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Matagorda County Tribune

Collegeport Information

January, 1927

New Year’s Dinner Enjoyed by 150 at Collegeport

Collegeport, Texas, Jan. 6—With the coming of the New Year came 150 people together at the Community House to eat New Year’s dinner together as has been done every year for 18 years at this place. The dinner was in charge of the ladies of the community and directed by the Social and Finance Committee of the Woman’s Union. Mrs. Roy Nelson headed the committee.

In the absence of Rev. H. Paul Janes, pastor of First Church of Collegeport, who is assisting in a special series of services at Garwood, Texas, Rev. Mr. Stephens, pastor of the First Christian Church of El Campo, will speak Sunday morning and evening at Collegeport and Sunday afternoon at Citrus Grove.

Miss Margaret Holsworth, who is teaching in the Chicago schools returned to her work last week, after a weeks visit with her family here. With her returned Miss Elsie Thomen who spent the Fall in the Holsworth home. Miss Thomen is a Chicagoan.

Mrs. H. Paul Janes is visiting with her mother in Houston.

Mr. and Mrs. S. B. Sims returned last Monday evening from a trip thru’ the north and east.

Palacios Beacon, January 6, 1927


By Harry Austin Clapp

Collegeport, Texas.


Dr. Filmer Northrup, professor of philosophy at Yale, says, "Relatively is the key in the riddle of life, that it opens the way to a comprehension of God and in a merger of science and religion." Isn't this plain and understandable? I know an easier way. Take a grain of corn, plant it in good soil, watch it sprout, one coming up in the sun and the other going down into the earth. Watch it develop, put on the ear and mature the corn. On a curtain in a Chicago theater for years appeared this inscription. "First the blade, then the ear, then the full corn in the ear." This is the way to know God and using this method no one need worry about relatively.


George Serrill in his "ad" says that he wants "your good will." Wonder how many of us know what good will is. The United States Supreme Court says, ”Good will is the disposition of the pleased customer to return in the place where he has been well treated." This court has given the public many good things but this is one of the best. Hope George sends me another beautiful calendar for 1927.


Just had a guest for a day, a lady from Houston, intelligent, able to discuss state and national topics, soft spoken, snappy black eyes. Thinks she will move to Collegeport.


The New Year started off fine for us. Our registered cow presented us with a fine heifer calf. Nineteen-twenty-seven looks good to us.


The eighteenth annual New Year's community dinner was held Saturday and as usual about 200 mingled together, ate and drank to the health of the baby, 1927. Turkey, fried chicken, chicken pie, roast beef, roast veal, roast pork, baked ham and salads, vegetables, pies and cakes galore. And such coffee. Thank Mrs. Roy Nelson for that. When we have these dinners if one wishes to see Mrs. Nelson one must go into the kitchen. Lots of women do the fancy outside work, but Mrs. Roy Nelson works unseen and unthanked except by a few who know.


That miserable wretch, my wife, has indulged her appetite for quail and much to my disgust appeared to be happy as she crunched the bones of the little bird. Says she, in order to ease her conscience, "If we had 50 hens running around we would kill one for our table, then why not kill a few quail?" She smiles a cannibalistic smile as she continues to crunch the bones. What can a man do with such a woman?


One of our young ladies objects to me using her as the subject of some of my thoughts. She will have no further opportunity to object. I shall still think but will refrain from writing.


The Collegeport Industrial League voted in nine new members last meeting, let a contract for a cement sidewalk for the Woman's Club, joined the Gulf Coast Good Roads Association and worked over several other "little things."


The fig orchards have been deserted since Sims went away but he will be back in a few days and then things will hum again. Sims is a working fool and never knows when to quit. No whistle blows for him.


Met a young girl the other day and gave her a cheerful "good morning." She looked at me a moment and gave no response so I repeated "good morning" and she replied, "hello." Bishop Middleton said, "Virtue itself offends when coupled with forbidding manners." "But what the hell, Bill, What the hell?" This is the way of the present youth.


F. L. Hall has turned weather prophet and say[s], "Three fogs, then rain." Hope it will be a warm rain. "Naught cared this body for wind or weather when youth and I lived in 't together."--Coleridge.


In a few days Mr. Lull will drive the gold spike, celebrating the arrival of the S. P. Lines in Edinburgh. Mr. Scott drove the silver spike and it's too bad he could not live to use the sledge on the gold one. With his death there passed a man full of kindness, brotherly love, a wholesome soul, who, coming from the ranks never forgot the worker. Why does God take such men and allow degenerates to live and multiply?


Mr. Fred Goff says, "I have been here three years and have no desire to go back North except to visit. No more cold weather for me." Good sense.


Don’t see how the farmer will receive much benefit from the Bankers Cotton Corporation recently organized. Any cotton firm extends the same facility and at less cost. Some merchants still advertise "Our prices are right." If this is true why not make them public? Space is too valuable to waste and every word should hit the bull's eye. Prices talk.


The holidays being over suppose we will have no more six or eight-page Tribunes until next December. At that time advertisers will have another spasm. Ample space, in same location, very well told with simple words always pays. Although some people do not like the publisher or what he prints in the editorial column, everyone should read the Trib.  It is a necessity to an ambitious village. Excuse me, I meant city. Wonder when John Sutherland will run for mayor again. The Gulf Coast Good Roads Association, in a newspaper statement, requests people to send their membership applications to the county vice president. In my opinion the vice president will not be burdened with applications. The only way to secure them is to go after them. Personal solicitation will do the business. George Culver, the vice president for Matagorda County, is busy digging shell, so don't bother him with your 25c per week.


Girl opens door of the postoffice and asks. "Any mail for me?"

Seth feels like saying, "____," but he refrains and says, "Who is me?"

She replies, "the Smiths and Browns.”

"No mail for either."

"Are you sure?"


"They ain't no package, be they?"


"Well they ought to be a package for it was done sent two days ago."

And we wonder why the postmaster is accused of being cross at times. Talk about Job. If Seth Corse is not a modern Job, do not know where to find one.


Secretary Mellon is right in his ruling that no more poison shall be introduced into alcohol. Better have two drunks than one dead man. I have many a good laugh when I think of how some of the Bay City merchants sob over the business that goes to mail order houses. At the same time some of them send out of town for printing and buy bread and baker's goods in Houston. "Consistency, thou art a jewel." I'll bet that the local bakers would be glad to have this trade. Makes me think thoughts.


The Daily Tribune, Thursday, January 6, 1927



By Harry Austin Clapp

Collegeport, Texas.



"Forget thee?" "If to dream by night, and must on thee by day,

If all the worship, deep and wild, a poet's heart can pay,

If prayers in absence breathed for thee to heaven's protecting power,

If winged thoughts that flit to thee--a thousand in an hour,

If busy Fancy blending thee with all my future lot,--

If this thou callest 'forgetting,' thou indeed shalt be forgot."

--John Moultrie.


How soon we forget. Only yesterday Commander Landsdown went to his death in the Shenandoah. Now comes the announcement that his widow is to taking on another. Forget thee? Only a few weeks ago the pages of the Southwest were filled from front to back with eulogies of Harry Haines and how he would sweep the State for governor. In the issue for January the name of Haines appears only once and that in small type at the head of a column tabulating the votes by counties.


Forget thee? "How fleet the works of man." It is our nature to forget and perhaps 'tis best that we can forget but there are things in this life that to forget seems almost sacrifice. Say fellows. If your wife says she will never marry again put it in the bunk division. My wife, miserable wretch, has often told me the "old, old story," but in my opinion she will have the flag out inside six weeks. They simply can not get along without a man. Forget thee? It is not thus with men. Constancy is bred in our bone and although we do love to climb the fence and sniff the roses in the other garden, there is never but one woman and that's the one we are with at the moment? Huh? Forget thee? Never. How can I forget that we are to have a causeway across the bay when weekly I receive a letter from R. G. Hobbs, secretary of the Fig Orchards Company, informing me of the plans being made for building this important link with the Palacios hard road. Not one grain of sand will I place in his way. We need and must have good transportation between Collegeport and a first class road connecting with, not only Palacios, but with Bay City. My thought just now is that Palacios is copping off a large trade which the Bay City merchants lose because of their apparently negative attitude. The post office records show that $30,000 goes from this burg each year for mail orders. Bay City can have some of this if they will be go-getters, instead of sitting-waiters. Come on Cashway, T. J. Clark, D. P. Moore, Simon Brothers. Get busy, follow up your advertising. The fruit is here ready to pluck. This year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and twenty-seven has so far been good to me. Heard a new bleat and was obliged to stop my "thoughts" while I investigated. Found the bleat was made by another calf. Two fine calves in seven days. If they keep coming at this rate I will have to time to "thought." The new cement sidewalk of the Woman's Club is ready for use, thanks to the efficient work of L. E. Liggett, contractor for the Collegeport Industrial League. Looks fine, walks easy and the women, God bless them, are tickled. Mrs. Frank King, the president, is so well pleased that she threatened to stop bobbing her hair. She is a hard and efficient worker in civic affairs and has the hearty thanks of all who are striving to make this burg just a little bit better. A few weeks ago writing "Thoughts" I wrote "wonder what Oscar Odd thinks of this dope." Don't worry, Oscar, imitation is the sincerest flattery." Now comes Robert Quillan, in Quillan Quips, with this "imitation is also the most annoying form of flattery." Howling cats" but don't it beat the band the way some folks take the joy out of life? One bright spot and that is The Tribune is widely read. Did not know until today that Quillan was a subscriber. Will use more caution in the future. We have enjoyed two weeks of "dulce" days and dulcier nights and now comes the weather pessimist and says, "The radio reports a cold, wet norther." How joy flies. We on the east side of the bay are favored with magnificent sunsets. Only when the days are short and the sun sets far south do we have these views. Then the sun sets as a globe of opal gold, the golden glow ascending into the sky after the sun has sunk below the waves that sparkle and scintillate. For a moment iridescent rays ascend to heaven and they seem to whisper of a fair day on the morrow. Darkness comes, the new moon hangs high in the sky, the stars, like commercial blue white diamonds begin to blaze and night with rest comes to Matagorda Bay. Wonderful pictures God provides for us poor mortals. Human hands can not paint the picture. Since Carey Smith took over The Tribune I have sent him miles of dope and have received many words and letters of appreciation but these "Thoughts" have brought to me the most appreciative words from many miles away. The words that I value most came from Mrs. Cartwright of Bay City whose husband is confined to his room. She says, "He can hardly wait until the issue comes to him and as soon as the paper is received I read it to him." If my poor efforts, bring brightness to one shut in, am I not well repaid for the time spent in thinking these thoughts? Just received a big box from my son and among the many things was a big hunk of Rochefort cheese and a box of Bent's water crackers. As I sniffed the cheese memories floated before me and I saw myself seated across a table from my sweetheart with her hand in mine. No blaring jazz to break the spell, soft lights, light stepping waiters, always absent but always present, and as I told the story she devoured partridge breast. Isn't that like a woman? The cheese, crackers then cafe demi-tasse with cognac to burn on the sugar. Ah! "make me a boy again, just for tonight." Those were the days of Rectors, Kingsleys, The Roma, Madam Galle, St. Hubert's Inn, Repetto's, De Johnes. I knew them well and in my time bought many a shingle for their roofs. This is the day of the flappper, the lounge lizzard, the harsh, strident jazz, the dance hound and everything calculated to discourage romance. Listen! What was that? It sounded like a little bleat. It is another calf. Three in a week. The gods are sure good to me so far this year. Can't think more thoughts this week. Too many calves to teach to drink.


Matagorda County Tribune, January 14, 1927



By Harry Austin Clapp


"I hold the world but as the world, Gratiano;

A stage, where every man must play a part,

And mine a sad one."

--Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice, Act I, Scene 1.


When I was a boy my father had charge of the town "Opry House" and we sold tickets and thus I came into contact with strolling troupes as they visited our town. Many a time I wanted to "join out" but the opportunity never came until A. O. Miller struck the town. A. O. was a remarkable man, a finished and polished actor but a heavy drinker and this vice kept him a small town actor and finally caused his death. In his company was his wife, a beautiful, intelligent and cultured woman with wonderful ability; his two daughters, Helen and Stella. These girls were fine types of young actresses, clean and sweet and I fell hard for Stella and unknown to my father "joined out." We played Rip Van Winkle and Will Carleton's Over the Hills to the Poor House. In the former I was Rip's son and Stella was the daughter and thus I was closely associated with the one girl in all the world. In the scene where Rip returns we were playing on the green in front of Dedrich's house. The latter had married Rip's wife. I thought it would add to the effect if we danced and asked A. O. Miller if it would not be an improvement. He replied, "I think if you and Stella follow the script and business you will do all that is necessary." I wanted to have the chance to put my arms around her but A. O. was a wise bird. When we played in my home town I appeared as son John in Over the Hills and I came on stage with a cigar in my mouth. Tobacco was taboo in my father's family and when my dad saw me with the cigar he yanked me from the boards and my career as an actor came to an end. He claimed that this act saved me from ruination. Perhaps it did, but gladly would I have been ruined if I could have married Stella. I have never seen the Divine Stella since but another girl came into my life and I soon forgot. In a few years I took over the "Opry House" and one of the first engagements was that of James Owen O'Connor, a tragedian of the Shakespeare line. Had he lived he would have gained the world's recognition but, alas! he died insane. In his room he would recite portions from Shakespearian scenes by the hour. He had a marvelous voice, full, rich, penetrating, musical. In the scene where Yorick's skull is dug up and he says, "Alas! Poor Yorick, I knew him well," he hesitated, finished, stammered a moment and then went on with the lines. Some one had printed on the forehead of the skull, "This is not Yorick. It is what is left of Bill Jones." Among other attractions were Marie Carlyle, a violinist. She got in bad, for the church folks found out that she smoked. Then came The Only Zack, the Russian Four and many others, among them Belva Lockwood, the only woman who ever ran for president. I think today of the enjoyment and pleasure of meeting this woman. One time in the early ninetys I was present at an after-the-show affair with Joseph Jefferson the honor guest. He told tales of his early life when he traveled with his father's troupe in wagons. One night they drove through miles of mud and rain into Springfield then a small village. The powers that be refused to allow "play actors" the use of the town hall and quite a heated argument took place in the town tavern. At last a tall, gaunt, skinny man arose and said that they should have the opportunity to put on their show and he had a stable fixed up and the slow went on. That man was Abraham Lincoln. During the time I lived at the Hollenden Hotel, Cleveland, Adalina Patti sang in that city. Several times I stood by her side as we ascended in the "lift" and it gave me opportunity to observe her off stage. Her private suite consisted of a dining room, reception room, two bedrooms and baths. The rooms were finished in ivory and gold and all the furniture was upholstered with brocade with gold wood work. How did I know this? If you promise never to tell, will say that I took a bath in Patti's tub. While in Cleveland at the same hotel I met Anna Held--she of the glorious eyes. I do not know whether she met me but I do know that I met her. The elevator stuck between floors while we were passengers and in the jam she was thrown against me and, as I was always gallant, I put my arm about her (just a moment) and as soon as the excitement was over she turned her wonderful lamps on me and said, "Zank you." O, boy! O, joy! and when the car at last reached her floor she turned and again said, "Zank you." This was in the days when she made the song, "Ta-ra-ra boom de aye" a riot. One day God turned the light out of those beautiful, expressive eyes and Anna passed over the river. She was a little "divil" here but I bet money she plays with the angels over there. While a time I lived at the Criterion Hotel in New York and Dave Montgomery of Montgomery and Stone also lived there and for a time had the adjoining room. I saw him every day or rather every night for he was a night walker. Flashily dressed and always leading a fine bull dog. Guess Dave drank to excess for he was an easy and generous spender and a great favorite among the class he associated with. I first knew this team in the Wizard of Oz days when Fred Stone was the Scarecrow and Dave was the Tin Man. I never thought Dave was in the same class as Fred Stone and had he lived, in my opinion, he would have been left behind. He, like many others, who went the pace, died too young. I first knew Rose Stahl when she put on the skit, "The Chorus Lady." It made her a star. In 1913 she played in Dallas and as she was always my favorite I went to the show taking my little girl then three years of age. At the entrance Miss Stahl's manager stopped us and informed us that we could not take a child into the theatre as children always annoyed Miss Stahl. I told him that my girl was different from others and that she would not cry or in any way cause a disturbance and finally she was allowed to pass. Before the first act hardly started Mary Louise was asleep in my arms and slept until the final curtain. On that account we were invited back stage to meet Mrs. Stahl and for several years she sent gifts and letters to "the little girl who was so good." Many times I have been back stage when Hannie Ingham (Mrs. John B. Stetson) played. She was young, talented, beautiful, ambitious, hard worker but married to a man thirty years older, who because he could not go with her on contracts which were offered, kept her down with those he could make. Stetson looked like an Indian with his black hair, eyes and disposition, but he loved her and babied her and was kind and gentle until she, also, died too young and it broke Stetson's big heart for he only survived her a few months. Most everyone remembers Alba Heywood who made a fortune in oil in the early Beaumont days, settled in San Benito, became one of the Valley's prominent citizens and finally died there. Alba Heywood was born in Paw Paw, Mich., and was a finished actor, always giving a cultured and refined show. His troupe often came to my old town and I came to know him well. One time he found his troupe stranded and my father supplied the cash that enabled him to move to his next date. A few years ago I met him in San Benito and he recalled the incident and said, "Those were the good old days of my life and I enjoyed every moment." At that time he was a slender, dapper fellow weighing about 120 pounds and he was one swell man in his dress suit. In his days in Texas he weighed around 190 and carried a rather heavy forecastle but he was always full of joy of life and love for his fellow man. God rest his soul. Space will not allow more of these recollections but I have met many of the best and seen them all "where every man must play a part." Among them are William Faversham, Gertrude Elliott, Drew, Ethel Barrymore, Edwin Booth, Sara Bernhardt, Robert Edeson, Willie Collier, The Four Cohans (Jerry, Helen, George, Josephine) Nat Wills, Rose Mellville, Richard Mansfield, Dustin Farnum, Sol Smith Russell, Wm H. Crane, Frizi Schiff, Marie Wainwright, Lillian Russell, Fay Templeton, Rose Coghlan, Eddie Foy, Frank Daniels, Fanny Davenport, Wolfe Hopper, Francis Wilson, Maude Adams, Laurence D'Orsay, Will Hodge. Some are dead, others retired, a few still delighting the public.


I am sorry that the moving pictures have so taken possession of former lovers of the speaking drama for there was something very impelling in seeing the living, pulsing human, walk the boards and play upon the emotions of the audience. It gripped me, still does, and to this day I would go many a mile to see the only John Drew giving his wonderful portrayals or to see the beautiful legs of Marie Wainwright as she used to show them in The Fencing Master. Ye gods! such legs. "Legs is common now but her's were uncommon.


 The audience leaves the house. The lights dim. The janitors and charwomen take it over. The carriage calls number 236--185--79--137 and the horses champ the bits, the harness rattles, my lady steps in followed by her gallant, the footman springs to his seat, the driver cracks his whip, the carriage rolls away. A few stage Johnnies linger at the stage door. The house is dead until tomorrow night.


"The play's the thing.

Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King."

--Shakespeare's Hamlet, Act 2, Scene 2.


Matagorda County Tribune, January 21, 1927



By Harry Austin Clapp.


"And when the woman saw that the tree was good for food, and that it was pleasant to the eyes, and a tree to be desired to make one wise, she took the fruit thereof and did eat. And the eyes of them both were opened, and they knew that they were naked; and they sewed fig leaves together, and made themselves aprons."


* * *


This proves the antiquity of the fig. It is the first tree named in the Bible and from remote times it has been cultivated and used for its fruit. It has been named as many as eighteen times in the Bible, the first time in Genesis and the last time in Revelations, so it is the Alpha and Omega of fruits. Solomon says that it appears in the early summer, Joel complains that something barked the trees and caused them to turn white and die. Lake informs us that they are planted in the vineyards. The Egyptian, found famished by the brook, was given by David a cake of figs, while Isaiah said, "Let them take a lump of figs, and lay it for a plaister upon the boil, and he shall recover."


Matthew, Luke, James mentioned the fruit and Jesus used it in his parables. In Revelations you will find the last mention. "And the stars of heaven fell unto the earth, even as a fig tree casteth her untimely figs, when she is shaken by a mighty wind." Here is revealed to us the many uses of this wonderful fruit for it not only was used to cover nakedness, but in a fruit cake, as a fruit to be eaten from the tree and its medicinal qualities were well known in the treatment for boils. One can not fail after reading the Biblical history of this fruit to be impressed with the fact that since the beginning of man it has enjoyed a prominent part in man's life. So far as I know, no man can tell how and when the Magnolia fig was introduced into the Texas Midcoast, but the story goes that once upon a time a fellow went through this section selling Magnolia trees. The natives bought, planted and, lo, when they grew they produced figs and they called it the Magnolia fig. I guess this is as good evidence as any that may be produced.


Some time ago I wrote, "Wish Geo. Serrill would send me another beautiful calendar." Guess he must read The Tribune for in a few days along came the calendar. It was just six inches long by three and one-half inches wide. As I turned the pages I found that dire things would happen to me, such as fire, windstorms, skidding of my auto, (only I do not own one, neither do I owe for one), explosion, lost baggage, roof leakage, failure to collect rents, and so on unless, I took our protection. Fainting catfish! I have not been able to sleep since. On the last page George wrote, "This is for you. A larger and prettier one reserved for the madam." It came last night and was forty inches long by thirty inches wide and a beauty. This is one of the reasons, only one, why George stands in solid with the women. Well, what has this to do with figs? Come back, my thoughts, come back. It has this to do. George will insure your figs against hail, bugs, worms, the trouble Joel howled about and actually insure you a big crop and a generous price. This is enough about the fellow who turned me down. It seems almost useless for me to spend any time thinking thoughts about the fig, for so much interesting and instructive matter has been written about this fruit. Of course much of it has been theoretical and some of it has amused those who from actual experience knew how to grow the plant. We, who live in the Texas Midcoast are favored, for while the Magnolia fig will grow in many places, its habitat seems to be in the two tiers of Texas counties on the coast and from the western borders of Louisiana to the Nueces River. Commercially this gives us a monopoly and it is almost an axiom that it will never be overproduced and therefore will never call for gluttonous powers of deglutition. I found this word in one of my farm papers and it is such a dandy word that thought I would use it. I suppose it means that one will never have to be a glutton to deglut the fig. Well, any way, 'tis a dandy word and I shall use again some time. Greatest growth and production seems to come when situated in rather heavy black land although it will and does grow well in the more sandy soils. At Collegeport we are blessed by having considerable areas of the soil that this fruit loves best and for that reason, here, as well as in other portions of Matagorda County the commercial growing of this fruit offers great advantages over other sections not so generously supplied with the ideal soil. Excuse me, just looked up and saw a dainty pair of legs passing. They carried "ze pairfect ankle, 'n est-ce pas, oui, oui." Don't know what this means, but they were swell legs and as I am always rubbering at legs, since they are so common, had to let my thought leap the garden fence just a moment. When any of you fellows get too old to look at beautiful legs notify Taylor and he will do the rest. Careful preparation of the land is necessary and for this reason it seems best that an experienced person do this work. As the fig produces, except in rare cases, no seed, the planting is done by using slips which have previously been started in the nursery row. So rapid is the growth that much fruit is gathered in the first year. As I write, I can look across the road at a fig orchard, grown by the Collegeport Fig Orchard Company, which, with one year's age, has trees four feet high and the last season produced fairly well. Unwise promoters tell prospective buyers wonderful tales of the yield per acre. The writer knows of but one man who has taken as much as $1000 from an acre. Perhaps three or four have secured a revenue of $800, several have taken $600 but many have cashed in at the rate of $350 to $400 per acre. As I think these thoughts I wonder how much is required to satisfy man. Even at $100 per acre the fig beats any crop that may be grown in the South. This figure can be realized year after year and the best part of it is that it comes within the minimum labor and expense. One man writes that his four-acre orchard paid him $168 gross and after deducting all expenses including his own labor he netted the sum of $127.60 per acre. Still men are crazy over cotton. The fig is a generous feeder and while it lives long, survives enemies and is a lavish producer, the nutritive properties of the soil must be replaced if production is to be maintained. Of all the figs grown in the South the Magnolia has the distinction of being the choicest, and scarcest of all market fruits. The limited area, the unlimited market and the steadily increasing demand makes the growing of this fruit an attractive proposition. Here in Matagorda County we can justly claim to be not only "The Heart of the Texas Midcoast but the Heart of the Magnolia Fig Industry." We hold the key and we own the keyhole or in other words, "We have the bull by the tail and a downhill haul." So pleasing were the results during the last season that the local fig company is planning extensive improvements in packing facilities and I predict that the 1927 crop will be more than double that of the past season. Well, it is 12:39 p. m. January 18, 1927, and Texas has a new governor in the person of Dan Moody. No cleaner man ever took the oath. No man ever occupied the governor's office with more friends, hoping and praying that he may come out as clean and unfouled as he is this day. I wish him all the good things that God can heap up for him. If John Sutherland was an Episcopalian, a republican and if he was not so strong against Volstead I would begin boosting him for the next mayor. John Sutherland is about as near O. K. as God makes men except for these three things. He may reform. If I lived up north, which God forbid, and had a little coin rattling around in my vest pocket, I sure would tie up an acre or two of this good fig land while the tying is good. Looks to me as though fig lands would be worth several times the present price and that, too, in the not very far future, S. B. Sims earned a vacation and he took it. When he left croakers said, "The last we will see of Sims." "The fig company is busted." "Too bad for the people who bought this fig land." Well, Sims is back on the job and things are beginning to sizzle where he is. Sims is not a perfect 36 by any means. He has his limitations, but no man can say that he is lazy, averse to labor, slothful, inactive, inert, supine or some of the other things along that line. He is a "hell-hound" for work so let all the croakers stand aside and let him work. If the fig company amounts to a picayune much of the credit belongs to S. B. Sims.


Here's a good one on Doctor W. W. Van Wormer, president of the Collegeport Fig Orchard Company. It seems so the report goes, that the doctor was engaging a new maid, a recent arrival from Germany, and he asked, "Do you pet?" And she replied, "No; once I pet $1 on a horse race und I lost." The doctor thinking she did not understand again asked, "I simply want to know if you pet?" And the reply was, "Necks come arouse." Thinking she was a safe one, I am informed that he signed her up. Doctor wanted to be safe. As a last word will say that no one need fear to use the word, deglutition, in connection with figs for Noah Webster defines it as "The act or process of swallowing food; the power to swallow." Glad I looked this up as Carey Smith fears to use such long words.


Matagorda County Tribune, January 28, 1927



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