By R. M. HARKEY
Twenty years ago on the 25th day of May, Collegeport Day was established, and each year since that time the citizens in that territory have met together in their annual meeting to celebrate the beginning of Collegeport, Texas.
History repeats itself. We understand from citizens who are now living in Collegeport that at one time at their celebration there were more than 2, 000 present at the annual dinner given by the people of that neighborhood. Many things have happened in the past twenty years and Collegeport has not derived a very great benefit out of a good many of these different matters. Many people used to live in and around this little town, but owing to circumstances and different calamities, many of these people have gone. But it is now a fact that Collegeport is coming back like many other towns in the Gulf Coast of Texas.
The writer has spent
a great deal of time and has investigated the farm lands in the
It has been just a little over a year ago since we first visited there, having been away for more than twelve years. We found the citizenship in a strained condition. No one seemed to know or care just how things were going, but during this wonderful dinner last Friday, May 25, we could not help but notice the different expressions on the faces of the ones attending Collegeport Day. The one great thought that was bringing about this pleasant feeling was the fact that a good road that will be of concrete and shell, is now an assured fact, and is being built at this time, so that the citizenship of Collegeport and this part of Matagorda county will have direct connection with the outside world.
Many of the people who purchased land years ago and have gone away, are contemplating moving back and putting the farms into cultivation, that have been lying idle all these years. In talking to one gentleman and land owner during the day, he said: "My farm has never brought me any revenue. I did not have any hopes of ever seeing a road built in Collegeport, therefore, I returned to the northern states where I could have some conveniences in life." This man is now back in Collegeport and arranging his affairs so he can return to the north and begin life over again.
It is a great pleasure for any one to associate themselves with a group of people who have the "do or die" spirit in them, and many of these people who are now living in Collegeport have gone through their darkest days and the time is not far distant when the population will increase; when farm lands will be cultivated and all properties will enhance in value.
Transportation facilities are being placed in the reach of all. We found one of the most wonderful spreads a man or woman could think of, partaking of and practically all of the dinner was served was raised on the soil in and around Collegeport. There is a great future to this little town, as it has diversified soil and crops of any nature can be grown in this territory. Collegeport, like many other little towns, will come back and the people who have worked so faithfully and stood by the interests, will receive their reward by watching the good citizenship increase and prosperity reach those who live there.
The Collegeport Industrial League, for twenty years, has been doing a great deal for the betterment of this little town. We learned that more than $300 a month is being placed in the hands of the people from the shipment of cream alone. This will increase as conveniences for market will be established before many months.
It is to be hoped that we may live to see Collegeport come back and be one of the best neighborhoods in all the Gulf Coast country.
Tribune, June 1, 1928
[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.]
Reports state that the Republicans will stage an old time torch light parade at Kansas City. Torches burn oil and for that reason I doubt they will pull off any such stunt.
Why, the only Republican in Bay City was in Barnett's barber shop the other day, and when Ack was through operating on him he asked, "will you have oil on your hair?" and the kuss fainted away.
Ora shipped twelve guinea pigs to Kansas City this week and now has two real peaches from Markham visiting her. Both girls are easy on the eye, and when they go in bathing, O, boy, talk about bathing review.
V. J. Swansey has given me a few tips, among them the fact that they feel the need of a Sunday school in his neighborhood. If Mr. Swansey will come to Collegeport Sunday he will find a first class Sunday school in operation with an average attendance of about sixty. He needs rain, and whointhehell don't? He wants screens for his windows and any hardware store will furnish them. His cows are doing well, but could do better. Same thing can be said about mine. Swansey will take his cotton to Wadsworth unless a gin is built here. He has 125 acres in cotton doing well, considering the backward season.
The McNeil family moving to Houston. But thank God, another family is moving in to take their place.
Minnie Lee bucks on leaving this burg, and don't blame her.
Mrs. Crane taking in cream with one hand and dispensing groceries with the other.
Rev. Merriman Smith making me a pastorial visit and telling me about his great fishing expedition, but I do not believe a word of his talk, for he brings no fish as proof. Bet his wife scolded him for staying out late.
Tom Fulcher filling an auto tank.
Road grades fixing up our local streets in splendid shape. Had Geo. Harrison ordered this work before the primary he might have made a few Christians out of the immortal twenty-two. Hate to have that bunch number more than fifteen.
Sunday school party at the Goff home. As I do not go to the Sunday school, was not invited.
John B. Heisey hauling feed.
Francis Eisel home for vacation. Looks like her daddy.
Interested in Zack Zackers' travel suggestions. He fails to mention Klinger Lake in Southern Michigan. A pool of blue surrounded by hills of green. Great place for a small mouth bass. Big hotel, dancing pavilion, many real cottages, heaps of folks.
E. H. Hall going to Galveston for a peep at the bathing beauties. Not necessary, for he has only to go down to our "swimmin' hole" to see the female form divine, with hardly a damn rag on. He is a fascinating, enchanted, captivating, bewitching, entrancing old boy and I bet he will capture some foreign beauty.
O, joy! The new station agent spent two bills for a ninety-day box rent at the P. O., so guess he will stay until October at least.
The miserable wretch not content, satisfied, pleased with her home, has taken to riding the "caterpillar" tractor which is doing the grading. Next thing I know she will be going up in the air. When she does I will accept offers from other wenches. Can offer a warm heart. Send foto and full physical description and sufficient cash to pay my railroad fare to place of inspection.
Eugene Harkey favored those present at the Collegeport Day celebration with a reading. Some speaker is Eugene. Some day he will be almost as good as Doc.
The new tax bill knocks off the 3 per cent tax on autos. I have on hand $7.70, so if they will knock off ninety-five percent more, I will buy a Ford roadster. The Bay City Ford agency ought to pay some attention to this proposition for it might make a sale. Looks to me as a dandy good prospect.
You Springfield folks should come down here and take a "looksee" at your orchards. Carl Boeker is making them clean for the first time and the trees, as they emerge from the tangle of grass and weeds, stretch, lengthen, expand, spread out and looking up into the turquoise sky smile with the promise of a bountiful crop. The Youngblood orchard opposite Homecroft, is putting on fruit.
Why do some folks call a store where they offer goods for sale a "Shoppy?" Wish we could have a "Shoppy" in this burg. The Come-Inn is pretty close but don't quite make the grade, for it is more like a "Salon."
Saw the first red-headed woodpecker this week. He flew onto an old limb, braced himself with his spiked tail and began to sound for a grub. The noise disturbed Mamma Scizzortail nesting near by and she made an attack. Who can withstand the enraged female? Red head, like the rest of us "hemales," flew the coop.
Eighty-four in the shade this day and 'tis some hot.
A vicious dog attached Ruth Mowery Thursday, inflicting several bites and tearing her clothes. It did not interfere with her being a sweet and charming hostess when the League met in her home.
A certain young lady pays me a kiss each week to keep her name out of this column. She left for a trip to Kansas the other day with Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson and Rosalie Nelson.
Rev. Merriman Smith is chairman of the committee on arrangements and Ben R. Mowery of the program committee for a Father and Son Banquet which will be held in the near future. This is strictly a "he" affair. Tickets which will admit to the entire show will cost fifty cents each and no man will be sold a single ticket, for he must buy one extra for his son. Those who are so unfortunate as to have no son will bring some other fellow's son, for each man attending the banquet must have two tickets and a son. More later.
It is my guess the Woman's Union will furnish the eats, so use of more space is not required.
If Markham has any more sweet girls like the Misses Sherman and Dickson, who have been visiting Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin, wish they would send 'em down here. These girls are not only sweet but also soothing to the eye. Well behaved, lady-like, intelligent and altogether adorable.
Bacon says, "A beautiful face is a silent commendation."
Here is a sample of some advertisements: "Wanted--Apartment for a single man looking both ways and well ventilated."
Gus Franzen, chairman of the League Committee to make a survey of the cotton acreage, reported Thursday night that 2,000 acres of cotton was up to a stand and he estimates a crop of 1,000 bales. Collegeport needs a gin to handle this crop and the Industrial League will be glad to hear from men who are seeking a gin location. The gin we need is no kin to "Old Tom Gin." "Old Tom" is a genial old soul and I would not mind renewing his acquaintances.
In the June Ladies' Home Journal appears an article by Olga Clark which begins thus: "There is a tantalizing fragrance from the fields, enticing us to go berry picking." Fragrance is apple sauce, Olga, but there is something else waiting for you in the fields and that is Mr. Polex "epnetrans," for he sure penetrates. Can get along with him during the day but when I go to bed and have to use one hand to scratch myself and the other to scratch the miserable wretch, I say, is not enough, sufficient, plenty. May Olga has to do her own scratching.
The Daily Tribune,
June 11, 1928
Recent rain great for crops and makes the figs glisten and show green.
Oscar Chapin growing a ninety-pound watermelon.
Train crew go to Kingsville with the engine.
Jim Hale better train his dog.
Found a dirty face powder puff in my mailbox.
Seth Corse suffering from "tizit" in the back.
The Come-Inn afloat with water Saturday.
Four kittens playing in the mail sacks.
Mrs. Ash gets the mail in on time rain or not rain.
Freshly graded roads impassable.
John B. Heisey buying groceries with eggs.
School board holding a meeting and electing teachers for the next year.
Emmitt Chiles is now a member of the ancient order of grandfathers. Came Saturday, and a nine pound boy.
Worms feedin on the cotton crop. Time to use a wormacide.
By parcel post--twenty-five Jersey Black Giant chicks from Ohio. Arrived one hundred per cent.
The sun is trying in vain to peep between the heavy clouds.
A goose on the slough ranch sounds its rasping call.
The something that makes an onion grow; an auto run; a man move and act; a bird sing--where is it generated? Anyone answer?
The mourning dove made her nest in the low tide ground. Foolish bird. your eggs are now covered with water. The oriole's nest swinging high in a tree is safe and dry.
The latest fad from Paree is to tie a black silk ribbon around your ankle. For girls only, of course.
Two and half miles of cement laid on the Collegeport road in less than three weeks is some progress. Thus does our "nine-foot sidewalk" grows.
Mrs. Roy Nelson buying groceries.
Rosalie and her sister buying candy.
The extra engine crew eating breakfast at the Come-Inn.
Old Sport coming home for an extra meal.
Buckshot catching a rabbit.
The recent heavy rain insures a good crop so says Gus Franzen.
A mocking bird bringing material for a nest. A little late, but it will soon house four eggs.
A big crane walking in the slough.
A road runner hastening across the new road grade.
A horned toad crushed under the wheels of an auto. Wonder when they will have some road sense.
Mrs. Mowery sending a bouquet of sweet peas to Ora.
A mourning dove calls its mate.
Way off yonder a dog howls.
Reading the life of Catherine II of Russia--a fiend incarnate.
Buckshot standing on a big water turtle. About ten inches by eight in dimensions. Smart dog.
Amarillo feels insulted because Lindbergh did not stop there, and now they claim he has a case of swell head. Collegeport feels the same way so we can sympathize with Ama. He should stop at all important towns. Nothing else to do.
It takes a strong man to knock down an elephant. An auctioneer did the trick the other day.
Governor McMullen of Nebraska is a great joker when he proposes that 100,000 farmers march to the Republican convention at Kansas City. They will ride in Pullmans or autos and not one son-of-a-gun will march.
Congress, not Coolidge, is to blame for the failure of the "Mary Haugen" bill.
Mr. V. J. Swansey milking twenty cows, with three fresh ones this week.
The American Congress has developed into a body of snoopers, pryers.
I read in Tuesday's Tribune this statement. "A milk cow is worth to the owner what she will produce over and above the cost of production in butter fat." I beg to differ with the author and to state that a milk cow is worth over and above the cost of maintenance what she produces in fat, skim milk for feed, her annual calf and her manure. I will also state that a cream test is of no value in determining the productive value of a cow. Such a test is only the test of that particular sample of cream. To arrive at the value of a cow one should weigh the milk morning and night, test the milk for its fat content and thus arrive at her monthly productive value. Many milkers think that if their cream test is high that it is something to be elated over. High testing cream is simply a matter of regulation of the cream screw on the separator and it can be made as high or as low as the operator desires. Weigh milk, test milk, keep records of feed and care. This gives tangible results. Cream testing means nothing in the valuation of a cow's ability to yield a profit. Here is an example. Two cows, one producing fifty pounds of milk testing 4 per cent and the other forty pounds of milk testing 4 per cent. The cream from these two cows is delivered to the cream station and the cream separated from the milk of the forty pound cow tests forty per cent while the cream from the fifty pound cow test thirty-five per cent. Which is the better animal?
The Houston Knife and Fork Club of Houston will give a dinner to "Who's Who" among writers. The dinner will be given June 23rd, and reading an advance list of the guests, I fail to see the names of Zack Zackers, Lurline Mallard or Harry Austin Clapp. Ah, well, perhaps these names will be printed later. The dinner will not be a complete success without the presence of the Tribune's 3 writers. I suspect Zack's name was left off the list because he only writes for amusement and makes crackers for a living.
The other day I received a communication without date, salutation, superscription or signature, but it is from a Tribune reader and here it is: "Herd at our post office. Deer Ankle Gazer: I ain't had no letter offa you. Your thots are fine all about legs. Thank God, my deer husband is out of town most of the time. I burn the thing right up so he won't get no funny idees. He's got funny idees enuf. Your poor wife--she ain't got so much fun. Her innermost thots held up to public ridicule--her hopes, her fears, her aspirations all brought mercilessly out in your column. Ah, woe, woman's life is never held deer. Let my few words of advice fall not upon deef ears. I pray you, heed my humble words. Lift up your eyes, your thots and your ideers. Legs is to walk on, to ware shoes on, rubbers on (not the rubbers you've turned out). Think of stars, other worlds, clouds, cornets, mountains. How glad I am that my man has not your vice. I doubt if he ever considered legs except as necessary pedal extremities, to guide us hither and yon (principally yon). His thots are higher, on a flashing smile, a naughty eye, a come hither look. Would he have your simple-bland, child-like admiration for a pretty curved leg, a delicate ankle. His vice is much worse, I tremble. Please, oh, please teache him your system. He's a devil, a demon, a man about town and not his own town. I weep, desolate, alone the forsaken wife of a traveling salesman."
I advise that the husband keep his eyes on the ground instead of the flashing smile and naughty eye. He will see things as beautiful and will evade the come hither look. If this does not prove efficacious, writ to Dorothy Dix or read Venus and Adonis.
"Without the smile from partial beauty won,
O, what were man? a world without a sun."
Pleasures of Hope, Part II--T. Campbell
A birthday party in the home of Mr. and Mrs. Roy Nelson last Wednesday in honor of Miss (full name verboten). Miss Rosalie Nelson was present and many other girls and boys and the usual enjoyable time was had. The young lady in whose honor the party was given is about six years of age and bribed me to keep her name out of the paper with a kiss. (Nothing but a Hershey kiss, but I accepted it.)
The Father and Son Banquet is a community affair to which all men are invited provided each brings a boy. This requires two tickets at fifty cents each, and no man will be sold a single ticket for they are numbered and delivered in pairs "Sequiturque patrem, baud possibus adquls," or in plain United States, he walks in his father's footsteps, but not with equal steps.
The citizens of this burg are indebted to Doctor Harkey for the splendid report of his recent visit to Collegeport at time of the birthday party. It was almost as good as if it had appeared in "Thoughts."
The school trustees have engaged the teachers for next year and I am wondering who will be the next groom.
Friday I accompanied the miserable wretch to the cleanest, sweetest drug store and cold drink place in Texas and presided over by a genial, goodhearted fellow in the person of Hugo [Kundinger]. The miserable wretch developed a corn on the way over the rough newly graded road and was obliged to buy some corn cure.
At noon sharp the Bay City program started over KPRC. I make no pretensions of being a musical critic but will say that the program was a credit to Bay City or any other burg. I am not a lover of jazz. To me it is a mess of discordant, blaring, squeeling, inharmony. Occasionally it drops into a strain that soothes my soul, and just as I become restful--biff! bang! blare! screech and torment racks my musical soul. Some folks go crazy over it, but I being totally uneducated musically, cannot appreciate it. It whispers not of passion or romance, or the voice of an angel. The sextet was appealingly musical to me. Roland Harkey's voice came pure and sweet as did Jap Magee's, but the latter lacked enunciation. The piano number by Miss Huebner was well rendered, but the softest notes came clearest. Lurline Mallard must be a very accomplish young lady for her violin solo was well rendered and no lover of music could fail to enjoy it to the last note. The uke novelty came strong and to me was a revelation of the musical powers of that instrument. The song sung by Mrs. Vogelsang was a feature of the program, the voice was sweet and well modulated. Doc Harkey's talk on Matagorda county was a comprehensive statement and the only fault I find is that he forgot to mention Collegeport and therefore will ask him to return the fifty bones I sent him. Doc's voice was as strong and as clear as that of the official announcer. I closed my eyes and thought my old friend stood at my shoulder and I almost stretched out my hand in congratulation. Great publicity for Bay City and Matagorda county. What other town can send out such an array of talent from non-professional people? I was proud of every number. The piano work of Mrs. Wadsworth and Mrs. Highley was superb, but the latter played softer and for that reason came to my ears more perfectly. The louder notes possessed some blare.
The Daily Tribune, June 12, 1928
[Collegeport information was abstracted from the longer article.]
Robert Quillan says, "Baggy trousers at least reduce the hazards of a picnic. It's easier to get at the ants. Wonder if Bob ever heard of chiggers?
The local reader who refers to my short sentences as pure bunk ought to read some of Oscar Odd's stuff. Here is a sample: "An oil can with a potato impaled on its spout." "Anna Nichols has bobbed her hair." "Few customers in the Holland." "New Yorkers struggle to smile." "Jim Quirk's salmon-colored roadster." If my stuff is junk what about Oscar Odd's slum?
One thing Jesus did well, and that was he minded his own business. If some of our local burghers would follow the example of Jesus we would have a finer community.
Dorothy Crane en route to Amarillo to enter the State C. E. Bible sharp shooter contest.
Another of those million dollar rains.
E. L. Hall driving a new Buick Master Six.
A scizzor tail nest building. Beautiful bird.
Oscar Chapin selling to a young lady who demands sixteen ounces to a pound and got it plus.
Mrs. Ackerman tells it again this week with carrots and beets. I simply dote on those gorgeous colors.
Uncle Judd has poor taste when he rejects a carrot. In my opinion, if he would eat carrots he would have more head on his coco.
All right, Emma Lee Lewis Carlton, when you come to Homecroft you will find name on the knocker and knocker on the door and the latter swings in for you, day or night.
(Dammit. Broke my Corona. Glad to have a pen.)
Mary Louise home for two weeks. She came to my arms like a spring breeze washed and cleansed by the tussing spray of a thousand miles of Southern sea. Full of color and fragrance--our dream visualized. The next morning--
"I knelt at the side of the bed
And kissed her blue eyes awake.
Mussed and tousled the hair of her head,
And loved her, for her own sweet sake."
Fragments from Hack.
The Dad and Lad Banquet Tuesday night, June 26th. Tickets from Rev. Merriman (Bill) Smith. Fifty cents.
Mrs. L. E. Liggett, cheferina, with an able corps of assistants, will do the catering. P. S.--If you have no son, borrow one from some other fellow, but be sure and bring a boy.
From Houston the only Zack sends this. "You're wrong, as usual. I do not attend the 'Knife and Fork' banquet because it is a violation of my etiquette to eat with a knife." He told the truth for once in his life. The first time I saw him eat he sure had no use for knife. He used a big salad fork and a shovel. Never saw him eat at his home, but away from there he refuses crackers. Hope he visits Homecroft sometime so the miserable wretch could see him eat. Will serve him hard boiled eggs cut length wise and rampant on a plate of spinach.
O, look! Saw a girl with a mouth that could be buttoned in the back. One can always see curious sights in this burg. Don’t always have to look at legs, thank God.
Jack Holsworth hooked one of them there "Silver Kings" which he declared was twelve feet long and weighed four hundred pounds. That is the way he felt. The scales said seventy-five pounds and the rule five feet seven. Some fish for so small a lad.
The Daily Tribune, June 19, 1928
[Local information taken from longer article.]
Writing about fingers makes me remember that us Homecrofters have enjoyed another Red Letter day this month of July. I knew that when it started out so well on the first day that the entire month would look good.
Here comes Doctor Harkey with 56 fingers and 14 thumbs. Of course he had help in bringing all these digits. The help consisted of Mrs. Harkey, Eugene, Mr. and Mrs. Baker of Abilene, Mrs. Fagan and Miss Bessie Baker of Bryan. As I look back now I wonder how fifty-six fingers and fourteen thumbs could pack in the commissary department they unloaded. Doc went fishing and caught a shark and a flounder at the same time. Coolidge caught two fish at one time and got front page, but I suppose Carey Smith will tuck Doc’s feat on the back page. Carey says, “No wonder Doc caught a shark. Shows brothers recognize each other.” At night the bunch went a floundering and, from the way they looked when reporting at headquarters, guess they floundered all right. When Miss Bessie went in bathing, looking like a beautiful Venus, only Bessie has two arms, the tide rose to meet her. Don’t blame the tide, for I would do the same. Only two things were lacking to make the time perfect; Altogether too short a visit and, second, Doc forgot to bring salt.
Heard at the post office: “I don’t guess you hain’t got any package for me, are there?”
The Woman’s Club meeting with Mrs. Carl Boeker.
Mrs. Oscar Vernon Chapin and Mrs. John Gainesborough Ackerman taking a trip to Buckeye to trade Papa Guinea pigs.
Rev. Merriman L. Smith eating dinner with a General at Camp Palacios.
Airplanes is common stuff for me these days. At times a dozen in the air at one time, but I never turn my head for a look. The miserable wretch drops her sad iron, rushes to the gallery and stretches her neck in her efforts to flirt with the aviator. If they come any nearer I will sic Buckshot on them.
Heard at the Collegeport bathing beach: North Cable, interested in a rather plump baby, said, “What do you think of that girl?” and Carl Boeker replied, “She certainly packs her trunks.”
One of the kiddies inquired of me the other day, “Mr. Clapp, what is a monologue?” and I replied, “Well, for example, so you will understand, a monologue is a conversation between me and the miserable wretch,” and he replied, “I thought that was a dialogue.” “No,” said I, “a dialogue is where two persons are speaking.”
E. M. C. (full name verboten) after being lost for several days has been discovered.
So many women and girls wearing pants—I mean trousers—that is different to imitate our male citizens.
Jim Hale not only lost his teeth but his cow. That is bad news for the Mopac.
Sand and gravel stacked in front of the postoffice for culvert work, and thus grows our “nine-foot side walk.”
Figs are ripening and sugar sales increase.
Dorothy Crane becoming a first class grocer.
Frank King in the Gulf hospital for an operation. Reported making splendid recovery.
Oscar Chapin working on an old culvert steps on a rusty nail which penetrates the foot. Getting along fine, but walks with a limp which is rather becoming for an ex-soldier who fought for democracy “over there.”
After giving us a vacation for about six weeks, Ora resumes neighborly calling.
The miserable wretch at Palacios looking over the soldiers. Strange the attraction a uniform has for some dames. As for me the less the girls have on the more I look. Before both temptations the thing to be is composed, calm, serene, quiet, imperturbable, and above all else, cool.
The miserable wretch has been so active this week that much of my copy has been supplied by her activities. Yesterday she visited the army camp at Palacios and, incidentally one of our old friends, Mrs. Duncan Ruthven. The latter told her that she enjoyed “Thoughts” more than any thing else she reads, thinks them clever, hopes that they will be continued, looks eagerly for the column each week, etc., etc., etc. When one writes stuff that appeals to the Scotch as being clever, one can feel that one has arrived. Guess I will have to ask the syndicate that handles my stuff for an advance. Bet if I get it Zack Zackers and Lurline Mallard will have the nerve to do the same.
Rev. Merriman Smith and family attending a social at Citrus Grove.
Verner L. Bowers looking immaculate in white dress.
That superlative ice cream of Hugo’s may be all it is said to be but to date all I can say is “I dunno.”
Three tractors working in the fig orchard are rapidly killing out the grass. Figs setting on in abundance.
Girl wearing a new dress so short that it resembles a girdle. The girls of the Black Crook dressed more modestly.
Kids running barefoot. Wonder they do not contract hook-worm.
Three girls sucking a pop bottle.
Mrs. Ash wearing a big Mexican hat.
Oscar Chapin expecting a second melon crop.
My partner in the goose business reports the birds doing fine.
Doc Harkey’s shark measured 14 feet with Doc’s rule and two hundred pounds by his scales. Some shark.
Dance at Tom Fulcher’s Saturday night.
Ben R. Mowery drawing on his jimmy pipe.
Carl Boeker all dolled up for pay day.
North Cable caring for his two dollar chickens.
Ethel Nelson Wright with a compact and lip stick.
Received dope from T. A. Walker on cow feed. Wonder why he with holds prices.
John B. Heisey still using his horse mobile. Wonder why?
Emmitt Chiles and family moving to Palacios. Regret the necessity.
Seth Corse employs a stenographer.
Kimball Roberts giving the burg a once over.
New books in the library.
Mrs. Carl Boeker planning a play for the Woman’s Club.
Edward Regnier ready to do trucking.
Verner Bowers selling soup at twelve cents per can or two for a quarter.
Eggs now twenty cents.
Wish that army camp would fold its tents and steal away.
Butter fat 36 cents.
Feed stuff 30 per cent higher.
Wonder how Arnold Franzen likes farming?
Louie Walter selling watermelons by the bushel.
L. E. Liggett repairing his home.
Jessie Murry awarded a scholarship by the County Federation of Women’s Clubs.
Paul Braden picking up empty oil tanks.
Jack Hill with forty acres of cotton that promises one and one half bales per acre, buying wagons to haul with.
The Kings Daughters meet with Mrs. Arthur Matthes, Blessing, Thursday the 19th.
One of our young girls seems to take much pleasure in exposing her bare knees. They are not much to look at but I cross myself and say “God bless ‘em and God dress ‘em.”
Daily Tribune, June 20, 1928
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