PAGE SIX SECOND THOUGHTS By javie aiche AUTHOR'S NOTE: The Greeks had a word for it, but the Bible and Shakespeare really began the vogue of briefly designating that com- pendium of easy morals which, excepting at the annual policeman’s ball in Wilkes-Barre Armory, is variously known as a lady of the evening, a siren or a vampire. Never will your correspondent forget the courage of Professor Fick- inger. the point where the ambitious Thane of Cawdor and Glamis was about to be disillusioned by defeat. The witches had told him that none of woman born could stand against him. And now MacDuff was giving him combat. Do you remember the passages ? Professor Fickinger rose from his desk, strode out to the front of the class and intoned the words, sonor- ously and upon this pupil who had dreaded the fact that it was his turn to read aloud: Macbeth: Begone, MacDuff! Dost thou not know none of woman born can harm Macbeth ? MacDuff: Despair thy charm, and let the angels whom thou still hast served tell thee that MacDuff was never born, but from his moth- er’s womb unduly ripped. Macbeth: Lay on, MacDuff, and damned be he who first cries, Hold! Enough! : Now go on with the story, which, if it has any meaning at all, amounts to nothing more than an impression from the fact that last week’s PILLAR TO POST was borrowed more often than even a bedraggled copy of Chick Sale’s “The Special- ist.” * * * Dear Post: That short and salty word ‘ Descriptive of an old profession Is written less than it is heard, So, pardon me a brief digression To say, admitting it’s horrendous, It didn’t honestly offend us. I've read the Bible over thrice And conned the truths of it far- reaching, Some words are horrible, some nice, But, from them all we get our teaching. Who would his mind correctly gar- rison Must gauge selection by comparison. In William Gilbert I take pride And by his works I am delighted, Nor yet was Sullivan a snide, I think the two of them were knighted. From “Pinafore” I never lam it Because it scores a lusty “dammit.” The SatEvePost makes up a file That in my attic I consult, No whisky ads or aught that’s vile Is in it, either inst. or ult. But for some words to make you shrivel, Read “Gunter’s Laundry,” that’s not drivel. And Mougham, the gifted Somerset, Who's sheltered now upon our shores, In play or novel is best-met With heroines who are (not bores). Where’s there a more intriguing lady Than “Rain’s” Miss Thompson, yclept Sadie? John Steinbeck wrote “The Grapes of Wrath” In words alarming and alert, He strayed far off the beaten path with salubrious effect’ The class was studying ‘‘Macbeth” and the day’s lesson was at THE LOW DOWN FROM HICKORY GROVE Anybody poppin’ off and saying the Germans must be a queer lot to be led around by the nose, are just poppin’ off. You don’t meed to go 4 thou- sand miles to see sights, you just glance down our own Main Street. The latest I see, is where the U. S. A. is fix- ing to furnish free mobile homes for lemon strikers in sunny California. The Govt. is helping to keep the strike going there with its left hand, and sweating blood—or claim- ing to do so—building ships, etc., with the other hand, elsewhere. I don’t know, but it ts just a bare chance that in this lemon strike the Boys there on the raging Potomac who are furnish- ing the free mobile homes, do mot like lemonade— they might all hail from Kentucky. But to get back to strikes, I been trying to find out why we keep on trying to run our U. S. A. labor department from a side-saddle. Yours with the low down, JO SERRA. And fairly groveled in the dirt. Ask any publisher’s good teller Which book by John is THE best- seller. Which stories are most often told And which achieve the rapt guffaw, The ones a moral will enfold Or those quite definitely raw ? With cup of tea or glass of toddy The tales best-told are always bawdy. The Bard of Avon was a grind Whose millings are without com- pare, He used some words that sear your mind And some are fit to turn your hair, But down the ages from Jurassic To now he’s still the A-1 classic. Heigh-Ho, the Pillar! Hail, the Post! One issue joins my scrap-book’s store, From candor you have earned a toast; Oh, why evade what we abhor? To make a wager is my mission: I'll name your one best-read edition. OUR DEMOCRACY by Mat = WN WWW TITTY Tw Tn 57 7 TE) 4 THERE'S NOTHING MORE AMERICAN THAN ICE CREAM ONE PER THOUSAND. Bo OF ICE CREAM IS THE STORY OF REFRIGERATION, IN WHICH THE U.S. LEADS THE WORLD —MORE THAN 79% OF OUR FAMILIES EQUIPPED. OF MECHANICAL REFRIGERATORS ALONE, ONE HERE FOR EVERY 7 PERSONS. IN CENTRAL EUROPE ITS ABOUT The U.S. HAS THE OVLY SYSTEM OF REFRIGERATED Hi i i 7) / 300 MILLION / GALLONS EATEN A YEAR HERE: | IN EUROPE IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN A SCARCE LUXURY. rr RAILROAD CARS, TRUCKS, AND COMMERCIAL VENDING UNITS. FAST-GROWING » 700, IS THE NUMBER. OF REFRIGERATING LOCKERS, “FOOD BANKS” FOR. FARMERS’ OWN VEGETABLES AND MEATS. Por a A LSTA FL SR SA Cos VU des gene: THE POST, FRIDAY, JUNE 20, 1941 Sleeping Tablets BOOK REVIEW Dictators and Democrats. Edit- ed by Lawrence Farnsworth. Robert M. McBride and Com- pany. $3.00. 375 pages. Reviewed by D. Ralph Goldberg, 24 Fifth Ave., New York City. Have a chat with the people who are making history today. Through- out the pages of Dictators and Dem- ocrats, the men who are carving the destiny of our world speak frankly with some of the finest jour- nalists of our day. It is really like confronting current history in the flesh . . . looking into the minds of these political leaders and seeing them as they do not appear in the newsreels or papers, or in our men- tal caricatures of them. Lawrence Farnsworth has under- taken the mammoth job of gather- ing and editing some thirty-one in- terviews, and has combined them into this immensely readable vol- ume, Dorothy Thompson and H. R. Knickerbocker present a Hitler that few have seen. Winston Churchill of wartime, with all his energy and drive, is captured by Ralph Inger- soll. Rather than the conventional picture of the dark, unbending Stalin, Eugene Lyons finds him gen- ial and childlike. Emil Ludwig in- terviews a precise, methodical Mus- solini, directly contradicting the !bluff Duce known to the outer world. Franklin Roosevelt, Chiang Kia-shek, Petain, Goering, Ciano, de Valera, Konoye, Avila Camancho, and many others are pictured at their most human. Pierre van Passen’s amiable con- versation with French Marshal Lyautey, is one of the finest inter- a community institution” THE DALLAS POST ESTABLISHED 1889 “More than a newspaper, A non-partisan liberal progressive newspaper pub- lished every Friday morning at its plant on Lehman Ave- nue, Dallas, Penna., by the Dallas Post, Inc. Entered as second-class matter at the post office at Dallas, Pa., under the Act of March 3, 1879, Subscriptions, $2 a year, payable in advance. ’ Single copies, at a rate ef 5c each, can be obtained every Fri- day morning at the following newsstands: Dallas; Hislop’s Rest- aurant, Tally-Ho Grille; Shaver- town, Evans’ Drug Store; Hunts- ville, Frantz Fairlawn Store. Editor and Publisher HOWARD W. RISLEY Associate Editor MYRA ZEISER RISLEY FRED M. KIEFER JOHN V. HEFFERNAN Mechanical Superintendent HAROLD J. PRICE veiws that this reviewer has ever read. Mr. van Passen quite by chance met the Marshal in a Paris library on a rainy day. As they stood watching the storm, the Mar- shal spoke his mind because he had nothing else to do .. . Had Pierre van Paassen not been there, it would never have been put into print. As a background for each of these interviews is an account of the events leading up to it . . . events fully as dramatic as the interview itself, For instance, Louis Adamic tells the following passage of his journey to the fortress-palace of Dedinye, where he would meet Alex- ander, late king of the Yugoslavs: “At a quarter to eleven on the appointed date I found myself in a vast, shining limousine, speeding through Belgrade. It was Alexan- der’s personal car. At the sight of it, every soldier and gendarme along the way snapped to attention . If I did not laugh, it was because I was worried some would-be regi- cide might mistake me for Alexan- der. I wondered if the glass in the limousine was bullet-proof. Very probably it was.” Lawrence Farnsworth has done an enviable job of editing and pre- paring Dictators and Democrats . . . just as the many excellent contribu- tors have written interestingly and comprehensively of their own inter- views. However, there are some readers who are so fed up with dic- tators and their kind, that they will have no part of them . . . whether they are served on a silver platter or otherwise . . . But if you want to put your finger on some of the “off ences, and if you can stomach any more talk on practically every one | of our political leaders of today, : the record” views that are never. expressed at routine press confer- | THE SENTIMENTAL SIDE By EDITH BLEZ There is certainly more drama to be found on a railroad train than one can find anywhere else, with the possible exception of a hotel lobby. For instance, over this past week-end I happened to be on a train on which there were several American sailors, who were evidently on their way back to their ship. I noticed particularly one fair-haired sailor who was quite bored with what he saw out of the window, and he was more THE OLD SCRAPBOOK By "Bob" Sutton From the ashes of failure we build success. Without wisdom being generous can be foolish. A friend is one who loves you in spite of your faults. It is better to be more than you seem, than to seem more than you are. If We’d Only Think If we'd only think before we speak, How much better it would be; If we'd realize the words we say Would hurt you and me, If we'd only stop before we talk, A question ourselves to ask; “Is what I say going to benefit Or hinder me in my task?” Why can’t we stop and think a while, Before our brother we hurt? Why must we be so base and mean And speak for someone's hurt? Oh, Lord, control these tongues of ours, And make them all thine own; Cause them to speak thy glorious praise And ne'er in grievous tone. Make a pulpit of your circum- stances. Be not merely good; be good for something. He who lies for you, will lie against you. FOOTNOTES By EMMONS BLAKE We were sitting in a small restau- rant in Perris, California; blowing into our thick cups of coffee, and paying little attention to anyone, when he walked in. He was about sixty years old, with yellowish white hair and a week’s beard. He carried a bun- dle that he dropped to the floor before sitting down at the counter. -| While he waited for the waitress to come he rested his forehead in his hand and seemed to go to sleep. We did not wonder at his being tired; it was hot, and the towns on the inland road are far between. He ordered coffee and eggs in a dull voice and resumed his rest- ing until they came. Then he ate slowly, indifferently. As is our habit when stopping at road side restaurants, we played the juke box or nickelodian. We chose a hit tune of the nineties, heavy with slide trombones and brasses, that has recently staged a revival, “The Band Played On.” A change came over our counter- mate. His chapped and sunburned fingers tapped out the melody, clenched tightly when the trombones came careening in, and tapped again, the muscles of his arm stir- ring under the bleached hairs. He Dictators and Democrats is the book | stared at the opposite wall, half that you're looking for. Tommy Dropchinski’s Sportsmanship Editor The Post: I am writing to let you know how Tommy Dropchinski is making out. Tommy fought at Jersey City and lost by a technical knock-out in the fifth round because of a cut on his lip. He fought Jack Bird a ferm- er southern champion. Tommy took the first round by a big margin, knocking his man down for the count of eight and closing his eye with a left jab. In the sec- ond, Bird and Tommy got in a little in fighting in which Tommy lost his mouth-piece and got his lip cut. In the third, with his face covered with blood, Tommy fought a great round with big cheers coming from the crowd, but at the end of the round Bird opened up and the crowd saw two boys fighting with every- thing they had. The fourth was even. Both boys’ faces were covered with blood, Tom- my dropping his man for the count of nine with another right hander. Then Bird hit Tommy and dropped him for a count of six. As the round ended the referee went to look at Tommy's lip and called the fight off. When the referee lifted Bird's hand the crowd booed for five min- utes and gave Tommy big cheers. It was the blood that made the ref- eree stop the fight. We took it hard because Tommy was winning in nice THE SAFETY VALVE - By Post Readers | style. But Tommy just said: “For- get, it, we'll get there some day;” then said, “get a return match with him and I'll make sure they won't stop the fight, because I'll stop Bird next time.” Tommy was very tired after the fight because he had had only one days’ rest. He fought Buddy Newly on Monday night, then fought Jack Bird Wednesday night, But what got me, was when the fight was over, Tommy showed swell sportsmanship. He said, “there is one man taught me that and that was Mr, Snyder, principal of Lehman Township High School.” He said, Mr. Snyder was his coach in high school sports and he taught him what good sportsmanship means. It was swell though how he acted; his two seconds arguing with the ref- eree, because if the fight had gone another round Tommy would have won. But all Tommy said was, “lets’ forget it, we've all got to lose.” It was Tommy's first T. K. O, in all his fighting, I will let you know how Tommy makes out in his matches. You can write the story any way you want it in the paper, I just give you an idea of what goes on. Pat Cinella, (One of Tommy's seconds) Newark, N, J. POETRY GROUND BIRD’S NEST Hu “Well, what did the fellow have to say 2” My father wanted to know. “Why did he leave that patch in the hay Right where it would show ?”’ I had wondered, too, till the farm hand said, As if he did not care To be questioned so—for his face got red— “A ground bird’s nest is there!” My father did not say a word For a while, as we climbed the fence. But he said, when we found the nesting bird, “The fellow has some sense!” He added then, with a sudden frown— And his eyes were clear and steady— “Too many nests have been tram- pled down, Upon the earth, already.” —Glenn Ward Dresbach. =| fell. reading the soup menu posted there. | smiling and raised and lowered his eye brows as the music rose and We know that he was not The music stopped, but he didn’t. He finished his food with a flourish, picked up his bundle, spun around and walked briskly out of sight around the corner. The waitress watched his depart- ure from the swinging door of the kitchen, and came to pick up his dishes. “ “Yes, sir, boys,” she said, “our coffee sure does pick ’em up.” than anxious to talk with an at- tractive girl who was sitting behind him. He used every possible tactic but he met with no success whatso- ever. For two hours he tried to make that girl! Finally he gave up and just as he gave up, two other sailors strolled through the coach. One of them was a jolly, curly head- ed individual who immediately spied the girl! He didn’t hesistate for one second. He waived his Buddy on his way and sat down with the girl fully expecting she would be glad to talk with him. The girl was all smiles and in just about two minutes they were having a grand time chatting away at a great rate, much to the utter disgust of the fair-haired sailor who couldn’t be- lieve his eyes. He tried for a few minutes to join in the conversation but it was no use, he couldn’t get to first base. He slumped down in the seat and decided to take a nap, and when I left the train the curly- headed sailor was certainly having a fine time and the girl was hang- ing on every word he said! On the same train was a Mother and her small son, who from all appearances annoyed his Mother to distraction, The boy was an attrac- tive little fellow, and like most children on a train, he made plenty of confusion and talked at a terrific rate, which annoyed his Mother no end. She would get him all fixed with a coloring book and crayons and begin believing her troubles were over when, suddenly, with no warning the book and crayons would be all over the floor, and Mamma began twisting herself into all sorts of shapes trying to locate the crayons under the nearby seats. She delivered several lectures in very loud tones, much to every- one’s amusement ,and certainly with no impression on her small son who was having the time of his life. He was such a little fellow and his Mother was old enough to know better but some Mothers never seem to learn that there is a time and a place for everything, and the train is certainly not the place to lecture a two year old! Then there was the little man | who kept running through the train at regular intervals. It seemed to me that each time I looked up from my book that man was rushing through again. He looked so dis- turbed and as if he was hunting frantically for something he couldn't find. He couldn’t have been look- ing for an empty seat because there were plenty of them. I never did find out what he was looking for but the distress on his face worried me and the last time he rushed through I was sorely tempted to find out just what the trouble was. Finally, there was the old man who went to the drinking fountain at very regular intervals. He car- ried his own glass and each time he filled it just to the top, and he had everybody on the train in a dither wondering if he would make it to his seat without spilling the water. We couldnt’ understand why he didn’t stand at the fountain and drink the water because he was traveling alone, but every ten min- utes or so he walked very slowly to the fountain and then just as slowly back to his seat with the overflowing glass of water. He never spilled a drop but he cer- tainly worked very hard! gw FREEDOM The columnists and con- tributors on this page are allowed great latitude in expressing their own opin- ions, even when their opinions are at variance with those of The Post ~.. > "ROCK OF AGES AUGUSTUS MONTAG sv TOPLADY? FN Rock of ages, cleft for me, Let me hide myself in Thee: Let the water and the blood, From Thy riven side which flowed, & 4 Be of sin the double cure, I Cleanse me from its guilt and power. from a thunder shower it has ever been the tne of many, the ns. C Little Stories of Great Hymns ~ - { o> There are many versions about the inspiration of this great hymn— one, that Reverend Toplady, during a suburban walk sought shelter cliff. But, whatev ctengsthe birt -occasion, over, when danger fT H. WOOLEERT FUNERAL DIRECTOR DALL ag 400 [at goer Nits Hrs ay § fi
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers