Thompson 331214

Cliffside, Dec. 11 — To Charles H. Metcalf, Forest City: Thanks. Those remarks help to keep the column percolating. To Miles [Myles] Haynes, Cliffside: Your interest is appreciated and helps make the wheels go. Thank you.

Forest City Hi’s former football back, Suber, worked at the Goody Goody Barbecue the past summer at Morehead and Tryon in Charlotte. Fast boy with a pigskin, yessir!

Edward (Sonnyboy) Fisher picks up a popular tune quicker than any man’s business and O. K. Padgett, the Big Bad Boy, is an authority on dance orchestras and is a connoisseur of operettas.

This one has me goin, going-gone: Claire Trevor knocks me cold by producing a sack of tobacco, rolling her own cigarette and pulling the string with her teeth ‘n everything. She appears with this in “The Mad Game,” a kidnap story.

Cliffside Big Game Hunter: Walter Haynes. Other enthusiasts: M. Hendrick, J. C. Mills and Broad Simmons. The Forest City boys are giving birds and squirrels big worries; I learned the other evening while passing a few minutes at Jiggs Soda Shoppie. Robert Whitlock and Gene Austin resemble.

You, who have danced around Rutherford county have heard the new song ” Cutest Little Nudist of Mine” with words of something about how she can dance on a ….

And, “Doing the Uptown Lowdown” from Walter Winchell’s picture, ” Broadway Thru a Keyhole.” …. …. The serious moments in Eddie Cantor’s program can not always be measured by what Chase & Sanborn pay him. It is always a great lesson.

Miss Soandso, Rutherfordton: I am not endeavoring to write any Walter Winchell stuff through a keyhole, and if you will bear with me, I’ll write as I have been.

Mills Drug Store goes high hat with a renovated show window and soda fountain display case. And Friday night, there I talked briefly with Mr. Charles Haynes, who came in for a copy of “Movie Classic.”

And now Listerine springs this: “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Breath?” The age of nonsense, if you ask me.

My friend, Jake (James Kenneth) McMahan, who will take the bar examination in January, (Cosmopolitan Cliffside), gives me this line: “The hot dog, most noble dog in the world, which not only refuses to bite the hand that feeds it, but feeds the hand that bites it.” And Jake (with millions of ’em) continues, “What this country needs is more V-8’s and fewer plus 4’s. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, Jake. And I’ll bet you never suspected it, but I hang around strong-armed door silencers, just to see the doors spank the fat women.

Charlotte, Saturday evening: Barbara Morrell singing Handel’s “Roses of Memory” over the radio. At the close of the number a waitress dropped a waiter. I inquired, (smart-like) “Did something drop?” and another waitress offered, “She bumped her head,” and I hushed.

I was elated last week to meet Dr. and Mrs. Goodman of Rutherfordton. While here, they purchased towels manufactured in Cliffside.

Down the Street: In Cliffside, it’s just “down the street.” Not a loop. not a circle, not a square, and without Trafalgar Lions (London) or Grant’s Tomb horses (New York) or the traffic splatter of Times Square, (although you could be killed any work day at 12:00 noon), it is just a spot we all like. And an improved spot at that. With recent grading and concrete work and the ever attractive fountain in front of Cliffside Mills office. It will always be Cliffside, my home town.

Why doncha come down an see us sometime???