The Charlotte News

Friday, December 31, 1937

SEVEN EDITORIALS

We don't blame Mr. McGill for that statement, as the fuller, and therefore truer, story was not one easily ferreted even by normally skilled-at-ferreting newspaper men or historians, especially after such a war as the one the country endured. Dust to dust, let the dead bury the dead, got to get on with it. But, the notion might be taken quite too far over time, after the rebuilding was fully accomplished, until, cynically, the Nazi mentality is allowed to resurrect itself with impunity such that their virtual incarnation rides and rules once again, by stealth, in our own society, not Germany.

We are all for that holiweek, incidentally, contemplated by the editorial below. Of course, then the after-Xmas sales would have to wait until early January, and all the shopping malls would be devoid of all those gas-guzzlers, and people might instead get out of the house into the fresh air and walk a little, to get rid of that Christmas tummy, and the television networks would have to give it a rest, newspapers would cease publication, the environment as a whole might have some rest, and, come to think of it, with all of that in play, rather than not in play, we might sooner get peace on earth, good will among humans, than we ever thought possible.

But then, inevitably, there'd be some Terrorist somewhere, undoubtedly, some crazy bunch of rebels, with too much time on their hands, thwarting the government, all led by some nutty fellow with wooden teeth fancying himself a general for goodness sakes, crossing the Delaware to spoil the whole thing for everyone...

Happy New Year.

Don't make any resolutions you can't keep. In fact, if you're like us, you won't make any resolutions at all. Too many firm, intractable year-long resolutions abounding among us during the year already--put her on auto-pilot and rove; part and parcel of the problem historically and hysterically, we opine.

We look forward this year to Leap Year Day.

We get fearfully tired of commenting ironically about the way our City police officers hit what they aren't shooting at, but, honestly, now, how about these examples:

Apparently, our guardians of the law need practice in how to miss targets.

A. D. 1938, says Roger Babson, is going to be a prosperous year. Things will be pretty bad for the first quarter, but after that there'll be "a substantial revival." And by way of backing up his statement he offers the contention that he called the turn on 1937, prophesying that the mineral business level would go up eight per cent, whereas it did actually go up eight per cent.

We ardently hope Mr. Babson's right about next year. But in 1928 Mr. Babson ventured into prophecy by saying, "The election of Hoover and a Republican Congress should result in continued prosperity in 1929." On October 12, 1929, he said "I believe that many who have been caught could recoup... by now buying some good bonds." In 1930 he said, "The corner has been turned in the Middle West." In 1931 he said, "Everything indicates that general business has turned the corner." In 1932-33-34-35 he repeated himself, in each of these last years fairly accurately calling the count; but on December 31, 1936, he said: "Stocks--higher but good selection vital."

We trust for Mr. Babson's sake that he selected to get entirely out of the stock market early last fall.

The College Physical Education Association was meeting in New Orleans. In the chairman's seat sat W. J. Livingston of Denison University. Mr. Denison opened his mouth and spoke, and what he said was that football was "becoming quite a problem in some colleges" and that "professionalism was creeping in."

Which seems to us to be about the most marvelous example of understatement we have seen in a long while. Creeping in, Professor? Actually, it's coming in boldly, and with the ratiocination that "it's honorable to do openly that which it is dishonorable to do by subterfuge;" improvements to the contrary notwithstanding. But, boy! they're going to have some pretty teams to watch.

There is a calendar-reform association which has a scheme to divide the year into thirteen equal months of four weeks each. The thirteen months would account for 364 days, leaving an odd fellow which would be called New Year's Day. It would be a holiday. In leap years, there would be a second day roving out of any month. This would be called Leap Year Day, and it too would be a holiday.

As for some added new holidays, so good. But we have an even better idea than that. Between the day that is Christmas, and a holiday, and the day that is New Year's, and a holiday, is a whole week which is not, officially, a holiday at all. During that time, trade languishes, to be sure, and many people only go through the motions of working--the lucky stiffs! But those unfortunates with office hours to keep and editorials to write have to perform, however disinclined, almost the same old chores that comprise their lot in life the year 'round. It isn't fair.

So why wouldn't it be a simply swell idea to call the whole thing off between Christmas and New Year's Day, to stop the wheels, to close up the banks (after you'd drawn all your money out), to slack off on production and catch up with consumption, returning to the fray at the beginning of a new year with renewed bodies and minds and outlooks, not to say depleted pocketbooks? Do we hear a motion?

One of the means by which Adolf Hitler restored the insufferable self-esteem of the German nation and strengthened his hold upon it was by inventing an excuse--alibi is the slang term--for Germany's failure to win the war and to come back after the war. The Jews were IT. No matter that they had gone down fighting alongside Aryans or had given all they had to Der Vaterland. No matter, least of all, that no more than one per cent of Germany's post-war population was Jewish. The whole explanation of Germany's fall was the Jews.

Secretary Ickes has gone handsome Herr Adolf one better. For his alibi is chosen the "60 American families." They, by conspiring together and acting in hateful concert, brought on this recession. Indeed, they brought on the other depression; but it got out of hand and they had to call on Roosevelt to right things for them. And then Roosevelt "had the business of the country turning over so well" that he thought he could safely take a rest for a while; and what happened? Why, the "60 American families" went on a sit-down strike. They went on a sit-down strike after they had things going their own way!

It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make a nickle's worth of sense. It is unbecoming to a Cabinet officer. It is that age-old defense, the alibi, brought out, brushed up and brandished around. It was Johnny's fault, Mama. Johnny made faces at me.

From Dunn comes a story to the effect that Mayor Taylor has closed up the slot machines in his town, despite the injunction of Federal Judge Meekins against their confiscation, by the simple process of calling in the storekeepers who operate them and "talking to them." The story says that "not once did he speak of indicting them for operating the machines," and that "the business men gladly consented to the Mayor's request..."

That sounds perfectly ducky, and we have no intention of entering any defense for the slot machine. All the same, and all the same, it hath a most curious ring. So curious that we have been guessing as to what the Mayor might have said. He might, we thought, have said this:

In short, sirs, as you have heard before now, there are more ways than one to skin a cat. And some of them, we suspect, are more dangerous than to allow the slot machines to stand until the law has had time to determine what should be done about them.

When Congress meets again next week, the House will have before it a bill, which has already been passed by the Senate, to forbid unauthorized sketches, photographs, or maps of "vital military and naval defensive installations and equipment." The bill was originally requested by President Roosevelt and the Secretaries of War and the Navy.

It seems one of those things which in common sense ought to have been done a long time ago. We are a democratic people, with a violent dislike for "Keep Off the Grass" signs. But even for such a people, we have been extraordinarily lax in this matter. One may not believe in all the spy scares to recognize that spies do actually exist, and that the Japanese, in particular, are very active on the West Coast. And as matters stand there are almost no regulations about the photographs and sketches. More than that, the government itself will furnish to the public maps, profiles, and elevations of our principal fortifications. It is quite true that these maps cannot reveal vital military details, such as gun placements, etc. But given them, a little casual photographing and sketching on the part of a spy would serve to produce a very accurate picture of just what the fortifications are like.