McCormick messenger. (McCormick, S.C.) 1902-current, September 01, 1932, Image 3
I
September 1, 1932
McCORMICK MESSENGER, McCORMICK, SOUTH CAROLINA ^
PAGE NUMBER TB
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uabgourt
68ACt £.0>
FELIX PIESENBER6
V V ’V V
EIGHTH INSTALLMENT
SYNOPSIS: Johnny Hreen, 16
years old, who had spent all of his
life aboard a Hudson river tugboat
plying near New York, is tossed in
to the river in a terrific collision
which sinks the tug, drowns his
mother and the man he called fa
ther. Ignorant, unschooled, and
fear driven, he drags himself ash
ore, hides in the friendly darkness
of a htfge covered truck—only to be
kicked out at dawn—and into the
midst of a tough gang of boys who
beat and chase him. He escapes
into a basement doorway where he j
hides. The next day he is rescued
and taken into the home of a Jew
ish family living in the rear of their
second-hand clothing store. He
works in the sweatshop store—and
is openly courted by Becka—the
young daughter .. . The scene shifts
to the home of the wealthy Van
Horns—on 5th Avenue, where lives
the bachelor—Gilbert Van Horn—
in whose life there is a hidden
chapter . That chapter was an af
fair with his mother’s maid, who
left the house when he was accused.
The lives of Johnny Breen and Gil
bert Van Horn first cross when Van
Horn sees Breen win his first im
portant ring battle. Pug Malone,
fight trainer, rescues young Breen
from a crooked manager, takes him
in hand, finds Breen cannot read
and starts him t6 night school, and
the world commences to open for
Johnny Breen . - . Malone, an old-
timer, is backed in a health-farm
venture—taking Breen with him.
There they meet and come to
know Gilbert Van Horn.
NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY
“I’m getting ready to go back to
the city. I don’t know, it seems
to me as if my life was to be there,
doing something for the city, not
just helping Pug pound money out
of fat slobs who come up here.”
John and Van Horn were then
resting on a fence rail, finder ihe
shade of an oak, looking across the
valley that separated them by a
mile or.more from Greenbough.
They talked idly. Van Horn pull
ed out a brunt briar and filled it.
He drew a'few puffs of smoke.
“You’ve studied a lot.” The
oldei^man had a very wholesome
regard for John’s extraordinary
researches.
“Well, yes. I have, Gil. But Pug
tells me I’m off the road. He’s
right. But I want your slant on
this. I’m going in for engineer
ing. Mr. Rantoul has sort of set i
my mind that way, not by saying
anything to me direct, but by the
way he talks when he’s up here. I
never saw a more certain man in
my life. He’s a big man, Gil, as
big as his bridges, and now he’s go
ing to swing another one over the
river.”
“A civil engineer?” Van Horn
looked sidewise at John. “It’s a
The boy started to dogtrot ahead of
him, but he did not follow as was
their custom at the end of a hike.
“Hey, Jack.” Pug pounded at
John’s door a few days later.
“Charlie’s brought up a letter from
Van Horn. A special on it, for
you.” Pug burst into John’s room.
“Well?” Pug was expectant, as
full of curiosity as Eve.
“Read it, Pug.”
“What tha—say, John, I don’t
know. What’s it about?”
“Here, let me read it. ‘Dear John.’
It’s about a talk we had the day be
fore he left. ‘Dear John, I have
been thinking about what you said.
I won a lot on you in those scraps,
and have been trying to figure a
way in which I could use the
money. If you will enter Columbia
this fall, I’ll see you through en
gineering. You can pass the en
trance, perhaps with a few condit
ions. I’m placing a credit in Pug’s
name for five thousand, to pay the
way. Don’t hesitate to take this.
You really earned every cent of it.
Merely a little speculation of mine.
“ ‘I’m sailing on the St. Louis to
morrow. Will be at sea when you
get the letter. Going abroad for a
few months with my niece Jose
phine.’ ”
Josephine looked at her white
glove, soiled by the fingers of John
Breen. They were silent on the ride
home; Gilbert Van Horn looked out
of the window of the car. Josephine
still felt the tingling grip of the
young man in rags. His smile, his
tousled yellow hair and white teeth,
and his confusion, and his superb
arms and body, seemed to flit
across her memory, a vivid picture.
He was not at all like the John
Breen she had expected to see.
That night Gilbert Van Horn sat
in the library until long after mid
night. Josephine had played for
him that evening, she too was in a
reflective mood, a romantic girl, a
young woman of eighteen. He
smoked and dreamed and planned.
Gilbert Van Horn was determined
upon a course of action in which
every atom of cleverness he possess
ed would be required. At last he
had achieved an absorbing occupa
tion.
Gilbert Van Horn, wiser than
most men in some matters, left
! John very much to himself, except
at holiday periods when the two
friends met at Greenbough. As
for his ward, he arranged things so
she saw but little of John Breen.
jThe boy was in training, so Van
J\^
m
the litter, “what are you going to
do?”
For a while the two friends sat in
silence. John had tossed his eye
shade aside and searched for a pipe.
He had no particular answer for
the question. He was going to get
through, he was getting through
to, well, to do something, but just
what he did not exactly know.
“Well, Breen, if the things you
are doing are a fair example of the
work of our schools of technology,
our highest schools of industrial
training, driving you at constant
overload, I don’t wonder at some of
the things we see about us. You
don’t mind me saying this, do you?”
“No.” John thought a moment.
He had an intense admiration for a
great many of his teachers, earnest
hard-working men, just, and often
woefully underpaid. “You said
something about the things we see.
What, for instance?”
“Well, if you wish, failure is
what we see—the costliest failure in
the world. We see prime youth
dumped into a machine and sweat
ed and ground and pounded until
every original impulse and idea is
packed down under a concentrated
layer of stupidity. I’ve made a
study of education and have prac
ticed it on others with some re
sults, but what I see here is a
farce. The brain i§ intended for
use, not for the stowage of freight.
The structure of the mind needs
! development through action, in
! thought and reason. Why, dam
mit, man, they seem to be stuffing
you with the accumulated facts of
the ages, regardless of how, or why,
they were discovered.” Harboard
paused, filled and relit his pip-
while John sat in silence.
“The worst of the whole thing is
the awful hopelessness after you
are through here. You are sweat
ed, you are driven and you survive.
But what do you survive for? Well,
in the course of time your strained
technical brain has to do with the
work of men.
(CONTINUED NEXT WEEK)
txx
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Mi
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John suddenly realized that his attire was not only scanty, but
scandalous. “John this is my ward Josephine,” said Van Horn.
Pug sat on the cot, looked around | Horn argued, and to break training
the room, the rickety book shelves, was nothing short of bad sportman-
the familiar figure of his assistant, ship. Long trips, visits to Newport,
the social activities of a select few
in the great city—these, occupied
Josephine, and at times she pleased
herself by a long look at the full
length photograph of Fighting
Breen, in ring togs, taken just be
fore his battle with the Quaker.
NEW
“Great goodness John, I knew them
books would take you, some day.”
“Never, Pug, never.” Tears stood
in the boy’s eyes. He rose, put his
stiff profession; if you go through arm over shoulders of the
the schools.” traiiier; the gray head was down.
“I guess it’s part of that fight, p ug at the rag carpet, his
in the city.” j 0 wn eyes moist. John bent down This stood on the dresser in Van
“You’ve been thinking about this ant j ^lie gray hairs of Mai- Horn’s room. But the John Breen
a long time?” It was a question. one Th a t tough citizen rose sud- of the cold eyes, looking straight 1
“Off and on for a year, I guess, ^enly to make a swipe at him as he ahead, his pompadour as stiff as a
I’ve been worrying, Gil. I m not ran ou ^. an( j ^ own the corridor to shoe brush, was of the past,
satisfied. I’d hate to say it, es- growers. “Breen, you’re looking stale.”
pecially to Pug, after all he’s done several weeks following his Harboard of the graduate schools
for v me ;” f lftt ahout thR adm“to the sch o roT engfn dropped into the room of the stu-
“You ve told me a lot about-the after hig bQut ^ the en _ dent It was close to midni g ht and
tm uL ^ i trance examiners, John Breen mov- John bent over his work table, his
ed in a strange, imponderable | tired eyes scanning a maze of for-
wor i d mulae in theoretical mechanics.
Then came the great day of the “ What are you dlgglng at? ”
“Usual stuff.” John took off his
East Side. It’s the river I’d like to
hear about.” Van Horn spoke,
haltingly.
“Well, Gil, there’s not much to
4.«n mothpr was evervthine on fla S rush between the freshmen
.. iver Now that I know more, and sophomores and Breen’s great e y e shade, evidently with relief. He
t realize she was not able to help stren S th and superb physique, had Plunged into the work of the
ril she was beautiful.” John’s made him the hero of the school, schools with determined energy,
^es held a far-away look. “Her John caught a glimpse of Gilbert Feeling himself grow stale, he push-
Cy me was Harriet Harriet Jones of Van Horn waving to him. He stood ed onward with the utmost vigor,
hXSw Tunow now fr^m beside the goiden statue. ••Boys, actually working himself to des-
what I can recall, from things I >"e down.” John kicked free and tr “'‘‘°b; „
heard Breen was not my father. ran across to Van Horn. A great I d like to tell you something.
Tohn spoke i,!owly. He relit his pipe, man y people stood about. John Harboard drew a battered briar
J d looked off over the dark a ning suddenly realized he was not on the from his pocket and tamped down
vaUev it was late afternoon ^ and gym floor at Greenbough, that his a half-smoked charge of tobacco.
•*’ attire was not only scanty, but He lit this and puffed contentedly.
scandalous; he was practically in “Four years—” Harboard rolled the
cloudy.
Gilbert Van Horn looked off too,
He dared not look at ra g s - ° ne shoe had disappeared in words over his tongue—“leading to
than the battle; he had not noticed it
knew more
far away.
John. Gilbert
John Breen.
“My mother was a good woman,
Qil. I know that.”
“Of course she was, and your
father, John, he might be found,”
the older man still looked away,
his voice was very low.
•>’
until his feet touched the stone
steps.
“Josephine, this is John Breen.
John, my ward, Josephine.”
“The degree of civil engineer,”
John sensed a question and sup
plied an answer.
“Leading to a complete ossifica-
John stood speechless. He held tion of the mind,” Harboard con-
the hand extended to him. Blue tinued, ignoring John’s words. “I’ve
‘If I found him, Gil-
‘Yes, John ,” the words were s it ua tion as she felt the tense grip of teaching.
eyes, laughing eyes, smiled at his watched you for some time, Breen,
predicament. Miss Lambert was especially this last year. I’m study-
completely aware of the striking ing, or am trying to study the art
I came here from a
expectant. The boy paused intense. h ero 0 f a college moment, small southern college, you and
«I’d kill him!” John Breen rose Then freshmen rushed up to John ninety-nine per cent of those here
abruptly, his fists clenched, his and hoisted him clear of his em- would not know the place if I
face flaming. barrassment. He turned and wav- mentioned it; one horse all the way
Then the two men stepped off, at ed at Josephine and Van Home, through, and poor. Poor, my boy,
brisk pace down the hill toward They waved at him in return. The in money.” He smoked thoughtful-
JUeenboUgh Farm. Van Hon* walk- crowd was scattering as GUbert ly for a few minutes. “What’s back
1 a pace or so behind John; tears Van Horn and his ward walked of all this junk,” he nodded at the
6 ere in his eyes, he could not speak, down the broad steps to the curb, few books, sweeping his pipe over
Secretaries of 4-H clubs in Okla-
hofna are provided with one of the
most complete registers and guides
sent out by the extension office of
any state. This is one of the rea
sons for the high records which the
4-H club members of that state
have been making, according to
State Leader B. A. Pratt of Still
water. At the annual 4-H ach
ievement program at Oklahoma
City when all the national champ
ions furnished by the state were
rounded up they numbered 25.
The secretary’s register numbers
92 pages and contains a constitu
tion for a local club, a ritual,
methods of carrying on projects,
the value of various projects, how
to keep minutes and make the
monthly and more extended re
ports, blanks for information and
so on. Every help imaginable is
included, making it simple for the
secretary to keep complete records
and make the reports, all of which
are necessary if a club is to ac
complish things.
Farm boys and girls and their
parents all over the country should
be inspired by the records which
have been made by 4-H club mem
bers in the state of Arkansas. You
know, this state has not always had
the name of being one of the pro
gressive units of the nation. Be
that as it may, the state is one of
the leaders today in the work of its
boys and girls in 4-H projects.
State club agent W. I. Jernigan
tells us that there is the biggest
call for club work this year of any
in the many he has had charge of
it. Most everywhere he goes the
members are raising money in one
way or another so that they can
carry on their club program.
One of their ambitions was to
have enough money to attend the
state camp this month. It now
seems close to 2300 will register.
And in these times!
Eight counties were unable to
carry on under club agents, but
two have been added, and total en
rollment in the counties remAining
is ahead of last year. The state
has been hard hit by disasters of
one kind or another so this is a
very good showing.
txi
A British official of East Africa
says that African medicine men
linked the mosquito with malaria
when European scientists still
thought the disease due to inhal
ing gases from swampy lands.
[Ready for Great Speedboat at Detroit
3
x
4%
Kaye Don, famed Pnglish speedman. is back in the U S. and tuning up
x new “Miss England” boat for the great Harmsworth Trophy race at
Detroit, September 3. Photos show Gar Wood, left, champion American
defender as host to Kaye Don aboard Miss America X. Inserts, Demon
stration run of Gar Wood’s boat—and closc-up of Don the challenger
/TV ty Rpv. Cliarles E. Dunn, ^
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J
w
/ i
Rer Chat. E. Dana
EVILS OF INTEMPERANCE
Lesson for September 4 Isaiah 5:11-16, 22, 23
Golden Text: Leviticus 10:9
Isaiah’s sharp denunciation of drunkenness, hurled like a thund
er-bolt long ago is thoroughly timely. The liquor problem has never
been solved. Intemperance is still a serious challenge to the stab
ility of society, auad its peril' is peculiarly intense in our machine age.
v Unfortunately the clearly established facts concerning the menace
of alcohol are obscured by the fierce controversy now raging over the
merits and demerits of prohibition. Both sidfes are warring camps*
and their psychology therefore tends to be that of military factions'-
angrily circulating atrocity stories about one another.
What is needed is more light and less heat. The failures and
successes of prohibition must be studied dispassionately. Above all,
the place of alcohol in our modern, complex civilization must be sci
entifically approached. , <
Now we may cherish reasonable doubts as to the wisdom of the
eighteenth amendment. But certain it is that the arguments against
the liquor traffic are as strong now as ever.
Rigid tests have proven that alcohol is a food only in a very limit—
ed sense, that it is not a stimulant, but a narcotic such as ether and
chloroform, and that it is a habit / forming drug, a poison that lowers
resistance to infection and physical injury, and may result in acute
and chronic disease. Dr. Haven Emerson, of Columbia University
sums up the case against it when he says. “Alcohol as commonly used
by modern man here ararf abroad deteriorates the cells of the body; de
grades the man; degenerates the race.
To be sure, there are eminent authorities who hold that the modr-
erate drinking of alcoholic beverages is harmless. v Yet the Life Ex
tension Institute’s handbook, “How to Live,”' declares that “the judg
ment of the majority of scientific men is against even the moderate
use of alcohol.”
The liquor issue is now entering a new phase. We have over-
stressed the power of the law. While still employing the strong arm
of legal coercion, our main reliance henceforth must be upon educationt
and public opinion. ' „ , ' , .
THE FAMILY I
.DOCTOR!
JOHN JOSEPH GAINES, M D.
AFTER OPERATION
An operation for dises -v. v- Removal of tumor? Of the ap
pendix? Or, for hernia? Ii 1 ’ have had any of these operations,
yours is a “surgical abdomen,” o*. na^ oeen. And, the nerves within
that wonderful structure may not function for a good while as they
did before you had the disease requiring the surgery.
’I often tell my patients that have had operations: “Let a mechanic
stoop down before your piano and saw a hole in its “abdomen,” let him
go inside the instrument and remove part of the wires, and twist the
others here and there. Then let him fill the wound in the wood
en wall and varnish it anew, so that all evidence of the job is hidden.
Would you expect the piano to play, after the internal damage to its
strings?”
So it is with the surgical abdomen, whose nerves have been origin
ally adjusted far more perfectly than any piano-strings. You may
have had the best surgeon on earth, for a most malignant condition
the operation may have been done in the highest skill of perfection,—
yet the damaged nerves may not perform naturally for a long time, un
til the parts have become adjusted to the new order of things. Give
yourself a few months time to get over the effects of your, possibly, life
saving operation.
If you have had a capital operation and yet have a quarrelsome
belly, for goodness sake let up on your carpet-tack diet of “roughage.”
Eat soft, easily-assimilable, nourishing food—the kind that builds up
wounded tissue and nerves. Let your bowel rest from the rough
stuff; try smooth stuff. • .