The Giddings Star (Giddings, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 49, Ed. 1 Friday, March 7, 1947 Page: 3 of 8
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THE GIDDINGS STAR
ST LOVER
BY Helen Topping miller
NEWS CA
BEHIND-
THE NEWS
By PAULMALLON E
Six New Styles for
Remaking Curtains
BETTER THAN PILLS
FOR CONSTIPATION
Finds Famous Breakfast
Cereal Most Helpful of All
Have you given up hope of be-
ing "regular” again? Then read
thia sincere, unsolicited letter:
CHAPTER I
The heat in town had been In-
lense, and Julia McFarlane „olled
the station-wagon under the ivy cov-
ered porte-cochere gratefully.
The big old house would be cool.
It was always cool, the solid brick
walls built over a century since
shutting out the sun with aloof dig-
nity. Julia Jerked off her hat be-
fore she opened the door and slid
out of the coat of her smart gray
suit. She dropped the hat and coat
on a chair and was pushing the
heavy, moist auburn hair off her
forehead when a yell came down
the curving staircase. A young yell.
"Dooley, is that you?”
Julia sighed. She was so tired.
It was five o'clock, and she had had
no lunch. She had spent hours in
an airless office, growing more
furious by the moment, and then
she had argued for another hour
with a young government represent-
ative who quoted regulations, al-
most smacking his lips over them.
To her desperate plea that there
had to be more wiring for power
and pumping on Buzzard’s Hill, that
there had to be more fence if they
were to raise hams and bacon for
the army, he had smiled a madden-
ingly superior smile.
To his smug vision all this had
spelled wire—copper wire, steel
wire—and wire was not to be sur-
rendered, even to a handsome wom-
an in a stylish hat. So Julia had
come back to the farm, wrung out
and exasperated, and now here was
Jill yelling from upstairs.
"Dooley, come up here right
away!”
Julia went up the stairs slowly.
In the bright little room at the
end of the hall Jill was standing on
a stool before a looking-glass, her
slim legs hidden in folds of white
jersey, her face full of woe.
"It’s all crooked!” she wailed.
“They stretched it when they
cleaned it, and it’s all in scallops.
It looks like the devil. What am I
going to do?”
Julia dropped on the bed and
looked at her child. Jill’s hair was
lighter than her own, taffy and sun--
light and wild curling mischief,
where Julia's had darkened to the
‘ hue of old cherry wood and lay back
sleekly under a brush. Jill’s eyes
were darker, too, almost black un-
der striking, arrogant brows; direct,
demanding eyes, impatient, with
little compromise in them.
"What do you want to do, Jill?
Cut the hem off and even it?”
“I haven't got time. It’s yards
around the bottom, though it does
hang so straight. Would it look aw-
ful, Dooley, if we cut off the worst
places and hemmed it? It has to
be right, it simply has to.”
"What cooks? Something terri-
bly special?”
"Frightfully special.” Jill jerked
angrily at the stubborn folds. "It’s
Spang. And the club dance. He
has a three-day pass. He’s coming
on the bus."
"Do I know Spang? He sounds
like some kind of canned dog-ration.
Julia Worries
About Her Son
Would Spang be outraged by an un-
even hemline?”
"Don’t make gags, Dooley, you’re
not the type. Handsome dignity is
your line. No, you don’t know
Spang. He's a turret instructor
right now, down at Ric's Field. I
met him when I went down last
week to see Ric. He's a lieutenant
and a flier, but right now he's T.S.
—technical to you, Dooley.”
“But he wasn't christened Spang,
surely-the font would have fallen
down."
"Dooley, I ask you! His name
is Spencer, and he hates it because
he doesn’t like some uncle or other.
He won't look at my dress, but all
the females on the prowl will cut
their eyes down, and I’ll get an in-
feriority complex. And this is im-
portant!”
“Is it?” Julia was gentle. "All
right, turn around. But I refuse
to guarantee results. Remember,
I’m a pig-woman, not a couturiere.
Is Ric coming with your Spang?”
Jill puckered her brow. "Moth-
er, Ric’s a private. Just a plain
Joe, and a casual at that. He
couldn't get a pass home unless he
bought one from somebody, and he
says they've hiked the price now
till it isn't worth it.”
"But—do you mean that he came
home last time on some other
man’s pass?” Julia spoke between
pins, sharply.
"Of course. Unless it was an
emergency he wouldn't rate a pass.
They might want to ship him out
any minute.”
"But that was a foolish and risky
thing to do when he's trying to get
into officer’s school!”
"Oh, they organize things, Ric
says—get some other Joe to answer
for them at roll-call or something.”
Jill turned slowly on her toes.
"I don't like it,” Julia said stern,
ly. "I won’t have Ric Jeopardizing
his chances. You should have told
me before.” ,
“Oh, Mother, you know how much
attention Ric pays to maternal ad-
monition! You only had one duti-
ful child—me.”
"Stand still, or I'll never get this
right.”
She was so tired that her legs quiv-
ered and her eyes blurred. And now
worry was spinning like a dentist’s
drill in her brain. For now she
was beginning to know what before
had been only a nagging fear, a
motherly apprehension. Now she
knew that the thing she hated had
not died, had not removed itself
from her life. It was going on.
Richard, her son, born in loneliness
and torment—Richard was going on
being another mad and reckless Mc-
Farlane, irresponsible, not to be be-
lieved.
You could have spared me this,
God, she was thinking. I’ve had
so much and I’ve tried to be pa-
tient, I’ve tried to do my best.
Aloud she said, "That gets it, I
think. But it will probably sag
somewhere else. That heavy stuff
does.”
Jill pulled the dress over her head
and dropped on the stool, her naked
arms round and virginal and
sweet.
"Will you tack it up for me,
Dooley? I’ve got to do my nails
and press my suit, and there's a
spot on the toe of one of my san-
dals where somebody stepped on
me. Oh, I forgot to tell you, I asked
Spang to stay here. He hasn’t any
family at all. I fixed the bed be-
She would have to tell her father-
in-law, too, old John I. McFarlane,
and he would fume angrily and im-
potently for hours, to any one who
would listen.
Working on Jill's dress, she hoped
this young lieutenant would not be
a disappointment, but all the while
she nursed the secret wish that he
would prove to be only another pass-
ing fancy, moving on as so many
other lads had moved on, out of
Jill’s life.
To be an army wife—she did not
want that for Jill. She wanted to
save her child from that heartburn-
ing, that dreary waiting, the endless
nights, the torturing silences that
she herself remembered. And for
her the wretchedness had never end-
ed. There had been no finale, no
period, no yellow telegram, no shoe!
of grief—there had been nothing
Now, after twenty-five years, there
was still nothing.
But in these days, with all the
young men in service, a girl, even
IIN
“It’s all crooked!” she wailed.
cause Mamie was pouty. I could
only one find one hemstitched sheet,
so I put a plain one under.”
“Will Spang be here to dinner?
If he will, you’ll have to set the
table. I'll fix your dress, but then
I have to talk over some things with
Foster and your grandfather.”
"John I. rode up to mark posts in
the woodlot,” Jill said. “Foster
had to help him on the horse, and
that made him furious. He's bound
to break a hip some day, and then
you "and I will have a lovely life.”
"But he’ll die if he stops wanting
to do things for himself. He really
doesn’t believe that he’s eighty. He
thinks that's something somebody
made up.”
“You're a pet to fix the dress,
Dooley my love. But Spang is
worth it, he is definitely. Maybe
he's the one. About time! Here
I am, crowding twenty-seven and
already getting a maiden look
around the chin.”
“Don't be ridiculous. You look
about eighteen. Don't forget about
the table. Mamie's been busy all
day.”
Jill Mustn’t Re
An Army Wife
"Oh, Spang's bus won’t be here
till eight. I’ll give him sandwiches
and beer. Anyway, Mamie likes sol-
diers, and all the boys want is a
soft chair to sprawl in and a hot
tub. They stand up all day, or sit
on a hot curb, and they can't even
lie down on their cots till night, Ric
told me.”
In her own room, dim and cool
and serene, with the branches of
the huge old trees rustling close to
the windows, Julia shed the regi-
mentals of a career woman, re-
laxed in the tub, and put on soft
cotton slacks. Later she’d have to
get into the denim and boots that
were her farm uniform; she'd have
to tell Foster, who ran the place,
that there would be no more cop-
per wire and no more fence till
the government gave her a priority,
and heaven only knew when that
would be.
Released by Western Newspaper Union.
■OTH MANAGEMENT, LABOR
FEAR TREND TO SOCIALISM
WASHINGTON. — Unions and |
management agreed a few days
back the trend of this nation is
toward socialism-a rather start- |
ling agreement—although no notice
Was paid it. Perhaps one reason
this cheerless foreboding drew bare
public mention was that AFL’s Bill |
Green did not send around a copy
of his speech to the publicists, as
I he usually does. What he said was:
Toryism is driving unions to the
left; the threatened union reform
legislation is being pressed as •
strategem of the tories to destroy
the unions. Pointing to the rise of
the union sociaUst government in
England, Green asked: “Do you
doubt that the same thing could
. happen here? Is it inconceivable
that union workers might be driven
to the same course under similar
as pretty and desirable a girl as
Jill, had little choice. The world
was swiftly turning to a confused
and dismal place.
She had told herself so many
times, when Jill and young Richard
were small and everything was very
grim for her, that no child of hers
should ever live through what she
herself was living through. She had
worked so hard: she had even done
rough work with her own hands to
build up this old farm. She had
fought drouth and animal epidem-
ics and insects and discouragement,
to make a richer, kinder life foi
Ric and Jill. And she had succeed- 4
ed. She looked through the window
at the white fences marching over
the lush green of the fields of Buz-
zard’s Hill, and she knew that she
had succeeded.
provocation?”
This sparingly reported speech
was, in a sense, a challenge
flung at President Wilson of
General Motors. Wilson had said
earlier in a political-economic
analysis, which should be read
by all students of the subject
in full: “The attack on profits
is really an attempt to substi-
tute state socialism or commu-
nism for our free competitive
and capitalistic system." He
claimed union leftists were forc-
ing us toward a system im-
I ported from east of the Rhine,
or even from England, install- .
tog the state as God and govern-
ment.
Here was considerable agree-
ment as to the facts. They both say
the unions are forcing us to the
political and economic bankruptcy
of the backward nations. Green
7005
“I am a registered nurse a
what a problem constipation is
with patients deprived of their v
cal activities. Where pills bro--.- -.-
porary relief, eating KELLOGG’S ALL-
BRAN regularly actually prevented irregu-
darity in more cases than 1 can mention.
Your product is a great boon to our mod-
ern age." Miss Katherine E. Walsh, Town
Hall, Newington, Conn.
ton
Her father-in-law had helped. She
gave him his due in all loyalty. He
had been a rock to lean upon, he had
been a pillar—a fiery pillar, but
steadfast. Through all the strange
years when no word had come from
Richard, her husband, when there
had been only silence as baffling as
the hollow sky, as deep as the sea,
old John I. had stood by her
through the grim times and
times. She had lived through
but she would fight to save Jill from
a life like that.
excuses this by blaming it on what
he calls toryism (a word imported
from England). Furthermore, both
seem agreed neither wants to go
where we are being pushed.
USED AS THREAT
Behind this, of course, is Green's
desire to threaten management
with socialism so it will ease down
ment wants to threaten socialism to
I scare labor into a cooperative
u us peace for production. But if they
She heard the clump of John 11 are talking, in this way for propa-
boots presently, heard him yelling ganda purposes. both also are tell-
something into the telephone. All the truth
the McFarlanes yelled, even Jill. What neither Green nor Wilson
There was so much in them that reported was that socialism has
was alive and in a ferment. Pa decayed and been corrupted by
tience had been left out of them It communism throughout the world
was as if they had , yeasty brew in the past few months. The trend
instead of blood in their veins, of socialism, I would say, is toward
R chard, whom she had married, communism, or a more accurate
had velled, too. Up three flights in way to put it is that the Com-
that little walk-up flat in Washing munists are using the Socialists for
now’ Ty must she think of that just their own revolutionary advantage,
now?Why couldn t she make her; This was not true earlier in the
self forget, finally and forever? Postwar era. The Socialists knew |
Last year she had determined to and hated the Communists better
forget and the year before. It ir- than did we who are living in a
ritated her that she, 8 strong wom- democracy. Since then the Social-
an, was not strong enough to con- | ists hame become mere dunes for
Sense ======
clothes that went with being a int. . ...inn ranelvarchin which
pig-woman. She tied her hair up
in a bandana and went downstairs.
A Sow Shows
Its Teeth
John I. McFarlane—thin, mus-
tached, with small hands and feet,
and bright, hot, black eyes—was sit-
ting on the side porch cutting to-
bacco into a newspaper spread
across his knees. He looked upas
alertly as a robin, and said, ‘Hello,
you back?”
“An hour ago.” Julia sat down.
The old man snapped his knife
shut, slid the tobacco into a red tin
and put the tin in his hip pocket.
“Bet you forgot iny*bottle of bit-
ters?”
“I did not. It’s in the kitchen
with the groceries.”
"I’d better rescue it, then, before
Mamie rubs it on her rheumatism.
Last time you brought me some she
used it to kill mites on a duck.
Well, I marked about two hun-
dred posts.”
"No use, John I. They won't give
ua priority for any more fence "
He drew his white brows together
angrily. "What do they expect us
to do? Teach hogs not to cross a
chalk line?”
“No mere wire, no more copper,
no more steel. It's war, John I.
But it makes it tough for the pig
business. Would you be interested
in growing cucumbers or peanuts
or something?”
"I would not! Pickles give me
the hives, and what good are pea-
nuts when there aren't any more
county fairs or circuses?"
"They use the oil for something.
I forget what. Did you tell Foster
to shut up your prize sow? She
ought to bring a good litter.”
“I shut her up myself. She's a
cagy female. She bit me, and 1
hit her with the pitchfork before I
thought, but she wasn't hurt any.
What's wrong with you, Dooley?
You look shot, and you’ve got cir-
cles under your eyes.”
iTo BE CONTINUED
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i into a union receivership, which
cannot even produce enough goods
to sustain itself. Everyone knows
about the coal shortage situation,
but few realize the same condition j
applies to other British goods and
services. Coal is the biggest natural
product of Britain, used for export
i to acquire import food. Lately Brit- |
I ain has not been able to produce
| enough coal to keep itself warm.
Union Socialism in Britain has
paid the people’s money for indus- |
tries, piling more debt atop the war
debt, and as it naturally must grant
concessions to the unions in wages,
hours and working conditions, it
cannot operate to produce enough. 1
INCENTIVE LACKING
This is natural because a union
miner, given added pay, shorter
hours and less work, can hardly be
expected to break his back in an
idealistic endeavor to keep the na-
tion warm. Furthermore, in the ;
midst of the Union Socialist party
there has arisen a secret bloc favor-
able to the Moscow foreign policy,
or at least anti-American. Anyone I
with half an eye clear can see
where England is going, down,
down, down. Churchill once said
socialism would have to become a I
dictatorship like Moscow to force
the union men to work, a campaign
remark for which he received the
counterpart of a tomato in the face.
Wilson now says the same thing
from his objective perch.
Now Green seems to realise
how bad socialism would be for
a American labor. The Standard
of living of the British Union
people is very lew as compared
with this country — and It is
even lower in France. Socialism
would force our wage level
down to the declining receipts
which socialism provides. Profits
are due to the energy of both
labor and management, and
socialism does not generate
energy to either, because it
does not carry a reward for
effort.
For PIPES
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Winston-Salem, N. C.
D Prince Albert 1.
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PA has a swell, rich flavor.)
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“It’s always a pleasure to have a
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And that crimp cut fee-
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OR PAPERS
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-I certainly enjoy the swell ‘makin’s
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Joseph C Topper. “Crimp cut P. A.
rolls up fast and neat. Smokes
tasty-cool and mild. P. A. is
b a great cigarette tobacco!” 4
RINCE Albert
THE NATIONAL JOY SMOKE
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Preusser, Theodore A. The Giddings Star (Giddings, Tex.), Vol. 7, No. 49, Ed. 1 Friday, March 7, 1947, newspaper, March 7, 1947; Giddings, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth1633987/m1/3/: accessed June 28, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Giddings Public Library and Cultural Center.