Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1932-11-04

Channon Pipvitch?" John asked.
John, I knew you there. I
knew of you when you fought on
the Bowery. My old friend, Pip
witch, is dead, you know. When
the Tri-Plex shirtwaist factory
burned down, Pipv1tch had locked
the doors-the shock killed him."
"Please go on" Harboard re-
minded him after a lengthy pause,
with your vision of the city"
After a moment or two, Almon
Strauss continued in low, even
tones, II see a tremendous city ris-
ing in the future, a city of such
magnitude that men today would
marvel at the sight. The saving
in heat, in transportation of sup
plies, in the waste motions of Life
will compensate for the great con
g%estion of men. Everything will
be centralized in zones. People will
live in groupes close to their work,
with parks and Fairgrounds scat
tered in between. There is no val
ue like the value of numbers, no
potentiality like the mass potent
atty of men, and the city is the
! natural conclusion to which we
must come as we remain longer on
this earth. The city now is crude,
cruder than the plumbing in King
Alfred's hut. We are just begin
ming to see the faintest CLEANS of
light. The country for food, for
freedom, and for play, the city for
economy, for concentration, for
study and for education. And by
the city I mean the great open
hearted city with trees and grass,
and fountains splashing in the sun
The city with clean streets, with
ample homes, with every furnish
ing to make life worth living.
"Down below, those foolish folk
talk of birth control. What do
they know of the agony? What do
they know of building? What of
planning far ahead? I may never
see the beginning, but, John, and
you, too, Harboard, you may see;
you may know.
"But l am afraid of the city. |
am afraid we have planned too far
ahead. People are getting confus-
ed, and rents go higher and higher.
in am closing up this place and ex-
pect to leave. But my heart is
here. God help the city"
Where the recurring storm
centers of wild conventions and
campaigns ragged amid sprouts of
promise, old Madison Square Gar
den stands only in memory like a
palace in Spain. Steel and tile
tower high, and higher.
1t was in this environment that
Harboard and John paused at the
southern end of a walk along the
Avenue, crowded with the great
rush of a mid-season afternoon.
The friends were given to long
tramps, to the diversion, of ex-
tended explorations in the city.
Again great things were hap
pening, again the city was restless
and uncertain in its ancient har-
ness. Drastic methods were being
proposed, merchants associations
and civic bodies were stirring.
Great agitations were taking pub
lie voice. The huge muddle must
asume some proper form. Civic
pride was suffering a revival, new
forces were stepping to the fore,
new ideals Of service were again
lifting above the tumult of the
town.
They paused On the sharp oasis
south of T%wenty-ffth Street be-
tween Fifth Avenue and Broad
way. smoking churning rush of
cars and buses hemmed them in.
Across the way the old Amen Cor
ner had ended its career. On the
broad stretch of the Avenue, to-
ward the park, arches of triumph
and of victory once reared their
fragile forms and only photographs
remain. Dewey returned there
from the victory at Manila. Great
hosts of men marched by in ~
men with set faces, young and
consolidated from the youth of
the Metropolis, tramping onward
in the falling snow.
A great void Of doubt had come
to Harboard and to John, a sick
ening doubt. To the east, they
saw the great clock hands of the
tower pointing to seven, and back
on Fifth Avenue the rush of mot
or cars came to a sudden stop
with a screech of brakes when the
high red light flashed on the traf-
fc tower above the gas-charged
| street,