Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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■'lii ''* ! S y W - - v, • / ; • » : Rts*-' Wlf' >1cCOi CAROLINA Thursday, April 29, 1937 Christmas Seal Sales Amount To $50,983.38 Columbia, April 20.—A "total of $50,983.38 was raised in the 30th Annual Christmas Seal Sale for the support of the tuberculosis cam paign by the South Carolina Tu berculosis Association and its af filiated county associations accord ing to the final report of the Christmas Seal Sale announced this week by Bishop K. G. Finlay, State Chairman. The highest per capita sales were made by Charleston, 8 cents; Darlington, 7 cents; Richland and Georgetown, 5 cents each, and Florence and Eastern York, 4 cents each. Ninety-five per cent of the funds raised by the tuberculosis Seal Sale is spent for work in South Caro lina and 5 per cent of the work of the National Tuberculosis As sociation which includes special services in this state. County tu berculosis associations are spend ing $30,816.09 of the returns and the state association $17,618.12. The programs of the county and state associations emphasize education on the prevalence, prevention and cure of tuberculosis and the dem onstration and application of mod ern methods in the control of the disease. The report by counties of the White and Negro sale is as fol lows: Abbeville, $275.18; Aiken, $1,168.26; Allendale, $266.52; An derson, $1,668.98; Bamberg, $349.- 19; Barnwell, $318.07; Beaufort, $162.93; Berkeley, $356.36; Calhoun, $382.95; Charleston, $8,200.00; Cherokee, $390.00; Chester, $1,087.- 20; Chesterfield, $547.50; Claren don, $296.60; Colleton, $524.28; Darlington, $3,187.00; Dillon, $628.- 58; Dorchester, $689.21; Edgefield, $287.08; Fairfield, $557.23; Florence, $2,676.88; Georgetown, $1,188.14; Greenville, $3,314.65; Greenwood, $669,04; Hampton, $190.36; Horry. $621.90; Jasper, $168.11; Kershaw, $1,208.71; Lancaster, $1,018.00; Laurens, $829.54; Lee, $294.66; Lex ington, $621.39; McCormick, $205.24; Marion, $957.53; Marlboro, Newberry, $817.89; Oconee, $iS8.61: Orangeburg, $1,740.95; Pickens $308.52; Richland, $4,596.63; Saluda $296.74; Spartanburg, $2,269.80; Sumter, $1,650.81; Union, $518.90; Williamsburg, $650.16; Eastern York, $1,131.51; Western York, $377.47. This State Received $67,489,493.76 For • Emergency Relief In Two Years Columbia, S. C., April 22.—South Carolina received $67,489,493.76 during the period April 8, 1935 to March 31, 1937, according to a re port received by Lawrence M. Pinckney, State Director for the National Emergency Council. This information is based upon the report showing the financial status of funds provided in the Emergency Relief Appropriation Acts of 1935 and 1936, as of March 31, 1937. Expenditures incurred by sdl agencies operating under the Works Program total $58,460,058.35, leaving an unexpended balance of $11,029,435.41 of which $6,228,649.44 is obligated but for which checks have not yet been issued. The report shows that $25,279,- 708.31 has been expended for wages; $5,627,638.06 for supplies and materials, $1,856,318.87 for con struction, maintenance and repair contracts; $15,744,185.03 for grants; $1,026,157.43 for oontractual ser vices; $804,267.17 for equipment purchased; $434,358.33 for land; $4,990,173.39 for loans; and $56,- 046.83 for employees (accident) compensation. $641,204.93 for rent A breakdown itemization, accord ing to the types of work carried out with these funds, shows the following classifications and ex penditures. Highways, roads, streets, etc., $7,242,464.87; public buildings, $6,022,792.31; housing projects $1,201,339.20; public recre ation facilities, $2,632,370.15; con servation work, $12,053,375.78; elec tric water sewerage systems, etc., $1,274,387.22; educational projects, $4,230,029.67; miscellaneous proj ects, $6,479,927.05; administrative expenses. $1,580,540.60; rural re settlement and direct relief, $3,937,- 29(5 72; and grant to state for re lief. $8537,531.95, and trar.spcrta lion faciliticj, MAY VOTE BY A!R WITH NEW DEVII Gadget Records Response of Radio Audience. New York.—A tiny electrical gadget, called the Radiovoter, may speed the time when a president of the United States may step before a microphone, ask a question of his radio listeners concerning some question of public policy and re ceive an immediate reply from mil- lions. ^ The question may be: D ° y .°^ want war?” Or: ‘‘Shall we build more battleships?” Or: ‘‘Do you fa vor a larger appropriation for re lief?” Whatever the question, every listener by means of the Radiovoter on the receiving set could flash an answer back. Forums on Civic Affairs. The Radiovoter was designed by National Electric Ballots, Inc. Its use in taking public referendums or in conducting forums on civic ques tions is within the realm of possi bility, believes Dr. Nevil Monroe Hopkins, president of the company. The Radiovoter works this way: At the start of a program the announcer presses a button whic i causes an audible signal to be broadcast. The signal will be re ceived by all sets tuned in on the program. In sets equipped with a Radiovoter, the signal will trip a relay and in so doing impose a ‘‘reactance load” upon the substa tion of the power company which supplies electricity for the individual set. “The cumulative load,” Hopkins explained, ‘‘is recorded on a re actance meter in the substation and by means of a telemeter in the broadcasting studio.” Obtain Visible Court. Thus, by broadcasting the signal at various intervals during the pro gram, the studio will ‘‘obtain an in stantaneous and visible count of the Radiovoter-equipped sets tuned to the program.” By means of a knob attached to the Radiovoter the listener will be able to respond when the announcer asks a ‘‘yes” or “no” vote on the program’s merits or upon other questions. It will not be necessary to wait until all receiving sets are equipped with Radiovoters, it was explained, to get an accurate gauge of reac tion from the radio public. By know ing what percentage of sets in a given area are so equipped, the stu dio will be able to compute arith metically what the general reaction would be. Indian Population Gains in Numbers During Year Washington.—Showing a 1 per cent gain over 1935, 334,013 Indians are now registered on federal rolls, according to the Indian bureau. As defined by the federal authorities, an Indian is a person of Indian blood who acquires certain rights through wardship, treaty or inher itance. The population on the government rolls is not necessarily domiciled on or near Indian reservations. Many on the rolls live thousands of miles away. Oklahoma still boasts the largest Indian population. Including the five civilized tribes, the Miami and the Peoria Indians, the state has 96,244 Indians, or 28.8 per cent of the na tional total. Arizona ranks second with 45.013, followed by New Mexico with 35.570. South Dakota with 27,- 401. and California with 23,824. Five other states have an Indian popula tion of 10,000 or more—Montana, Minnesota, Washington, Wisconsin and North Dakota. The largest tribes are the Nav ajo, the Sioux and the Chippewas, with respective counts of 44,070, 35,- 412 and 26,127. rem .ngeles JOHN E. DE RCSI © jrfcClurf Syndicate. WNU Service. Scientists Off to Study Mass Suicide of Whales Johannesburg.—A party of scien tists from the South African muse um has just left here for a lonely bay on the Cape coast to investigate the mass suicide of 50 false killer whales, which flung themselves ashore on the jagged rocks. Schoolboys who had been fishing nearby told how they saw the huge black creatures rushing toward the shore, spouting great jets and mak ing a terrific noise. The reason for the mass suicide is believed to lie in an undersea dis turbance terrifying the whales. Just prior to the occurrence the sea was noticed to be highly phosphorescent. Queer Names Found on Harvard Rolls Cambridge, Mass. — Kai sui Nimmanahaeminda of Chieng- mai, Siam, was credited with pos sessing the longest name in Har vard university. Interpreted from Siamese, the name means “good luck.” There was too much competi tion to award anyone the title of having the shortest name. Those in the contest were Y. Ku of Peiping, C. Y. Lo of Nanking, P. S. Ou of Kwangsu, and H. K. M. Wu of Honolulu. Other names among the stu dent body included H. R. X. d’Aeth of England, Messrs. Ting end Toong of China, I. Pass., B. Schur, and A. Schuh. M Y DEAR Lona— The sight again of this crazy scribble will probably- startle you. Even little things were forever sources of infinite surprise and de light to you. Surely it will mean something—something more than the mere commonplace, my darling —to realize that it is indeed I that have at last come back to you . . . And yet, dear, it is no easy task for me to swallow the bitter pill of my pride and come to you in such humble fashion. If there were an other manner of approach, less for eign to my nature, more flattering to my pride, I assure you I would have found it. Heaven only knows, Lona, the million black nights I have spent in futile search! Simply, Lona—I love you. My dear, with even a continent between us, I can vision the tears welling in your wondrous eyes. I can feel, too, the sweet, sympathet ic determination to come to me at once, believing that I am still no one but myself, but caring only that I have come to you. How easily swayed by sweetness you can be, I know; I have always known. Many times I have taken advantage of you thus. But now you must not think that 1 am merely trying to touch your heart, your feelings. Heaven again only knows the many times I have refrained from doing so in the past year! I swore to my self that I would come to you only when I could command your re spect as well as your love; and I have fought myself these weary long months to accomplish this. And I have succeeded. I am no longer the weak, irresponsible boy you once knew; I have lost my arrogance and conceit, j My dear, can you remember a year ago? Can you remember the night we parted? We had been somewhere and you had discovered my trifling intimacy with Laurette. We quarreled all the way home. ‘‘It’s no use, Nickie,” you said, “we might as well finish everything. There never really could be any thing between us, anyway. I love you very dearly, Nickie. I shall al ways love you, but I can never re spect you. You’re all that I despise in a man. You’re unstable and in- • different, cynical, egotistical, ir responsible. And all when you could be so different. That’s what I love in you, I suppose, what you could be. Or perhaps it’s only what I think you could be. It doesn’t matter. I only know I mean it this time. I shan’t come back again, Nickie. Good-by.” Outside, in the car, I sat for hours, thinking, the delicious sensa tions of sadness and futility drip- j ping delightfully over my mind and heart. I was the misunderstood mar tyr and oh, Lord! how I relished it. I literally bathed myself in sorrow ful contemplation, rubbing the bit ter irritant of my woes almost glee fully into my spiritual sores, un til, finally, so pregnant was I with my own sadistic illusions, I decided to go away. I would become a vaga bond, a derelict on the face of life’s follies. Fortunately, however, (or perhaps unfortunately) before I could em bark upon my course of degrada tion and decay I received a very lu crative offer to arrange music for motion picture musicals. It would be necessary to go to Hollywood. This, Lona, as you can readily see. was a splendid opportunity for me to retain my ease and comfort while still, in a certain sense, appeasing my primary impulse of vagabond age. I accepted. Hollywood, however, was not for me. I lost myself satisfactorily for a time, to be sure, but came grad ually to realize but one thing—how right you had been about me. I be gan to think solidly for the first time in my life. I began to under stand, too, your distaste for the in sincere type of music I had beer wont to compose. And, finally, 1 came to realize what you had meant by love and respect. It was then that I threw over my job, left Hollywood, took a little place by the sea at Carmel and really began to work. Oh, Lord. t ona, how I worked! Night and day; uay and night. I sweated music. Real music—out of the depths oi my soul! A thousand times I fal tered, fell. But always, thinking of you, fought inexorably on. And now— Well, now, Lona, there is little tc say except that my Sea Suite: A Symphony In Sorrow, is to be pre sented the fifth of next month a: Carnegie hall. I shall be waiting for you at the far left side of the lobby. Nickie. Slowly she folded the letter and handed it to her husband. She watched his face as he read. He was a big young man with pleasant eyes and mouth. Watching her hus- bnnd, she thought of Nickie. She thought of his hard, cynical mouth, his sullen dark eyes. She remem bered, too, in an instant, innumer- ab’o p^tty evasions, deceptions, un reliabilities. Even this letter—what more was it than a dramatic ex h.hiiion of ego? T Icr husband looked up, myr ad rucries rampant in his troubled eyes. She took the letter from her hus band's lax fingers, and, smiling, the thin white sheets into count- lecc small pieces. O. M. C. Cy JANE OSBORN © McClum Npwfioaper Syndicate. WNU Service. T ED CARSON, sitting at his desk in the city, talked to Howard Fern over his telephone. “Can you come out and play bridge with us tomorrow? It’s our O. M. C. bridge club and one of the couples can’t come. You don’t know any of them-but they’re per fectly harmless. And, say, you don’t mind passing as a married man, do you? I’ll tell you on the way out. And you can meet your wife at dinner. Madge w r asn’t sure who she’d get— it has to be someone the crowd doesn’t know.” At about the same time Madge Carson called up Alice Gordon, an old friend who lived in the city. “My dear, I hope you won’t think I’m dreadfully rude but I’m asking you to fill in at bridge tomorrow night. It’s our turn to entertain the O. M. C. and Clara and Bill have gone south. You see O. M. C. stands for “Old Married Crowd”—though, of course, we aren’t exactly old. Well, anyway, we made some fool rules and one of them was that we’d never have anyone belong who wasn’t married—and no member is allowed to invite an unmarried stop gap. But really Ted and I don’t know any people that are married to ask. So Ted said he’d get some fiiend of his and I said I’d get you and you could pretend you were married. We’ll make up a name for you and you’ll probably never see your husband again.” So it was arranged, and it was not until Howard Fern came down stairs with Ted for dinner after a hasty change from their business clothes, that he knew that the girl whose husband he had been asked to impersonate was Alice Gordon whom he had met five or six times that winter in the city, and in all probability they would meet again occasionally. That was what made the situation a little more embar rassing than they had expected it would be. But it was agreed that they were to play the role of Mr. and Mrs. Bob Norcott. After the cards were over the various members took places round the tables drawn together for the supper to follow, and sat while Ted and Madge Carson brought on the refreshments. Someone brought up the subject of proposals and Madge announced that she didn’t think that Ted ever did propose to her. “I certainly did propose,” Ted answered. “We were at a Sunday school picnic and I'd been drinking pink lemonade and we stayed be hind the others in the grove—I can remember the mosquitoes. One stung me on the nose when I kissed you.” So that started it. It was moved, seconded and carried that every one present confess how he or she became engaged. “Don’t have the girls in on this,” objected Madge. “Because they’d tell different stories and then we’d find out what liars our husbands really are. We’ll just listen while you do the romancing. Gerald, it’s your turn.” So Gerald told briefly of his own proposal, and then came time for Howard—Mr. Bob Norcott. “Isn’t much to tell,” he said smil ing assuringly at Alice. “The only remarkable thing about it was that she was willing to have me. You see I’d met her a few times and she— well, you know how a girl can treat a man without being at all rude. Snippity-I call it. I knew I wanted her and I sat up nights trying to think of a way to get acquainted. Then one night we went to fill in at a card party—much like the party tonight— and I knew right then that I’d have to ask her, and though we had both been asked to spend the night I asked our hostess if I could see her home. I thought maybe I’d get my courage up on the way. It was on the train going in to town that It happened. I never had an idea that she’d have me—” Howard looked up and across at Alice with a straight eager look that made her blush. But somehow she rose to the occasion. “You’re as bad as the rest,” she told him. “I was crazy about you from the first. I think it was I who suggested going home together and I’m sure 1 did the actual proposing.^’ Madge gasped her amazement but no one noticed it, and the con fessions went on. Then they finished supper and there was the usual leave taking and Howard and Alice were alone with their host and host ess. Howara said he thought really he ought to get back that night— t nd as he was going, perhaps he could take Miss Gordon. So they ? arted and on their way to the s.ation a few minutes walk away l/.ey said scarcely a word. “You are a very good actor,” /'*ce said at last. “I don’t see how 2 u carried it ‘off so well.” “I’m not an -actor at all,” said Howard without smiling. “You know what 1 mean. It was pretty hard, i ough, having to ait there and listen to you. knowing all the time that \on were laughing at me.” Alice looked away from Howard toward the dark window. “Perhaps 1 I'.zant what 1 said, too,” she said “Then >ou really ‘coukl think r rvt—you would really marry me?’ asked Howard. Alice turned and locked -at him “Of course I meant it,” she sau and then she laughed. “Didn't 1 sr.\ I had to do the proposing—and novi l think 1 really have.” Harry’s Proposal By H. IRVING KING © McClum Nf'w'-.naner Syndicate. WNU Service. “ A LLIE, I am in love.” Harry .Drayton popped this out at the end 1 of a short silence which had supervened in the conversation be tween himself an Allison Gower. He accompanied the remark with a sigh. They were on the hotel piazza; the moon was over the mountains and moonlight on the river. “You must have seen, Allie,” went on the young man, “the—er—state of my heart. I—I—must know my fate tomorrow. I am sure you—” “Oh Harry,” cried Allison, “please don’t say any more tonight —please don’t. I will give you an answer tomorrow morning.” She had risen from her chair and stood ready for flight. Harry with a gasp sat up straight in his chair. “But Allie,” he cried, “you don’t understand what I am trying to—” “Oh, yes, I understand,” broke in the agitated Allie. “Good night, dear”—and she was gone. Drayton fairly collapsed into the depths of his chair. “Well, of all the—” Words failed him for further remark. He sat staring out blankly into the moonlit night. He and Al lison Gower had been friends from childhood. From the time he could remember, he had always confided to Allie. And now, when he was at tempting to tell her that he was in love with Anne Blair, Allison had gone and taken his attempt as a proposal of marriage to herself. He spent most of the night re volving over and over again the sit uation in which he found himself and seeing no way out. As for Allison, she went straight to her room after leaving Harry and, turning on the light, sat down to think. If Harry was in a daze so was Allie. She had always thought marriage a res pectable and desirable custom to which, some day, she might pos sibly be called upon to conform. But now it jumped from the realm of the abstract into the realm of the concrete with a suddenness which was rather startling. There came a tap at her door. It was Anne Blair, who always stopped for a chat with her dear friend Allie on her way to bed. Allie sometimes wished that Anne, who was a great talker, would oc casionally omit this nightly visit, but tonight she hailed her as a wel come guest. For Allie regarded Anne as so worldly wise and so ex perienced—for no good rbason. at all—that counsel from her could not help being of value. Therefore when Anne paused for breath after her first instalment of hotel gossip, Al lie said: “Anne, what do you think of marriage?” “What a question,” cried Anne. “I think it’s something any young girl looks forward to -provided you get the right man. And since you have broached the subject, I may as well confide in you that I expect to be married myself before long— in fact I know I’m going to be. But you must not tell a living soul until I tell you.” “Oh, Anne,” cried Allie,” how did you feel when he proposed?” “Oh, he hasn’t proposed yet,” re turned Anne calmly, “but he’s go ing to tomorrow.” “How — how do you know?” he is gasped Allie. “How do I know?” retorted Anne; “how do those figures in the barom eter know when to come in and go out in advance of the weather? I am as sure Harry Drayton is going to propose to me tomorrow as I am that I am going to accept him. Hasn’t he told you he was in love with me? You and he are such chums and old friend^ that I sup posed lie had told you before this. But, dear me, how late it’s getting! Good night, dear.” And she was gone. Now Allison Gower was a simple soul but not without sense and re source when driven into a corner. Next morning Harry Drayton re ceived the following note signed “Allie.” “Dear Harry—I ought not to have been so perturbed last night when you confided in me your intention of proposing lo Anne Blair; for, of course, I have long seen how you felt toward her. You may have thought it strange in me to run away as I did, but the fact is mar riage is such a serious matter that no advice should be given without due consideration concerning it—no hasty approval or disapproval. I wanted time to think, and I have thought. And after due considera tion I have concluded that Anne is a dear girl and just the one to make you a good wife. So I give you both my blessings in the capa city of an old maid sister, and hope both of you will continue to use r c as your confidant.” Harry Drayton swallowed that let ter hook, line and sinker, as the saying goes. Ti\ie, he could not re member having mentioned Anne Blair’s name in his attempted con fidence—but then, of course, Allie must have seen. His attentions to Anne had been rather pronounced. As for Allie herself, she main tained her poise. And later she was married—to a charming man. Like Anne, she knew, sometime before the proposal, just what was in store for her and with a woman’s in tuition she was prepared. Just «' Little Smi TOO LATE Brown took the ticket the booking clerk gave him, picked up his. change and walked away. A few" moments later he was back at the- booking office. “I say,” he said to the clerk*, “you gave me the wrong change- just now.” “Sorry,” said the clerk with & shrug of his shoulders, “but it can not be rectified now. You should* have called my attention to it wheni you bought your ticket.” “Well, that’s all right,” said' Brown. “I’m not worrying. You. gave me $2 too much.” “What’s Your Address?” The poor man was effusive in his thanks to his rich friend. “This five pounds will help me out of a tight hold, and I’ll send it back to you in-, a few weeks., By the way, what is your address?” The rich man looked solemn* “Fairview Cemetery,” he replied. “O, nonsense, that’s not your ad dress!” “No,” said the rich man, “but it will be before you send this five; pounds back.” PULLING THINGS Friend—Now that you’ve pulled' all Tom’s teeth I suppose you’re- through with him. Dentist—Not yet—the bill has yet to be extracted, you know. Pursuit of the Incomprehensible “Have you studied relativity?” “No need to do so,” answered Senator Sorghum. “I can come- across enough things I don’t under stand in the course of one of our usual investigations.” Injustice Tenant—This roof is so bad' that it rains on our heads. How long is this going to continue? Owner—What do you think I; am, a weather prophet?—Omaha W6rld- Herald. Clue Sherlock Holmes—Ah, Watson-, X see you have on your winter under wear. Watson — Marvelous, Holmes* marvelous! How did you ever de duce that? Sherlock—Well, you’ve forgotten to put on your trousers. Self Defense Judge—Why have you brought that cudgel into court? Prisoner—Well, they said L had to provide my own defense. The Victim Mrs. Smith—Yes, my ’usband’s laid up, a victim of hockey. Mrs. Higgins—But I didn’t know e’ even played the game. Mrs. Smith — ’E doesn’t: ’E sprained ’is larynx at the match last Saturday. Getting Even “Why don’t you fix that leak? You’ve been here nearly an hour, and you haven’t done a thing.” “T’ tell the truth, ma’am. I’m sore at the tenant down stairs.” OLD GOSSIPERS “Was it a love match?” “Looks like it, but you never can , tell. One of them may have thought the other had money.” The Usual Winner “I hear that Jenkins and his wife had a row over the kind of car they decided to buy; he wauled an open one and she a closed one. Anyhow,*' the incident is now closed.” J ‘So is the car—I saw her in it this-! r. erning.” Beyond His Power “I’m a very determined man, and] I t an do anything I decide to do.”| “Have you ever tried to slam a] revolving door?” — Stray StoriesJ Magazine.