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A a, SRE AR LA EEE IR eS
(PRE ARO Et RE LEI ISS CPLA Loess
The Contributors
David Lane is a senior from Asheboro.
After his story was accepted he was ap-
pointed Managing Editor of THE REBEL.
Hugh Agee is a senior from Petersburg,
Virginia. He has three contributions in the
fret icsue of THER. REBEL.
Carolyn Upchurch is a sophomore original-
ly from Nashville, Tennessee and Raleigh.
She now lives with her husband in Green-
ville.
as Swartz is a freshman from Kalama-
>, Michican.
Kaye Whitfield is a junior from Manteo.
Jean Bowles is a sophomore from Beau-
fort.
Lewis Newsome is a junicr and resides in
Greenville.
John Hudgins is a sophomore from Char-
lotte.
James Hardy is a junior from Greensboro.
JOhn Gulnn is a jumior from New York
City.
Jichn Butler is a junior from Petersburg,
Virginia. Next year he will be Book Review
Editor of THE REBEL.
David Patterson is a senior from Raleigh.
Bryan Harrison is a junior from Asheville.
He is one of the co-editors of THE REBEL.
i . ex appl cee ie $a eS lta PIS LISI WIRE DDE ISS? F
Letter To The Editors
Dear Editors, |
I thought it appropriate to write this let 1
ter before the first issue was published foypp.
what I have to say doesnTt concern the api}
pearance or the material included
Carolina in its fifty years of operation ai }
a college. I would like to cogratulate thi @
person, or persons, who thought of the pro }
ject.
I have read that your policy ig to accep
i
only student writings. I think this is a fini
4
idea, for so many college literary magazine
accept faculty stuff and sooner or later I
turns into merely a faculty Journal.
that The Rebel will become a true organ fo!
student expression, for certainly we nee |
one here.
Sincerely,
Lewis Gordon
ABOUT THE COVER"The cover is an ink sketel
of Ernest Hemingway by staff artist Billy Arnold |
See Hugh AgeeTs critical essay of one of Heming |
wayTs works on page 5. |
ng
Rebel� | |
GUARANTY BANK AND
TRUST COMPANY |
Congratulations oThe R
Serving Eastern North Carolina
Since 1901
Member Federal Deposit Insurance
Corporation |
TRADE-MARK REG.
COCA-COLA BOTTLING. COMPANY,
= 3. PAT
t
I nopt &
'
Ndi
Bu Mess
OFF. vel
in the@..
meazine, but it does concern the idea of ?#
literary magazine on campus. I feel that 1 |i
is cne of the finest ideas developed at Eas |
GREENVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA ted mpan
SAE LR EA, ei ttre, SHS Se ee en cangeetig! St A SRR e Be ee. Sea ener eee AR I ai een HB SR me
th e
nem eS RSE Se pea Sam Mei ey ela steep Sl cpsabege: Wms amt tec ag iS Signa waist adn> Re eden a ve
" ia &.
oF,
reb e8ilh,;
oo BSR a ACR AN a MRE RA SE a A SE a AR EACLE RR A A EO a, RO eR: i SS Nc MT SRE ie Rc I ST A EAL iI LEAL ERRNO Ii AIEEE EGRET DLR M GE LES ENLARGE IE LEER
The Rebel
this | ore ee. 135.38
Shed ((OLUME 1 NUMBER 1
the aublished by che Student Government Association of East Carolina College, Greenville, North Carolina.
ln j@eated by the Publications Board of East Carolina College, as a literary magazine to be edited by s.udents
re of nd designed for the publication of student material to be selec.ed on the basis of quality and good taste.
that
al Ka Co-Editors = iy Arnold, Bryan Harrison
aUlon Managing Editor ee ee Dai ae
late Exchange Editor __ ... Naney Davis
the pp Assistant To Editors a eo
Business Manager | ee Over Whine
acca
Sa fin
lee In This Issue
Thor A OTR TO Tia BDITORS 20 2
San f AN EDITORIAL
my Oe THE SOUTH AND REVOLUTION ... #53 A
A CRITICAL ESSAY
A PARA WHE TO WAR 5
By Huge Agee
TWO SHORT STORIES
ke sl HOMECOMING ___.. = a 7
Ayal By David Lane ,
nail MR, ROBBIE 6 9
By Doe Panes son
SIX BRIEF SKETCHES
ance SLUMPTOWN SATURDAY NIGHT =. = eee 10
By Joe Swartz
MEMORY CHAPEL: 225. : 11
By Lewis Newsome
J D WATHRERONT =. oe ee 12
By Jean Bowles
JOHN GASKILL AND THE SEA oe 13
By Kaye Whitfield
: PRI Piob UG, FV URGINDA a1
- By Huge Agee |
CLOUD OF OR TUE SEY 2 10
By Carolyn Upchurch
ne BOOK REVIEWS
oWay JURKREwS PLY UPB 2. 17%
By John Builer
" fA RIDE THEOUGE TIN TOR� _.. = 17
ssi By Bryan Harrison
oTHE SPIRIT OF THE CHASE� an 18
y By David Patterson
"MOURNE THEOUGH THE BUINS = 24
By Huge Agee
POWTRY 7
é By John Hudgins
A POR Sy James Cardy = 22
| TWO POMS Ty Jorn Ounn = So ee 22
¢OTICE"Deadline for material for the next issue of THE REBEL is September 11, 1958. Editorial and
uwusiness offices will close May 9, 1958 and reopen September 11, 1958. Contributions may be submitted in
Jerson to the editors or by mail: Box 1420, ECC. Manuscripts and artwork submitted by mail should be
~«ccompanied by a self-addressed envelope and return postage. The publishers assume no responsibility for
A ume return of unsolicited manuscripts or artwork.
ebb pring, ToS 8 2
agg ee SEAS REARS EERE EE Ea
ose, et Et - Ss
Pe Pe sa ing A APR LE LEO D AE AE MEPL A EAN R DRE GL AREAL. ARIE ALLL, EAE ROTO AD eA i et BERRA Bc CS Te an OR A a RB AP te 2 ts Sa = ea encae (aes: tak dante tcaains Sea .
An Editorial
The South and Revolution
When one thinks of orebel,� one gener-
ally thinks of two things: The South and
revolution. And both of these connotations
have, in a loose sense, a real meaning for
the beginning of this magazine.
If the reader examines the first issue he
will find, not too carefully hidden, the South-
ern point of view. This apparent limitation
was not necessarily intended by the editors,
but for its presence there is a_ logical
explanation.
In almost all Southern writing there seems
to be an acute, passionate awareness of
place. And, almost without exception, the
best writing is written by people who are
describing and writing about the land and
people they know best. Hence, the South-
erner, who usually loves the South, usually
writes about the South, and most of our con-
tributors are Southern born.
However, when the reader reads carefully
he will notice that the student writers have
not entirely confined themselves to their
bat are stmiking out to
write of a world of new things and places.
Certainly there is no editorial restriction on
subject matter, so long as the material is
generally interesting and fundamentally
sound as good writing.
geographical are: .
And in a sense we may be launching a
sort of revolution. Responsible leaders of
government, industry, and education have
continuously pointed out that our colleges
and universities are not producing men and
° " . o 3. > = ii ni sen lis ta is $5 EAE PI OLE LEP EIDIEIE D ISDE ISOS F
EN a ST TERE EN AILS N EAI I LED DI LO IE ie 3 pecs e
\ ow
ad
"
ed
women who are able to cope with the def
manding intellectual problems of the atonii y
age. Freshmen entering college are ma
prepared than their fathers. Their educi y
tion and society have emphasized the ini!
portance of omaking a living,� and they hav 1
already chosen a specialized field whid ff
leaves little room for Darwin or Shake dl
speare. i
WI
Their desire is for specialized training dh ee
and they have no time for academic theory] aif (;
or for that matter, for any form of intellec olous
Consequently, schools hay i ~
tual | activity.
compromised to satisfy this desire. |
possible these days to go to a liberal ark! i
institution and learn plumbing. t ies
t! wal
Present day emphasis is on specializatia a
and materialism. Narrow psychological pre Vppen
: : : ~me in
occupations have replaced basic doctrine pt}.
in art, science, and philosophy. It is ne,� hi
wonder that mediocrity is becoming mort
and more apparent in college graduates. Nehly 3
And it is not surprising that an indiffe
ence towards intellectualism permeates- worth
sort of thing against which we hope to rebey
1h.
constitute a revolution on any campus.
ES MON OR SRN RR BEETS. a.
the th
aton
ire
[SET
edue
the ;
eV hay
whi
Shak
~alnin
theotind Catherine follows him there.
ritical Essay
Ernest HemingwayTs prose has made him
amous; Hollywood has made his rich. With
ihe re-make of his A Farewell to Arms
presently touring the cinema circuit, this
ewriter would like to reconsider the novel,
ind thereby challenge the reader to a more
ineaningful evaluation of the film version
orom the standpoint of theme and character-
zation (and perhaps to read the novel, if
ae has not yet done so).
In this book, we find an interplay of love
ind war as Frederic Henry, an American
nmbulanece driver on the Italian front in
World War I, suddenly finds himself in love
with Catherine Barkley, an English nurse.
Wounded by a mortar burst, Lieutenant
idenry is transported to a hospital in Milan,
For the
ntellaallous Henry (I think I can justly call him
Sha
It
al al
lizati
dallous, for he has not yet been softened by
jhe intensity of his love for Catherine), the
irrival of his girl friend is significant. Here-
jofore, he has thought of their relationship
4s o~a game, like bridge, in which you said
things instead of playing cards,T but once
ihe war becomes a menace to his own being,
gomething happens that alters his outlook.
19] pW hen she comes to his room for the first
lime in Milan, he is aware of it, at least
|
cUlyartly. oWhen I saw her I was in love with
is
4 me
mer,T he says. oEverything turned over in-
ide me.�
What follows is a period of love that is
nighly idealized simply because the immedi-
acy of war demands that it be so. In reality,
ndififthey are stangers who meet under the most
eatedanorthodox circumstances. From the begin-
oenel
ing, however, Catherine Barkley has an al-
most uncanny vision of the end, ooYou will be
; is tyood to me, wonTt you?� she asks. And then
0 reb'
idds, oBecause weTre going to have a strange
iife.�T She becomes pregnant, but there is no
hhame. Their love has transcended the limits
mult the world around them. We get the full
n, 3
velop!
¢omantic treatment as Henry offers to marry
her; but Catherine declines for fear that
hhe will be sent home and thus parted from
beligver lover.
WwOl
S.
e D
The war, which will not be denied, again
nnakes demands on the lovers, and Lieuten-
wnt Henry, recovered now from his wound,
@eturns to the front. The stage has been
get within the man, however, for the re-
mellion against arms that is to come. He is
ino longer satisfied to be a part of the action.
tt is in the confusion of the retreat from
aporetto that he makes his final farewell.
With the risk of being shot as a deserter
22758
.
err oO;
5 FS SEG AE BR AR NTN A RC NCR RE AR SS as WC OL ROR EEE OC A LE EE ER ER ROE EL RG AOI II 0 IR RR 8 EAE ERI AEE SEE SA cA AES NIE TSA 5 BN EEA IE TELLER ANE IE LE EIEN
oe een a eS alee reer cca an ta pt SS IRE ee eg ie SS
A karewell To War
By HUGH AGEE
hanging over him, he makes his way back
to Milan. There he realizes that the war is
over for him; yet he has othe feeline of 4
boy who thinks of what is happening at a
certain hour at the schoolhouse from which
he has played truant.� There is a certain
naivete about Frederic Henry that shines
through in spots, and, indeed, it does fashion
him as the errant boy.
Once he is reunited with Catherine, he
makes arrangements to flee to Switzerland.
Since a conventicnal entry is impossible, they
row across a lake at the border and manage
to get provisional visas from the Swiss au-
thorities. Their stay in the mountains wait-
ing for the baby to come passes quietly.
Hemingway exhibits himself as a master of
small talk in these pages. They amuse them-
selves with talk of the baby, of FredericTs
beard, of skiing, of Niagara Falls and the
Golden Gate of San Francisco. They are
unique in that they always get on so well
together; there is only happiness for them,
it seems.
But in the sense that we have had the
futility of war treated as a major theme,
we find the futility of love added to it. The
baby is born dead, and Frederic Henry
learns that Catherine is to die, too. His re-
action is bitter and realistic. o~You did not
know what it was about,� he tells himself.
oYou never had time to learn. They threw
you in and told you the rules and the first
time they caught you off base they killed
you, .. . Stay around and they would kill
you.
Henry then uses an analogy that sums up
his feelings as he recalls throwing a log
covered with ants on a fire. He remembers
how they swarmed about trying to escape,
but only fell off into the fire. Here was a
chance to be messiah and lift the log off
the fire, but he threw a cup of water on the
flame instead, which, he felt, only steamed
them. Now, as he waits for Catherine to
die, he experiences a similar ineffectiveness.
Catherine dies not fearing death, only
hating it. We recall what Lieutenant Henry
has said earlier, for in the death of Cath-
erine it finds meaning. oIf people bring so
much courage to this world the world has
to kill to Dreak them; so of course if kills
them. The world breaks everyone and after-
ward many are strong at the broken places.
But those that will not break it kills. It kills
the very good and the very gentle and the
very brave impartially. If you are none of
(Continued on Page 6)
a a are ae a ai ee
Rey ESE Aas RS Oe
Riles Me a Re Sm ee Pe RS ee Re Sige | ang NO a ae eed
oe en Ee er eee
(Continued from Page 5)
these you can be sure it will kill you too, but
there will be no special hurry.�
These words have meaning for everyone.
One truly wonders if war is simply a method
that men have devised to expedite the end.
Certainly Frederic Henry conceived of this.
In a novel where rain and gloom have an
important role in accenting the mood, there
are passages where Hemingway displays
his ability to capture the natural beauty of
mountains and mountain villages. He relies
on his descriptive powers for expert transi-
tions. Hollywood, with its mastery of color
photography, will do well to match the
sensitive artistTs eye.
Frederic Henry and Catherine Barkley,
along with the interesting but less important
doctor, Rinaldi, are, in effect, ordinary peo-
Three Poems
By JOHN HUDGINS
The black boy lay
facing the ground
jumped up, spun around
then he
Zigzagged, crisscrossed
leaped and ran complex
perplexed he stopped
impatient sentinel
saw a leaf falling
stalked it and plucked
it from its fall
elastically grew tall
held it a yard away
rubbed it against
his cheeks, next his nose
retraced his steps
placed the leaf where he found
it falling
ostupid fool!T i yelled
he did not hear
laughing silently
he reached to feel the world.
gates REEBOK RE LEE ALLE LEAR LR ALLL LAL LEAL LD LEAL NOAA nN " iz 2
coed SS a -
ES A A A ER Sa i ep at Ee RR Ra Ea ae tenet gt tas =
ciel
ining abe) Ne ga Ie A ED Mirae Be Senne FI
ple. Perhaps this is what makes the novel
so challenging to the mind of the reader
for there is a plane of identification withigt
its bounds"a universality which must be
present in any great book.
Frederic Henry is a robust, man-of-thee
world type (so much like HemingwayT
other heroes) ; yet, in spite of the fact thaja
he proves his manhood with Catherine, thijif.
sho
meT
ItTs |
q pai
p tw
pundi
writer feels that he is strangely sterile (noloshrist
in the sense that Jake Barnes is sterile, bug
mn.
from the standpoint of effectiveness). Cathphjethir
erine is gentle to the end, always warm anj@jllTs
considerate.
It is the sheer power of hepye fr
gentleness that sparks HenryTs revolt. Ipiing |
the end, after her death, one wonders ji
repre
Frederic Henry is stronger after havingiings
been broken. 1 ased
1 nbed
Don't
oFolly,� said the preacher, if
~Disgusting,T said the teacher here's
of the new car. dill fi
oHast, sale. (ne. playuoy to lis girl. ; Fekin
oCool,� chimed the rock and roll commercia hot
~6 ee y it arin
Yep, said the dealer, ol¥s a whirt.�T y jed is
oCheap,� said the student le inel p
of the French ear. Hu ee
1 was
oHiconomic,� stressed the president As the
of the school. hy trafh
oProfit,� beamed the maker as a ye
he touched it. you
Wt fuptly.
oGidup,� said the farmer nimy c
to nis mule. bi.�
dill, st
Nn} turn
; Okay,
fancy fell with a fizzle | z=
fleeced of all its glamour " i :
" [ V
gluttony gnawed the god eget
: 4 ERE fh
all that blarney fell flat Fe par
with Eros chewed up WIRE ch.
Dred p
how bare love looked Nir. T}
lying lucratively 4 M sig
like a lizard OE thing
AC} Denet
the narrow bed squealed Ms gi
sounding liberal love i pi
UM of
my fat violent virgin Hike an,
JN his
restoring vain vespers yt
Pick
lll yy
the reb bri,
So nA ERT SS SERRE SR pT ESN Na (dame i A RON LS om aR ra STA pa: HRN SSS PS EES Sig hae Sethe
ee Ra EF EN Oe OR AL RN aS wr eae
~\a Short Story
ee domecoming
t th
e, thin .
a (n
ie. 4
Car
mM an
i
It.
ers
~xen two years, at least...
By DAVID LANE
oItTs been two years,� said Emmy as they
xed past a bleached city-limits sign. oItTs
seems more like
Oh, a8 @onna be
-. being back and all.�
o{ Christ, thought Bill. Why doesnTt she quiet
Giwn? You'd think it was -Fair Week or
hbmething.
BillTs neck and back felt rigid. The long
rive from home had tired him and EmmyTs
hiking did nothing to relieve the tension.
lide repressed his antagonism and vented his
4) hundred"just ages.
laVIheelings on the carTs accelerator. The in-
ercl
e 0
~yeased pace eased him. His mind was
uumbed to all but the thrill of the speeding
ar.
"Dont drive se fast, honey . ; Slow
IOWN, youTre liable to hit someone,� said
immy invading hisT senseless _ pleasure.
ThereTs all that homecoming traffic today.�
Bill floorboarded the accelerator, passed
car and squealed through a curve. The
inrieking tire noise excited him. His ears
eelt hot and his palms sweated making the
deering wheel feel slippery. Cautiously he
viped one sweaty palm at a time on his grey
dannel pants. Just as methodically he put
ils hands back on the wheel, gripped it hard,
ind was pleased with the improved grip.
As they crept into town, the monotony of
ihe traffic overcame them after the speedy
ide on the open road.
oYou Gent have to come, said Emmy
tbruptly. oYou never cared about anybody
in My crowd anyway ... always eriticized
ihem.�T
Bill, still grated by EmmyTs constant talk-
ing turned and glowered at her.
oOkay,-1 wont @o! ll get out at Main
gall. .-1 vealy dont ceive 3 damn about
Jeeing all those ~old palsT of yours.�
The two drove on in silence. The small
jollege town was filled with excitement.
warge floats in brilliant reds and yellows
were parked along the streets of town which
were chaotically littered by bits of torn
golored paper. The homecoming parade was
wer. The narrow sidewalks were hidden
irom sight as people milled about waiting
(
Ina ay|
or things to happen. The excitement did
iot penetrate BillTs Chevy. After a monot-
nousT stop-light-to-stop-light drive, they
eared the campus. ill halted the car in
yront of Main Hall, pulled up the hand-
rake and opened the car door. He looked
ast his wifeTs face out of the far window
bf the car and frowned.
~oPiek mewupat...ubh.. lets see-"no
.. Vil meet you-at four o'clock at the Pad.
L756
p71 eo,
a
. Pee cat " = �"� " eT Ba gs eA RIE EO ee rig SNe
SRR EC RAO EC CE RE ER i Ee A al eR eR EO a A SO SE AD BT AAT ALR SOSA ET BEEN POLI AEM EE LE ANE " 2s See
You remember itTs that nice little place on
the corner of Summit and Grant.�
Bill stepped back from the car. Emmy
drove away without looking back. The carTs
engine strained to pull, the transmission
thought for itself. He crossed the street,
ran up the thick granite steps and quickly
pulled open the door to the old building.
The same musty odor he had come to know
so well in his college days surrounded him
as he walked in. He heard a laugh and an
embarrassed couple stepped out of the
shadow behind the door he had opened. They
clung to each other and quickly turned down
the hall. Bill laughed to himself.
Not so long since I was carrying on like
that, he thought.
He stood and looked around. Once ori-
ented, he went to the stairs and began the
climb to the fourth floor. He didnTt hate
the climb as he once had. It was only a
minute or so and he was walking down an
old familiar corridor. His footsteps, though
hurried and hard, echoed and diffused into
the silence of the old building. He passed
a row of offices and stopped at a familiar
one. The door was open.
Things havenTt changed much, even for
Dr. Frederick, he thought .. . same old
rough shelves... -. straight. chair .:.. one
window ... just one window .. . nothing to
excess or without a purpose.
The afternoon sun, shining over the half
drawn shades, fell carelessly on the floor
blending into other shadow forms making a
rambling abstract silhouette. Bill moved
into the shadow.
Funny, how you associate color with a
place or something... olT FrederickTs office
has always seemed brown .. . except on
rainy days ... even more gloomy then,
everything in pastels of grey ... used to call
this his cubicle ...same two desks. . . al-
ways littered with papers and books. Poor
Dr. Smith... donTt see how the two of them
find room for everything ... place makes
you feel cramped ... like a trapped animal.
(suess thatTs what I was too... never came
in here that I didnTt feel tense or caught.
His mind wandered back to Dr. Frederick
and his college days.
DonTt let anything keep you back, boy.
Anything! This is good work, For. eadTs
sake, Bill, donTt stay here. Go some place
where you can breathe. YouTve a chance to
be somebody if you leave here. Believe me,
ITve seen it happen before. ITve seen good
students, trapped in stifling surroundings,
literally ttirn sour and... Bill, for your own
sake ... for me if not for yourself, so and
do something and let the world be the judge
of it ... not just one narrow-minded little
school. This place is the most uninspiring
(Continued on Page 8)
~
ON SR NES Fae ag RR IE ES RL ee cae RR Eee RFR BR DN MEI NRE ae OTR en ARR ee TOS, REE SD ee a BRS ey rN Ri aie ose a =
Lee. SET HEREALSE SEIN TS REE EIS SRR Ne
(Continued from Page 7)
ITve ever seen.
YouTve really got it... you shouldnTt let
anything secondary, ne paused AUrUpuy.. +)
women. DonTt lose sight of your potentiali-
a i RE A ORR A ERIN TR RS IA i EASE PLE ALLA LAL DELCO DENS ALLOA ALLEL LE PEDIC LI IIE: ee ae
ing for the shepherd to ring the bell.
He was right ... the bell. rings and thi
sheep respond ... Just run... . Fun, rum
run... be like everyone else... donTt think i
... run together. How well everything seems ,
to run when you donTt interfere... I wanted «ify.
ies = Gon t be like the rest... don. : .
dont... be a Paviov pup all your life. to oe ae ee ee not any "et a a ply
Is it really that good, asked Bill? es eae 1 BeUrOMe WN ee One
ItTs not perfect, continued Dr. Frederick, a Iga le arate ; We
but youTve mastered yourself. I can see : Bill idled back to the window. He stooc }/Th
youre not like the rest. Be glad youTre for a few moments, turned and with monot gi jjec
different, Bill. DonTt tie yourself down to °mous movement did the job of walkin{ wee
Commorminy ... be alive... be original... . again. He glanced at his watch. It wat pip D
esexpe while you can. Wscape . . . thats a = three forty-five. a} ays
the way it is Emmy, itTs not escaping from Same I need a drink, legge
you, itTs nothing like that. ItTs just well = thought. iif in
...1 donTt love you any less when [Tm writ- Nek Zz=>\¥) He walked down the lonj Ij}
ing, but damn, Emmy, it means something NSS Wf hallway, went down tht Wyre
tome. Its my callie. Ive cot to write"_at \ Y stairs, and out the door hi bids
least try. Do you understand? PONG had entered. He _ begai jf g
I understand, honey, she ZEEE LENS Vg walking to town. H ij mpns
said vaguely. I guess ITm KOS APNG 5 thoughts were far away |jsu
just being selfish to want eZ nt So He walked mechanically dif Gl
you all the time. LV IM 2 insulated from the worl jpn:
ThatTs good. I hoped you | PW around him, until a bellig Gpss.
would. VL Tis Mp | A ma erent horn honk brough We
No, you donTt see, he KM WY H/ me Ht} \ him to his senses. Hf ajpche
thought. You canTt and you WEFR hy VA Fe Aud) jumped back quickly. OE car
never will. YouTre an obs- Ss OY) eo PGs ws (En) My automatic pilot isnT [fo
tacle that keeps me from See ie if MAK] working so well . . . use fihtin
being myself. TASS \wyrs hy} BK Wi to be pretty good at getting }fWir
T love you, Emmy. NPC 4 | around like that ... gues yi be
I iove you too, Bill. (NA '7 ZY itTs all this extra traffic. aj�
ThatTs a dichotomy for VA} BN ge Caught up in the wave o IMWri
you, he thought. You love WME lL Mp excitement, Bill began t Heder
what ycu see, or at least GO peste Ge notice the studentTs color why.�
what you want to see. Thats QF § ful clothes. A red and whit Himy
proves my point... may- SSS eonvertible filled wit] IFT}
pe you ll always love me screaming students mad .j} Ey
cae you'll never really un- a light swishing sound. H jf0h
derstand how things are wag in a better mood whe ijt fi
with me... not really... he finally entered the tal ec
and, . until you do, you'll ern. He even spoke to somt j {Lat
never really know me and one he remembered frof gifts.�
you'll just go on loving his school days. Once in th |'Dor
what you see. I guess Tm Kos solitude cf his drink, hov ojy}
sofe on that point. Safe! : ever, his mind returned | Ni,
Boy, what had Dr. Fred- hy Yi Hhh ES) its thoughts. He turned ¢ lit t)
mmieck said about that. AK Ye ip pe Y i | the bar stool and looke |i
Safe are you? YouTve got AES KL about the room. A grow yt a
to get away from that notion, Bill. None undulating around a blal 1 4 :
a a youTve made are ever really ing juke bex. i
safe"never for sure. oPlay J6, man,� one of ai A;
Dr. Frederick walked to the window. oBut you already eee i I
Look hoe there on campus. Those are said another. | I i
your safety conscious. Those are the ones Wan you can at aby ius ak a
who are satisfied with everything as it is. beat it. ae Ol oe ee aie | im
What one does the otherg do. By following when he hears it. Anybody that toni lik d ;,
we ree we es TheyTre like a it is a square.� = 7 i
unch of animals a caught up in the college hey ve oof i ¢ ~
eorral. They just run from one side of the Se aeae aa eee a Bill land : '
corral to the other whenever a bell rings. quickly to his left. | oe N .?
Just look at them ... a bunch of sheep, oWhy Dr. Smith, how are you?� q i \
bas themselves complacently just wait- (Continued on Page 9) ti &
th e re ber;
: : os 2 "_ iat nceaaieinn , icpmieneta ait mine 7 as
28 RE A RE AL RR A AR A a CL SAE A TERE RN RE SS A AE OT BR NS SIR RS IH SES RE IE A PL AOE TTT A EIR LT IE LLL GEESE LIEN EF EIEN ERNE IEE OE TE cant
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(Continued from Page 8)
oWeak but still wary! HowTve you been,
thowTs life treating you?�
oWell enough, | guess ... can't really
BillTs thoughts halted momen-
itarily.
oMy Wite 23-0 2... Dm walling tor my
~vite... sheTs late.�
oWell, well, finally settled down.�
oThose students,� said Bill changing the
Bubject ..4 othe last time | saw them they
~were out sunning. Remember? Remember
how Dr. Frederick used to call them sheep,
jalways KIGCINe .
oHe wasnTt kidding, theyTre always bask-
ing in one complacency or another,� said
Dr. Santhn.." Phey aon t have the pulse -_ .
they're like the new cars ... they donTt
build students like they used to, I suppose.�
oIT guess we all love security even if it
means conformity,� said Bill.
oSure we do,T said Dr. Smith.
do: Glad to be back?�
oIn a way. ItTs been two years you know.
Guess ITm just sentimental.�
oWell, thatTs easy to see"you can get
attached to a lot of things. I even love that
old Gar of mine.�
oDo you think we'll win?� interjected Bill,
fighting the cncoming mocd.
oWin the game? Maybe so. What have
you been doing lately, Bill? Do you write
any?
, WriteT. Oh, no-not-iun-say,
Prederick? Dont tell me... weak but still
wary. . they lauehed and talked - until
Emmy came into the tavern.
oThis is Emmy, Dr. Smith. You remember
; dnghsh 3.�
oOt, yes. ow are you? Are you teach-
ing, Emmy?�
"Ves, ead 1 just edore 1. dvs so... 2
~Late,T interjected Bill. ~~WeTd better be
,oing.�
oDent ©&6 now. bill,� said Dr: Smith.
oMaybe Dr. Frederick will come in.�
oNo.4... coulem t Thalis ...1...id
like to see him, but we have to go.�T
o1 understand, said Dr. Smith. oSee you
next year.�T
"\ ean, ext year,T said Bill. oMaybe Ill
get to see Dr. Frederick then. Good-by.�T
As they walked down the narrow side-
walk, Bill searched out the color in the town.
It was a momentary escape from the routine-
ness, the monotony, the colorlessness of the
life he was leading. They turned and walked
down one of the many one-way streets. His
wife walked beside him, head up, smiling at
people as they passed. He looked at her.
Her, counterfeit face stared back at nim.
Night was beginning to fall. Bill and Emmy
walked through the ink-wash shadows of
oSure we
now 6 Dr:
| town.
1738
a 5
PR ORR ACE SER Cte Ce AOR ere re Be meg ng ee ae at ans SRO tre nan. aa ARR ey
oWhy were you late, Emmy?�
-%0u didnt. want te see the same or
them,� she blurted. oAll you wanted was to
talk to some old professor.�T
oiiiy
~Huh Sas
oT love you.�
o4 10Ve You too, Said Kmmy.
It was almost dark then.
A Short Story
La tin CREE NN aOR Zt a SO EO EL EBB TNS
Mr. Robbie
By DAVID PATTERSON
When the snows melt in the mountains,
the springs become flooded and fill the
creeks. And the creeks merge near Rosman
and the river, narrow and muddy, begins
to wind through the vailey between the hills.
After the thaws, the river floods and covers
the little valley, depositing rich, black soil
in the tields; and when the water returns
to the river the ground is easy to plow. The
men who work the fields in the valley plant
tobacco and corn. And in the summer the
corn is high and green.
The trucks filled with cattle cn their way
to the stockyard rumbled down the high-
way every Friday; and the drivers gazed
at the long rows of corn in the bottom land.
On the other side of the valley the coal-
burning engines hugged around the slopes
of the mountains, dropping coal along the
tracks, and the smoke from the engines
settled cn the river.
Also, in those days, the Negro women
would come to the bottom to pick black ber-
ries along the river bank. Overalled boys
on. their way to swim in the rock quarry
would venture down the highway, across
the conerete bridge, and down the railroad
track, waving at the engineer on the train.
And the men who worked in the mill at
Woodfin would trudge up the highway,
across the concrete bridge, and up the dusty
road to home in Bingham Heights.
And in the cool summer evenings, when
the great red sun gat poised ion the opposite
hill, the frogs would begin to croak in the
ponds deep in the woods of the bottom land.
And as the night engulfed the valley, the
mimosa leaves would close and the mist
would rise from the river and the river
smell would float across the valley and up
the mountain. And Mr. Robbie and I often
gat in the dark and listened to the frogs
and smelled the river.
Nestled between two bends of the river,
five hundred acres of the valley belonged
to Mr. Robbie. Most of it was woods and
pasture, but Robbie grew a lot of crops with
(Continued on Page 11)
9
Sr WA nS RS a Se a a ee EE ee
snes ee ana ee
Pe Sted De sat iggy ALPE GES Ah a A
Six Brief Sketches
Stumptown Saturday Night
By JOE SWARTZ
Stumptown was wide awake, and
I hated passing through on Satur-
day night. There werenTt many whites
around except a few red-faced farm-
arg pulling up in their trucks in front
of the liquor store.
The overalled, stocking-capped
Negroes stood chatting and laugh-
ing and greeting their brothers, who
rattled up in their Chevies and Fords.
They patted backs and shook hands
and grinned like cats.
oHey, Jawdon, they out of Bour-
bon Springs.T
oWhat you mean out of Springs,
Qiueball, I don get no other Kind. __ ,
oYou late, Jawdon. Whiskey under
two dollars long gone.�T
-bawd, Mister Richard. What 1 |
gonna do?T |
I hurried on down the hunched and j °
jubilant street. Past Do Drop Inn, a |
tavern for Ladies and Gents, past
the Emporium Pool Hali and Harri-
gonTs Barber Shop and CalhounTs Hat
Blockers, where eight little burly-
heads whipped at the shoes of their
king-like customers, wearing pin-striped
suits and black derbys and smoking nickel
cigars.
I was conscious of their stares. A white
man didnTt walk down Eagle Street on Satur-
day night. I remember when I was in high
school some of us used to drive down in our
cars, to go omieeer knockin. Wed holler
osnowball at the blackest Negroes in
Stumptown and throw firecrackers at their
porches.
Often the boys would try to get a Negro
girl. to get in the car with them, saying,
oCome on, Pinkaninny.�T Sometimes the
girl would get in, but most of the time she
would shout back, oPo white trash,� or
ignore them with a hanging head.
I shuffled on past the theatre where the
colored boys with loud golf hats and tweed
overcoats were ushering in their dates to
see the Saturday night double feature, The
Invisible World and Monster from the Deep.
I could hear the young ones shouting,
oHey, man, aint you going to the flick?
How come you cutting out?�
oHey, Osear. How you making out?�
I walked past the drug store and the
Mbnme station and. the Olympia Erotel. 1
stopped at the white square building deco-
10
eT re nO a PALL ANA EA ONIN A ON a ae Ni Es BS a Rs eB = STi Py
ta - sa
� ae a Fe Si SST tn OOS) EE Ee EE DP EP WS ES SSO ~
5 : : acim tS le I NE NS AR AT NA I AA ELE NEL BDL ALTO ALL LAT PIL ION EI SES Serene
= = = ia i eee a ee 7 o � tie Ss " " oe e
; en ses SERRE RI RT MASEL RE ELEN A LE ELIE ILI LIE LALA EOS RESID IT 5
er POE EG EL ELI or ka as x ea
Le DO) 1 SD A corns OO co ONT coma IE) OE cr ce) ee ST
Fra OY xc D Lao
rated with red hearts and diamonds and th
big rectangular sign, ~oo~The House of Praye il
bet
cL
SS ee
for All People.� Tonight it was empty, bu wWipds
tomorrow it would be full of dancing, shout ti}
GraceT
Church. Daddy Grace wore an ermine coa 4
and had a white wife. All the Negroes fo th
miles around came to hear the oword� front pif,
the great black father, and to get him f Wks
show them othe way.� ars
ing Negroes. This was Daddy
I left the pool halls and the beer dives !
the rinky-tink of the piano floated into th al
still, dark night; and suddenly Stumptow 4)
was hushed and silent. I walked down Jan 4}
Street watching the smoke pour from th 4}
chimneys of the tin-roofed shacks, bring w\
ing with it the smell of fried fish, possum alg,
and chitlins. nl
I thought to myself how funny it wa |}
that colored folks named their streets wit 8T
first names, and when they moved they all
ways took their house numbers with then t
The wind rattled the tin roofs and curle 0.
dust around my feet as I stood on Richar 0
Street looking into the vast network of di
roads winding in and out, jungle fashiol a
through the deep dark mysterious world dg
the Southern Negro. 8
the
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ug}
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2 bt
| Memory Chapel
By LEWIS NEWSOME
The sun rays, finding their way through
the heavy wisteria, settled on the quiet little
brick building. Centered in the old Con-
federate cemetery and almost obscured by
dogwood was Memory Chapel. It stood like
a sentinel in the cemetery surrounded by a
rusted wrought-iron fence that once was
fancy with filligree reminiscent of years.
The narrow winding path leading up to
the chapel was guarded by marble tablets
marking the final resting place of the Con-
federate soldiers. Some were fortunate to
be remembered by their families long enough
for the monuments to be erected. Others
were not remembered at all. The only
markers they had were the miniature dime
store Confederate flags placed at their feet
by the Daughters of the Confederacy. The
flags almost whispered as their tattered ends
The
graves were covered with pale yellow dan-
delions that grew in profusion between the
mossy bricks covering the final resting
places.
Here and there between the plots, bird
baths of molded concrete appeared to be
standing on bases of deep. green foliage.
Often they were filled with debris placed
there by the thoughless urchins who played
in the bamboo thicket behind the chapel.
The bamboo thicket seemed almost mys-
tical amid the tall oaks and blossoming dog-
woods. One of the dogwoods leaned far over
the fence toward the arch-shaped windows.
Its blossoms were beautifully tinted by the
sunTs reflection from the darker-than-laven-
der panes of the chapel windows.
The ivy-covered chapel had red-orange
bricks peeping through in places. Once, the
bricks of the building had protected the
graves of the brave men who rested near by.
The only entrance was a great pine door held
together by wooden pegs. Above the door,
set in the brick, was a cross of rough stone.
The third stone in the shaft above the cross-
arm bore a nature-sculptured face of Christ.
The door swung freely open on great black
wrought-iron hinges. Beside the door hung
a large tarnished brass key. The door was
never locked.
As the strong door swung open into the
sanctuary, the chapel was lit only ~by the
remaining raysT of the sun streaming
through the two stained-glass windows. The
only furnishing was a simple prayer desk
of dark mahoeany resting in front of: a
natural cedar. altar..To the right of the
altar. was.a bronze plaque of the same
geometric design as the windows. The in-
scription read, oDedicated to those who
S03 yg; 795s
SAR it TR A OEE, CN NR RES ROLY EMRE ARE AB AEE LED ALR EM A I AE
2 cane en See are peer cae Fae Ret Sp Se ts aa a
: " a ka ~ _" er sll SO SS a TENANTS Ogee iggy te " "" od i
-" FEB RA BB SE ROE a SR SRE ER ER a CR ML ASR EES Ow AR I TE Rl ROE AR A ER RE AS RR EN eS IS ORR i 5 IN REE LE RES AF IY ELE EACLE LIRR SLE ETI ENE AEE LE OS meine - Sees ee ta " SS ees
have worthily lived and courageously fought
for tue fight.�
(Continued from Page 9)
the help of one hired hand, whom he affect-
lonately called his plowboy. He usually kept
a plowboy a long time, but towards the end
they would stay for shorter and shorter
durations, for Robbie was growing old and
cross, and the boys would get enough of the
old manTs ill humour. Even though he was
without a helper, he would go about his work
as usual, and if Jim, my brother, thought that
the work was too much for Robbie he would
march down the asphalt driveway to the foot
of the mount2in and give the old man a
hand. Often they would work late in the
night hauling manure in the shaky old wagon
with a pole for a brake, or bringing in the
cattle with Jack, RobbieTs German shepherd,
nipping at the heels of the animals.
One hot Saturday morning I rushed fresh
to the fields and found Robbie puttering
around the barn. He was stroking a strange
dog. oHey, Robbie,TT I called out. He grunted
scmething at me and, stepping back, he
called to the dog, oUp Doe, hyah boy.�
oWho's Doc,� I asked? He looked at me
as if I had said something outrageous and
reylied, ~o~Well, everybody in the country
knows tnat ITve got one dog and his nameTs
Jack and if I get another dog and call him
Doc then I reckon heTs Doc.�
oT reckon so,� I said. oAre you going to
the pasture today, Robbie?� I asked a lit-
tle later.
Ven.
oAre yicu going to take the wagon?�
oNGO
oAre you going to take the sled?T
oNo?
oWe're going to walk.�
oif we ainTt going to take the wagon and
we ainTt going to take the sled, then I reckon
were going to walk.�
oI reckon so, 1 said.
And so we walked and I really didnTt mind,
for even though I liked to drive Maud, the
old araft horse, Robbie would get cross when
I mishandled him. We shuffled through the
grass and sand towards the river and im-
mediately I got into some stinging weed.
I began to dance like a nigger in a water-
mellon patch and looking up at Robbie I
saw that he was laughing at me. oWhatTs
the matter with ya,� he asked?
~1 believe itTs stinging weed,� I was al-
must crying.
oYou mean this,T he reached down and
pulled a handfull of the ugly weed out of
the ground. I looked on with horror as he
rubbed it against his face. He laughed at
me and soon I was laughing too and the
(Continued on Page 14)
11
sina aS Ha ea SAR an sees ee Se SRS SS cages ce SRNR a SS ~
SB ig SS sh OR ae eR gt
W aterfront
By JEAN BOWLES
Along the seawall securely-tied party
boats with their hatches closed and their
deck chairs covered, ride out the long winter
months until spring when they will be pam-
pered by their masters with glossy white
paint, new manila ropes, and engine over-
hauls. The southeast wind blowing in from
the Gult Stream is light and unusually
warm for December. Occasionally a slight
shift in the breeze brings to the nostrils an
indescribable odor"similar to that of col-
lards stewing with a dash of salt added and
intensified several times.
Taking advantage of the calm sunny day,
a hblack-haired young fellow with a _ sun-
bronzed complexion repairs a net in the
stern of the oCapt. Puck,TT which has not yet
gone south to Key West, Marathon, or Cam-
peche. On a nearby dock two wrinkled-faced
old men sitting on wooden fish boxes whittle
with slow deliberate scrapes and reminisce
"the catch of a white marlin off Frying
Pan Shoals, the hurricane of T36, their days
in the Coast Guard, and the townTs centen-
nial jubilee last summer. During a lull in
their speculations on next seasonTs catches,
they follow, through squinted eyes, the
eourse of a churning and puline tus out
in the intercoastal waterway as it creeps
southward against the current, towing a
T j ee ee é re oe ee ngiinstebaropess gua a tia Es ESTE = pat ase meter ; . 5 s . . Rasa enie me mie Re a ape p If He SR OFS EA WS Wee se ST
Boe SOREL ALE EEO EEL BE AEC AR ALR ARE MARL GEL ERIE IA OTE LALLA ELE ADL LOA SLANE AL LLL LALLA LLL LAL ALPS C LIE AL LIE TFL RL Ss ae poe ih ie Se sig a a 2 e
ox ge . c ~) 6 ss ;
barge loaded high with pulpwood.
Occasionally two or three Negroes from
the menhaden crews amble along the water-
front. Their black hip boots folded down
to the knees cause their gait to be slow and
laborious. Their deep resonant voices carry
on the quiet afternoon breeze, but their !
Louisiana and Mississippi dialects make
comprehending them difficult.
Even the sea gulls change their habits in |
winter. They stick close to the docks look:
ing for food and rarely venture out to the |
Miler. Li food is dificult to find, they.
clamming. With slow majestic flaps of thei
wings they sweep along the shore, and wher
a piercing, always roving eye perceives
a clam, 4a cull banks and glides to 1t. [nem
off he flies with the heavy clam in his beak
to a bridge on which he drops it to breag
the thick shell.
To the Florida-bound New Yorker, wht
throttles down and steers his yacht from
the channel into the yacht basin to dock gL. :
for the night and take on supplies, the still
ness is depressing. But to the natives every. ¢
thing has its season. Swimming, fishing
and colorful, noisy tourists belong to thf
summer months. Winter is an interlude of
quiet rest between summer rushes"time ti
sit propped against a piling on a dock ani
lazily wateh bits of trash drift by on th
tide.
PLL A, AOE EOL, GOL SRT AT EA: CN RPE RC NCTA On RI Ce TIBI eB i ee a en a ees
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John Gaskill
And The Sea
By KAYE WHITFIELD
John Gaskill had always loved the sea.
When he was small his mother had to watch
him very closely to keep him from wander-
ing down the beach. It was impossible to
tell him how dangerous the ocean was. He
felt like the water was his friend and
thought that it could never harm him. Dur-
ing the vicious northeast storms when the
water was at its peak of violence, John
could be found on the beach laughing at
the sound of the breakers.
As he grew older he could almost always
be found on the beach. His father taught
him to swim and like most boys on the
coast he began to learn to handle a_ boat
while he was very young. He began to fish
with his father earlier than was usual be-
cause of his skill in handling boats. By the
time he was in his teens he was the best
fisherman in the village.
He never lost his love for the sea while
he was vrowing up, but gradually erew
away from spending all his time on the
beach. In high school he found that he was
a born leader of his classmates. But oc-
casionally when he was in the middle of a
crowd he would slip away for a few minutes
to go to the beach and watch the waves break
on the sand.
Then came World War II. John Gaskill en-
listed in the Coast Guard the day after he
graduated from high school. All his friends
wished him well and knew that he would
be a success and he was. He gained pro-
motions rapidly because of. his skill in
handling men and his seamanship.
Some time after he had left the village
to enlist, he came back for a short visit, his
last for perhaps some time, he said. He told
his parents and friends that he had been
transferred to sea duty and that his ship
would patrol the coast off the village. He
was glad because again he would be on the
water.
He soon wrote home and said that he had
reported to the ship and liked it very much.
He said that occasionally his ship was close
enough to the village for him to pick out
several of the houses and landmarks. It
made him feel good inside, he told them.
One night a few weeks later the villagers
were awakened by the sound of an explo-
sion from the direction of the ocean. Many
of them rushed to the beach to see whether
they could find out what it was. When they
got there they saw two fires, far out on the
water. They knew that a ship had been
Sori 29058
torpedoed or that a submarine had been dis-
covered and sunk, but they didnt iknow
whether it was their ship or one belonging
to the enemy. They stood on the sand dunes
and watched until the fires disappeared and
then went back home, some of them to spend
a sleepless night.
The next morning just before dawn, John
GaskillTs father walked along the beach
picking his way through the debris from
the burned vessel. Just as the sun came over
the horizon he saw what appeared to be a
framed document washing up in the surf.
He went over and picked it up. It was a
wooden frame containing his sonTs last pro-
motion papers. The sea, which he had loved
so well, had announced John GaskillTs death.
Petersburg, Virginia
By HUGH AGEE
The history of Petersburg may be traced
through Blandford Cemetery where soldiers
of this countrys major wars He. The city
had its beginning as a trading post, estab-
lished about 1675 by Peter Jones, and it is
from this man that the city gets its name.
It is told that in the early years of Vir-
giniaTs existence a quantity of merchandise
had been ordered sent to Petersburg from
England, but through a misinterpretation of
PetersburgTs location, the merchandise ended
up in St. Petersburg, Russia.
Petersburg is best remembered for its
part in the Civil War, particularly during
its ten month siege by Grant in 1864-65. In
Blandford Cemetery one will find the graves
of 30,000 Confederate dead and see the
Memorial Arch erected in their honor.
The first attack on Petersburg by Federal
forces was made June 9, 1864. The town was
completely unguarded when news of the im-
pending assault spread through it like wild-
fire. A force of about 125 old men and boys
hurriedly rallied around an old Mexican
War veteran who led them out Sycamore
Street to take positions in the path of the
some 2,000 oncoming Yankees. Although
most of them were killed or captured, the
small groups delayed the advance until
reinforcements arrived to _ repulse the
attackers.
The strategic importance of Petersburg
is reflected in the recorded struggle that
ensued for possession of the city. On one
hand, it was the backdoor to Richmond, a
prize that had heretofore been unattainable
for the men in blue. On the other hand,
it was a terminal of the Weldon Railroad,
the life line of LeeTs army.
The most outstanding single engagement
(Continued on Page 14)
13
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RTT ep nce age Sage eT REE ethan TS oi SRE Gl oe nr Sata ems Scag IRIS Se, ae cg RR SN RD a NR a SR AE ERE A aes IE, REE ST ee ERGs \ Se gO igs an i SS
8 Ce nag.
oNaga t see seein RX Hee een miei e mae em ein Sl aa Di
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a a Ee ce er ee
ER 2S 2 SERRE ER A ES ee
(Continued from Page 13)
of the siege was the Battle of the Crat-
er. Since the war, the battle has been
re-enacted on several occasions, and the
site is one of the chief attractions of
the Petersburg National Military Park.
A tunnel was dug by Pennsylvania
Coxl miners from the Federal] lines
to a point beneath the Confederate
lines and filled with explosives. On
the morning of July 30, 1864, just as
as black night was becoming gray dawn,
the mine was exploded. The explosion
ripped a hole about 200 yards wide in
the Confederate lines and left Peters-
bureT open to attack. But the attack
was delayed by a confusion of orders,
and when the Federals finally marched
into the breach, the Confederates had
recovered to pour a withering fire in-
to the massed Union ranks. The Union
losses for this engagement were five
times those of the Confederates.
One ci the men blown up in the
Crater and buried beneath a pile of
locse earth, was a Petersburg native
who found great use for the spoon he
happened to have on him. He told for
many years after the war of having
dug an air hole with that spoon, which
was immediately covered by the body
of a Negro who fell over it as he was
shot. He painstakingly dug a second
hole, which kept him alive until he
could be rescued.
The siege was carried through a
severe winter, with little fighting done
for five months. The Southern soldiers
were poorly clad and poorly fed, and in
Home to the Cockade City, Harrison tells
of copies of HugoTs Les Miserwbles circu-
lating among them. ~They read the novel
with interest,� he says, osympathizing with
interest,T he says, ~osympathizing with
wretches whose suffering rivaled their
own. They were struck by the French title.
Adding an e and an apostrophe, they dubbed
themselves LeeTs Miserables.�
Lee held Petersburg until the second of
April, withdrawing at midnight. On the
third of April, General Grant entered the
city, and soon thereafter the war ended.
Petersburg has changed, but beneath the
surface it is a town proud of its history.
There is still much to be seen around Peters-
burg that points this out, and whether one
is walking over its battlefields, or examining
the recorded data concerning the city itself,
he will hear the voices of the past speaking
to him.
14
PRESSE LE EE ALA AMO EAE, OIE TR RAC I Og IO Rl OR gt TBE Ret ca ti TE Ri i NN ne EN Aaa a eT BA TR a a Saag SS omy
aac tee seep ee Ie Sia PBT Ri FE ee ED Bee i fe Sa ''
Sain me ES ens ae - eo ? ? =
(Continued from Page 11)
sting went away but my legs and hands
itched all day. The rest of the kids looked
bugeyed when I told them that Robbie was
immune to stinging weed.
We went on down the river and the old,
man pointed out the different trees" the
river birch, bent and peeling, the muscle
wood, with its smooth, yet ridged bark, and
the limber, low-hanging willows, bending
over to touch the river. On the mountains
grew tne laurel, which some folks called
Rhodedendron, and dogweod and apple trees.
In the valley grew the sycamoves and the
mimosas.
We came back to the barn and started
across the bridge. A train came down the
track and the new dog barked after it. |
thought the old man would let fly with %
stream of oaths, like he did when Jack mis
behaved, but he waited patiently until the
train passed and the dog started back, tail
wagging. As soon as he saw the sudden
erce expression on the old manTs lips, he
crouched and turned his head and the old
(Continued on Page 16)
the rebel
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I Se A BR ng RR ay RR PR SE A oe ERY OE ACNE OCGA LN ROLE IEE LE A ILE, LLG OE LI SESE,
(Cloud Over The Sky
By CAROLYN UPCHURCH
AuthorTs Note: The iollowing is a true
ystory of one episode in the Civil War which
~|
has been handed down through the genera-
tions with a neatly tied bundle of letters.
From one of these quaint parchments ad-
dressed to my great-great grandpa come the
mwoOrds =. .
There is 4 Grea, biack cloud over the
sky hiding the face of God; yet some-
timesT beams. of light irom His. Grace
pierce the darkness and give us comfort
in the reminder that this too shall pass
ava « .
oHey, Ma! Ma, them damn yankees is
aTcoming |
oNow, Phlip, catch your breath and slow
down a mite soTs | can understand you.
Now how close are they?�
oJust over the hill"in the far pasture.
TheyTre campin down yonder by our creek
"millions er em!
oWell now, I donTt reckon as how theyTll
drink all the water out, son.�
oBut that aint all: i heres a little Duneh
of ~em headed up here! Ma, theyTre gonna
take everything we got. I just know it! Mr.
Cullum says they take everything and then
burn the houses and that they take the
women and make slaves out of them.�
oSusan Carel? Susan Carol) fake the
baby up, and Jamey, you and Josie go sit by
the fire and SusieTll tell you a story.�
oStory, Ousiec, story.
oTTd rather watch them damn yankees.�
oJamey! Now, go on with you.�
oNa, l won't letT em take you... not Ma!�
oNo, Phlip they wonTt take me. You go
outside and look about what they be doinT.�T
oOkay"but thunder, I wish Pa had left
me @ eun, id kill em alll�
oShh! -Here, take a hunk of bread with
you. And no more talk about killing. Out
with you! Well children, maybe we'd best
eat supper a little early tonight. Josie, get
down the bowls and weTll have a bit of stew.
It should be done by now.�
oMa, do you reckon theyTre coming here?�
oWell now Susie they might, but they'll
\| not harm us. Most likely theyTre looking for
food.T
Seren Oo; 1958
~ SLL ee eT eae ween
ig: a fT a NR ES RR RE ENE ARS EER I OE a wan. ase op ine *
oBut we ainTt got enough for us.�
oThe Lord will provide. Jamey, quit play-
ing with your food and finish your supper
sa. Wo s there?�
oIts me Ma,T said Phlip.- oLock the door
quick. TheyTre out in the barn and theyTre
taking the cow.�
oSusan Carol, look after the little ones.
I'll be right back.�
By the time Mrs. Allison reached the
barnyard, everything had been upset in an
intense search for valuables which might
have been hidden. Her unexpected appear-
ance startled the soldiers into momentary
inactivity.
oGentlemen! Who is in command here?�T
Uncertain glances were exchanged; then
chaotic babbling broke out. No one offered
an answer to her question. Spotting her
cow being led away, she cried, oThe cow is
all we have left"the only milk I have for
my children.�T
The soldier shrugged indifferently. ~Lady,
we aint had no milk simceT we can Ve-
member.�T
oSo you would take it from children.�
oCome on Calfie, follow your Ma. Come
On.
oNot the calf. Surely you ainTt gonna
take her! SheTs not even a week old...
SheTd die before only dayTs march was
done!�T
oHere Calfie, calf. HereTs your Ma. Fol-
low Mamma.�
oHey men, look what I found under that
brush pile! A whole bowl of stuff.�
~Please, thatTs my mamaTs wedding china
and the things I spun and knitted for the
winter. You've no use for little girls
dresses, at least leave them. They wonTt
have nothing to wear when its cold if you
take those!�
oMa, they ainTt paying no mind,� said
Pll,
~o~AinTt you got no heart at all? Has kill-
ing and stealing and more killing killed your
own souls?�
oTheyTre taking everything!�
oDont be crying, son.. You re the man or
the house now, so lets go back and be seeing
Alter our tamily.�
Arm in arm, they turned toward the
house. Phlip raised a tear stained face
(Continued on Page 16)
15
ia, PRES s o ; SRST a ae PIES REIS ES
sat in eat Sa Fah pS AE TR SE A, BE SELLE LEAD DLE LAE LEDER ENDED LIAL LOE EE cee. aR e* SS ee haa aie 5 ae NR Sa tei Se Se
STS age tt aaah Sa Re Re
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ASSESS sch i iin at REE A IS EATERIES LEAL EE IEE I I sss: ee ee Sere he amet
Se eae aA SAE SAT ILA LEE TS LO MSE TPS
8 Ce one,
FREES hiv g SC Ee Sie Ae Te Rit
: Bo BS RUE MOE HEN TN IE ERY RR ERR ON a AY SN ROD PRE RSE ROE A LE IRI TENE SR IESE LEDS ELBE LORE SOD ESL A ERLE I ALA EA IES
5 2 er elec c a Z i
(Continued from Page 15)
toward the graying sky in the vain hope of
seeing the oGod that would provide.�
oHow come they took stuff they ainTt got
no use for? TheyTll be sure to throw it away.
ItTd just be in the way to carry.�
oMaybe their commander told Tem to. A
soldier has to obey orders you know. Maybe
their commander"Phlip, I got an idea. [ll
ask their commander !�T
oIf you go by the woods and over the hill,
I bet youTd beat Tem back too!�
oThe Lord helps them that helps them-
selves ... we'll go back to the house and soon
as they re oul of sight, [ll skidaddile over
to that camp before any of the pokey-footed
ole yankees can get there.�
The soldiers ransacked and milled about
for nearly another hour, then finally satis-
fied that there was nothing left, they started
back to their camp. They were not even
around the bend of the road before the
tiny, barefooted woman caught up with
them. Twice she tripped and fell headlong
into the dirt, wrenching her foot badly.
Each time she rose only to run faster to
make up for lost time. She was quite a sight
in the midst of the hundreds of ragged, un-
shaven soldiers who looked curiously after
her. Intent on her mission, she proceeded
undaunted until she found the commander,
General Sickles. Lip trembling, but head
high, she submitted her request.
oAre those the soldiers coming up the
road now?�
es, sir. And thats my cow too.�
oWell, we'll see to it that you get every-
thing back. Lieutenant, send that patrol
coming in up here. MaTam these boys have
been at war so long they forget everything
except how tired and hungry they are. I
hope you wonTt hold it against them .
Men, you will return to this lady everything
you took from her home and that means
everything! Brown, you and Higgins hitch
up one of the supply wagons and load all
thie stutt on 1) and take i back for Mre.
Allison.�
The soldiers meekly emptied their pockets
and then sat down and began to take off
the hand-knitted socks. Looking at their
bleeding, sore-infested feet, Mrs. Allison
saw not soldiers but boys"boys like her
own, caught up in the tide of the black times
and helpless to do anything but kick blindly
and try to keep themselves afloat. Turning
to the General, she spoke softly, oGeneral,
sir. Tell them they can keep the socks and
16
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neckscarves. My husband and boys wonTt
be using Tem anyhow. May the Lord forgive
us alll�
(Continued from Page 14)
man beat the living daylights out of him.
The dog book they gave you in the drug:
store when you bought dog medicine said
never to whip a dog like that, even if iW
disobeyed. But I donTt reckon Robbie ever
read the book, and besides, his dogs out:
lived everybody elseTs including the man at
the drugstore who gave ycu the book.
We stopped at the bridge and the old mal
looked out past the river and surveyed the
broad expanse of the bottom land. oWhere
dices the river start, Mr. Robbie?� I asked
presently.
~Up near Pisgah,� he replied.
oHow does a river start?�
oA lot of little rivers run into it.�
oWhere does the river go to?T
oTo Knoxville.� I thought about that fot
awhile. oWhereTs Knoxville?�
oBehind where the sun sets.�
oThen itTs over there,� I said, pointing
to the west, proud of knowing where the
sun sets. We were silent for awhile, jug
looking at the rows and rows of corn. oMr
Robbie, you know what my Daddy said woull
(Continued on Page 20)
Lhe rebel
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Book Reviews
oWhy Turkeys Fly Uphill�
The Old Man and. the Boy. BY ROBERT RUARK. New
York: Henny Mol and Company, 1957. 303 pp;
$3.95.
The Old Man and the Boy hunt and fish
in the fields and streams along the North
Carolina coast. The Boy listens and learns
the ways of the woods and the streams. He
learns the simple things: owhy quail sleep
at night ina tight circle and why turkeys
always fly uphill.� Alhways the Old ManTs
talk bristles with a backwoodsy wisdom
that flows into every crevice of living, far
beyond the simple illustration in which the
Old Man couches his lesson. The Boy listens,
fascinated, yer always Wary of the Old
ManTs sometimes devious means of instruc-
tion. For the Boy it is that time of life when
he is metamorphosing into tne first unsure
steps of manhood, when all the stark, start-
ling realities of life come flashing into his
just-awakening consciousness. The cocoon
of boyhood is sloughed off as he sits in the
awful majesty of sunset on a desolate pond,
fishing through the lily pads. He wonders
ohow long something that never ended would
be,� and he plies the inscrutable questions of
natureTs turnings: othe seasons, the rain
and ie mOss On trees... the ferme . .
moons and suns and stars and winds.� The
boy finds humility and achieves manhood as
he watches the Old ManTs vitality flicker
and dim. Phe Old Mans last and ereatest
lesson for the boy is his simple, courageous
preparation for death.
Mr. Ruark has structured his book with
the memories of his boyhood adventures
with his grandfather and thus, the book is
not a novel in the usual sense. It is com-
posed of episodes which are only loosely
connected, and the time progression is vague
and indefinite. More aptly, perhaps the book
could be described ag a series of reminis-
cences. There is no clear-cut plot, and this
CAROLINA DAIRIES
MILK AND ICE CREAM
Grade A
SO 2. 6 19p)38
SE, Lb A EERE ST RTI RO AE ENE CAI A
. - " " _ : . SNES aI SE ie Nig EE i IE 5 =
sa ch asia alia i eee = Fr 5, SO IE NL AON EE IS SERIA ORL ATE II EOE ENE. OIE ENR ALOE DIE EAE SA Te en Le eee
RE I A A RE AS A ER AR RE Ee ER AC RA CE Oe ERE EEE ON ARE RAE ET RR ARE AIR A EOE RN 8 ES BIE IIE ALLE ENE IE ES ILE SALE SON ELE LE RIE TEA sta peas a : ae 5 aos
By JOHN BUTLER
condition is further agerayated by the
author breaking into the episodes to insert
extraneous comments about his African
hunting trips. Generally this has a baneful
effect upon whatever mood and narrative
that has developed. The emphasis seems to
be placed upon hunting rather than the
central idea of the story. Consequently, the
episodes are often repetitious and tiresome.
It is the rare quality of the description that
drives the reader along. The pages become
vibrantly alive with all the happy, exultant
days of boyhood. It is certainly evident that
the writer had a fine time as a boy.
oA Ride Through
Tin Lop�
By BRYAN HARRISON
Move Over, Mountain. By JOHN EHLE. New York:
William Morrow and Sons, 1957. 314 pp. $3.98.
During recent years the novel has become
a new medium for the expression of liberal
views on the Southern racial problem. As
(Continued on Page 18)
oSee our teacher finance plan�
WHITE CHEVROLET CO.,
Ine.
Chevrolet Sales and Services
Dickinson Avenue, Greenville, N. C.
TAFF OFFICE EQUIPMENT
COMPANY
Remington Standard and Portable
Typewriters
College School Supplies
214 East Fifth Street, Greenville, N. C.
tt
Si i NRT tna emake | age et an RE Se Pcl ARSE Sc on a ata Sh Seg RR TSS ik gp RE SR RL NS RS Se En ees Se, St Sc na ig aa RNR a ae
sees,
Stax
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A Se ye: Race ah i ee eee a a 3 aoa tno, SE. .
cccateeene, Hine Santen " ARS SEG 3 >
I LER ALTE II EAA NSTI A SEN AE Tie Ts CAB ee RC i
(Continued from Page 17)
a result, the fiction market is being swamped
with propaganda novels jumping on the
modern liberal bandwagon. Furthermore,
modern readers are getting a distorted and
dishonest picture of the South and the
plight of the Southern Negro.
If the reader is looking for confirmation
of the usual preconceptions concerning the
modern day South, he will do well not to
pick up Move Over, Mountain, by John Ehle.
If he is looking for an entertaining, truth-
ful, and meaningful novel on Southern Ne-
eroes, then this is his book.
The novel opens with a crap game and
ends with a crap game, but between crap
games, Jordan Cummings lives in Tin LOD;
the poor Negro section of Leafwood, a ficti-
tious town lying somewhere between Durham
and Raleigh. The story is about Jordan's
sudden urge to make something ont of him-
seif, and his efforts to overcome the natural
obstacles that hamper the ambition of a poor
Negro.
The author achieved two noteworthy tech-
nical feats. First, he was able to write
realistically about a people whith whom he
could not possibly have been intimate. Sec-
ondly, he was able to retain the difficult
Negro dialect without the use of any com-
plicated system of phonetic spelling. As a
conscientious writer and as the possessor of
a vivid imagination, John Ehle should be
recognized.
The story is, perhaps, slow moving, but it
is never dull, for the author takes you on a
ride through Tin Top, with its delightful
parties and crap games, church meetings
and bar room brawls.
This review doesnTt mean to say that the
racial situation is ignored; it is to say that
the writer isnTt preoccupied with it to the
extent of sacrificing good writing in order
to put across social argument. Nor is this
to say that Mr. Ehle has failed to shed light
on the current crisis. He has shown, by
example, that the wisest way to represent
Compliments of
PERSON-GARRETT
TOBACCO CG.
Greenville, North Carolina
18
Sr am sa eR RRS em naar eS EE a Re Se RS ea SI =
the Negro is realistically, honestly, and with
lung perspective.
oThe Spiru Of
The Chase�
By DAVID PATTERSON
Jeo Stiart: The Last Cavalier.
New York: Rinehart, 1907.
Jeb Stuart was indeed the last cavalier,
already an anachronism as the conflict in "
which he was prominent marked the dawn |
He resembled more a feudal |
knight rushing off to defend his land and |
people by right of arms than he did a mod- |
of total war.
By BurKE Davis. PEP,
ern soldier fighting in a political war. Yet '\F
Stuart had a reason for his seemingly un- |
timely appearance; his dash and glamour
penetrated into the fighting spirit of the |
Army of Northern Virginia, and the morale |
factor that he imparted was his great con- |
tribution to the War. Yet that same dash
and glamour caused military blunders of
far-reaching significance and before his
death Jeb was looked on by many as a mili-
tary failure. In the first definitive biography
of Stuart in twenty years, his life reads like
a Greek tragedy.
Stuart was born a Virginian, educated at
(Coniinued on Page 19)
bh th e
STAFFORD OLDSMOBILE
COMPANY
Cotanche Street Phone 2016
Greenville, N. C.
Greenville Association of
Allied Florists
Greenville Floral Company
Jefferson Florist
Tyson Florist
Cox Floral Service
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Moma
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(Continued from Page 18)
West Point, and early in life we see him on
Khe Western frontier fighting Comanches.
He married the daughter of Colonel Phillip
St. George Cook, who, when the war came,
chose the Union and thereby created strife
in the Stuart family. Jeb was in Washing-
ton by accident when the HarperTs Ferry in-
cident occurred and he played an important
role in the capture of John Brown. Later,
the war came and at the age of twenty-eight
Lieutenant Joseph Ewel Brown Stuart rode
out of the West to defend Virginia.
StuartTs philosophy of war was best sum-
med up in a remark to Stonewall Jackson
before either of them were the great figures
they both came to be: oIf we oppose (the
enemy) force to force we cannot win, for
their resources are greater than ours. We
must substitute esprit for numbers. There-
fore I strive to inculeate in my men the
spirit of the chase.� This he did and the
result was felt by the Confederate High
Command at some crucial times when othe
chase� turned into a joy ride.
Stuart was the embodiment of all that
was Southern; he fought yankees by day
and made merry with patriotic Southern
women by night. Although outnumbered,
LeeTs horsemen could literally run circles
around the enemy, for riding and shooting
was second-nature to Southern boys and the
romance, chivalry, and esprit de corps of the
general and his stam mad ite effect. The
famous ride around McClellan, the raid on
PopeTs headquarters, the raid into Pennsyl-
vania, and the brilliant screening movements
at each campaign brought Stuart commen-
dations from Lee, Longstreet, Jackson and
President Davis. Yet after Chancelorsville,
the Federals began to count sabers and the
yankee shopkeepers and farm boys had
learned to wield them. No longer able to
check the enemy columns Jeb found praise
and adulation coming slow. His most be-
loved lieutenants were being killed and the
confederacy was doomed. Stuart died in an
effort to halt a yankee raid on Richmond.
The author devotes considerable space to
minor characters that surrounded Stuart
during the war days: John Pelham, the
brilliant boy soldier, who organized StuartTs
horse artillery and won more distinction
that perhaps any other field officer, Boast-
ful Heros Von Borke, the prussian soldier
of fortune, William Blackford and John
Esten Cooke, writers of memoirs, Wade
Hampton, the giant South Carolinian.
Burke DavisT biography of Stuart is a
superbly constructed book. With little or
no interpretation of the events he allows
the reader to draw his own portrait of the
man"his weaknesses and strengths, his
successes and mistakes. Of course, this type
SD OT itn of , i275.3
Sea a ah ic, Sa ah CUT NORRIE a ng rae Rae ne OT acre | ee Sia TEE Reet Te ee
of coverage is ideal for the Civil war stu-
dent, but factual reporting becomes dull for
the unorientated reader.
Yeu the author does a remarkable job of
reporting; and the work he has done, both
here and in the past, of re-examining sources
and throwing out accepted fallacies, places
him among our top civil war writers.
oJourney Through
The Ruins�
By HUGH AGEE
When the World Ended: The Diary of Emma Le-
Conte. Edited by Earl Schenck Miers. New
on Oxford University Press, 1957. 124 pp.
00.
At a time when so much is being written
about the Civil War, a book such as Emma
LeConteTs Diary is of particular importance,
for it is through such first-hand accounts
that we learn of the impact of the war upon
the people at that time. Earl Schenck Miers,
who edits Miss lLeConteTs account, has
proved himself a capable scholar and _his-
~-Ylan of the Civil War era in previous
works, especially The General Who Marched
(o Hell, which would serve as a prime pre-
requisite tor any reader of this diary, since
(Continued on Page 20)
BELK-TYLERS
oSportswear Headquarters for Young
Men and Young LadiesTT
IN GREENVILLE
COLLEGE VIEW CLEANERS
AND LAUNDRY
109 Grande Avenue"Main Plant
Fifth Street and Colcnial Heights
Branches
19
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(Continued from Page 19)
it deals with ShermanTs march.
Emma LeConte was thirteen when the
war began, and seventeen at the writing of
her Diary. The daughter of a college pro-
fessor, Miss LeConte displays a sharp in-
tellect and a keen sense of awareness as she
records the events centered around the burn-
ing of Columbia, S. C. Her diary begins on
December 31, 1864 and is concluded on
August 10, 1865, and during this time she
reveals herself as a brave, considerate, but
somewhat sentimental, young woman, who,
like so many Southerners, could not believe
that the cause was truly a lost one. She re-
signs herself to further hardships as she is
convinced that oguerilla fighting and all
the atrocities and evils that come in its
train� will follow if the armies of the South
are overthrown.
Emma LeConte, at seventeen, may be con-
sidered a mature woman, for growing up in
the midst of war clearly forced her into
reality. In spite of her romantic ideas about
her land, she could not put aside the anguish
and discomfort that war brought to her. Yet,
as one reads of women making their clothes
from coarse homespun and living on flour
and rancid pork, one cannot help but note
the almost passive air with which these
conditions are accepted.
This diary serves to accent the chauvinism
Renfrew PRINTING Company
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Greenville, North Carolina
terete PR Ee eh Re eR RE ER SEA
of Southern womanhood, and as we read it,
we realize that the prevailing Southern
charm of the plantation era is lost to us. As
a measurement of Southern life and South-
ern thinking, Miss LeConteTs diary deserves]
to be read. However, for a close look at the;
sack of Columbia, this diary would not sute
fice, for most of her entries about the city
are second hand, except for her journeys|
through the ruins following the fire. |
(Continued from Page 16) |
happen in ten years.� |
oWhats that.- |
oHe said there would be a row of adil
stacks up and down the valley as far ag the)
eye can see.� I thought this would make an.
impression on Robbie, but he showed no sign!
of it. He merely began stroking his beard
and gazing intently with his hard blue eyes.T
I iried tv imagine rows of smokestacks in|
the fields instead of rows of corn. oDo yot
think there will be a row of smokestacks
as far as the eye can see, Mr. Robbie?T Heé
Icoked at me ag if noticing me for the firsm
Zi inary
time and after awhile he turned toward ie
looking at the mountain.
oLetTs hope not, son. LetTs hope not.� The} fii!
wind blew through the cld manTs hair, ang
stroking his beard, he locked like a shepherd
(Continu:d on Page 21)
Compliments of
PEPSI-COLA BOTTLING COMPANY
Greenville, North Carolina
992 EB. Fifth Street
lle T
Greenville, North Carolina
Prone 5511
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who had iost a sheep.
~The spring that [ became big enough to
handie a plow was the year Jack died and
Maud was swapped oft for a younger horse
and KobbieTs tinal plowpoy walked oii in
a nude.
The winter before we had suffered the
heaviest snow that I had ever known and
in lTebruary the river burst its banks and
the water closed the highway and the rail-
road and seeped into Robbie's house at the
foot of the mountain. ~They tell me that in
l¥lo the river broke through a dam tp i
the valley and the water reached as high
as the nouse we lived in, halfway up the
mountain. KObbie was younger in tnose days
and often he would talk ct the great flood
and how the bridge was wasned away and
how the amusement park, erected by the
city, had disappeared in a matter of minutes.
Alter the 1loog, the tity leased the lang 10
Koobie and he worked it every day, come
show, fiood, sickness, or falling crops.
All through the summer months, 1 woixked
in the licids with Kobbie with all the en-
thusiasm of a boy in iove with his work. Une
night, sitting on RobbieTs stone steps at the
fcot or the mountain, I revealed to the old
man the plang [| had formed since I was
old enough to cross the highway by myself.
I told him that | was going away to school,
when I was old enough, and study agri-
cuiture. When 1 got out I was going to re-
turn to tne valley and become a farmer like
himself.
He nodded his head, oitTs not easy a life
as you might expect.�
Autumn came and the river, low and snal-
low, was calm, and as the level sunk, the
river revealed small islands and huge pieces
of conerete that were part of the bridge
desiroyed in 1916. And as the willow leaves
feli from the trees and floated down the
river, the last ears of corn were gathered
in the tields and the stalks were cut and
gathered tor feed. And the fields were clean
and scattered with pumpkins and the apple
trees cn the mountain dropped their fruit.
The days were pleasant and cooi.
One October Friday of that year, Robbie
died. He had been sick all during the har-
vest weeks. Stubbornly refusing any at-
tention that neighbors were apt to give him,
he laughed at their undue concern. How-
ever, he grew too weak to cook for himself
and my mother, shawl over her head, would
carry trays of food to the foot of the moun-
tain. Finally, when she saw that the old
man was too weak to move, she called an
ambulance. | watched Jim and another man
put the still-protesting Robbie into the am-
bulance. He had cancer and they refused to
let me visit him in the hospital and in a few
S O71 8. 1958
Ia Sy a Mh PE NR A ng a a OT tin ane eR UE a AIRE aa i ata Ea ESR ais
days he died, far away from the river and
ihe valley.
I retuined home from school six years
later. Waelking down the familiar asphalt
drive, I saw that someone was living in Mr.
RobwieTs house. The barns that had laid
on ihe other side of the highway were gone
and, as I started across the concrete bridge,
I nvuticed that there was a railroad track
on this side of the valley and that in order
to lay the tracks a great embankment had
been erected. The February flood would
not get past that bank nor would corn grow
in the now adulterated field. There was an
olly film on the surface of the river and I
had been told that the factories upstream
had polluted the water and killed all the fish.
Aud I stood at that spot where Robbie and
I often stood and saw that the garbage dump
was directly below me and the great trucks
Were unloading piles of trash and a man
on a bullaozer was grinding it into the earth.
I locked further ahead and saw seemingly
endless miles of twisted, rusted steel where
the junk dealers had deposited the wreckage
of an age of mechanization. And I could see
that further up the river, three new bridges
had been constructed. And behind those
great silver ladders of steel, I saw the col-
umns of black smoke rise into the sky, sym-
bois of a new world.
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offmans
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21
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Three Poems
By JAMES HARDY Run, Scal,. Kill A at
And hang him on a tree;
fi ne hollers jet him go
By JOHN QUINN And bury him with me.
If I should die behind a bush
Without my gabardine,
Put me in a cart and push
me as far as you can lean.
Then, when Daniel blows his horn
And asks for volunteers,
Funnel up his trumpet high
And fill him full of beers.
If he cries before he dies
And craves another shot,
Turn the train around again
And find a wet depot.
When I am dead and this is read
By critics full of sneers,
Funnel up his trumpet high
And fill him full of beers.
By JOHN QUINN
The mad scent of flesh
confuses most
he who declines the touch
fearing the meek design
the honey mounds
unable to recall bliss
in the arguments
of bartered kisses
nor the yellow-haired mood
of nude adolescence
Ill from
her leaving
the man stands
upon the pedestal
of his heart
lulling songs
eullinge in-
determinate caresses
and irretrievable
goodbyes
Jesus was
not more
isolated
than he
This bed strewn
with books
Duped Leda
was not more
questioning
her feather bed
sublime
than she
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