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er, employee of H. L. Hunt, expert on everything, and one of the world’s most unusual people. A corporation was formed, and it bought Hudkins out. The name was changed to the Dallas County Journal, and two newsmen, a press agent, and an assistant district attorney brought a collection of jugs out to the offices of the Garland Daily News and put out the first edition. The next morning the folks at Garland surveyed the dead soldiers and asked the editorial team not to come back. That is the way things went from then on. That first issue said that the paper was a non-partisan weekly dedicated to downtown Dallasparticularly the area around the court house. The non-partisan bit was a laugh. The paper was written and edited on a haphazard basis by people with liberal feelings. There were a few Louis the XIVth types on the stockholder list, but they seldom did anything more than complain. They were, however, entitled to contribute at any time. Since they seldom did, it’s hard to say whether or not their stuff would usually have wound up in the circular file. The congregating point for the Journal staffthe paper was so informal that there was no such thing as an editorial staff or a payrollwas Joe Banks Cafe, conveniently located on the lower part of Main Street. The beer is still a quarter at Joe’s, so the Journal staffers were able to spend a lot of time observing life on Big Dee’s main stream. Without moving you could catch a glimpse of the whole circus. The Journal’s business affairs were always in worse shape than its editorial side, so things never really got started. Then Homer Montgomery, the assistant D.A., 16 The Texas Observer 1 disappeared in the direction of Mexico City and the real death rattle set in. Birchville needs a paper put out by somebody who isn’t in love with ex-General Whats-his-name or so afraid that Main Street will cancel ads that he doesn’t print anything. But now there is no voice left to record the doings of the gas merchants at the courthouse, the Popsy Hunt fans at the Cop Shop, and those lovely “civic leaders” in between. And that friends is too damn bad. ED COCKE Dialogue This Stored Hate . . . the whole bizarre affair occurred in the Southor at least in a state that shares hate with areas of the South. This hate is encapsulated by prejudice, is thus stored and preserved, but continues to ferment, somehow, and erupts now and again. What troubles me is the possibility that it was this stored hate which erupted in hostility in Dallas. Perhaps the probability of an event like that is greater in Texas, or Louisiana, or Alabama, for example, than it is in other regions of our. country. . . . Will some of the newspapers continue to use the high ambient hate level to sell copies? Will persons like me continue to retire to their own tight little closed communities of reasonably rational but disinterested workers who share similar definitions of right and wrong? Don C. Teas, 4634 Echo Glen Dr., Pittsburg, Pa. This Atmosphere of Hate As a Texan living away from home, maybe what I have to say will be of some comfort to Texans. Iowans feel as Texans should that the shame of what has happened does not belong to Dallas, or even to Texas. All of us who have ever been intolerant or accusative in our political differences have contributed to this atmosphere of hate which is the breeding ground for violent deeds. . . . It is a large body of common agreement known as the democratic consensus which binds us together. Partisan political activity involves itself only in disagreement over the rather superficial aspects of the operation of the system. … After the campaigns are over ; after the congressional battles are finished, we must live and work together within the society. Charles P. Elliott, 1403 10th St., Coralville, Ia. Staring Into Coffee The November 15th issue reports an incident that happened in Columbus when a group of Democrats, which included some Negroes, were refused service in a local cafe. Mr. H. E. Tipton tells me that his group got off the bus, tired and sleepy, and went into a Hempstead cafe. After most were seated a young Negro lady came in, and before she could even say anything, a waitress walked up to her and said she would have to go around to the back door. Tipton got up quickly and said he did not care to be served in the place. . . . his companion joined Tipton ; all three filed out. Tipton was pretty put out because the rest of the people looked at their coffee and ignored the happening. Ronald G. Skaggs, 2301 Huckleberry: Pasadena, Tex. ‘