The Charlotte News

Wednesday, August 9, 1939

SIX EDITORIALS

Site Ed. Note: A rather mundane day this one appeared to have been judging by the editorials, pleasantly mundane, issuing the calm before the storm. But the storm would end finally six years from this date with the dropping of the second of the two bombs on Japan, the one of August 6, dubbed "Little Boy", of 9,000 pounds, being on Hiroshima, and the one of August 9, "Fat Man", of 10,000 pounds, both carrying a force of 20,000 tons of TNT, puny by later hydrogenated standards, as tested on Bikini Atoll until 1958--still not safe for permanent habitation.

What is interesting about that, in this particular context, is that if one counts the days inclusively from December 7, 1941 through August 2, 1945, these are exactly and precisely 1,335 days, making allowance for 366 days in leap year, 1944.

Intended by Truman, an avid reader of the Bible, despite his notoriously salty vocabulary? (Some of the Simon-Pures of the Sinecures and Nice-Nellies of the Felly-Dellies best really read their Bible sometime to see from whence some of that sea-salt cometh.)

Or mere coincidence?

Your choice. Interesting, either way.

Incidentally, we discovered that little thing one ghostly night in 1994. Something just told us it was there and we looked, and sure enough it was. Jonah-tan Daniels. Book III, chapter III, section 9, "Of the Great Blight--and New Quandaries", pp. 373-374, 1941 ed. Interesting how it works, but you have the right to call us cuckoo, if that is what you wish.

Maybe it was just our subconscious putting numbers together with names in our sleep.

But then again, maybe it was theirs, then, and we just, by drifting down to the gentle banks by the grave but generous stream, where the pearl was, came upon it lying there, harmlessly now, dead, unthreatening, again.

Who knows?

Interesting, either way.

Major Sensation Fizzles Out With A Deafening Pfft!

Well, at least the City Council ought to learn how NOT to bring charges of misconduct against police officers. The Council didn't itself bring the charges to be sure. It ordered Chief Nolan to bring them.

It didn't, for that matter, make the charges. It requested Judge Sims to appear before it and utter them. And it certainly didn't press the charges. That was left to its agent, Chief Nolan, who probably for the first time in his life had to conduct the case against experienced trial lawyers.

Not, necessarily that the verdict would have been any different if the Council had employed a lawyer to conduct its case. Not even that the officers were guilty in any degree of the offenses charged.

In fact, not anything except that the City Council ought to have learned how NOT to bring charges of misconduct against police officers. It has been a dear lesson, but the experience may have been worth something.

Hornets Generously Play For Empty Stocking Fund

Last Monday night, the Charlotte Hornets played a benefit game for The News Empty Stocking Fund. Manners and simple appreciation required us to write an editorial calling attention to the affair, but, with uncanny prescience (twinges in our rheumatic knees) we forbore.

That game was rained out, and so the Empty Stocking Fund gets another crack at the gate tonight. It's a very generous promotion of a most appealing charity. Along about next Christmas the Hornets' check (last year it was for $425.85) will come in wondrously for the solacing of a great many children who, except for this remembrance, would be forgotten.

The Hornets, alas, are not nearly so successful this year as they were last, but we can assure you that children overlooked by Santa Claus will be fully as woebegone. And so we urge the intelligent little readers of the editorial page to add their refined cheers to the yells on the sports-page following tonight, and their shekels to the timely alleviation of hurt feelings.

Site Ed. Note: Incidentally, for those not hep on French connection-speak, the term "Frog" or "Froggie"--no, not him, you little rascal--means, so says our faithful O.E.D:

We happen to enjoy hearing the French speak, ourselves, mind you, and frog legs, we hear, aren't half bad, kind of like chicken, they say. Though we've never braved them, just the thought of eating one of the Calaveras croaking hoppers being unduly disturbing to our sensibilities, we once, without pity, had some escargot. It was overly cooked, though, steaming underneath, and when we plunged our fork into its little crusty cover too suddenly, damned if the hot-tempœred little thing didn't spit back at us, ruining a perfectly good necktie--though the nearly apoplectic maitre'd offered us free dry cleaning as a quid pro quo, which we found funny in itself, and politely declined the generous offer, the experience being the payment quite enough. But, candidly, we haven't braved escargot since, though we scarcely can blame the French for that, as it happened at an old twentyish-style clear mountain resort at the foot of the Berkeley hills in California, nationality of author of the chef d'œuvre d'jour quite untold. But that's another story, for another day. Cf. Aristophanes and Mark Twain, but we'll get to that later.

Italians And The British Chalk Up Famous Victories

The British "spotted" everyone of the "invading enemy" planes over the North Sea and England last night in their air games. At least, however, they didn't shoot 'em all down, and they admitted that theoretically they were caught not fully prepared.

That is a little different from the famous victory Mr. Mussolini's armies won in the region of the Po and in Piedmont last week. They broke through the French with great ease and éclat, and in fact were right on their way to reversing the attack and ending up in Paris in about two weeks, but Mr. Musso considerately stopped them. General Gamelin just didn't have a chance, and the Frogs simply couldn't bear to stand in front of the withering fire of the Italians.

There is, however, a little hitch in that sort of thing. It may serve for the time being to bolster up the Italian morale--the English morale so far as that nation practices it. But if hostilities ever began, the other side may refuse to play. And quite possibly even the German planes may be so impolite as to dodge being spotted.

In that case, the false confidence inspired by these maneuvers may recoil, not to bolster morale but dangerously to injure it. Nations, like individuals, fair best when they face unpleasant facts without illusion.

Congress Performs Most Quaintly At Saving

The economy Congress, it turns out, appropriated nearly $270,000,000 more than the President himself asked for in his budget message. A mere quarter of a billion, of course, is small change as against a budget of nearly ten and a half billions. Nevertheless, the fact remains that this Congress which came into office roaring for economy and which did its level best to give the country the impression that it was fighting to the last ditch for economy, actually exceeded the requested budget.

It did strike a blow for economy in doing to death the spending-lending program. But not even that can wipe out the record that it went beyond the budget.

And to cap the climax, they gratuitously went beyond what the President had asked for to give farmers an extra quarter of a billion in handouts, and provide for sufficient new non-relief jobs to raise the number of jobholders to the highest level in history. Which is to say that they gratuitously handed out that much money to grease the largest bloc of voters in the nation and to create more patronage.

Neutrality Remarks Show Up Mr. R.'s Complexes

Mr. Roosevelt is nothing if not dramatic, and the famous Dutch at times betrays him into an attitude which, in a President of the United States, borders very closely on the silly. Look at that speech about the neutrality vote having jeopardized a billion and a half people. If these legislators were wrong, he says, they have tied his hands and he has practically no power to make an American effort to prevent any war outbreak.

With all due respect, that is just plain baloney. Ourselves, as our little readers know, were entirely in accord with his neutrality views--thought Congress did wrong in refusing to lift the arms embargo. But the wrong lay in the creating of a psychological impression in the Axis nations, and not in tying the President's hands.

They aren't tied in the least. The embargo on arms is practically unimportant. If war comes, we can sell England and France everything they need, including airplanes--save only guns and shells. And they hadn't planned on getting much of these from us anyhow. There are no other restrictions. The President is perfectly at liberty to do whatever he believes will aid in heading off war.

The whole thing has a most unpleasant ring. What it really comes to saying is that he must have all his way at all times, or the world is perfectly certain to go to the dogs. And he clearly shows up the messiah complex which is his most appalling weakness.

Site Ed. Note: Here's a thing, a little exercise--not, mind you, aimed at sisters, two, be they three, what ho, four or more, nor brothers neither. But rather a simple exercise in understanding something. Mainly, as we see it, anyway, that it's not the song, or the poem, or the movie or the story, what have you, or the lyricist, poet, writer or the speaker or the singer thereof. It, whether good, bad or indifferent, is in the eyne of the beholder, that is via the interpretation. Ban the song or the written word and you only make the interpreter less given to salutary interpretation.

For better demonstration, follow, if you will, in our little exercise here, which we hope is not all too mitch for you to handel, the bouncing ball:

Ye Fala?

As we see these various versions of this particular, and it's only our interpretation, 'twould seem there is a unity of purpose in its varying forms through time, that is to say, that jealousy and envy, if not checked at the side of the stream, lead to ill result, ultimately proving tragic for all, even if only downstream a-ways, at the dam and beyond, results ill for the one initial envier, setting the ball in motion, wishing ultimately to die, and the one pushed in, or, surviving that, pushed in again, and, of course, for the pushers. It does not put down millers at their mill-wheel grindings, of course, nor mill workers, whether in their towers, be it San Francisco, (eat your heart out), or in their Gaffney, what have you, mills, you see.

For, it's all really just a little art, sometimes divine, sometimes not so, sometimes swinish, sometimes devilish, sometimes understood as created, sometimes touching later on, as Antaeus, by Hercules.

But ultimately, it's still the interpretation of it by the perceiver which leads on to the result, whether fair or foule, hovering, hovering always on the bust of Pallas, there, wolfish Hal.

You be the judge--but remember, be easy, for else you may be adjudicated by a jury of your peers at some foule pointe.

Such it is, for instance, when obtaining a doctorate of philosophy, medicine or law, at least an honorable one which truly means something, such as that one Dr. Cash got, though Ph.D. he didn't obtain, nor sport "Dr." he did, there being nothing of course wrong with that either, when honorably obtained--not just anyway, anyhow, though anywhere, with enough books to read, certainly it can be, in time--from an institution of higher learning, absent artifice or special privilege--(wethinks we said that already, didn't we?)--and might he have been permitted to live longer, he might have gone and gotten it eventually, as the universities were in great need of teachers during the war. (Who is "he", you ask? Or is it "whom"? Quite frankly, we couldn't say, dear one. For to be or not, that be it, you know.)

But, please, not one of those mail-order bride type mockish things, special delivery, or one built on association, purely and simply, even though ostensibly obtained from an accredited institution of higher learning though it may be. In either case, it rather detracts from the person's ultimate worth than ameliorates, done thusly.

Anyhow, that's just our interpretation.

Beans!

But It Doesn't Prove Anything Very Important

Of the four young doctors who made the highest average in an examination before the Board of Medical Examiners last week, two were women. Dr. Ottis Walker, from the College of Medical Evangelists, made the best showing with a score of 94.6. But next came Dr. Elizabeth McCauley James, from the University of North Carolina and the University of Pennsylvania, with 93.9; and Dr. Mary Virginia Copeland, from North Carolina and Tulane, with 93.8. A total of 56 passed the examination, but of course the proportion of women was very small.

Well, what does it prove? We are tempted to be chauvinistic and say right out that it proves that the girls are brighter than the boys. But alas, we are afraid it proves no such thing. Maybe the girls are smarter in some ways--undoubtedly are when it comes to such things as proving themselves with a husband, for all the bad guessing they sometimes do in that department.

And indeed, we are moved in discretion to leave the whole question of who may be the smarter wide open. All we mean to say here is that this case doesn't prove it. What it proves is simply that it is still only the exceptional girl who turns her mind to being a doctor--that there remains some prejudice against it--and that the ones who go into it are those who are aware that they have superior mental capacity, who have thoroughly made up their minds that they want to do it, and who therefore go after learning the science with great earnestness.