Supreme Court upholds pastor’s conviction
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As Allies pounded Pantelleria –
12,000 escaped bombings in underground hangars
Bombardments wreck sliding doors to plane shops in hillsides; 90 wrecked craft found
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Roving Reporter
By Ernie Pyle
Somewhere in Africa –
We are apt to think of Saturday night as a peculiarly American institution. But like a lot of other things that we just assume belong to us, Saturday night is universal.
It is the night to howl, the world over. That holds just as true in the jungle as on Broadway. Everywhere in the jungle, the natives dance and drink and sing on Saturday night.
So, one Saturday night in Liberia, we went across the river to see a village dance. A native boy rowed us across the black water in a long dugout canoe.
The dancers were about 10 Negro girls in long cotton-print dresses, half a dozen or so young men, and a scattering of grinning, half-naked kids. As far as I could ever see, the dance consisted of nothing more than hopping around in a big circle.
Soldiers want jungle touch
There were already some soldiers standing around when we arrived. Some of the Negro boys in the village worked as houseboys for the Americans, so one of them came over and got chairs for us.
To tell the truth, the dance was pretty tame. Gradually the American soldiers, as they do the world over, decided they wanted a little more life in it. It was their wish and desire that the dancing girls take off their blouses. It was not an especially outlandish request, since the girls go around all week without any blouses. The Americans wanted to get the real jungle touch, you know, such as you see in pictures.
Well, negotiations for the hoped-for striptease were started through the houseboy who worked for the lieutenant with us. The houseboy left to put the matter before the chief.
Pretty soon, a different Negro boy came back, stood directly in front of us, and made a speech. It was in pretty good English, fairly normal, and very flowery.
Six bucks ‘uncover’ charge
He was, he said, speaking as an official representative of the chief, welcoming us to the village. The chief was proud to have us, sent his royal respects, and hoped we were enjoying the dance. Anything the village had was ours.
We were touched. It might well have been Sumner Welles welcoming the new ambassador from Brazil. We were ashamed we’d thought of anything so crude as our striptease request. We abandoned the whole idea, and the lieutenant was just rising to deliver a courtly reply to the chief’s welcome, when the boy launched into the second half of his prepared address.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was to the effect that if we could spare up the nominal sum of six bucks among us, the chief would attend to the blouse business in a big way!
The lieutenant was pretty sore over this, especially when it came out thar the other soldiers had already forked over $4 for the same purpose. But it looked like all or nothing, so we dug up $6 and, by shaking ourselves, once more achieved the transition from ministers plenipotentiary back to ordinary guys in the front row.
Be patient, chief says
And then for an hour, the dance went on, just as usual. Every 10 minutes or so, the lieutenant would send word to the chief that we were still waiting and to hurry up.
The chief, who looked like any other Negro you ever saw, was sitting in dignity on his back porch about 20 feet away, but the business had to be conducted through an emissary. Each time, the chief would send back word to be patient, that such things took time.
Finally, after another half-hour, the lieutenant got mad, and went in person to the chief. They palavered a long time. When he came back, he said the chief was practically in tears.
The whole affair was off, and the chief had given our money back. The girls had refused to obey his command. They didn’t mind taking off their blouses, since they don’t wear any all week anyhow. That wasn’t the trouble. They were just using it for an issue.
Chief defied publicly
The chief confessed to the lieutenant that his power over the village had been slipping for some weeks. Tonight was the showdown. He had been defied tonight, and he couldn’t publicly lose face like that and keep his hold. He was finished. Poor chief.
We got in the canoe and rowed back across the river. The girls were dancing and laughing their defiance of the chief when we left, and we could still hear the tom-toms back at camp.
The whole thing was a confusing study in human psychology. As a dance, it wasn’t half as good as you’d find in any Saturday-night cotton patch in our own South. But as a study in drawing-room neurotics, Noël Coward himself couldn’t have produced a better one.
And as a final puzzle in our psychological drama, why are soldiers anxious to pay 10 bucks on Saturday night for the same thing they can stand around and look at all week for nothing? Don’t ask me, I’m just a stranger here myself.
Dewey’s lead in big puzzle for his party
Uncertainty of candidacy stirs talk of trying new buildup
By George Van Slyke
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U.S. Navy Department (June 15, 1943)
Communiqué No. 412
South Pacific.
On June 13:
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During the day Navy fighter planes in the South Pacific damaged a Japanese reconnaissance bomber.
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During the night, Japanese bombers were over Guadalcanal Island. A small number of bombs were dropped. No personnel or material casualties occurred.
The Pittsburgh Press (June 15, 1943)
ITALIAN BOOT, SICILY BLASTED
Big bombers rip Messina, setting fires
Battleship disclosed hit in Fortress attack on Italian fleet
By Reynolds Packard, United Press staff writer
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Ruhr arms city hammered
18 planes lost in attack on Oberhausen; day sweeps resumed
By Walter Cronkite, United Press staff writer
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Signature or veto?
Bets are down on strike curb
Roosevelt’s decision on bill question of week
By Fred W. Perkins, Press Washington correspondent
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O’Neill fails to close deal on mine wage
Tentative portal-to-portal pay of $1.30 blows up, spokesman says
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Father draft delayed –
Deferments of young men cut sharply
Crackdown may postpone call of dads beyond Oct. 1 deadline
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