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THE POST, FRIDAY, OCTOBER 6, 1939
Everybody we meet is in favor of staying out of the war.
As we get it, all Americans dislike Hitler and want to see him
soundly beaten by a couple of other fellows.
No one knows just yet what Mussolini wants from Ger-
many or England. Our advice is to beware of the Duce in his
shining suit of blackmail.
It seems you can’t trust anybody, these days. Now that
Germany has achieved the return of the Polish Corridor, France
is demanding the return of the corset.
There's an undertone of distrust in Berlin and Moscow
over that Nazi-Soviet pact. In our opinion, both Hitler and
Stalin were happier when they were as far apart as the Poles.
Your Fire Mark, Sir?
In the old days in many communities no householder was
entitled to protection from the town fire company unless he
displayed prominently the little placque which was known as
a “fire mark.”
The “fire mark” was proof that the householder had paid
the required insurance fee and so was permitted to call upon
the firemen if his house began to burn.
If the firemen found no “fire mark’ on a burning building,
‘they packed up their equipment, turned about, and went home.
The only “fire marks” left in Dallas today are historic
relics. When fire breaks out, the volunteers of Dr. Henry M.
Laing Fire Company never hesitate to ask if the home is that
of someone who contributes to the maintenance of the com-
pany. Contributors and non-contributors, alike, get prompt
~ protection.
Hundreds of families in Dallas have never contributed
a cent to the upkeep of the volunteer fire department, yet
they enjoy all the advantages of those who have, time after
time, dug into their pockets and helped to make protec-
tion possible. That situation is unfair to the firemen and
unfair to the generous folk who contribute regularly.
Next week will be Fire Prevention Week and the firemen
have seized that opportunity to arouse interest locally in their
company. Next week will be a good time for those non-con-
tributors to acquire an invisible “fire mark’ which will be their
sign that they don’t want to ride along free, that they are good
citizens, and that they are perfectly willing to pay their share
of the maintenance of fire protection in Dallas.
LuzErRNE ‘BACK STREETS’
In most communities the so-called “back streets” are the
ones which the town prefers to hide from visitors. In Luzerne
the “back streets’ are the most attractive part of the town,
and the two main thoroughfares are the ones which are drab
and unattractive.
It is unfortunate that visitors who seldom see any more
than Luzerne’s Bennett and Main Streets cannot detour occa-
sionally to see how lovely some of the “back streets” are. Such
an excursion about the side streets is especially enjoyable now,
for newly-painted houses, newly-laid road surfaces and great
trees austere in their autumn foliage present a sight so neat
.and attractive that Luzerne can well be proud of her residential
streets.
It would be wrong, of course, to say that all of the two
main streets is unattractive. They have their bright spots, too,
but they are too few. Most of the length of Main and Bennett
Streets can stand improvement.
Fortunately, there is a new incentive for brightening the
two main arteries of traffic through town. The new pave on
both thoroughfares will be completed before long and should
be a stimulus to property owners to renovate and prepare their
buildings for the business revival which is certain to follow in
the wake of the highway improvement.
Luzerne side streets are setting the pace. We suggest that
the people of Main and Bennett Streets follow the example of
the “back streets” and complete the job of making the town at-
~ tractive both for residents and visitors.
Fireworks AT THE COURTHOUSE
The sweeping dismissals at the court house recently violate
all the rules of political strategy we ever studied.
Theoretically, of course, Commissioner Wadzinski is a Re-
publican. He was appointed to the vacancy after he had sworn
that he voted for the Republican candidate whose death made
, an appointment necessary. But Commissioner Wadzinski is
the oddest Republican we ever saw. With Commissioner Riley,
a confessed Democrat, Wadzinski has formed an alliance which
has, at the last counting, swept 241 Republicans out of office
and given their jobs to needy Democrats.
That is, of course, exactly what the Republicans did when
first they entered the promised land of the commissioners’ of-
fice. It is political “blitzkrieg” at its best or worst, depend-
ing upon the viewpoint. It is not sympathy for the fired or
antagonism for the hired that stirs us. It is the sight of a
Democratic party, with a good chance for victory, upsetting its
own apple cart by rash policies which are arousing more dis-
gust than loyalty.
OCTOBER
October turned my maple’s leaves to gold;
The most are gone now; here and there one lingers;
Soon these will slip from out the twig’s weak hold,
Like coins between a dying miser’s fingers.
T. B. ALDRICH
javie aiche
POST-MORTEM
Quit yer kiddin’. The war
didn’t boost anthracite sales
and you know it. The war
didn’t boost anything, not even
the reputation of Neville
Chamberlain, although, more
pathetically than paradoxical-
ly, the Polish people would like
to give the umbrella man a
hoist.
Hard coal production went
up by several million tons be-
cause it was the perfectly nat-
ural thing for it to do. Add to
the incentive afforded by cer-
tain approach of cold weather,
the lure of a reduced price, and
what else would you expect?
What, excepting that the coal-
burning public would stock up
to the limit of purse and pit?
This scrivener is weary of
very many things, but weariest
of all in the adopted attitude
of “Oh Yeah” toward those ed-
itors who perennially, period-
ically and optimistically read
and write into production re-
ports from the mines the pro-
mise of prosperity at last ful-
filled. Prosperity for hard
coal? Shucks, feller, “there
aint no sech animal.
What really happened when
coal prices were let down in
advance of falling foliage,
when the operators, too, decid-
ed to turn over a new leaf, was
recorded in your court house
files. Machine mining went to
town. One operator of the de-
vices that displace man-power
bought $40,000 worth of exca-
in $10,000 worth of mechanical
loaders; one contractor took
over $26,000 worth of dumpers
and another invested to the
tune of $30,000.
And then, to make the thing
final, the operators put the
prices back where they like to
have them. Coal in the routine
sense will continue to be min-
ed; after a while a lot of it will
clutter up the railroad sidings;
the people of the domain of Old
King Coal will once again ac-
custom themselves to part-time
operation of the collieries and
all-time lack of diversified in-
dustry to replace a dying trade.
Why do editors do what
they so long have persisted in
doing? Why do they interpret
every rise in coal production as
the certainty of returned sta-
bility for the tottering wreck
of a passing monopoly? Do
they suppose that the people
believe all that they hear and
nothing at all of what they
feel? How they feel you can
find out by listening in on the
long line of job applicants at
your county temple, or any-
where else that holds out pro-
mise of a payroll.
They feel that 40,000 jobs
that once were the margin of
anthracite security are the
present drab markers of lost
hope and a lot of lost cause.
You can’t blame them, either,
because for every gain of pro-
duction at a turn of a season
there is proof in purchase that
iron and steel powered by oil
and gas are clutching at the
bowels of earth and rending
from it the black diamonds
that once shone for all but now
mean wealth only for the sup-
planters of manual labor.
Your chambers of commerce,
your industrial ambassadors,
your good-will tourists, all join
the mistaken propaganda of
recovery.
A dress factory is corraled
from a neighboring state,
equipped with imported ma-
chinery; it makes up a payroll
from $8-a-week girl help and
finds itself kudoe to the quint-
essence of quality as a grand
new factor in rehabilitation of
the region.
Meanwhile, several possibil-
ities that might be made into
accomplishments aren’t even
attacked. There could be a
project to fill the tunnels re-
maining from coal veins drain-
vators; one small company put |
ed by industrial blood-letting.
‘Fred M. Kiefer
GIMME A
MATCH
We sat a-wondering the
other day; a-wondering about
our old neighbor Wardan Kun-
kle and whether he is already
totally acclimated to the sun,
sand and palms of Spanish
Florida. :
For, very soon now, whilst
we wrap ourselves in great-
coats, swath our Adams’-apples
in mufflers and face the test
of cutting winds and icy temp-
eratures, our erstwhile Machell
Avenue friend will stroll, un-
burdened ‘by heavy coverings,
along warm and pleasant boul-
evards, breathing the fragrance
of the Bougainville and the
perfume of the flame vine; see-
ing only their crimson splash
and orange glow with the great
cobalt-blue of the ocean be-
yond him, and feeling the be-
nevolent, whispering winds of
the Carribean in his face.
We would like to believe,
though, that Wardan must oc-
casionally feel a twinge of
nostalgia sweeping along his
veins. He must even now
be imagining what he so often
viewed, the glory of our Penn-
sylvania autumn.
Can anyone who has lived
through the bright and silent
days of late September—that
soothing and colorful peace be-
tween the joy of summer and
the rage of winter—ever com-
pletely erase from his mind’s
eye the beauty and the spirit
of a bountiful harvest time?
Wardan will think back, too,
as he lazes through the com-
fortable but monotonously
sunny days, of how fine and
how cozy he used to feel with-
in his home as he thrilled to
the falling of the first, soft
snowflakes; the heady zip of
the winter morning; the blast
of the black night’s wind. Oft-
en must he picture the dazzling
whiteness of blanketed fields
and the strange, solemn sil-
houette of the leafless, lifeless
trees.
Will he recall how the dead,
flat iron of February meshes
with the rising cry of the wild
March as she struggles in the
birth-pangs of bringing soft
and lovely April to the world?
Wardan’s robins and his
blue-birds and his orioles will
leave him then—will leave his
sun-hot land—and hurry to
greet the moist, green fresh-
ness of the new-born spring.
With gladsome songs tremb-
ling in their tiny hearts they’ll
hasten on their northern flight
lest the whiteness of the dog-
wood fade; lest the golden but-
ter of the forsythia melt and
the rainbow of the crocus pass
away.
Yes, a few months hence
“Trader” can reach above his
head and pull down a sweet
and juicy orange, but we'll
wager that right now he'd like
to sink his teeth into a frost-
chilled, tree-plucked, red and
rosy apple.
But with this, Wardan, our
heartiest and best wishes go
forward and although you are
seemingly far away you may
still thank God that you are
yet within America. For, as
Theodore Roosevelt said, “In
this country we either all go
up together, or together we
will all come down.”
In the end it would save a
large share of the Greater
West Side from dropping to at
least partial demolition. There
could be rejection of a vast
bulk of cheap substitutions
that emptied many an Ameri-
can factory and are now ex-
hausting the patience of those
who try to use them.
And, what a boon all the
way around if Wyoming Valley
could come out of the pall of
smoke formed of the burning
of soft coal. Why isn’t it rec-
ognized for what it is—a pall
of doom?
| small ones,
——\ HONEY!!! THEY
FRONT PORCH CAMPAIGN
I DIDN'T BRING THEM,
FOLLOWED ME"!
ee
ree . ~~
\
: More Than A Newspaper—A Dynamic Community Institution
“Congress shall make no law . . . abridging the freedom of pap ng 3 THE POST'S CIVIC PROGRAM
speech or of Press” — The Constitution of the United States. THE D ALL AS POST 1. A modern concrete highway leading from Dallas and con
The Dallas Post is a youthful, liberal, aggressive weekly, dedi- ESTABLISHED 1889 Be me fae ed ail at Tonthangnack ;
cated to the highest ideals of the journalistic tradition and concerned oo freater Sevelopmgnt of community Conseusness among
primarily with the development of the rich rural-suburban area about A Liberal, Independent Newspaper Published Every Friday residents of Dallas, Tru cksville, Shavertown, and Fernbrook.
Dallas. * It strives constantly to be more than a newspaper, a com- Morning At The Dallas Post Plant, Lehman Avenue, 3. Centralization of local fire and police protection.
munity institution. Dallas, Penna., By The Dallas Post, Inc. 4. Sanitary sewage systems for local towns.
Etec da this Bost. Of 9 5. Better water service.
Subscription, $2.00 per year, payable in advance. Subscribers RLered #5:5econ ee Der yi 2} Dalles, Pa. 6. A consolidated high school eventually, and better co-operation
who send us changes of address are requested to include both new 5 : : between those that now exist.
and old addresses with the motice of change. Advertising rates OWARD W. RISLEY General Manager 7. Complete elimination of politics from local school affairs.
g g HowerL E. R Managing Edi
on request. B . BES isetiesssiosrsvsrsiivedvsnsiaiivsserimneiveve anaging itor 8. Construction of more sidewalks.
HAROLD J. PRICE... hii: Mechanical Superintendent
\ 7
ea
a.
Edith Blez
THE SENTIM
Do you ever lie in bed in the
morning, and while you are
trying to get awake, wonder
what all the other people in
your village think about when
they are getting out of bed in
the morning? Do you ever lie
in bed and wonder what is go-
ing on in all the houses which
seem so quiet and undisturbed
so early in the morning? We
live so securely behind our own
four walls, many times we
completely forget there are
other people living behind
their four walls.
* * *
For instance, do you ever
think what might be happen-
ing in the house down the
street where there is a flock of
children? Is there wild excite-
ment in the morning. Is there
a mad scramble to get dressed
and out to school? Who gets
up first? Mother or father?
Is father the kind who is disa-
greeable in the morning. Does
mother have to keep the chil-
dren quiet so father can have
a few extra minutes, or is
| mother the kind who likes to
| sleep in the morning? Do the
older children help with the
and is there a
pitched battle somewhere in
the house because one of the
girls has on a pair of stockings
which don’t belong to her?
Does the mother heave a sigh
of relief when they are all on
their way, and does she sit
down with the morning paper
and enjoy a second cup of cof-
| fee so she can catch her breath
|and find courage enough to
proceed with her daily chores?
* %* * i
what happens
in the house where the
newly-married couple live?
Does the new bride worry
about what she is going to give
her husband for breakfast, aft-
er the terrible meal he suffer-
ed through last night? Does
the new husband have courage
not to complain about his
wife’s cooking, or does he for-
get himself in the morning and
tell his brand new wife that
she can’t make coffee? Does
he suggest that she learn how
to make coffee? If he does,
you can imagine the expres-
sion on the face of the poor
little bride. For the very first
time, her husband has dared to
speak severely to her and she
rushes to her room to weep!
I wonder
ENTAL SIDE
Her husband—because he is
young—and new at this busi-
ness of being the head of a
household, is confused too, and
he loses his temper and rush-
es out of the house, and for-
gets to kiss his wife goodbye!
Can’t you picture what will
happen when he gets home
again?
* ¥ *
Then there is the house
where the elderly people live.
They don’t have to get up in
the morning. Their days of
rushing around are over. What
do they think about in the
morning. I'll wager, they get
up good and early, and while
papa reads his paper, mama
cooks a good breakfast, and
when it is ready they sit down
together and discuss the news,
and what they heard over the
radio last night, and, perhaps,
they wonder if it will rain and
they hope some of the children
will write or come to see them.
* ¥ *
Then farther down the
street perhaps a frantic mother
is trying to get a high school
girl out of bed. She calls and
calls, and finally gets a feeble
reply. The girl is possibly
awake but she is busy trying
to decide what to wear. Her
mother keeps on calling but
the girl can’t hear because she
is a million miles away, trying
to remember just what it was
one of the boys said to her yes-
terday. She answers her moth-
er when she gets good and
ready. She is too busy think-
ing to be bothered about what
time it is. Time was made for
slaves anyhow.
* * *
Then a square away lives
the middle-aged couple, whose
children have all married and
moved away. They used to
complain about all the noise
and confusion in the house but
now the place is like a morgue.
They don’t have very much to
say to each other in the morn-
because they both keep think-|
ing of those gay young people
who have gone somewhere else !
to live. The house is haunted)
by ghosts of laughing young-
sters. It is filled with ghosts
of young people, who were al-
ways in and out of the house.
Young people who were always
asking questions and young
people who were always in the
bathroom at the wrong time.
THE LOW DOWN FROM
HICKORY GROVE
I read a little of just
about everything that
comes along—except may-
be some of the Best Sell-
ers, which if you was to
read a dozen, the best you
could expect, it would be
to pick up, maybe, a new
cuss-word.
But I run across a piece
in the paper about a duck
down East, a banker who
talks right out in meetin’.
Bankers have been in
the dog-house. But if I
was to give a horse-back
opinion on what is wrong
with ’em, I would say they
are too bashful, or
tongue-tied, or something.
They don’t talk back when
some guy calls them a
Burglar and horse-thief.
So lots of folks half-way
figure maybe they are
somebody to avoid.
But this gent figures it
is time to stop listening
to the whipoorwills and
get our old reliable 5-dol-
lar gold piece back.
Sounds kinda sensible
—so0 I reckon we will do
nothing about it. :
Your, with the low down,
JO SERRA.
TOWN MEETING
Editor:
I want to express my deep-
est appreciation for the kind
co-operation you have given
me in the past years. Be as-
sured that I shall always re-
member with pleasure my as-
sociations with you and yours.
In leaving, may I wish the best
‘| for The Post.
Sincerely,
Bob Sutton.
they don’t like it, and they
can’t do a thing about it. They
face each other across the
breakfast table and wonder if
it will always be like this!
FREEDOM
The columnists and conirib-
utors on this page are al-
lowed great latitude in ex-
pressing their own opinions,
even when their opinions are
at wariance with those of
The Post.
Now the place is too quiet—
x
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