Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27, 1956 THE NEWBERRY SUN SECTION S—PAGE 7 I THE CHRISTMAS EVE CUflMAN BY WILLIAM L kOP£H PJARKNESS Our Christmas stocking is filled with good wishes for our patrons . . . i Hoping you have the Merriest Christmas ever — full of happiness and lasting pleasure. £ A £ A £ £ £ £ £ £ Case Farm Machinery Dealer AND — Newberry Recapping Co. J. ELLERBE SEASE Newberry, S. C. had come early. Outside the snow-laden winds of a December blizzard howled mournfully against the plate glass windows of the Milltown State Bank. The streets were almost de serted, except for a lew belated, last-minute Christmas Eve shop pers, struggling home with arms filled with packages. Joshua Watterson, the thin, gray- haired bank president, sat hunched over his desk near the entrance in front of a huge, old-fashioned wall safe. A desk lamp illuminated the ledger pages which he studied carefully. The bank’s doors were closed, but Joshua’s task of check ing the day’s business would keep him busy for another hour. Suddenly a shadow fell across his page and he looked up. “Joshua,” said the tall, pink cheeked man standing beside his chair. “We’ve got to get rid of that Christmas tree wiring. This is the third year we’ve used it and the insulation’s getting worn. Today the tree toppled over against the wall safe there and I got a nasty shock.” Old Joshua grinned wryly. “I al- A desk lamp illuminated the ledger pages which he studied carefully. ways said banking was a danger ous business.” Suddenly he frowned and his pale, blue eyes became stern. “What were you locking for in my safe. Bob?” “The Bollentree mortgage,” Bob said. “Old man Bollentree wanted to pay off his note while you were out at lunch.” “Oh, yes, I remember now.”, Joshua nodded and stroked the blue veins in his left temple. “You ought to remember,” the cashier said. “We don’t get five thousand in cash every day.” Joshua smiled and returned to his ledger. Bob went back to his job of counting currency. Complet ing his task. Bob filled out his rec ord reports and placed the* money in the vault. He got into his heavy overcoat quickly and buttoned it. As he was leaving, he paused just inside the door and called back: “Better get started home soon, Joshua. The storm’s getting worse.” All in Order It was almost five-thirty when Joshua completed his work. Care fully placing his ledgers in the wall safe, he set the combination and again checked the vault. Every thing was in order. Leaving the Christmas tree lights on, he sauntered toward a side door, pulling on his overcoat. Then draw ing his gray felt hat down over his eyes, he let himself out by the side door. The fury of the storm seemed to have increased and the pelting snow almost blinded him. As he paused to try the door to see that it was locked securely, a man stepped from the shadows. “Don’t try any tricks, old man,” the gunman said. Joshua glanced at the dark, desperate eyes that gleamed from under the man’s snow-covered hat brim, then at the blue steel of the automatic in the man’s right hand. The gunman’s voice was hoarse, low-pitched, “Just do as I say. Unlock the door. If you touch off a burglar alarm, I’ll kill you even if it is Christmas Eve.” “It seems to have stuck,” Joshua said, breathing hard. “You may have to give me a hand.” Big Surprise Still keeping Joshua covered with the gun, the man leaned forward, seized the door with his left hand. He was pulling the door open, when Joshua stepped back and in doing so, knocked over the Christmas tree. It toppled against the safe. There was a hissing, crackling sound and electric sparks. The gun man screamed, tried vainly to re lease his hold on the steel door as his body twitched convulsively with the current. His automatic clat tered to the floor. Joshua picked it up and quickly disconnected the Christmas tree lighting circuit by jerking the plug loose from the wall socket. “Just lie there on the floor and take it easy until I can call the police,” Joshua said. “You must have got soaking wet out there in the blizzard, or that shock wouldn’t have hit you so hard.” Kathy had achieved success in her chosen field, her pictures had appeared frequently on magazines, but with her success had come less contact with her home. Mom had excused her with the plea, “She’s busy.” Dressing to go out New Years Eve, Jim said to Jack, “If Kathy were here I’d break her neck.” “Boiling in oil would be more to my taste,” was Jack’s reply. The peal of the door chimes re sounded and Jim said, “I hope it’s company for the folks. Maybe they’ll go out.” Jack laughed, “You know they’ll not stir from this house for fear they might miss a call from their darling daughter.” “Listen,” Jim shushed his broth er. Soft voices were heard and the sound ot tears mixed with laughter floated upstairs. “It’s Kathy. Til bet.” Both ran down die steps. It was Kathy. She was enveloped in Mom’s arms. Be side her stood a tall man holding a pink bundle. ■ H 1 Mg lie M’ * 1*1 ^ :;; V : NEW YORK TRADITION . . . Thousands of holiday shoppers are usually on hand when the traditional Christmas tree is lighted with appropriate ceremonies in Rockefeller plaza. New York. The nine-foot angels in the foreground are sculptured in wire. CHRISTMAS IN THE CITY ... A glistentog tree, dim in the night, and the shadowy background of tall buildini to these the glittering sparkle of snow and then you 11 know Christmas has come to the city. 'mg ■ ■■ RADTITONALLY we associate with Christinas, all our hopes and wishes for a world of peace and friendship among people at home and abroad. May we, therefore, express our sincere appreciation for having both your friendship and your good will You have been most considerate of our firm and we trust we may continue to merit your consideration in the future. . • -if *•••• ft ••••• •ft ••ZlSft' m »•••• mzmm. wmmm }fi< ••JR**] . i '■ ; *1 m MS Em tm isi £| ' r mm ■nm sii . mm ■ ■ : : : x-: : : . ' M s-iSS , mm Ml mm wmhmm mmmmm 111 }m mmmm 'm BlllSiSHHHIiills PURCELLS “YOUR PRIVATE BANKER” E B. PURCELL, President Troxelle H. Senn Sara B. Franklin KEITT PURCELL, V. Pres. Winnie ^Davenport Ben P. Stewart IT"