The Groom News (Groom, Tex.), Vol. 17, No. 20, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 16, 1942 Page: 2 of 8
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THE GROOM NEWS GROOM. CARSON COUNTY. TEXAS
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The Answers
Gene Tunney
CHAPTER XIII
Walter Hagen
3
Kansas City
Missouri
EXPERT
BUYERS
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$$$$$$$$5$$5$$5s
We Can All Be
Knowledge Requires Use
It is not enough to know; we
must turn what we know to ac-
count.—Goethe.
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P/CE
He failed to see the bare-shouldered and burly figure that emerged
from the tree shadows.
TERMITES wttBteikd-rox
io homes, schools, farm buildings, public buildings.
Kills termites. Also prevents decay.
Easy to apply. No odor, no stain.
Anh your lumber or hardware dealer for
full information or write
GEO. C. GORDON CHEMICAL CO.
■
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Surface Errors
Errors, like straws, upon the
surface flow.
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• In bringing us buying information, as
to prices that are being asked for
what we Intend to buy, and as to the
quality we can expect, the advertising
columns of this newspaper perform a
worth while service which saves us
many dollars a year.
• It is a good habit to form, the habit
of consulting the advertisements every
time we make a purchase, though we
have already decided just what we
want and where we are going to buy
it. It gives us the most priceless feeling
In the world: the feeling of being
adequately prepared.
• When we go Into a store, prepared
beforehand with knowledge of what is
offered and at what price, we go as
an expert buyer, filled with self-confi-
dence. It Is a pleasant feeling to have,
the feeling of adequacy. Most of the
unhappiness in the world can be traced
to a lack of this feeling. Thus adver-
tising shows another of its manifold
facets—shows itself as an aid toward
making all our business relationships
more secure and pleasant.
CALLOUSES
To relieve painful callouses, burn-
ing or tenderness on bottom of feet
and remove callouses—get these
thin, soothing, cushioning pads.
CUPPOSE we could put on a base-
ball carnival that included Cy
Young, Ty Cobb, Nap Lajoie, Tris
Speaker, Joe Jackson, Ed Walsh,
Babe Ruth, George Sisler, Rogers
Hornsby and Hans Wagner. It would
be something to look at—especially
for those who carry memories of
other baseball days.
Or suppose you could put on a se-
ries of fights that knew such names
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make along the lines of past and
present stardom when it comes to
a matter of past color and skill,
hooked up with modern ability to
wreck par.
Turning Back the Clock
When it comes to turning back the
clock in Chicago’s golf ensemble we
can give you Chick Evans, an ex-
caddie from the Edgewater G. C.
in Chicago, who was a star golfer
35 years ago—and who is still good.
We could give you Francis Oui-
met, another ex-caddie who at the
age of 20, turned back Harry Var-
don and Ted Ray 29 years ago at
Brookline in Massachusetts. And he
is still good.
Or we can give you Walter Hagen
who threatened at Brookline in 1913,
and came along to win the U. S.
Open in 1914 at Midlothian, Chicago.
Or Bobby Jones who starred at
Merion in 1916, only 26 years ago,
at the age of 14.
Or Gene Sarazen, who at the age
of 20, won the U. S. Open at Skokie,
another Chicago course, in 1922—a
mere lapse of 20 years.
And don’t think that Jones and
Sarazen can’t break 70 today.
Hagen, Jones and Sarazen togeth-
er have won something like 30 na-
tional and international champion-
ships. Jones and Hagen have been
the two great golfers of all times
and when it comes to the combined
check-up of skill and color Sarazen
isn’t far away. Harry Vardon had
his full share of skill, but not the
color that goes with the three we
have named.
The Modern Group
No one could expect Cobb, Ruth,
Speaker, Young, Lajoie, Sisler or
Hornsby to compete with the pres-
ent day crop—Ted Williams, Joe
Gordon, Bobby Doerr, Joe DiMag-
gio, Pete Reiser, Terry Moore, and
others.
So no one could expect Jones, Ha-
gen, Sarazen and other old-timers
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GHOSTPLANE
By ARTHUR STRINGER w...Usepvc penrch
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MERRY-GO-ROUND
( Capitol insiders are betting that
before the tax bill finally emerges
from congress it will contain some
kind of provision for compulsory
war savings as an anti-inflation
measure. Secretary Morgenthau has
been opposed to this, but recently
seems willing to shift his view.
( Former OPM boss William Knud-
sen, in his new role as a lieutenant-
general in the army, has inspected
285 war plants and in many of them
he has recommended changes which
have increased production.
"Yi
For Others
The most delicate, the most
sensible of all pleasures consists
in promoting the pleasures of
others.—La Bruyere.
l. When was the U. S. Marine
Corps organized?
2. Where is the force of gravity
felt the least, at the poles or at
the equator?
3. What is another name for
horse mackerel?
4. Who was the first man to be
President of the 48 American
states?
5. If an object has no definite
shape, it is said to be what?
6. What was a Greek hoplite?
7. What width is a hairsbreadth?
8. How many Civil war veterans
are now living?
9. What breed of cow holds the
world’s milk production record?
10. What live animal actors have
to be faked in Hollywood picture-
making?
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E Eam AA"G Soothe and relieve heat rash
u mE4 | on you or baby, with cool-
MK THE ga ing Mexican Heat Powder.
O E | Absorbs perspiration, often
EE E B"G B forerunner of heat rashes.
to match scoring
swings with Byron
Nelson, Ben Hogan,
Sammy Snead or
Craig Wood.
But this is one out-
standing feature of
golf. The old-timers,
here and there still
will play holes and
shots as brilliantly
as any Nelson, Ho-
gan or Snead can
produce.
9- C- o- C-: c- C- C. C- 0- C-. C. C (V. C. o. A. o. c.. o.
; ASK ME • I
3 ANOTHER ( ?
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? A General Quiz ?
hcc.c. A- A. O.Ac.c.c.AA.o.(.A.c.0. o.
The Questions
1. In 1775 (by an act of the Con-
tinental congress).
2. The equator.
3. Tuna.
4. William H. Taft.
5. Amorphous.
6. A soldier.
7. In reality, a hairsbreadth is
one forty-eighth of an inch.
8. The Veterans administration
had 1,316 Civil war veterans on its
list September 30, 1941.
9. Holstein.
10. The only live animal actors
in Hollywood that have to be faked
are African elephants, for pictures
with African scenes. There are
only six such animals from that
continent in the United States and
they cannot be rented. Asiatic
elephants have to be used and are
made to look like their African
cousins by wearing large false
ears.
Slade, as consciousness slowly re-
turned to him, found it no easy mat-
ter to orient himself. His head
throbbed and his body seemed
cramped into quivering helplessness.
Then the singing in his ears and
the quivering of his frame merged
into the throb and drone of a motor.
He awakened to the fact that he
Te
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888888383588288888838882
Shaw at 2 Cents a Word
One of the most famous encyclo-
pedias in the English language
pays its celebrated authors at the
incredibly low rate of two cents a
word. As an example, George
Bernard Shaw, for a difficult arti-
cle of 3,420 words, received $68.40.
al
2
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QK4W
& RME!
♦ ♦ *
U. S. PRISONERS IN BATAAN
Ex-Undersecretary of the Interior
Jack’ Dempsey has taken up with
the American Red Cross the prob-
lem of getting a Red Cross repre-
sentative in Manila to look out for
U. S. prisoners from Bataan and
Corregidor.
So far, the Japs have not permit-
ted a Swiss Red Cross representa-
tive in Manila, though they have ad-
mitted Swiss representatives to
Tokyo, Shanghai and Hong Kong.
No excuse has been given by the
Japs for not permitting a Swiss
representative in Manila, but U. S.
officials presume it is because they
don’t want anyone from the outside
world to see what is going on there.
Meanwhile, however, the treat-
ment of U. S. prisoners in Japan
and China is reported to be good.
The Swiss representatives make
regular reports, state that Ameri-
can prisoners have no complaints,
that sheets on the beds are changed
frequently, and that married men
are allowed to go to see their wives
every week-end.
They no longer have the physical
or the concentrative stamina to hook
up shot after shot through 72 holes.
This means a twelve or a fourteen-
hour grind, where there is no let-up
on nerve pressure—where only those
who have battled from coast to
coast, week after week through many
months, are well enough seasoned to
go the route. But these old-timers
still can play all the shots any of
the modern crop can produce.
The only trouble is that they
can’t link them together, stroke aft-
er stroke, and hole after hole. It is
the linking process that counts.
Even 20-handicap golfers have made
holes in one, or hammered brassie
shots dead against the pin.
So it would be foolish to expect
any member from the Old Guard to
keep on the heels of a Nelson, Ho-
gan or Snead, to mention only three
members from the modem group.
Jones and Sarazen might—in an
18-hole test. But not over the 72-
hole route, where concentration and
nerves begin to disintegrate and fall
apart, and the old urge fades out—
not overlooking a little matter
known as youth—competitive youth.
For all that, the golfers hang on
the longest. They still can stick
around when the others are merely
records covered with dust.
A Faster Pace
There isn’t any debating the fact
that modern golfers have set a fast-
er pace than old-timers could offer.
Their game is more standardized—
a 270-yard drive and then a wallop
for the pin.
But I still think they lack the va-
riety of shots old-timers could .play
—the half and three-quarter iron,
for example.
The dynamiter or blaster of the
modern crop has made a big differ-
ence in bunker play. You also can
call it the “wedge.”
Washington, D. C.
BEHIND RAF RAIDS
Few people outside the inner cir-
cle know it, but the recent bombing
raids on Bremen, Cologne, Essen,
have been accomplished in part
through the farsightedness of Ed
Stettinius Jr., who, long ago saw the
importance of high octane gas and
demanded that the administration
start large scale production.
Stettinius has taken it on the chin
regarding the slowness of aluminum
production and has admitted he was
wrong. (Real reason for the tragic
error was his reliance on Aluminum
Corporation of America figures).
But on two other vital commodities
he was way out in front:
One of these was rubber. Stetti-
nius was the first to see the need of
building synthetic rubber factories
to prepare for the fall of Singapore
and began dinning on Jesse Jones
for nearly a year before he could
get Jesse to move.
The other commodity was high oc-
tane gasoline, without which the cur-
rent bombing raids could not take
place. One bomber takes about
1,000 gallons of gasoline to fly from
England to Germany and back, so
with 1,000 bombers staging a raid,
1,000,000 gallons of fuel is used up
in one night.
THE STORY SO FAR: Because he
and his partner, Cruger, need the money
to keep Norland Airways in business,
Alan Slade agrees to fly a “scientist”
named Frayne and his partner, Karnell,
to the Anawotto river in search of the
trumpeter swan. With the proceeds Cru-
ger buys a plane, a Lockheed, which is
stolen. When he returns from the Ana-
wotto Slade starts out to look for the
plane. He has three clues, one of which
appears to have lead up a blind alley.
Slade thought the missing plane had some
connection with Frayne, but when he
returned to where he left the swan-hunter
there was no trace of the plane, and
Frayne appeared to be hunting swans.
The second clue is the story of Umanak.
the eskimo, about a “ghost” plane that
is supposed to come from Echo Harbor.
The third clue is Slade’s hunch that if
he finds a flyer named Slim Tumstead
he will find the plane. Tumstead, who
knows about the Lockheed and about
Frayne, has disappeared. Now Slade,
Umanak, and Slade’s old prospector
friends, Zeke and Minty, are all out
looking for the plane. Slade has just
learned that his hunch was sound. Tum-
stead is with Frayne, and they have a
plane somewhere.
Now continue with the story.
as Jim Corbett, Bob
Fitzsimmons, John
Lawrence Sullivan,
Jim Jeffries, Jack
Dempsey, Gene Tun-
ney and Joe Louis.
That, also, would be
something to see.
In a way, after
this fashion, the Hale
America open golf
show in Chicago, for
war fund purposes,
was the closest ap-
proach anyone could
KG
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♦ ♦ ♦
ROYAL PRESS CONFERENCE
At King Peter’s conference with
the press, the Jugoslav monarch
was completely poised, though ad-
mitting the camera men fazed him
a bit. With characteristic zeal they
monopolized the proceedings with
popping flash-bulbs.-
A reporter asked Peter what his
outstanding impressions were of the
U. S.
“One that stands out is your
friendliness,” he answered prompt-
ly. “Everywhere I have gone I have
noticed that.”
“Does that include photogra-
phers?”
“Well, they are persistent, aren’t
they? I wouldn’t mind if they didn’t
keep shooting off things in my face.”
* * *
TANKER-SAVING PIPELINE
American automobile owners don’t
’know it, but indirectly they had the
British to thank for the final deci-
sion to build a new pipeline from the
South to the Middle West.
Secretary Ickes had been urging
construction of this pipeline for
more than a year—always being
rebuffed by the War Production
board.
Part of Ickes’ argument was that
it was foolish to waste American
tankers by having them carry oil
all the way to England from the
Gulf of Mexico. If, on the other
hand, tankers could load oil and
gasoline at a Middle Atlantic port,
they could save 1,000 miles of
travel and reduce the exposure ta
submarine attack. Tankers are get-
ting scarce these days, and the
shorter the distance they have to
steam, the more trips they can
make.
Ickes put forth this argument em-
phatically at the last hearing before
the War Production board, but was
rebutted by Lieut. Gen. Brehon Som-
ervell, head of the army’s service of
supplies. Somervell pooh-poohed the
idea that England was hard up for
oil or gasoline, said he had just re-
turned from there, and that Ickes’
argument was pure poppycock.
Ickes made no immediate reply,
but cabled the British government.
The British were boiling mad, and
the reply he received clinched the
matter. The War Production board
decided Somervell didn’t know much
about British oil supplies. The pipe-
line was ordered built.
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“On the contrary,” retorted the
older man, “you will sail away quite
comfortably on the Kovalevka when
she takes out her cargo. You will
be carried safe and sound to Vladi-
vostok, with money enough, remem-
ber, to give you three years of trav-
el in Europe and all the vodka your
heart may desire.”
Tumstead seemed to be consider-
ing this.
“But why doesn’t your Kovalevka
show up?” he questioned.
“She will come,” was the precise-
noted answer, “when we are ready
for her. Ice conditions have not
been of the best. And we, too, have
been a little slow in getting our
shipment in shape.”
“So damned slow,” Tumstead re-
torted, “your stuff won’t be any use
to you. While you’re combing the
icicles out of your hair the war’ll
be over.”
“Silence,” commanded the steeli-
er voice. “The men of my race are
taught to do what they are com-
manded to do.”
“And some of it,” retorted the
other, “I’d call uncommonly dirty
work.”
“It is not for you to question the
nature of my work.”
Tumstead’s laugh was harsh.
“No, I’m merely a flyer,” he ac-
ceded. “But I’m not the kind who
can keep a ship going without gas.”
It was the older man’s turn to
stand thoughtful.
“That is a problem,” he finally
said, “which we must in some way
solve.”
Tumstead’s repeated laugh was
edged with bitterness.
“I’ve gathered in everything that’s
lying round loose between here and
the Pole,” he protested. “And the
next pinch may put us all in the
dog-house.”
“I think not,” said the other. “And
we have a problem more immi-
nent.”
“What problem?”
“Those snoopers which you spoke
of. A means must be found to dis-
courage them.” The speaker’s
glance circled about in the uncer-
tain light that surrounded him.
“They may be closer than we imag-
ine.”
As Frayne disappeared within the
tent Tumstead groped about for his
fallen cup and reached once more
for the coffeepot. Slade, watching
him, backed quietly away through
the underbrush. But his retreat was
a brief one. He worked his way
down the hollow between the hills
and slowly ascended the opposing
slope. Then, seeking what cover
he could find, he circled back to-
ward the lake front. He stopped,
from time to time, to listen and
look. But nothing, as he went, came
between him and the object of his
advance.
That objective was the shadowy
tangle of spruce trees at the water’s
edge. He noticed, as he drew near-
er, how a rough ramp of spruce
logs had been built out from the
hillside. It was so plainly a landing
stage, to make easier the passing
of heavy freight into a plane cabin,
that no shock of surprise touched
Slade when he peered under the
matted treetops. For, standing there
in the shadows, he saw the stolen
Lockheed.
He climbed to the rough-timbered
ramp and advanced to where two
filled ore bags stood together at its
outer edge. He stooped over one
of the bags, intent on determining
its contents.
He failed to see the bare-shoul-
dered and burly figure that
emerged from the tree shadows
behind him and quietly reached
for a spruce bole as long as the
long bare arm that wielded it.
He failed to hear any movement
as the newcomer crept forward, as
silent as a shadow, and brought the
spruce bole down on the stooping
flyer’s head.
Slade went down like a clouted
rabbit.
■ 60-
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as he glanced about at the ice-scored
and barren-ridged island surrounded
by its lonely reaches of open water.
That island, he saw, had little to
offer him. Any scrub timber that
grew between its ridges, he real-
ized, would be too small for the
making of a raft. And even with a
raft to deliver him from that watery
prison, he further realized as he
stared about at the distant blue-
hazed horizon, he would face a wil-
derness quite empty of life.
“I won’t get away,” he said, “and
you know it.”
Tumstead’s laugh was defensively
gruff.
“Let’s hope for the best,” he said
as he turned back to his cabin. He
emerged, a moment later, with a
sheath-knife in an old and battered
holster. But as the other man un-
sheathed the knife Slade saw that
the blade was keen-edged and long.
His eye remained on Tumstead as
he stepped closer, the knife in his
hand. The quick look of apprehen-
sion that came from his captive
caused Tumstead’s dark face to
crease with a smile.
“I’m not that yellow,” the latter
announced as he stooped and cut
the cords that bound Slade’s wrists
together. He was about to do the
same with the cords that bound the
ankles. But on second thought he
drew back and replaced the knife
in its sheath. This, after a moment’s
hesitation, he tossed a few paces
farther up the shore slope, discreet-
ly out of reach. Then as Slade sat
trying to work life back into his
benumbed hands the older man cool-
ly explored the other’s pockets.
From them he extracted a lighter
and a package of cigarettes.
A cynic smile played about his
lips as he touched the little flame
to a cigarette end and tossed the
lighter back to its owner.
, “You may need that,” he ob-
served. “But seeing I’ve been out
of fags for over a week I’ll keep the
smokes.”
“So that’s all the chance you give
me,” said Slade,. watching him as
he luxuriously inhaled.
“It’s about all I can afford," Tum-
stead said as he swung about and
glanced down at his fellow-flyer. No
look of commiseration softened the
older man’s face. But for a moment
a frown of meditation wrinkled his
forehead, a frown followed by a
small shoulder movement of dis-
missal.
“Happy landing,” was his curtly
ironic exclamation as he turned
away and climbed aboard his ship.
The man on the beach waited for
the roar of the motor. But that
familiar crescendo of sound failed
to greet him. What he heard, in-
stead, was Tumstead’s cynically in-
different voice calling down to him.
At the same time a package was
tossed ashore.
“That’s a pound of German army
chocolate,” Tumstead announced as
he tossed still another object toward
the motionless figure on the shore
slope. “And here’s a can of bully-
beef.”
He shrugged when no word of
gratitude came from that still mo-
tionless figure.
“And here’s something for your
cigarettes,” was Tumstead’s last
curt call as he threw overboard an
empty tobacco-tin which struck
Slade on the shoulder and came to
a rest between his throbbing knees.
Slade sat watching the plane as it
taxied across the gray-blue water
and rose in the air. He continued
to watch as it headed northward
over the blue-misted ridges and fad-
ed away along the empty skyline.
He sat without moving until the
ache in his tightly bound ankles re-
minded him of other things. Then
he looked about for the sheath-knife.
He gave a gulp of gratitude when
he saw it lying there, within ten
paces of him. It took him some
time to worm his way to the knife.
But a little of the listlessness went
out of his face as his fingers closed
about the heavy haft.
He lost notime in sawing through
the cords and freeing his feet. When
he attempted to stand up, however,
he discovered that his benumbed
legs were unable to support him. He
had to sit there, for several min
utes, waiting for feeling to com
back to them.
(TO BE CONTINUED]
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was in a plane, and that plane was
in flight.
He thought, at first, that his bod-
ily helplessness was due to being
so tightly wedged in between soiled
ore bags and the pilot’s seat. But it
was due, he found after an effort
or two to move, to the fact ’that
both his hands and feet were tied.
Memory came back to him as he
lay back trying to figure out the
reason for all this. The final mists
eddied away as he looked up and
saw that the man at the controls
was Tumstead. Slade made no ef-
fort to speak. Instead, he quietly
tugged and twisted, in the hope of
freeing himself. But his struggles
were without result.
The plane’s pilot, however, must
have become conscious of them, for
his smile was sardonic as he glanced
back over a shrugging shoulder.
“Coming round?” he nonchalant-
ly called out.
“What does this mean?” demand-
ed Slade.
Tumstead flew on for a moment
or two of silence.
“It means you’re lucky to be
alive,” he finally announced. “That
bullhead who knocked you out went
back for his Luger. He was all set
to give you the works.”
Slade seemed to be giving thought
to that statement.
“What are you going to do with
me?” he asked.
“That,” retorted Tumstead, “is
what I’m trying to figure out. The
easiest way, of course, would be to
drop you overboard. And that’s
where you’d go, all right, if we both
weren’t flyers.”
“Then as one flyer to another,”
Slade asked, “why did you steal
this plane?”
Tumstead’s reply to that was a
snort of laughter.
“That’s my own affair,” he said.
“And you should have known better
than nose in on it.”
“You’re flying for Frayne,” said
his prisoner.
“Can you suggest anything bet-
ter?”
Slade considered that question.
“Yes,” he answered, “I know
something better.”
"What?"
“To head back to Waterways with
this Lockheed, while there’s still a
chance of saving your scalp.”
Tumstead’s laugh was hard and
reckless.
“Not on your life,” he proclaimed.
“It’s your scalp you need to worry
about. And it’s going to be some
time before you get back to Water-
ways.”
“Why do you say that?”
Tumstead’s glance went over the
terrain beneath his floats.
“Because, a little farther on, I’m
going to drop you where you’ll stay
anchored for a considerable stretch
of time,” he said.
Slade’s response. to that was to
struggle against the cords constrict-
ing his wrists and ankles. But those
struggles, he still found, were use-
less.
“Are we over the Anawotto?”
questioned Slade, embittered by the
thought of his helplessness.
“We are,” answered Tumstead.
“And it’s sure empty country.”
Slade’s trained ear told him, a
minute later, that they were drop-
ping lower. But from where he lay
he could see nothing of the outside
world. He concluded, from the length
of time that Tumstead taxied along
the surface, that the waterway on
which they had landed was by no
means a small one. He could hear
the grating of the pontoons on a
gravel bar.
“All out,” cried Tumstead.
He half-swung and half-tossed his
prisoner ashore, where with a still
deeper sense of helplessness Slade
tumbled full length along the peb-
bled slope. There, after taking a
shuddering breath or two, he writhed
and twisted about until he was
able to fight his way back to a sit-
ting posture.
“So you’re going to leave me
here?” he said.
“I am,” said Tumstead. “And I
can’t waste time on talk.”
“But why are you doing this?”
persisted Slade.
“Because you got too ambitious.”
Slade watched the plane being
warped around in the shallows. A
surge of desolation swept over him
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Johnson, Leon M. The Groom News (Groom, Tex.), Vol. 17, No. 20, Ed. 1 Thursday, July 16, 1942, newspaper, July 16, 1942; Groom, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1416085/m1/2/: accessed July 6, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Carson County Library.