Memphis World
Memphis World Publishing Co.
1958-01-25
Thaddeus T. Stokes

MEMPHIS WORLD
AMERICAN'S STANDARD RACE JOURNAL
The South's Oldest and Leading Colored Semi-Weekly Newspaper
Published by MEMPHIS WORLD PUBLISHING CO.
Every WEDNESDAY and SATURDAY at 546 BEALE — Ph. JA. 6-4030
Member of SCOTT NEWSPAPER SYNDICATE
W. A. Scott, II, Founder; C. A. Scott General Manager
Entered in the Post Office at Memphis, Tenn., as second-class mail
under the Act of Congress, March 1, 1870
THADDEUS T. STOKES Managing Editor
MRS. ROSA BROWN BRACY Public Relations and Advertising
SUBSCRIPTION RATES:
Year $5.00 — 6 Months $3.00 — 3 Months $1.50 (In Advance)
The MEMPHIS WORLD is an independent newspaper — non-sectarian
and non-partisan, printing news unbiasedly and supporting those things
it believes to be of interest to its readers and opposing those things
against the interest of its readers.

We Are Challenged To Use All Our Manpower
The recent Minority Community Resources Conference in
Washington pointed up one of the continuing sorespots of the
nation's failure to use all of its manpower in domestic and international 
affairs. In his greeting to the group, called together
by Vice President Nixon, affable President Eisenhower noted:
"The expanding application of science is bringing new opportunities 
and responsibilities to our nation. The maintenance of
our security and our standard of living depends upon the full
use of the highest capabilities of all our people."
Speaking to the same conference. Secretary of Labor James
Mitchell declared: ".... so long as we in, this country permit
ourselves to offer prejudice, to waste the talents and facilities
and ingenuity that we have, we are not going to express the
leadership we should express to the developing nations of the
world. And unless we express that leadership, we will find
that the void that we leave will be filled by the Communists...
More basically and more realistically, the rest of the world is
challenging us on how well we express democracy, as to how
well we in America can order ourselves so that all men and
women have equal opportunity in this land of ours."
As speaker after speaker pointed out in the one-day meeting, 
every American must face the challenge of creating a climate 
of non-discrimination where the best may be put into
and exacted from all our manpower, regardless of the color
of skin, race or religion. Otherwise, America will lose the race
to more Sputniks and to time itself.

The Southern Christian Leadership
Conference Pushes Registration Movement
Outstanding among the meritorious events of the season
is the herculean registration drive massed by the Southern
Christian Leadership Conference. Some twenty-cities in ten
southern states will stage public meetings on Wednesday P. M.,
February 12, in cooperation with the registration and voting
drive. The Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., president of the conference, 
made this announcement.
The movement will stage, under the banner of "The Crusade 
for Citizenship," this emphasis meant for "The franchise
of a citizen rights—not d privilege.
One of the meetings is scheduled for Atlanta and occurring 
on that historic day, February 12, which has a powerful
meaning in the annals of this country, it will be significant in
a bountiful harvest.
Through the office here, the conference will function as a
service agency to help further registration and voting in communities 
where such efforts are already underway.
That the racial group give as much meaning as possible
to the recently enacted civil rights bill would be the watchword
of the occasion.
Just now we are engaged in a drive to secure the registration 
of those eligibles within our confines. Every day there are
18-year-olds who are entitled to register. These are in the
schools, the industries and the churches. They all can be easily
reached through these agencies and the movement staged for
the all-out enlistment of these fellow citizens will be amply met.
We are doubly proud of this movement and its fine intentions; 
its able leader Dr. M. L. King, Jr., already well and widely 
acclaimed as a leader without strings and a great spirit without 
rancor, we hope will encounter on this front no obstacle
in the cause in which the masses are intensely interested.

GOP Chief Wants

paper publishers, reporters and
others engaged in the allied fields,
attending the dinner at Phyllis
Wheatley YWCA were told that
more solid progress has been made
in the field of civil rights during
the five years of the Eisenhower
Administration than in all of the
intervening years between the

Emancipation Proclamation of 1863
to 1953.
American Negroes overwhelmingly 
supported the Republican party
from Lincoln's time to the mid1930's; 
declared Alcorn. During the
past 20 years they have drifted toward 
the Democratic party but "I
firmyl believe that the Negro vote
is coming home— returning to the
banner of the only major party
which stands for civil rights and
has proved it."

WISHING WELL
Registered U. S. Patent Office.
HERE 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.

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REVIEWING
THE NEWS
BY WILLIAM GORDON
It was late in the afternoon when this ordinary-looking
man, accompanied by a newspaper editor, walked slowly into
the office.
Instead of hardship and toil, the lines etched in his face
by time, told of happy days, a brighter future and encouragement. 

This was my first time to meet the famous poet and historian, 
Carl Sandburg, the outstanding, authority on Abraham
Lincoln. At the time, he was looking into the future with advice
of what the changes will bring.
Now, 80, he is still looking into the future. A few days
ago he sat before a packed house, some 1,800 persons in the
University of Illinois Auditorium reading his poems and playing 
his guitar. He was direct with his answers on the present
emergency.
He admitted that the Reds have brought us humiliation
and shame, but declared "it ought not to have happened."
He was critical of the current crop of young Americans in
our schools and colleges who take "snap courses and stay away
from mathematics, chemistry and biology." He gave no special
place for television and movies. For a long time, historian Sandburg 
has been critical of our use of such media. Actually, he
believes Americans have become a population of "softies." Everybody 
has to have an automobile to make the distance of
the next block. Too much of our education is "canned," and
our entertainment is worse.
Like most great men Carl Sandburg sees far beyond the
bounds of segregation.
He touched on Little Rock and warned of continuous migration 
of Negroes out of the South to escape segregation. As
one who has known the South, he speaks with firm authority.
He is sympathetic with much of the twisted concepts of racism
and is hurt like others of his level when there are setbacks. But
like all great men of his time and other generations, he is blessed 
with perception that cuts through the hatred, the prejudices
and artificial concepts of race, as his books on Lincoln will testify. 
He helps to make his position clearer when he says:
'There will be struggles in Northern cities, but integration
is written in the star."

"Written In The Stars"
BY WILLIAM GORDON
It was late in the afternoon when this ordinary-looking
man, accompanied by a newspaper editor, walked slowly into
the office.
Instead of hardship and toil, the lines etched in his face
by time, told of happy days, a brighter future and encouragement. 

This was my first time to meet the famous poet and historian, 
Carl Sandburg, the outstanding, authority on Abraham
Lincoln. At the time, he was looking into the future with advice
of what the changes will bring.
Now, 80, he is still looking into the future. A few days
ago he sat before a packed house, some 1,800 persons in the
University of Illinois Auditorium reading his poems and playing 
his guitar. He was direct with his answers on the present
emergency.
He admitted that the Reds have brought us humiliation
and shame, but declared "it ought not to have happened."
He was critical of the current crop of young Americans in
our schools and colleges who take "snap courses and stay away
from mathematics, chemistry and biology." He gave no special
place for television and movies. For a long time, historian Sandburg 
has been critical of our use of such media. Actually, he
believes Americans have become a population of "softies." Everybody 
has to have an automobile to make the distance of
the next block. Too much of our education is "canned," and
our entertainment is worse.
Like most great men Carl Sandburg sees far beyond the
bounds of segregation.
He touched on Little Rock and warned of continuous migration 
of Negroes out of the South to escape segregation. As
one who has known the South, he speaks with firm authority.
He is sympathetic with much of the twisted concepts of racism
and is hurt like others of his level when there are setbacks. But
like all great men of his time and other generations, he is blessed 
with perception that cuts through the hatred, the prejudices
and artificial concepts of race, as his books on Lincoln will testify. 
He helps to make his position clearer when he says:
'There will be struggles in Northern cities, but integration
is written in the star."

MEALTIME MELODIES!
Quick and easy suppers are in
order for busy homemakers. Yet
we want to feel they are nourishing 
and satisfying to husky appetites. 
This hash can be turned cut
within 20 to 25
minutes and is
served hot and
savory directly
from the skillet.
Canned kidney
beans, rice cheese
and green peppers 
mingle with
chili powder and
onion in this
meal-in-a-skillet.
Using instant

minced onion cuts preparation
time to a minimum as
you'll have no onion-peeling and
chopping chores. If you want to
make tins a really scrumptous
meal, serve your "California Hash"
with hot buttered corn muffins a

delicious tossed salad and refreshing 
milk.
2 tablespoons salad oil
1 pound ground beef
1 (8 ounce) can kidney beans
1-4 cup instant minced onion or
1 cup finely-chooped raw onion
2 cups cooked rice
2 teaspoons chill powder
1 teaspoon salt
1-2 cup finely-chopped green
pepper
1-4 pound sliced Cheddar cheese
Heat salad oil in a large skillet.
Add beef; cook until it loses its
pinkness. Drain and rinse kidney
beans. Add beans and all remaining 
ingredients except cheese to
beef. Cook slowly 5 minutes, stirring 
occasionally. Top with cheese
slices. Cover, turn heat low, and
let stand 10 minutes or until cheese
melts. Serve hot from skillet. Makes
6 servings.

CALIFORNIA HASH
Quick and easy suppers are in
order for busy homemakers. Yet
we want to feel they are nourishing 
and satisfying to husky appetites. 
This hash can be turned cut
within 20 to 25
minutes and is
served hot and
savory directly
from the skillet.
Canned kidney
beans, rice cheese
and green peppers 
mingle with
chili powder and
onion in this
meal-in-a-skillet.
Using instant

minced onion cuts preparation
time to a minimum as
you'll have no onion-peeling and
chopping chores. If you want to
make tins a really scrumptous
meal, serve your "California Hash"
with hot buttered corn muffins a

delicious tossed salad and refreshing 
milk.
2 tablespoons salad oil
1 pound ground beef
1 (8 ounce) can kidney beans
1-4 cup instant minced onion or
1 cup finely-chooped raw onion
2 cups cooked rice
2 teaspoons chill powder
1 teaspoon salt
1-2 cup finely-chopped green
pepper
1-4 pound sliced Cheddar cheese
Heat salad oil in a large skillet.
Add beef; cook until it loses its
pinkness. Drain and rinse kidney
beans. Add beans and all remaining 
ingredients except cheese to
beef. Cook slowly 5 minutes, stirring 
occasionally. Top with cheese
slices. Cover, turn heat low, and
let stand 10 minutes or until cheese
melts. Serve hot from skillet. Makes
6 servings.

SURVIVAL IS NOT ENOUGH


Four Convicted In

pointed out one of the 11 defendants 
and identified him as one of
Cruell's assailants. She declared:
"That's the one who said, 'we
came here to get the Nigger."
The defendants are charged with
conspiracy in house-breaking and
in assaulting Cruell on July 21.
Eight state witnesses were paraded 
before the court Tuesday.
The case is expected to go to the
jury today. None of the defendants 
is expected to be called on
to testify.

Montgomery, Alabama

of local Negroes to ride public
buses without segregation in light
of the Montgomery bus case.
The speaker is referred to as the
"New Negro" — born and educated
in the south, but like thousands of
others of his race coming out of
schools and colleges, must fight to
remove the shackles that prevent
them from living in their 'own
hometowns in an atmosphere of
dignity and self-respect.
Rev. Abernathy, pastor of a Baptist 
church in Montgomery, is a
member of Alpha Kappa Delta
Honor fraternity and Kappa Alpha
Psi fraternity, American Sociological 
Society, executive board of the
Montgomery NAACP. He is a former 
teacher at Alabama State College. 

General chairman of the celebration 
is Lewis Twigg, Jr., president
of the Union Protective Jr., Assurance
company. Others of the committee
include E. L. Washburn, head a
Lincoln School, T. R. McLemore,
Robert Jones, W. A. Hedges, S. W.
Ryans, Rev. I. A. Watson, Dr. N.
M. Watson, Z. L. Guest, Charley
Johnson, J. W. Powell, Jesse Turner, 
of Tri-State Bank, Atty. H. T.
Lockard, T. J. Johnson and J. R
Ruffin.
Rev. S. A. Owen is pastor of the
church.

Fanciest Auto In

Corporation of Tennessee, National
Finance Committee; superintendent 
of the National Convocation,
chairman of the National Trustee
Board, the Elders Council of Tennessee, 
and the Special Commission, 
and president of the Terrell
Memorial Hospital.
Wherever he goes, you will be
sure to recognize the Bishop in his
princely black, gold-topped Continental 
Mark III.

Postal Auxiliary

5 which includes Tennessee, Kentucky, 
and other states nearby.
Mr. Cotton assisted in the election 
of the new officers. Newly
elected officers were then installed 
by Mr. W. J. Bargeron. Both
men are members of the Memphis
Alliance. New officers are: President, 
Mrs. Theodore (Velve Penn)
Williams; Vice - president, Mrs.
Houston (Mary Walton) Collier;
Secretary, Mrs. W. L. (Leona) Jamison; 
Assistant Secretary, Mrs. W.

J. (Frances) Bargeron; Treasurer,
Mrs. Marvel (Irene) Cotton, former
president.
After her installations, Mrs. Williams 
appointed several other officers 
and committee chairmen including: 
Program Committee, Mrs.
C. A. (Ernestine) Shumpert; Contact 
Committee, Mrs. J. A. (Lee
Ethel) DeWalt; Chaplain, Mrs. J.
A. Somerville; and Membership

Committee, Mrs. Floyd Cawthon.
Membership in the Auxiliary is
open to all wives, widows, mothers,
sisters, or daughters of Postal employees. 
The meetings are held at
7 p.m. on the third Saturday of
each month. The next meeting will
be held on February 15 at the
home of the vice-president and reporter, 
Mrs. Caller, 1430 Elliston
Road. All old and new members

are invited to be present.
After the completion of business,
the ladles and their husbands retired 
to the dining roam where
Mrs. Cotton served a delightful
buffet supper. Chief conversation
topic was the unusual imparted
cheese which brought forth many
"Oh's and Ah's" from all those
present.

DESPERATE MAN
WAYNE D. OVERHOLSER'S new Western thriller
© 1956, 1957, Wayne D. Overholser. From the novel published
by The Macmillan Co. Distributed by King Features Syndicate.
MY FATHER and I were working 
the corral gate when
I saw my brother Gil riding
across the pasture from Bess
Nordine's reach. I said, "Gil's
coming, Pa." My father tossed his
saw on the ground and straightened 
up. One thing about Gil:
worth watching.
Gil was riding Tuck, his big
sorrel gelding. Tuck was the
fastest horse in Dillon's Park,
and Gil loved him, but loving
him wasn't enough to keep Gil
from riding the devil out of him.
He put the sorrel over the barbed
wire fence between Nordine's Anchor 
and our Big Ten in a long,
graceful jump, and came right
on, never missing a lick. A minute 
later he reined up in front
of us.
My father said in his mild way.
"In a hurry Gil?
Sure am." Gil said. "Saddle
up. A bunch of Rafter 3 cows are
coming into the park, and we're
gonna run 'em back over the
hill."
"Who is?"
"Men' you and Bess and her
crew."
Bess Nordine's crew consisted
of two men, Barney Lux and
Shorty Quinn. Any way you
counted it, that added up to five,
including Bess, who was, as Pa
often said, the best man in the
park. My father was a good hand
with a gun and everybody knew
it, but even quality wasn't enough
against numbers, and Rafter 3
had numbers besides being a
plenty salty outfit.
"What happens if we run into
some Rafter 3 riders?" my father 
asked.
We'll blow their heads off,"
Gil said.
He sat looking at Pa, his black
Stetson cocked at a rakish angle.
Flashy! That was the word for
Gil. He could do a lot of things
well—almost everything except
work. He had a talent for wearing 
fancy clothes and he owned
the most expensive pair of Justins 
in the park. He always carried 
a pearl-handled .44, and he
was fast and accurate with it;
but whether he could kill a man
was something else.
Gil had fallen in love with Bess
when we first moved to the park
three years ago, and he said he
was going to marry her. If he
did it would be quite a trick, because 
she was a strong-minded
woman from away back. I hoped
he got her. It would serve him
right.
My rather didn't say anything.
Impatiently, Gil said. "Bess told
me she'd wait for you." He motioned 
toward me. "The kid can
finish the gate." Then he whirled
his sorrel and took off for Anchor. 


That was like him. I stood watching 
until he disappeared, blood
pounding in my temples. Sure,
I could stay here and finish the
gate, while he sashayed around
over the country trying to look
good in front of Bess.
Gil was twenty-two I was
nineteen. He used to whip me
regularly until I was sixteen. It
hadn't been too tough a job, with
him three years older than I
was. Then there'd been the time
in Buhl, the county seat, when
he lumped me. I'd have whipped
him if Ma hadn't knocked me
groggy by hitting me on the
head with a frying pan. He hadn't
tacked me since.
When Gil was home he never
turned a hand. He was sickly,
Ma said, and him as big as a
young Shorthorn bull. Funny
thing: he couldn't work at home,
but he'd go over to Bess's ranch
and shine up to her.
I hadn't realized my father had
saddled up until he said. "Dave."
He stood a few feet from me,
holding the reins of his brown
horse. When I looked at him, he
said. "I've felt the same way
more'n once, Dave." He stepped
into the saddle. Then he said,
"Never mind the gate."
He rode off, not across the
pasture the way Gil had, but
down the lane to the road. Quite
a man, my father. Big, hardworking, 
patient, Joe Munro deserved 
more than he'd received
from life—the way I saw it, anyhow. 
He was one of the reasons
I'd stayed home. He needed me
and he loved me, and I loved him.
I hated Gil. I'd hated him as
long as I could remember, and
someday I'd break his neck.
There were times, too, when I
hated my mother. I knew it was
wrong, but I couldn't help it.
Ma hadn't wanted me in the
first place. She had a hard time
when Gil was born. She almost
died, and she told my father she
wouldn't have any more children.
I don't believe she ever neglected
me—physically, I mean. But if
she ever gave me a caress or a
word of endearment, I couldn't
remember it.
"Where did they go, Dave?"
Ma called from the back porch.
I stood looking at her for a
moment. She was a small woman,

under-five feet, and l never knew
her to weigh more than one hundred 
pounds. Now, at forty; she
was showing her age. Her hair
was gray; she had wrinkles in
her cheeks and around her eyes.
Right then I wasn't in any
mood to listen to her fret about
Gil. I said, "A bunch of Rafter
3 cows are headed into the park,
and they're going to run 'em back
over the hill."
Now she really had something
to fret about. All of us who lived
in the park were under the
shadow of Rafter 3 guns. The
trouble had never come to a head,
but it was only a question of
time until it would, unless Vie
Toll, the Rafter 3 foreman, got
a dose of lead poisoning.
I went into the barn, climbed
to the mow and lay down on the
hay. I had a hunch Kitsy would
be over. She was Bess's younger
sister, seventeen and pretty, and
the one person in the world who
meant more to me than my father. 
We were in love and wanted
to get married, but Bess threw
the monkey wrench at us.
Bess was twenty-five, and she
and Kitsy had no one but each
other. Their folks died when Kitsy 
was small and Bess had practically 
raised her. "Kitsy isn't
going to work like I have," Bess
said flatly. "When she's eighteen,
she's going away to school. She'll
marry somebody with money, not
a kid like you, Dave, who doesn't
have ten cents to his name.
Bess wasn't a woman to change
her mind. She didn't have anything 
against me, but she'd decided 
Kitsy's future, and that
ended the whole business.
The only time Kitsy and I were
alone was when Bess and the
crew were gone, and Gil wasn't
at either place. Oh, we could see
each other at parties or in church
on Sunday morning or maybe at
a school shindig, but always when.
Bess was around.
I didn't wait long. I heard the
barn door open and close, the one
on the north side that Ma couldn't
see from the house. A moment
later Kitsy climbed the ladder
to the mow and stood there,
smiling provocatively at me.
I said, "Hello. Kitsy."
She put her hands on her hips.
"Were you expecting me?"
I said, "Counting on it."
I couldn't even look at her
without getting tied up inside.
Blue eyes, chestnut hair that
held just a little curl, a slim
figure more girl than woman,
Kitsy Nordine was everything in
a the world I wanted.


CHAPTER 1
WAYNE D. OVERHOLSER'S new Western thriller
© 1956, 1957, Wayne D. Overholser. From the novel published
by The Macmillan Co. Distributed by King Features Syndicate.
MY FATHER and I were working 
the corral gate when
I saw my brother Gil riding
across the pasture from Bess
Nordine's reach. I said, "Gil's
coming, Pa." My father tossed his
saw on the ground and straightened 
up. One thing about Gil:
worth watching.
Gil was riding Tuck, his big
sorrel gelding. Tuck was the
fastest horse in Dillon's Park,
and Gil loved him, but loving
him wasn't enough to keep Gil
from riding the devil out of him.
He put the sorrel over the barbed
wire fence between Nordine's Anchor 
and our Big Ten in a long,
graceful jump, and came right
on, never missing a lick. A minute 
later he reined up in front
of us.
My father said in his mild way.
"In a hurry Gil?
Sure am." Gil said. "Saddle
up. A bunch of Rafter 3 cows are
coming into the park, and we're
gonna run 'em back over the
hill."
"Who is?"
"Men' you and Bess and her
crew."
Bess Nordine's crew consisted
of two men, Barney Lux and
Shorty Quinn. Any way you
counted it, that added up to five,
including Bess, who was, as Pa
often said, the best man in the
park. My father was a good hand
with a gun and everybody knew
it, but even quality wasn't enough
against numbers, and Rafter 3
had numbers besides being a
plenty salty outfit.
"What happens if we run into
some Rafter 3 riders?" my father 
asked.
We'll blow their heads off,"
Gil said.
He sat looking at Pa, his black
Stetson cocked at a rakish angle.
Flashy! That was the word for
Gil. He could do a lot of things
well—almost everything except
work. He had a talent for wearing 
fancy clothes and he owned
the most expensive pair of Justins 
in the park. He always carried 
a pearl-handled .44, and he
was fast and accurate with it;
but whether he could kill a man
was something else.
Gil had fallen in love with Bess
when we first moved to the park
three years ago, and he said he
was going to marry her. If he
did it would be quite a trick, because 
she was a strong-minded
woman from away back. I hoped
he got her. It would serve him
right.
My rather didn't say anything.
Impatiently, Gil said. "Bess told
me she'd wait for you." He motioned 
toward me. "The kid can
finish the gate." Then he whirled
his sorrel and took off for Anchor. 


That was like him. I stood watching 
until he disappeared, blood
pounding in my temples. Sure,
I could stay here and finish the
gate, while he sashayed around
over the country trying to look
good in front of Bess.
Gil was twenty-two I was
nineteen. He used to whip me
regularly until I was sixteen. It
hadn't been too tough a job, with
him three years older than I
was. Then there'd been the time
in Buhl, the county seat, when
he lumped me. I'd have whipped
him if Ma hadn't knocked me
groggy by hitting me on the
head with a frying pan. He hadn't
tacked me since.
When Gil was home he never
turned a hand. He was sickly,
Ma said, and him as big as a
young Shorthorn bull. Funny
thing: he couldn't work at home,
but he'd go over to Bess's ranch
and shine up to her.
I hadn't realized my father had
saddled up until he said. "Dave."
He stood a few feet from me,
holding the reins of his brown
horse. When I looked at him, he
said. "I've felt the same way
more'n once, Dave." He stepped
into the saddle. Then he said,
"Never mind the gate."
He rode off, not across the
pasture the way Gil had, but
down the lane to the road. Quite
a man, my father. Big, hardworking, 
patient, Joe Munro deserved 
more than he'd received
from life—the way I saw it, anyhow. 
He was one of the reasons
I'd stayed home. He needed me
and he loved me, and I loved him.
I hated Gil. I'd hated him as
long as I could remember, and
someday I'd break his neck.
There were times, too, when I
hated my mother. I knew it was
wrong, but I couldn't help it.
Ma hadn't wanted me in the
first place. She had a hard time
when Gil was born. She almost
died, and she told my father she
wouldn't have any more children.
I don't believe she ever neglected
me—physically, I mean. But if
she ever gave me a caress or a
word of endearment, I couldn't
remember it.
"Where did they go, Dave?"
Ma called from the back porch.
I stood looking at her for a
moment. She was a small woman,

under-five feet, and l never knew
her to weigh more than one hundred 
pounds. Now, at forty; she
was showing her age. Her hair
was gray; she had wrinkles in
her cheeks and around her eyes.
Right then I wasn't in any
mood to listen to her fret about
Gil. I said, "A bunch of Rafter
3 cows are headed into the park,
and they're going to run 'em back
over the hill."
Now she really had something
to fret about. All of us who lived
in the park were under the
shadow of Rafter 3 guns. The
trouble had never come to a head,
but it was only a question of
time until it would, unless Vie
Toll, the Rafter 3 foreman, got
a dose of lead poisoning.
I went into the barn, climbed
to the mow and lay down on the
hay. I had a hunch Kitsy would
be over. She was Bess's younger
sister, seventeen and pretty, and
the one person in the world who
meant more to me than my father. 
We were in love and wanted
to get married, but Bess threw
the monkey wrench at us.
Bess was twenty-five, and she
and Kitsy had no one but each
other. Their folks died when Kitsy 
was small and Bess had practically 
raised her. "Kitsy isn't
going to work like I have," Bess
said flatly. "When she's eighteen,
she's going away to school. She'll
marry somebody with money, not
a kid like you, Dave, who doesn't
have ten cents to his name.
Bess wasn't a woman to change
her mind. She didn't have anything 
against me, but she'd decided 
Kitsy's future, and that
ended the whole business.
The only time Kitsy and I were
alone was when Bess and the
crew were gone, and Gil wasn't
at either place. Oh, we could see
each other at parties or in church
on Sunday morning or maybe at
a school shindig, but always when.
Bess was around.
I didn't wait long. I heard the
barn door open and close, the one
on the north side that Ma couldn't
see from the house. A moment
later Kitsy climbed the ladder
to the mow and stood there,
smiling provocatively at me.
I said, "Hello. Kitsy."
She put her hands on her hips.
"Were you expecting me?"
I said, "Counting on it."
I couldn't even look at her
without getting tied up inside.
Blue eyes, chestnut hair that
held just a little curl, a slim
figure more girl than woman,
Kitsy Nordine was everything in
a the world I wanted.


Veterans Corner
Here are authoritative answers
from the Veterans Administration
to questions of interest from service
men and their families:
Q—I am a Korean veteran, just
out of military service. What is
my deadline for starting training
under the Korean GI Bill?

Q.—I have named the beneficiaries
of my GI insurance policy, but I
havent yet chosen a method of
payment. If I should die without
designating a payment method,
how will the insurance money be
paid out?

Q.—Who is supposed to apply for
War Orphans schooling, the prospective 
student or his living parent? 


Q.—I understand that persons
getting VA pensions will receive
annual income questionnaires after
the first of the year. I received a
gift of money during 1957 from relatives. 
Do I have to report that
as income?

orated as a professional
medical society in 1924 and was reorganized 
as voluntary health
agency in 1948, admitting lay leaders 
to membership on its governing
bodies for the first time.

Seek To Conquer
Malaria
The world
scourge of Malaria is being attacked 
and eventually can be conquered 
according to an address delivered 
by Prof. George Macdonald
director of the Ross Institute of
Tropical Hygiene and professor of
tropical medicine in the University
of London. Great progress in overcoming 
the disease during the last
ten years hae been made he said.
Malaria is present in all except
the polar continents. The USA and
Canada have suffered from it although 
lately it has only been
known in the South of the USA.
Africa has suffered more, however,
than any other continent. Certain
characteristics of the prevalent anpheles 
led to extreme transmison 
of the disease. The African has
ffered partly by direst effects
fested principally in the children 
among whom there has been a
high morality. The attack against
 the mosquito by digging out their
breeding places and the use of
yrethrum products made largely
from petroleum has been a brilliant
ccess. In Africa it is estimated
2 million p are expected to


UAW Is Bargaining
Agent For Aircraft
Plant At Trenton
The United
Automobile Workers have been
certified as collective bargaining
agent for some 400 employes of
Flight Enterprises, near Trenton, N.
J., Leonard Woodcock, UAW vice
president and director of the UAW's
Aircraft Department announced
Wednesday. The aircraft installation
plant is located at McGuire Air
Force Base.
The NLRB election was held
Tuesday. The NLRB final tally
showed: for UAW 315; Teamsters:
20; and for no Union 64.

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Equipment - Signature
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FINANCE CO.
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