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Show THE PROGRESSIVE OPINION Country Press of America Is Vital Factor In the Job of 'Holding the Home Front J It 'Went to War' on the Day Pearl Harbor Was Bombed And It's Still Waging A Valiant Fight. By ELMO SCOTT WATSON Released by Western Newspaper Union. WITHIN 24 hours after the their sneak attack on Pearl Harbor, Ray-mond B. Howard of London, Ohio, president of the Nation-al Editorial association, was telegraphing to President Roosevelt: I am sure you will find a unit-ed press backing a united nation in the defense of our country and flag. I am sure that I speak for the small dailies and weekly newspapers making up the membership of the National Edi-torial association, in assuring you of our complete support. It is fortunate that we have a free press in America with which to enlighten and solidify our ef-forts. On the same day a similar message went forward to the White House from the presi-dent of Newspaper Associa-tion Managers, Inc., the or-ganization of field secretaries and managing directors of more than 30 state press asso-ciations. It's "Just Like a Letter From Home" to Him! . . . - . We feel that it will be a lab-oratory patriotism. test. We are sure that scolding and charges of complacency are not the answer. Needless to say this BONDbard-men- t Day in that Montana town, as in many others throughout the coun-try, was a tremendous success. And it is significant that as the result of a new spirit which swept the coun-try, aided by the efforts of hun-dreds of country editors, soon there-after they were no longer called "defense bonds" but "war bonds" or "Victory bonds." Nor has the work of the country press in behalf of the sale of war bonds through its editorial, news and advertising columns been the only contribution it has made to the war effort in the realm of tangible things. There was the scrap metal cam-paign carried on to salvage from the farms of the nation the thou-sands of tons of metal so urgently needed by the steel mills to make Such was the promise, what has been the fulfillment? Well, it is difficult to estimate in exact figures the contribution to America's war effort since Decem-ber 7, 1941, of the 11,000-od- d dailies and weeklies that comprise the na-tion's "small-tow- n press." A large part of that tontribution perhaps a major part has been in the realm of that intangible, but vitally impor-tant, thing called morale in "hold-ing the home front." As a matter of fact, the country press of America began making this contribution long before Pearl Har-bor. It started with the beginning of the national defense program when the menace of Hitlerism to the democratic way of life became more and more clearly apparent. For one thing, the country press contributed thousands of columns of its space, both editorial and adver-tising, to promoting the sale of de-fense bonds. When the selective service act was passed, the country editor told the people of his com-munity why it was necessary for their sons and brothers to leave the farms and stores and offices of rural America and go into training so that they could be prepared to defend their country when that inevitable day of attack by the aggressor na-tions came. the whole community joins in paying honor to the men as they march away to war instead of allowing their departure for their great ad-venture to pass almost unnoticed ex-cept by the presence of .their rela-tives at the railroad station as they leave. Other publishers have de-voted the front windows of their of-fices to displays of pictures of serv-icemen from their communities and almost without exception the country press, from the beginning of the war, has printed "honor rolls" of the names of the community's fighting men, pictures of them and their let-ters. Typical of the numerous ways in which the country press has built morale, both military and civilian, are these examples: A New York weekly that founded a "War Service Club" which performs a variety of services for the community's men in the armed forces, includ-ing the sending each month of two dozen home-mad- e cookies to every man. Another New York weekly that promoted a "Happiness From Home" box to bring Christmas cheer to all local men in the service. A New Jersey weekly that sponsored a special Armistice rlav cpremonv. honoring- the battleships, guns and other weapons of war. A Florida weekly drama-tized the effort to "get in the scrap" by capitalizing upon the reputation of a scrappy American fighter Gen. Douglas MacArthur. So that com-munity set aside a day for bringing in all kinds of scrap material and called it "Gen. MacArthur Day." The event was an overwhelming suc-cess. Morale Was Low. And it was during that period, when the morale of the selectees, in-adequately equipped, not yet adjust-ed to the change from civilian to military life and not having the in-centive of the existence of a "state of war" to make real the necessity for training, might easily have slipped to a dangerously low level. Recognizing the fact that the draft-ed man's receiving his home town paper was next best to receiving a letter from home, some country publishers began, sending copies of their papers free of charge to the boys in camp. Hundreds more vol-untarily followed their example and the good effects of this practice, in terms of heightened morale among the citizen soldiers, was so appar-ent as to win special commendation for the country press from the mo-rale division of the war department. The same practice was continued after America entered the war and its benefits have been even more apparent. It requires little imagina-tion to realize what it means to a soldier, sailor or marine in an out-post in Alaska or Greenland or on the fighting front in north Africa or New Guinea to open up a copy of his home town paper and read there how the folks back home are "back-ing him up" by their buying war bonds, by their contributing to the Red Cross blood bank, by their help in "getting in. the scrap" and all the other ways in which civilians can aid the war effort. More im-portant still, perhaps, is the way in which it satisfies their hunger for the other news from home the doz-ens of little items about the normal life in their communities to which they hope to return some day soon. Important as has been "free pa-pers for servicemen," it is but one of the ways in which the country press has fostered morale not only among the fighting men but also among their families. Some publish-- . ers have sponsored "send-off- s for selectees" celebrations in which mothers of four local boys who had been killed in action. . A Virginia weekly that spon-sored a "Write Right to Fighting Men!" campaign to offset the ill effects of the kind of dis-couraging letters which some people write to men in the armed forces. One other great service of the country press in the realm of morale was the part it has played in putting this nation in a "fighting mood." Back in the days when we were still calling them "defense bonds," certain government officials also some big city columnists and com-mentators began accusing the American people of being too com-placent about the war. Thereupon a weekly newspaper down in Florida printed an editorial which was at once a reply to that accusation and a trumpet call to action. It said in pa.r.t:. If you want the American people to snap out of their "complacency, then for the sake of all that's holy start yell-in- ATTACK! Call the defense bonds VICTORY BONDS. Call the defense councils WAR COUNCILS. This is a fighting nation. This is a mighty nation. Stop us. We common men and women know what war is. We have no illusions about it. We do not intend to be a slave race, or a subject race, or a passive race. We know that our nation is at stake. Further-more, we more than a little suspect that the entire future of mankind is at stake. Give us a battle cry! That this Was not an isolated case was shown by the fact that about the same time a small community out in Montana had set aside a certain day to sell a certain amount of bonds not "defense bonds" but WAR bonds and they called it BONDbardment Day. Commenting on this project, the editor of the local weekly which had sponsored the event said: We think we have the answer here, the challenge to the cry of complacency. We think the people are suffering from a sort of emotional starvation. We are going to try and bring back the spirit of the old Fourth of July celebrations that is that part which invoked the deep spirit of lie sets an example. Nor does the average country edi-tor merely urge the people of his community to do their patriotic du-ty. Frequently he sets them an ex-ample by going out and doing it himself. There was the editor of a New York weekly who has made his office the center of a service as communications head-quarters in case of enemy air raids. There was the editor in a little Kan-sas town who not only managed the salvage yard in his town but who personally collected and ..shipped some 60 tons of scrap iron. More than that he personally did all the work of cutting up the iron with an acetylene torch and supervised the loading and sorting of the entire lot all this in addition to his regular duties as editor, publisher, advertis-ing solicitor and printer of his news-paper. And finally there was one of the leading country publishers - in California who did something about the manpower shortage besides writ-ing editorials about it. When trained sawmill workers in his town began leaving because they feared they would be "frozen" in their jobs, he signed up for work as a lumberjack in a sawmill on the night shift from 5 p. m. to 1 a. m. He sleeps the rest of the night, then puts in a full day at his publishing duties. Such are only a few of the high-lights in the story of what the coun-try press of America has done and is doing since it "went to war." De-spite the loss of revenue from de-creased advertising linage and in-creased production costs, despite the shortages of materials essential to the printing business'' and despite the loss of manpower when its news-writer- s and advertising men and printers went into the armed forces it is carrying on valiantly in the fight for freedom and it is doubtful if any other class of patriotic Amer-icans, either as a group or as in-dividuals, are contributing more in more different ways to the victory that will eventually be ours. J&BI-JT.- JACKSON GREGORY fHK, GREGORY YY.N.U. RELEASE U&iMr THE STORY SO FAR: Ann Lee and i Cole Cody, beneficiaries under two wills t made by Early Bill Cole ol the King Cole Ranch, arrived simultaneously at the Ranch to be greeted by Ranee Waldron. Ranee, posing as Old Bill's nephew and only relative, made it evident they were not welcome at the Ranch. Each was determined to stay, however. Later, during an argument, Ann accidentally shot Cole. It was then they discovered Old Early Bill had made two identical wills, one leaving all his money and the King Cole Ranch to Ann; and the other giving the same money and property to Cole. However, before his death Old Bill had sent them each a key to a box. Now continue with the story. gimlets, looked at one will, then at the other. In one everything on earth that Early Bill owned was be-queathed to Ann Lee; it seemed, and was, properly drawn; witnessed by Josephus Daniel Dodge. The other also seemed and was properly drawn, duly attested by Arthur Henry Pope. The queer thing was that the two wills were o the same date! Waldron laughed; it wasn't exact-ly pleasant laughter, but it did ring out with a mocking sort of joy. He flung the papers down on the table. "They're not worth the price of a torn cigarette paper," he said, full of confidence. "Any court, any man not altogether drunk or altogether an idiot, will tell you that the old man was clean crazy when he signed them." He wasn't looking at either Ann Lee or Cole Cody, but his eyes flickered back and forth be-tween Doc Joe and the Judge. "You two witnessed these documents; well! You know that when a man gives all he's got to one person, and at the same minute gives it all to another person, he doesn't give anything to anybody! Am I right?" "Well?" demanded Ranee Wal-dron. When no one else seemed to have . CHAPTER X Two old porch-sitter- s from Bald Eagle came skallyhooting out to the King Cole Ranch. They shared what they agreed to call a hunch. Likewise, both were scorching with curiosity. Having talked spaciously of the two newcomers, a pretty girl by name of Ann Lee and of a lean, long individual name of Cole Cody who had brought the stage in, hav-ing discussed these two at full length - Queerly, they didn't even mention Aunt Jenifer to each other, though both had taken full cognizance of her they were impelled to travel out to the ranch at an unearthly hour, to take stock of conditions there. They arrived early, just in time to see four people gathered about a table with an old black iron box centering their attention. "Aha!" the two old porch-sitter- s said simultaneously within them-selves, and came barging in. Ann emitted a small, shrill squeal of delight. "Doctor Joe! Oh, Doctor Joe, I'm so glad and grateful you came! I'm amongst enemies, cruel, horrid men that would steal a girl's last penny. You come watch, Doctor Joe!" And Cole Cody, seeing the Judge, said a warm, "Howdy, Judge. Come guard my Interests, won't you? They're not only shooting me up, they're trying to steal my mess of pottage. Keep the eye peeled, will you Judge? And I'll buy the drinks." They got the box open. And, all credit to little Ann Lee and some small credit to Cole Cody, they didn't grab. Their eyes, though, did grab. They saw, first of all, two long, sealed envelopes. "Well, Mr. Cody," said Ann, and looked and sounded very brave, "the top envelope is addressed to William rvilo Cnrlv. If vou care to lift it out, even laid eyes on Mr. Mr. Early Bill!" "Me, too," said Cole Cody. "He says here It's a funny thing. I never knew Bill Cole, never saw him!" The Judge and Doc Joe looked at each other. "Don't you kids be fooling your-selves," Doc Joe said crustily. "I don't mean any disrespect to the dead or do I? Come to think about it, I never could see why a dead dog was any nicer than a live one. Well, be that as it may, and no dis-respect meant, old Early Bill Cole was a jackass if ever there was one, a no'count rambling wreck of wick-edness and sin; the same dirty dog he names this here gent, Mr. Ar-thur Henry Pope. Just the same he warn't no liar. If he says to Miss Ann she was sweet to him, then she was sweet to him, and somewhere he knowed her. If he says to this young Cody that they had fun to-gether, well they did. Am I right. Judge?" "Right as rain, Doc," said the Judge. "Hell taking old Early Bill to the contrary notwithstanding, you're right." "What's all this about wills?" said Ranee Waldron, as sharp as a new tack. "You shut up!" cried Ann Lee. "You and your wills! We're talking about " She spun on her heel like a small whirlwind. "Doc Joe! Here's your five hundred dollars! Golly! Here here's your five hundred dol-lars, Doc Joe!" "Thanking you kindly, Miss," said Doc Joe, and took his rightful win-nings. "Well," said Cole Cody, "here's yours, Judge. Like Early Bill says, I'm hoping you and Doc Joe choke to death." The Judge cleared his throat, ac-cepted the bank note, cleared his throat again. Beyond that, being anything to say, Aunt Jenifer spoke up brightly. "Have all you gentlemen had breakfast?" she asked. "Wills and things, you know, can wait longer than appetites." Before departing with Doc Joe, the Judge had cleared his throat a couple of times and had gone so far as to say, "Speaking of evictions, seems to me as though Cal Roundtree might just possibly be within his rights to throw out the whole kit and ca-boodle of you. But as to any of the rest of you evicting anyone else well, I reckon it would have to be I'll take mine!" Underneath was the one addressed to her. She snatched it, ran her excited eyes over it, flaunted it in his face. Then she tore it open as fast as any envelope was ever opened in all the world, from the time of Rameses, if they had en-velopes then, to this current Anno Domino year. Her eyes, racing fast-er than light travels, that rapid trav-eler, were shining. A glance told her the tale, the fairy tale, the story that she knew would be there! "To Ann Lee J give and bequeath all my belongings the properties known as the King Cole Ranch" and so forth "Come, hurry, Doctor Joe!" she cried. "You were right! Look!" Cole Cody nailed the Judge with his eye. "Hey, Judge!" he called cheerily. "Step over, will you? We maybe are going to need arbitration, and I pick you for my sponsor! Ten per cent of the net proceeds, if any, goes to you. How about it? Let's both ride lucky!" "What in the world is this?" ex-claimed Ann Lee. She waved a sheet of paper; there- was a bank note pinned to it. "Listen! It says: 'Lit-tle Ann Lee, I sort of kind of liked you. You were mighty sweet to me, little Ann; you were like a flower and I bet you make yourself a lot of trouble though, but all live gals do such! Do me a favor, will you? I made a bet with a crazy galoot like the Irishman playing me naaie, by main strength and awkwardness. Better sit in at a poker game and play for it." And in haste the Judge caught up with Doc Joe, and a cloud of dust showed the way the two had taken each with an honestly earned five hundred dollars in his jeans. Old Early Bill's house was big enough to accommodate a score of people; consequently its present in-habitants, little Ann Lee and Aunt Jenifer, Cole Cody and Ranee Wal-dron could all dwell under the one roof without running into each other all the time. Thus for a time the big house was divided against itself, and all was outwardly peaceful in an atmosphere reeking with watchfulness and sus-picion. Ranee Waldron was locked up in his own quarters, ostensibly concerning himself with various pa-pers and accounts he had found here. Ann devoted hours to investi-gating the house. As for young Cole Cody, he left the house as soon as he had stowed his few belongings in his room, and went down to the outbuildings along the creek, by the barn, seeking Cal Roundtree. He was sitting on a log that had been hauled up to the woodpile, smoking contemplatively, with his wreck of a black Stetson pulled down over his eyes. His head came up with a snap as he heard foot-steps. Mind if 1 perch alongside you? demanded Cody. "I've just had a long walk and am sort of "Squat," said Cal Roundtree. Cody lowered himself to the log and reached for his own papers and muslin bag of d tobacco, Roundtree eyeing him narrowly all the while. "What's on your mind, Cody?" he asked bluntly. "Plenty," pole Cody told him, and licked his cigarette and lighted it. "I think I own this outfit now; I'm not sure of anything. That girl up at the house " "She's the prettiest specimen of the girl species I ever clapped eyes on, and in my time I've seen some of 'em cute enough to take prizes. And she's got as much spunk as anybody needs, with maybe a mite extra thrown in." "She's not bad looking, that's a fact," agreed Cody without enthusi-asm. "As for spunk, she's got as much temper as you'd find in two wild cats with their tails tied to-gether. What I was going to say, here's a funny mix-u- I think I own the place and she thinks she owns it. On top of all that, there's that Ranee Waldron fellow who puts in his claim." name of Josephus Daniel Dodge, generally known far and wide, most-ly in law dives and disgraceful places, as Doc Joe. I made the old fool, a bet, five hundred dollars that me, I'd' outlive him. And here I am as good as dead already! Wouldn't that make you mad, lit ' " She began to cry, dabbing furious-ly at her eyes. But she jerked her head up and let the tears run as they darn well pleased, and kept right straight on reading: "Wouldn't that make you mad, little Ann Lee? Well, it makes me mad, but I lose and I pay. Here's five hundred dollars. Suppose you hand it over to Doc Joe and tell him that anyhow I'll get me my laugh, sitting up on a big white cloud with nice pink trimmings and playing 'Home Sweet Home' on my harp, while I peek down pretty soon and spy on him sizzling down in hell! Thanks, little Ann and you keep your hair on, and maybe you'll ride lucky! Yours, Bill Cole." "I'm damned," said Cole Cody softly. He held up a similar sheet of pa-per, bank note attached. He read, "Hi, Bill Cole Cody! Sorry I missed you; couldn't wait, having other places to go. Now look here, kid, I sort of liked you; anyhow we had fun together. So you re-member old times and do me a . kindness, same as I'd do you at a pinch. I made a bet with a dirty dog, name of Arthur Henry Pope, commonly known in and about Bald Eagle as the Judge, five hundred bucks that I'd outlive him. I just simply got tired waiting for thexold fool to die, so, dammit, kid, I lose and here's the five hundred, and you hand it to the Judge for me, and tell him it was fun dying, just that that way I could make sure him and me would never, never-no-mo-meet up again for he's d along of Doc Joe, and me I'm al-ways for the High Places! Yeee! On handing it to him look out he don't claw your hand off, the money-grabbin- g old coyote. And tell him I hope him and Doc Joe, barging into town to get drunk together, both chokes to death. Luck, kid. Yours, Bill Cole." And Bill Cole Cody, no sissy like Ann Lee, didn't weep. He blew his cose and glared stormily. "I I don't understand," gasped turn. "I never in all my life once i m just hoping that some day 1 11 find out who did that for old Bill." both lawyer and banker, he would not go. "But, like I was saying," Cole Cody went on, "having done with wishing, here is the tall, straight and shining fact of the matter. I've got in my hand a g pa-per. It calls itself a will, last will and testament. It gives and be-queaths and etcetera, all his be-longings and properties and acces-sories with some to wits and some more etceteras the King Cole Ranch thrown in to a certain gent name of William Cole Cody, which is me! And could you tell me, Judge, without straining yourself whose time is it right now to laugh? To laugh, my good friend and counsel-lor, like a whole pack of hyenas? Mine? You're sure shouting! Haw!" Ranee Waldron was as interested as any. More interested than the others, from the look of him. He said, speaking smoothly, "I might help you folks out, may-be. My uncle Mr. William Cole, you know was pretty old. What's the word for it? Senile? It's my thought that he was dying and was out of his head what you call non compos mentis in plain English he was as crazy as a bed-bu- g when he wrote those wall-eye- d wills. He told me Hell's bells, he told me fifty times that all he had was going to be mine! Now here's Miss Lee and here's Mr. Cody, both of them saying they've got a will, giving them the whole shooting works! That sounds kind of funny, don't it? It might pay to see how these wills were dated, and how they were wit-nessed and all that. Whether, may-be, they were made while the old man was dying, and was so clean off his nut that both wills are worth about " He did a nice job of snapping his fingers. Cole Cody laughed. Ann Lee smiled; it was a tight little, slight little, bright little smile that spelled Triumph. "I'll be glad to have you read this paper, Mr. Waldron," she said. "Here's a document for your eye," said Cole Cody. And, though both Ann Lee and Cole Cody were speaking to Ranee Waldron, they were looking straight at each other. Waldron, his eyes become like "You see," Cole Cody continued, "I never knew Early Bill Cole. Or if I did know him, as Doc Joe and the Judge seem to be sure of, then I didn't know I knew him. Maybe that's hard to get, but that's the only way I can put it." "He was a queer old rooster," said Cal Roundtree. "I guess I knew him about as well as anybody ever did; I worked for him for sixteen years, and out on the range we slept together more than once, and we et together and got mad at one another. He was, to my notion, the finest man that ever walked in a pair of boots or forked a horse or got drunk or played cards or gave his money with both hands to folks that was in want, and he didn't ask any questions about their pedigree. Yep, I knew old Early Bill as well as anybody on earth." "Somebody shot him?" "Yes. I'm just hoping with all my that some day I'll find out who did that for old Bill." "Tell me about it; all that you know." (TO BE CONTINUED) CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT POULTRY MONEY MAKER. Uncle Sam nZ try and eggs. Learn how to flnan i DEE TURNER, 1128 N t, Hollywood, Calif. MtUdJ( I St.Joseph aspirih How To Relieve Bronchitis Creomulsion relieves promptly b-ecause it goes right to the seat of the trouble to help loosen and expel germ laden phlegm, and aid nature to soothe and heal raw, tender, bronchial mucous mem-branes. Tell your druggist to sell you a bottle of Creomulsion with the u-nderstanding you must like the way it quickly allays the cough or you are to have your money back. CREOMULSION - (or Coughs, Chest Colds, Bronchitis " SNAPPY FACTS ' S ABOUT foi RUBBER Indians of the Amazon River re-gion made the first rubber over, shoes, which were Imported into the U. 5. in 1 800. Mistakes of many kinds can cut into the rubber conservation pro-gram, as is indicated by the fact that normally 180,000 pounds of ru-bber waa used annually in the of pencil mark erasers. Before) vulcanization was discov ered in 1639 rubber goods har-dened like rock In winter and melted in lummer. Early rubber goods manufacturer suffered financial losses becauis ol the unreliability of their pro-ducts. That was many years ago. A check of the tires on 500 s recently disclosed that 80 0 were even to the ex-tent of. from 10 to 15 pounds. This is a heavy waste of rubber because it has been found that 30 per cent permits the return of only 74 per cent of the mileage built into a tire. -J Buy War Savings WHO SUFFER Y& (mmm If you suffer from hot flashes, dim-ness, distress of "irregularities , weak, nervous, Irritable, blue times due to the function" "middle-age- " period In a w"af life try Lydla E. Plnkharo s vp table Compound the Dest"Yh "a medicine you can buy today made especially or women. Plnkham's Compound has MiP thousands upon thousands ol en to relieve such annoying syjw toms. Follow label directions. I ham's Compound la worth tryrcy WNU--W jM-- And Your Strength Energy Is Below Pa' It may bo caused by d"rdis' ney function that perrai "J", waste to accumulate. or iseraple people feel tired, weak ana " g when the kidneys fail to c,l acids and other waste blood. , t,ascb' You may suffer diu rheumatic pains, headacn. (. getting up nights, leg Paty ''. Sometimes frequent (J tion with smarting and other sign that something the kidneys or bladder. tMtPE 1 There should be no doubt g treatment is wiser than u i I Doan-- Pills. It is better mmv,, ,r medicine that has won. ""JiVoriW proval than on some Jng '.J0d known. Bonn's hove been "' ,tir ed many years. Are at au Get Doait'a tndav. MP Technically-- inded Our present need for scientifi knowledge is shown by the mendous increase in the publjc! tion and sale of technical books says Collier's. The number of n ties published has grown from in in 1939 to 791 in 1942, with the tail demand about five times lato" er than before the .war. Certab of these books have reached a sales volume of 250,000 copies within the past year. Why Creased Pants It is interesting to note that the crease down the front of trousers is the result of a royal accident King Edward VII of England, ha-ving slipped from his horse and falk'n into a ditch, a local tailor was hurriedly asked to supply fresh trousers. These he so tight-l-packed in a box that each leg was neatly creased. The king "adopted" creased trousers, ani thus started a lasting fashion. Short Periods of Peace Since 1469 B. C A period of 3,411 years there has only beei 291 years without war in some part of the world. Here's How Rural America, Led by the Press, 'Got in the Scran' During the scrap collection drives I the importance of such i r last year the rural print shops of America proved to be a rich source of essential war materials. On to the scrap piles went a great variety of metals iron, steel, copper, lead and zinc. There were old engrav-ings, worn-ou- t type, parts of type-setting machines, brass and iron printing "furniture" even entire printing presses. Since these old presses weigh two tons or more and contain other metals besides iron, contribu-tions is evident. But they were not the only contri-butions of the editors, many of whom were chairmen of their town or county salvage committees, who not only publicized the scrap campaign through the columns of their news-papers but also worked actively in "getting in the scrap." The record of the small towns and rural ham-lets of America in this patriotic work is an inspiring one, as witness these ngures wluch are typical of hun- dreds of such communities: Tons of PeerColo...,P.OPUlatt7 EL,?unte.r:M.inn;; i Stanton, Iowa 572 RR Silver Lake, Ind. ..." 411 Attica, Kan 6nn I Menott, ind. 3 Ripley, Okla. 500 SNAPSHOTS OF UNIQUE WAR AIDS of war savings stamps, asking him end h6r ublPtion still year. "We have turned the stamps over to our nM daughter and we still subscriber" reports the pub? An Indiana weekly "junked" its front page to publicize the local "junk rally" to collect scrap Ev cXV ofe An Iowa weekly printed on page one a headline which read: "Mr. and Mrs. Food Hoarder: Here is your 'Victory Emblem.' " Beneath it was the picture of a big hog. After listing the different kinds of hoard-ing which makes a person a hog, the story announced: "If you are a HOG you are entitled to place the above 'Victory Emblem' in your window. Come to this office and get one free." Needless to say, the news-paper had no calls for the emblem! A New York publisher, who sent a statement of a subscription due to an old subscriber, received the state-ment back from the woman with a notation that she must cancel her subscription because the $2 had to go to the Red Cross. Thereupon the publisher wrote this patriotic subscriber that he was extending her subscription a year. She wrote back to thank him for his spirit of and enclosed $2 worth |