Worcester Democrat and the ledger-enterprise. (Pocomoke City, Md.) 1921-1953, 1935-11-15
~
from the
Democrats Pen


Well, Sir, did any of you people see
that account of the inter-city Rotary
meeting, held in Pocomoke City on
Monday last-said account published
in the Somerset News?
Now, YOU know, have always been
aware that Princess Anne was trltle
slow, sort of sleepy like, but l did
think she had walked up long enough
to know that way back yonder, "New-
town" had changed it's name to "Po-
comoke City"-a mighty wide-awake,
up-and-going, settlement on the pic
turesque river of similar and same
name.
But, just think of it, sub-heading
to the article mentioned at the out
set, gave out the astonishing informa-
ton that the Onancock, Crisfield, and
Princess Anne Rotarians Joined in an
inter-city meet with the "Newtown
Rotarians," b'gosh!
What do you think Of that? Now,
I don't know whether Frank Jones,
editor of the "News," was just bit
sleepy or just little more forgetful.
Maybe he was trying to get joke
off on us; if he was, he ought to be
ashamed Of himself-joking about his
native soil and confines. And an
other thing I want to tell him is this.
IF he was really sober when he wrote
that heading, it sort Of indicates he
Just woke up from a Rip Van Wrinkle
sleep and was unaware of how time
had sped by for twenty years. Incl
dentally, it also indicates just about
how old he is.
Now, believe do remember hear
ing ONE of my ancestors say that
Pocomoke City used to be called
'Newtown," but, of course, that was
before my day. Evidently, tho, it
came so naturally and quickly from
Frank Jones' pen as to suggest a
vivid recollection of the "Newtown'
era, and one actual habitation in days
when this city sported the old mon-
iker.
But, I've no doubt the Princess Anne
editor could testify to the good old
days, if one could get him in remin-
iscent mood. The "Newtown" days,
I'm told, were days Of muddy streets
and sidewalks; of lamp-lit homes and
stores: were the horse and buggy
days; the one-train-a-day years; the
coal and wood stove; and, above all,
the days of a home life that seems
to have faded from the experience of
men. It might we'll be sked, "Does
all this modernism pay?" So, after
all, Mr.. Editor, "Newtown Rotarians"
wouldn't be so bad off were the clock
set back a few decades.
If you folks will look in another
column of today's issue of the POGO
moke bladder, you may read there a
story of how a boat, lying out in st.
Michael's waters, was set on fire by
a jug of water. Now, there's nothing
left for anybody to do but to call that
a real, bona-fide sample of the honest
to-goodness, simon-pure, no-joking,
'fire-water." Everybody knows the
spirit that warns the cookies of the
heart; the juice that can turn poor
man quickly into Croesus; the bev-
erage that rids the world Of pessi-
mism; the cup that cheers; the bowl
knxry1C (0r
under, as the case may be); the drink
that prohibition could not swallow; all
these were rightly named by the
aborigines of the best country on
Earth "Fire-water!"
And here right on the blessed East
ern Shore, this emulation of the fruits
of the earth ran true to the Indian
idealization of it, and blessed if it
didn't do the realistic thing-rose up
in it's might and set boat afire.
Wonder where that stuff was brewed,
know one or two people right here
in Pocomoke who'd like to sample it
whether or not it would result in their
cremation. They'd exchange an eter-
nifty of torture for one hour of bliss
such "proof" would afford them. Blest
if I don't believe the whole story was
an advertising dodge gotten up by st.
Michaels. Their transient population
has been hard to manage since the
news was spread and, you must hand
it to 'em, it was a cute stunt.
TTrgTTCNANT n WIT