but before doing so,
took a lot of good people; down with it.
The Know Nothing movement during the 1850 was similar
to that of the Ku Klux Klan, the Citizens Council. The Know
Nothings, "Native American" settlers led a strong movement
against the Irish following the potato famine of 1848-49. They
fought the Irish for seeking asylum in America. They also failed.
And of course the history of KKK movement, is very much
ancient history today with the Citizens Council struggling to hang
an to a rapidly fading way of life.
Historians would say that the philosophy of these groups is
based on mob rule, superstition, fear and frustration. Such movements 
are actually based on cowardice, people fearful of facing
reality. They do not represent the sound and practical element of
the South; they are people who would disobey the law; regardless
of its nature.
The South, if it want to move ahead, must force out mobsters. 
Mob leaders are net representative of law and order; they
are not the best informed people. Moreover, they represent the
isolated, the schizoid, the lunatic fringe of social action. The South
will do itself a lot of good to steer away from such groups.

Mob Rule Is Not The Answer ...
BY WILLIAM GORDON
Managing Editor
Atlanta Daily World
Mob rule is always void of logic, and any segment of society
submitting to its practices is likely to become the victim of its
methods. This may account for the position the South finds itself
today.
The strong resistance against bus integration in sporadic
areas over the deep South may account for this action. Even
stupidity has a history. They run deep into the soil of superstition
and fear, born out of ignorance. There are many instances that
document the above. But the most important thing it seems, is
what's actually back of action by Negroes in the South in their
fight against bus segregation.
The story of the woman standing to board a bus in a small
Arkansas town may be a case in point.
"I stood there, at the head of the line, with ticket in hand,
waiting for the driver to open the door of the bus. When he did,
I entered and walked to the jim crow section for Negroes in the
back. But the driver did not seem content with this. He come
back, grabbed me by the arm and pushed me off the bus."
"Wait until all white people have boarded," he said.
"This finally concluded, I had to enter the bus again and
push my way through the crowd of whites and take a seat at the
rear." There are other stories, much more embarrassing and
brutal.
Isaac Woodard, a World War II veteran, will never see again
because a policeman in South Carolina beat him, finally poking
his night stick into the eyes of Woodard, blinding him for life. The
reason; The soldier got into an argument with the driver of the
bus over seating arrangements.
The number of Negroes, taken off buses, insulted, beaten,
and finally jailed because they attempted to talk back to the
driver is still prevalent in many Southern cities. And most of it
stems from segregation. This alone should be reason enough for
them to protest segregated public facilities.
Mobsters are without mentality, assuming that some will
beat women, molest children, even shoot them. Even the outlaws
of the old West had a credo. They would not shoot men in the
back, or dynamite homes.
Where the South has failed is through willfully permitting
mob rule to take the lead in protesting against what is now the
law. The fact is, mobsters emerge during every period of social
change, whether they make up the Ku Klux Klan, the White Citizens 
Council, the Know Nothings and Anti-Masonic or anti-Catholic 
elements. They are still moving out of line with law and should
be dealt with. The South will finally have to deal With these
elements if it wants to avoid further stagnation, economically and
politically. For those who tie themselves to lawless elements will
finally become the victims themselves.
This was true as far back as 1826 when William Morgan
wrote a book exposing certain secrets of the Masonic Order.
Morgan was taken out and reported killed. His death gave rise
to a lawless movement which finally died, but before doing so,
took a lot of good people; down with it.
The Know Nothing movement during the 1850 was similar
to that of the Ku Klux Klan, the Citizens Council. The Know
Nothings, "Native American" settlers led a strong movement
against the Irish following the potato famine of 1848-49. They
fought the Irish for seeking asylum in America. They also failed.
And of course the history of KKK movement, is very much
ancient history today with the Citizens Council struggling to hang
an to a rapidly fading way of life.
Historians would say that the philosophy of these groups is
based on mob rule, superstition, fear and frustration. Such movements 
are actually based on cowardice, people fearful of facing
reality. They do not represent the sound and practical element of
the South; they are people who would disobey the law; regardless
of its nature.
The South, if it want to move ahead, must force out mobsters. 
Mob leaders are net representative of law and order; they
are not the best informed people. Moreover, they represent the
isolated, the schizoid, the lunatic fringe of social action. The South
will do itself a lot of good to steer away from such groups.

GETS CHRISTMAS GIFT
OF $5,000 HE FOUND
Honesty 
paid off for Eddie Smith.
A heap of old scrap paper he
and in a Canarisie, Brooklyn
dump pile last June turned out to
be a golden Christmas gift of
$5,182.
Smith, who celebrated by taking
his family on a holiday visit to
relatives in Henderson, N. C., where
he and his wife were born, became
owner of the money when it was
not claimed.
An independent trucker, Smith
lucked upon the treasure June 18
while dumping a load of rubbish
on he disposal grounds at Ralph
and Stat lands Ave.
He was sifting through the trash
to find scrap metal. His pick struck
and uncovered a battered aluminum

teapot. He was startled to behold
a batch of soiled, old green, bills
spill out. He believed them counter
feit bills or stage money as they
were of the type issued during
Civil War days.
A friend, who was less dubious
took them to the Bankers Trust
Co., where officers offered to exchange 
them for new currency.
However, Mr. Smith decided to report 
his find to police.
Three FBI checked them to make
certain they were not part of the
Lindbergh kidnap ransom money.
The money was then turned over
to the police property clerk's office.
No owner showed up to claim it.
So, last week, after six months, the
fortune in old gold certificates be
came 
legally the property of the
finder.
Smith said he tends to keep
most of the money to help his son
James 15 and his daughter, Mary,
11, attend college.

POLIO STRIKES ADULTS


Will Renew Efforts For
Grants To Halt Delinquency
The
administration next year will renew 
its proposal to Congress for
Federal grants to the States to help
attack the growing problem of juvenile 
delinquency, Marion B. Folsom, 
Secretary of Health, Education, 
and Welfare, said today.
Mr. Folsom said the proposal
would call for 3 types of grants to
be made to the States, for a period 
of 5 years to encourage improvements 
in police, court, detention,
probation, and special social services 
required in the control and
reduction of juvenile delinquency.
In its major purposes, the proposal 
legislation is similar to an
administration bill (S. 894) introduced 
in the 84th Congress which
failed to pass. The Federal grants,
to be matched by the States would
be administered by the Children's
Bureau in the Department of
Health, Education and Welfare.
"Although the amounts involved
would be modest." Mr. Folsom
said "we believe the grants would
have a constructive effect in the

total effort against juvenile delinquency." 

One type of grant would help
States and institutions of higher
learning undertake a variety of
training activities, to provide more
trained personnel to work with
delinquent youth.
A second type would be for demonstrations 
or studies of regional
or national significance such as
work with frequent repeater cases.
The third type of grant is intended 
to encourage State and community 
efforts to raise standards
of work with delinquent-prone
youth and with those adjulicated
delinquent.
"For 7 consecutive years," Mr.

Folsom commented "the number of
delinquent youngsters appearing in
juvenile courts has gone up. These
cases have reached their highest
peak in our history—about onehalf 
million in 1955. With a greatly 
increased child population, we
are in danger, as a Nation, of seeing 
numbers increase still further
unless more effective measures are
taken.
"Heavy responsibilities rest first
with families, schools, churches,
and various private organizations to
help children develop in a normal,
wholesome way" Mr. Folsom said.
Programs for the control of juvenile 
delinquency are indisputably
the business of communities and
States. However, it is clearly in
the national interest for the Federal 
Government to strengthen the
hands of local and State governments 
in dealing with lawlessness
among youth—a problem that
President Eisenhower has so vividly 
described as filled with heartbreak." 

In the past 2 years. Secretary
Folsom noted, the Delinquent of
Healthy Education, and Welfare
has stepped up its research into
causative factors behind juvenile
delinquency, and has increased its
Children's Bureau staff of consultants 
to agencies dealing with these
youngsters.
"We now have abundant evidence,
hat simply offering technical assistance 
to these agencies is not
enough to modernize methods of
coping, with delinquency States
and communities should have some
financial encouragement — at least
for a limited period—to develop
new and more effective ways of
working with these socially sick
boys and girls. Hence, the grants
which the administration is proposing." 


Emancipation







Baton Rouge

harmony" bus company Attorney
Frank Middleton said, "but we've
got to do at the law says."
Negroes in Baton Rouge launched
a boycott of city busses a full year
before the successful Montgomery
protest-began in December of 1955.
The Baton Rouge boycott led to
revision of the city's segregation
ordinance which prohibited white
riders from occupying the last seat
in a vehicle and required Negro
seats of a bus open for while riders.

Eight Year Old

kite."
The Police report also stated that
Ellis stopped his car after the accident 
looked at the girl's body
lying face downward on the street,
and then drove away.
A Negro, driving a Cadillac,
chased Ellis west for about six
blocks on Walker, but lost him, the
officers said. The driver was not
identified.
The accident report further stated
that Ellis drove his car to his house,
parked it in the rear and left.
Patrolmen J. F. Hudson, B. F.
Shaw, and J. E. Klemme saw him
walking at Third and McLemore
at 4:45 o'clock and arrested him.
Witnesses had given Police a good
description of the driver.
At Police Headquarters Ellis, in
reply to questioning said, "I just
got scared." Upon being given a
test on the drunkometer at Police
Headquarters, Ellis registered 103.
Any reading above 15 is usually
required for a drunk driving
charge.
Ellis' car was speeding at 60-miles
per hour at the time that he saw
the girl Police said; but they
stated that he was going at about
40 miles per hour when the car
struck her.
The child's body struck a bus
stop sigh at the northeast corner
of the intersection.

STOPPED CAR

kite."
The Police report also stated that
Ellis stopped his car after the accident 
looked at the girl's body
lying face downward on the street,
and then drove away.
A Negro, driving a Cadillac,
chased Ellis west for about six
blocks on Walker, but lost him, the
officers said. The driver was not
identified.
The accident report further stated
that Ellis drove his car to his house,
parked it in the rear and left.
Patrolmen J. F. Hudson, B. F.
Shaw, and J. E. Klemme saw him
walking at Third and McLemore
at 4:45 o'clock and arrested him.
Witnesses had given Police a good
description of the driver.
At Police Headquarters Ellis, in
reply to questioning said, "I just
got scared." Upon being given a
test on the drunkometer at Police
Headquarters, Ellis registered 103.
Any reading above 15 is usually
required for a drunk driving
charge.
Ellis' car was speeding at 60-miles
per hour at the time that he saw
the girl Police said; but they
stated that he was going at about
40 miles per hour when the car
struck her.
The child's body struck a bus
stop sigh at the northeast corner
of the intersection.

PARKS VEHICLE

kite."
The Police report also stated that
Ellis stopped his car after the accident 
looked at the girl's body
lying face downward on the street,
and then drove away.
A Negro, driving a Cadillac,
chased Ellis west for about six
blocks on Walker, but lost him, the
officers said. The driver was not
identified.
The accident report further stated
that Ellis drove his car to his house,
parked it in the rear and left.
Patrolmen J. F. Hudson, B. F.
Shaw, and J. E. Klemme saw him
walking at Third and McLemore
at 4:45 o'clock and arrested him.
Witnesses had given Police a good
description of the driver.
At Police Headquarters Ellis, in
reply to questioning said, "I just
got scared." Upon being given a
test on the drunkometer at Police
Headquarters, Ellis registered 103.
Any reading above 15 is usually
required for a drunk driving
charge.
Ellis' car was speeding at 60-miles
per hour at the time that he saw
the girl Police said; but they
stated that he was going at about
40 miles per hour when the car
struck her.
The child's body struck a bus
stop sigh at the northeast corner
of the intersection.

"GOT SCARED"—
REGISTERS DRUNK

kite."
The Police report also stated that
Ellis stopped his car after the accident 
looked at the girl's body
lying face downward on the street,
and then drove away.
A Negro, driving a Cadillac,
chased Ellis west for about six
blocks on Walker, but lost him, the
officers said. The driver was not
identified.
The accident report further stated
that Ellis drove his car to his house,
parked it in the rear and left.
Patrolmen J. F. Hudson, B. F.
Shaw, and J. E. Klemme saw him
walking at Third and McLemore
at 4:45 o'clock and arrested him.
Witnesses had given Police a good
description of the driver.
At Police Headquarters Ellis, in
reply to questioning said, "I just
got scared." Upon being given a
test on the drunkometer at Police
Headquarters, Ellis registered 103.
Any reading above 15 is usually
required for a drunk driving
charge.
Ellis' car was speeding at 60-miles
per hour at the time that he saw
the girl Police said; but they
stated that he was going at about
40 miles per hour when the car
struck her.
The child's body struck a bus
stop sigh at the northeast corner
of the intersection.


by KELLEY ROOS
From the Dodd, Mead & co. novel Copyright ©1949 be william and Audrey Kelley Roos ©1958 by Kelley Rock
Distributed by King Features Syndicate.

Police promptly got the names of
all Miss Farrell's pupils and began
checking to identify the 7 p. m.
waltzer. When Lieut Soling asked
Steve his lesson time. Steve said 3
o'clock Saturday. From the stolen appointment 
book Sieve took the lesson
time of a Ralph Tolley, whom Bolling 
hasn't contacted—yet.

My dance lesson finally came to
an end and I was free for the
next two hours. Casually I began
School of Dancing, exploring its
maze of corridors and their celllike 
studios. I found what I was
searching for in what seemed to
be a conference room. In a corner, 
beyond a long, polished table
and its surrounding chairs, was
a door that opened on a shallow
closet. Fastened to its back wall
was a ladder. I closed the door
behind me and started climbing.
From the top of the ladder I
crawled onto a narrow catwalk.
There wasn't enough room to
Stand up between the false ceiling 
that covered the school and
the real ceiling above it. On my
hands and knees I started forward. 

Enough light sifted up through
the grills from the rooms below
me to see that I was surrounded
by a jungle of wires and cables
and pipes. That explained the
false ceiling, even to the unscientific 
likes of me. It had been
simpler to install wires and pipes
overhead than to encase them in
the labyrinth of temporary Walls
that cut the fourteenth floor of
the building into dancing studios.
As I crawled along in search of
Studio K I could hear voices in
the rooms below me. I heard a
male instructor patiently counting 
out steps for a beginner . . .
"Glide, two and three . . . glide,
two and three . . ." In another
studio, as I crossed it, a man
was explaining that as a young
one he had been a pretty snappy
stepper, but he didn't know,
somehow he had got rusty . . .
In another I heard a man say
that as soon as the hour was
over he was going to take a
chance and go down to Rhinebeck 
Place. A girl didn't seem to
think that was wise. I didn't

stop to hear who won the argument. 
If my calculations were
right, and I wasn't lost, Studio
K would be the next one:
I was right Leaning away
from the catwalk, my hands on
a rafter, I could see down into
the room. I saw my purse on
the chair by the door. This was
Studio K and my theory had been
correct.
Up here the murderer had
crouched, waiting, watching. The
moment that Sieve had left he
had aimed his gun down through
the grill, pulled the trigger and
shot Anita Farrell to death. It
was as simple as that. He might
even have still been here when
I entered the room, might have
watched me as I came upon the
body of the dancing teacher.
This wasn't a pleasant thought.
The Killer might know by now
why I had not reported the murder. 
He might have figured out
that it was I who stole the register 
and why . . . because I was
Steve Barton the Waltzer's wife.
He might even have guessed why
I had finagled my way onto the
faculty here and that I was looking 
for him.
He had killed once. If he felt
I was getting too close to him,
he might not hesitate to do me
a certain amount of bodily harm
which could prove fatal . . .
I got rid of that idea hastily.
There was work for me to do,
I had to talk to Steve; I had
news for him.
It took only a few minutes to
get down off the catwalk. I
managed to slide out of the conference 
room without attracting
any attention. After collecting
my purse from Studio K and locating 
a dime, I found that the
pair of telephone booths in the
corridor were both in use.
I sat down on a sleek curved
Sofa I picked up the afternoon
paper that lay beside me. The
murder of Anita Farrell was still
a front page story, but there
wasn't much that was new. The
Waltzer was still at large, but
the police expected an early arrest, 
etc. No family or relatives
of the victim hail been located,
etc. The Medical Examiner had
ascertained that Miss Farrell had
been killed by a thirty-two caliber 
bullet, etc. I put down the
paper.
I got up to step into a vacated
phone booth. Then I sat down
again, picked up the paper again.
I read once more what the Medical 
Examiner had to say.
It had been decided, from the
angle by which the bullet had entered 
Anita Farrell's body, that
the killer had been standing nine
or ten feet behind her when he
pulled the trigger. I put the
paper on my lap. My theory of
the grill had been demolished.
The killer could not have shot
his bullet down through the ceil
ing. 
The bullet had not been fired
by someone crouching over the
grill above Anita Farrell. The
angle was wrong for that. She
had been shot by someone standing 
in the studio with her, nine
of ten feet behind her. I was
right back where I started. Only
Steve had been in that studio.
I had no news for him, after
all. I had spent a whole precious
day for nothing, wasted all these
hours. I would go home now,
wait for Steve, explain my failure.
I sat, staring gloomily at the
newspaper on my lap, and my
eyes caught the words Rhinebeck 
Place.
There in black and white the
newspaper said that the victim
had lived at number 11 Rhinebeck 
Place. Just a few minutes
ago I had heard someone say
those words, if not that number.
A man's voice, in the room next
to Studio K, had said that he was
going to take a chance and go
down to Rhinebeck Place. A girl's
voice had been against it. Thinking 
back, I realized her tone did
not imply that he was going to
Rhinebeck Place to have his hat
cleaned and blocked. Unless my
memory was cutting up there
could have been nervousness and
apprehension in that voice.
I got up. I had to see what
teacher was giving what student
a lesson in the studio next to
mine. But I headed in exactly
the opposite direction. An elevator 
had opened and from it
had stepped a man. He was an
ordinary, even pleasant looking
man in a solid, vigorous vein.
The sight of him shouldn't have
alarmed me ... except that I had
seen him before. In fact, I knew
him. Steve and I. Lieutenant Detective 
Boiling and this gentleman 
had shared a cab southbound 
from the Polo Grounds one
late afternoon. This gentleman
was Boiling's Homicide squad
side-kick, George Hankins. He
too was a conscientious defender
of the law and he would surely
feel duty-bound to Make Steve
Barton's wife explain what she
was doing teaching at the Crescent 
School of Dancing.
I didn't dare look over my shoulder 
to see if the footsteps pounding 
down the corridor behind my
belonged to Hankins. I Concentrated 
on seeming to be a rightfull 
employee of Mr. Bell's, simply
going about my daily chores. I
stopped at the first door, Studio
B. opened it and closed it behind
me. The room was sound-proofed
I couldn't tell" whether the fool
steps, too, had stopped or gone
on by.
A voice said, "May I help
you?"


SYNOPSIS
by KELLEY ROOS
From the Dodd, Mead & co. novel Copyright ©1949 be william and Audrey Kelley Roos ©1958 by Kelley Rock
Distributed by King Features Syndicate.

Police promptly got the names of
all Miss Farrell's pupils and began
checking to identify the 7 p. m.
waltzer. When Lieut Soling asked
Steve his lesson time. Steve said 3
o'clock Saturday. From the stolen appointment 
book Sieve took the lesson
time of a Ralph Tolley, whom Bolling 
hasn't contacted—yet.

My dance lesson finally came to
an end and I was free for the
next two hours. Casually I began
School of Dancing, exploring its
maze of corridors and their celllike 
studios. I found what I was
searching for in what seemed to
be a conference room. In a corner, 
beyond a long, polished table
and its surrounding chairs, was
a door that opened on a shallow
closet. Fastened to its back wall
was a ladder. I closed the door
behind me and started climbing.
From the top of the ladder I
crawled onto a narrow catwalk.
There wasn't enough room to
Stand up between the false ceiling 
that covered the school and
the real ceiling above it. On my
hands and knees I started forward. 

Enough light sifted up through
the grills from the rooms below
me to see that I was surrounded
by a jungle of wires and cables
and pipes. That explained the
false ceiling, even to the unscientific 
likes of me. It had been
simpler to install wires and pipes
overhead than to encase them in
the labyrinth of temporary Walls
that cut the fourteenth floor of
the building into dancing studios.
As I crawled along in search of
Studio K I could hear voices in
the rooms below me. I heard a
male instructor patiently counting 
out steps for a beginner . . .
"Glide, two and three . . . glide,
two and three . . ." In another
studio, as I crossed it, a man
was explaining that as a young
one he had been a pretty snappy
stepper, but he didn't know,
somehow he had got rusty . . .
In another I heard a man say
that as soon as the hour was
over he was going to take a
chance and go down to Rhinebeck 
Place. A girl didn't seem to
think that was wise. I didn't

stop to hear who won the argument. 
If my calculations were
right, and I wasn't lost, Studio
K would be the next one:
I was right Leaning away
from the catwalk, my hands on
a rafter, I could see down into
the room. I saw my purse on
the chair by the door. This was
Studio K and my theory had been
correct.
Up here the murderer had
crouched, waiting, watching. The
moment that Sieve had left he
had aimed his gun down through
the grill, pulled the trigger and
shot Anita Farrell to death. It
was as simple as that. He might
even have still been here when
I entered the room, might have
watched me as I came upon the
body of the dancing teacher.
This wasn't a pleasant thought.
The Killer might know by now
why I had not reported the murder. 
He might have figured out
that it was I who stole the register 
and why . . . because I was
Steve Barton the Waltzer's wife.
He might even have guessed why
I had finagled my way onto the
faculty here and that I was looking 
for him.
He had killed once. If he felt
I was getting too close to him,
he might not hesitate to do me
a certain amount of bodily harm
which could prove fatal . . .
I got rid of that idea hastily.
There was work for me to do,
I had to talk to Steve; I had
news for him.
It took only a few minutes to
get down off the catwalk. I
managed to slide out of the conference 
room without attracting
any attention. After collecting
my purse from Studio K and locating 
a dime, I found that the
pair of telephone booths in the
corridor were both in use.
I sat down on a sleek curved
Sofa I picked up the afternoon
paper that lay beside me. The
murder of Anita Farrell was still
a front page story, but there
wasn't much that was new. The
Waltzer was still at large, but
the police expected an early arrest, 
etc. No family or relatives
of the victim hail been located,
etc. The Medical Examiner had
ascertained that Miss Farrell had
been killed by a thirty-two caliber 
bullet, etc. I put down the
paper.
I got up to step into a vacated
phone booth. Then I sat down
again, picked up the paper again.
I read once more what the Medical 
Examiner had to say.
It had been decided, from the
angle by which the bullet had entered 
Anita Farrell's body, that
the killer had been standing nine
or ten feet behind her when he
pulled the trigger. I put the
paper on my lap. My theory of
the grill had been demolished.
The killer could not have shot
his bullet down through the ceil
ing. 
The bullet had not been fired
by someone crouching over the
grill above Anita Farrell. The
angle was wrong for that. She
had been shot by someone standing 
in the studio with her, nine
of ten feet behind her. I was
right back where I started. Only
Steve had been in that studio.
I had no news for him, after
all. I had spent a whole precious
day for nothing, wasted all these
hours. I would go home now,
wait for Steve, explain my failure.
I sat, staring gloomily at the
newspaper on my lap, and my
eyes caught the words Rhinebeck 
Place.
There in black and white the
newspaper said that the victim
had lived at number 11 Rhinebeck 
Place. Just a few minutes
ago I had heard someone say
those words, if not that number.
A man's voice, in the room next
to Studio K, had said that he was
going to take a chance and go
down to Rhinebeck Place. A girl's
voice had been against it. Thinking 
back, I realized her tone did
not imply that he was going to
Rhinebeck Place to have his hat
cleaned and blocked. Unless my
memory was cutting up there
could have been nervousness and
apprehension in that voice.
I got up. I had to see what
teacher was giving what student
a lesson in the studio next to
mine. But I headed in exactly
the opposite direction. An elevator 
had opened and from it
had stepped a man. He was an
ordinary, even pleasant looking
man in a solid, vigorous vein.
The sight of him shouldn't have
alarmed me ... except that I had
seen him before. In fact, I knew
him. Steve and I. Lieutenant Detective 
Boiling and this gentleman 
had shared a cab southbound 
from the Polo Grounds one
late afternoon. This gentleman
was Boiling's Homicide squad
side-kick, George Hankins. He
too was a conscientious defender
of the law and he would surely
feel duty-bound to Make Steve
Barton's wife explain what she
was doing teaching at the Crescent 
School of Dancing.
I didn't dare look over my shoulder 
to see if the footsteps pounding 
down the corridor behind my
belonged to Hankins. I Concentrated 
on seeming to be a rightfull 
employee of Mr. Bell's, simply
going about my daily chores. I
stopped at the first door, Studio
B. opened it and closed it behind
me. The room was sound-proofed
I couldn't tell" whether the fool
steps, too, had stopped or gone
on by.
A voice said, "May I help
you?"


CHAPTER 9
by KELLEY ROOS
From the Dodd, Mead & co. novel Copyright ©1949 be william and Audrey Kelley Roos ©1958 by Kelley Rock
Distributed by King Features Syndicate.

Police promptly got the names of
all Miss Farrell's pupils and began
checking to identify the 7 p. m.
waltzer. When Lieut Soling asked
Steve his lesson time. Steve said 3
o'clock Saturday. From the stolen appointment 
book Sieve took the lesson
time of a Ralph Tolley, whom Bolling 
hasn't contacted—yet.

My dance lesson finally came to
an end and I was free for the
next two hours. Casually I began
School of Dancing, exploring its
maze of corridors and their celllike 
studios. I found what I was
searching for in what seemed to
be a conference room. In a corner, 
beyond a long, polished table
and its surrounding chairs, was
a door that opened on a shallow
closet. Fastened to its back wall
was a ladder. I closed the door
behind me and started climbing.
From the top of the ladder I
crawled onto a narrow catwalk.
There wasn't enough room to
Stand up between the false ceiling 
that covered the school and
the real ceiling above it. On my
hands and knees I started forward. 

Enough light sifted up through
the grills from the rooms below
me to see that I was surrounded
by a jungle of wires and cables
and pipes. That explained the
false ceiling, even to the unscientific 
likes of me. It had been
simpler to install wires and pipes
overhead than to encase them in
the labyrinth of temporary Walls
that cut the fourteenth floor of
the building into dancing studios.
As I crawled along in search of
Studio K I could hear voices in
the rooms below me. I heard a
male instructor patiently counting 
out steps for a beginner . . .
"Glide, two and three . . . glide,
two and three . . ." In another
studio, as I crossed it, a man
was explaining that as a young
one he had been a pretty snappy
stepper, but he didn't know,
somehow he had got rusty . . .
In another I heard a man say
that as soon as the hour was
over he was going to take a
chance and go down to Rhinebeck 
Place. A girl didn't seem to
think that was wise. I didn't

stop to hear who won the argument. 
If my calculations were
right, and I wasn't lost, Studio
K would be the next one:
I was right Leaning away
from the catwalk, my hands on
a rafter, I could see down into
the room. I saw my purse on
the chair by the door. This was
Studio K and my theory had been
correct.
Up here the murderer had
crouched, waiting, watching. The
moment that Sieve had left he
had aimed his gun down through
the grill, pulled the trigger and
shot Anita Farrell to death. It
was as simple as that. He might
even have still been here when
I entered the room, might have
watched me as I came upon the
body of the dancing teacher.
This wasn't a pleasant thought.
The Killer might know by now
why I had not reported the murder. 
He might have figured out
that it was I who stole the register 
and why . . . because I was
Steve Barton the Waltzer's wife.
He might even have guessed why
I had finagled my way onto the
faculty here and that I was looking 
for him.
He had killed once. If he felt
I was getting too close to him,
he might not hesitate to do me
a certain amount of bodily harm
which could prove fatal . . .
I got rid of that idea hastily.
There was work for me to do,
I had to talk to Steve; I had
news for him.
It took only a few minutes to
get down off the catwalk. I
managed to slide out of the conference 
room without attracting
any attention. After collecting
my purse from Studio K and locating 
a dime, I found that the
pair of telephone booths in the
corridor were both in use.
I sat down on a sleek curved
Sofa I picked up the afternoon
paper that lay beside me. The
murder of Anita Farrell was still
a front page story, but there
wasn't much that was new. The
Waltzer was still at large, but
the police expected an early arrest, 
etc. No family or relatives
of the victim hail been located,
etc. The Medical Examiner had
ascertained that Miss Farrell had
been killed by a thirty-two caliber 
bullet, etc. I put down the
paper.
I got up to step into a vacated
phone booth. Then I sat down
again, picked up the paper again.
I read once more what the Medical 
Examiner had to say.
It had been decided, from the
angle by which the bullet had entered 
Anita Farrell's body, that
the killer had been standing nine
or ten feet behind her when he
pulled the trigger. I put the
paper on my lap. My theory of
the grill had been demolished.
The killer could not have shot
his bullet down through the ceil
ing. 
The bullet had not been fired
by someone crouching over the
grill above Anita Farrell. The
angle was wrong for that. She
had been shot by someone standing 
in the studio with her, nine
of ten feet behind her. I was
right back where I started. Only
Steve had been in that studio.
I had no news for him, after
all. I had spent a whole precious
day for nothing, wasted all these
hours. I would go home now,
wait for Steve, explain my failure.
I sat, staring gloomily at the
newspaper on my lap, and my
eyes caught the words Rhinebeck 
Place.
There in black and white the
newspaper said that the victim
had lived at number 11 Rhinebeck 
Place. Just a few minutes
ago I had heard someone say
those words, if not that number.
A man's voice, in the room next
to Studio K, had said that he was
going to take a chance and go
down to Rhinebeck Place. A girl's
voice had been against it. Thinking 
back, I realized her tone did
not imply that he was going to
Rhinebeck Place to have his hat
cleaned and blocked. Unless my
memory was cutting up there
could have been nervousness and
apprehension in that voice.
I got up. I had to see what
teacher was giving what student
a lesson in the studio next to
mine. But I headed in exactly
the opposite direction. An elevator 
had opened and from it
had stepped a man. He was an
ordinary, even pleasant looking
man in a solid, vigorous vein.
The sight of him shouldn't have
alarmed me ... except that I had
seen him before. In fact, I knew
him. Steve and I. Lieutenant Detective 
Boiling and this gentleman 
had shared a cab southbound 
from the Polo Grounds one
late afternoon. This gentleman
was Boiling's Homicide squad
side-kick, George Hankins. He
too was a conscientious defender
of the law and he would surely
feel duty-bound to Make Steve
Barton's wife explain what she
was doing teaching at the Crescent 
School of Dancing.
I didn't dare look over my shoulder 
to see if the footsteps pounding 
down the corridor behind my
belonged to Hankins. I Concentrated 
on seeming to be a rightfull 
employee of Mr. Bell's, simply
going about my daily chores. I
stopped at the first door, Studio
B. opened it and closed it behind
me. The room was sound-proofed
I couldn't tell" whether the fool
steps, too, had stopped or gone
on by.
A voice said, "May I help
you?"


MY WEEKLY
SERMON
REV. BLAIR T. HUNT,
PASTOR
MISSISSIPPI BLVD. CHRISTIAN
CHURCH, MEMPHIS

We call this New Year season. But
will it be really new to many people

whose life falls in the same old rut,
the same old grind, the same old
seven and six, the same old conventional 
round in the shop in the
factory, in the home or In society?
Paul's familiar words "forgetting"
and "pressing forward" may afford
suggestion, when applied to the
deeper religious phases of life. Not
that we forget everything. Don't
forget the sweet friendships, the
heavenly visions, the noble resolves
the many beautiful things done for
you, write them upon the tablets of
your memory with the indelible pencil 
of love. Forget the ugly, the
false, the impure.
Paul did not forget the genial
friendships, the heavenly visions,
the high resolves. But me window
of his soul was open to new adaptations: 
as it enabled him to graspthe 
fuller relation of the ever unfolding 
plan of God.
Here is here each New Year offers 
enticing untried adventures,
causing us to lose sight of the snubs
snarls and spites of 1956. May it be
we are so busy writing a brand new
page of accomplishments in 1957,
that the failures of 1956 will be for
gotten.
Paul's rare achievements were
Over-shadowed amid the larger possibilities 
yet to come. The anticipation 
of faith and the eager expectancy 
of hope gave novelty, newness
and zest to each approaching day.
Our anticipation and expectancy
assist in lifting us out of the old
ruts of yester years.
If we must die in 1957 let us die
climbing. In climbing the upward
look and preserving will bring new
visions to the old path traversed in
1956. When our faces are turned
heavenward our climbing into New
Year's will always reveal delight.
Let us pray for God's gracious
pardon of the sins and failures of
1956.
Let us pray for grace to accept
all the duties and perform all the
labors of 1957.
Let us thank God through Jesus
Christ for a brand new 1957.
For the New Year is
"A flower unblown; a book unread
A tree with fruit unharvested;
A path untrod; a house whose
Rooms lack yet the hearts divine
perfumes;
This is the year that for you waits
Beyond tomorrow's mystic gates."
RTERFINALS

SEMI—FINALS

FINALS

CONSOLATION