The Chronicle-star combined with the Moss Point advertiser., 1947-08-22

ment ABOUT TWO years ago ana
in that time has written almost
a hundred weekly pieces. The
column had been started before
he took it over, and eventually
it will continue after he relin-
quishes the task. But for well
over a hundred weeks, with
the exception of a few recess
periods, the various stories,
memoirs and space-filling triv-
alities have all come out of one
person and one persons mem
DRY.
For the past few months, the
business of finding a subject
for the weekly column has
grown more difficult, and at
last we have faced up to the
fact that we have been scrap
ing the bottom of the barrel, as
the saying goes. OF the hundred
columns we have written, per-
haps some 20 of our little stories
had some interest and meaning
of their own, and were the sort
that were worth telling for their
own sake. Perhaps another 20
of our columns merited being in
print in a county weekly simply
as descriptive writing about
the pines, the beaches, the riv-
ers, and the Gulf of Mexico.
Perhaps another ten of the col
umns were of justified interest
because they were based on the
history of this part of the coun-
try, and brought back to light
some of the past events which
have faded from the public
mind.
But altogether, that accounts
for only half the columns that
were written. We are afraid
that the rest were on the order
of discussions by wordy and
conversational people-the sort
who can engage you on the tele-
phone for half an hour talking
to you without pause, but when
they hang up you cannot for
the life of you remember what
the fellow was talking about in
the first place. Some people are
mildly amused by this chatty
and conversational type of writ
ing; but some are bored by it,
and some perhaps r irritated
by it. The common reaction of
the newspaper reading public
to such an article is usually
something like: What a waste
of paper" Or, Il could do bet
ter than that myself" And the
truth of it is that many a read
err, if he could tell the deepest
experiences of his life. actually
could do better than that"
One of the greatest masters of
the English language, the satir-
ist Swift, wrote once that every
man could make a splendid
book if he could only tell the
true story of his life.
The older we grow, the more
people that we get to know
we'll, the OF life stories
that are told to us on the basis
of friendship and confidence,
the more we realize the truth
of Swift'S observation. There is
hardly a man or woman alive
whose life would not make at
least one good book-if he or
she could only write down the
things that really counted and
hang it all together in a way
that could be easily understood
by the average reader.
But the things that count"
in a mans lifetime, and which
constitute the important part
of any mans memory. r not
often the sort of thing that
would make light, amusing
reading when set down for a
column in a weekly newspaper.
Many of our readers, as we are
well aware, have probably
lived through countless events
more grim and exciting by far
or else more sad or more
amusing-than the sort of
stories that we have been in
the habit of sketching in our
weekly pieces. But not all or
not many of those events could
be written honestly and frank
ly for a family newspaper.
Truth is accounted a beautiful
thing by philosophers. But
many truths are too raw, vio-
lent, upsetting-even explosive
Ito be tossed into the placid
stream of weekly journalism.
And our readers would find
should any of them ever take
over the lob of telling a weekly