November 30, 1933
Cliffside, Nov. 27 – A fellow of genuine “regular scout” type is Harry Lee Robertson, D. D. S. (sophisticated for molar-jerker). This fellow can talk on the same subject from four separate and distinct slants at one and the same time-in fact, I have never seen a fellow of exactly his calibre [caliber]; however, he is a hail fellow well met, et cetera. He encourages this column with the most pleasant professional ribbing I have ever experienced. Great fellow is he, but may regret encouraging this sort of stuff. He pulled three teeth for me before I could persuade him to stop that now!
Once upon a not so very long time ago, in high school, my “deah teacher” was working on a morning chapel exercise and intended using some selection (I don’t remember what) from the Vagabond King. Of all things, I was to sing the number, and I says: “I can’t sing that.” As the days roll by, my thankfulness grows-because she believed me. A number of more amateur variety was used.
On North Tryon in Charlotte Saturday, I was having a drink of something or other in this drug store soda shop-cafe. When the telephone rang, Elmer waltzed back to answer; he reached up to a clothesline paraphernalia and yanked away (Ahoy, mate) and I fully expected a steamboat whistle any minute. He was turning off the radio in the front of the store. But for a minute I was trying to out figure him-he had me guessing.
You boys who like dinky this and that get this: You can now buy a lounging robe and with a zip of the zipper you have a smoking jacket. These zippers are worrying me-that’s the trouble with the country today-too many zippers. I expect one of these days I’ll probably catch a zipper on a good place to catch a zipper and there will be me ??? all zipped out of my pants.
Cliffside has more population than Chapel Hill, and special to B. B. Goode: “Hi Mr. Policy Man.”
John Fisher, Cliffside boy, with C. W. Upchurch & Company in Charlotte, was in town Sunday afternoon in a racy conv-coupe.
Lewis Stone, actor and gentleman, now holds the very distinctive position of being the answer to a director’s hair-pulled ravings. Stone, Hollywood writers say, is star and yet is not a star-he does not steal a picture but makes himself conscious to the audience in any scene. His diction is one of the most interesting on the screen.
Cliffside is the stopping point of a musical revue now being rehearsed there. The show will tour the south and has several stars who have played the biggest street of the big town—Broadway.
Glenn McKinney, with Cliffside Mills in its weaving division, is quite a well known musician in Cliffside. McKinney plays the piano and clarinet. And when a fellow can play a clarinet with all those holes to stop up-I give him my appreciation of his efforts. Here’s to you, Glenn ole boy—knock ’em cold, son, knock ’em cold.
Another regular scout of Cliffside (we got plenty) is Shirley White. He has the best laugh in this town. I wait to hear him laugh when I am hungry. I really enjoy hearing him, it gives me a kick out of living. If we had more fellows of such good humor— whatta time, whatta time. I take a good laugh, but the trouble with it is, it sounds too much like a horse of the long ear kind, operating his only method of utterance.
Will Rogers (he is a great fellow) says the new monetary idea is this: they want to take the same amount of butter and put it on more pieces of bread. That would work but the capitalist says it is his butter. I’ll take waffles.