Verhovayak Lapja, 1940. július-december (23. évfolyam, 27-52. szám)
1940-07-11 / 28. szám
XXIII, VOLUME JULY 11, 1940 NO. 28. Pro and Con — The New Journal According to a section of one article in the last issue of the Journal, Margaret Stangret found my previous address to the contributors a bit distasteful. It had not been my idea at the time of the writing to begin a feud with any of the other contributors. However, since your opinion and mine follow such discordant lines, Margaret, and it was your idea to point out the difference, I feel bound by every human instinct to defend my viewpoint. You stated that you are certain of the fact that the Convention in 1939 did not appropriate money for a paper to replace the Literary Digest or íun competition to the Readers’ Digest; which is absolutely true. Yet did you stop to consider the fact that it would cost no more to cover eight pages of print with good material than it would to cover the same amount of space, inch for inch, with the “chitchat columns” our friend, Mr. Huzianyi, spoke of? It costs no more to send in ideas of widespread interest than it does for ideas restricted to the confines of a small circle, except a little more thought, of course Intersperse your branch news with other topics of various natures, and I assure you, it will cost the Journal no more to print it. To enlarge upon your side of the discussion about your competing with professional critics and reviewers at their salaries, but being only rank amateurs you are satisfied with your vain efforts; that to me is sheer nonsense! After all, those same professionals were amateurs themselves not too long ago, probably rank amateurs at that; and perhaps to begin with they did not have a medium of expression nearly so far-flung as the Journal. So did they remain satisfied with their vain efforts? You know the answer to that query as well as I. Self-satisfaction and security are two of the greatest elements that tend toward a stagnation of human talents. Perhaps nothing would fit the occasion quite so well as Shakespeare’s words, “And you all know, security is mortals’ chiefest enemy.” He knew how careless and rutted one could become if he were steeped in the satisfaction and security of his present state of being; and that, I am afraid, is exactly what happened to the Journal. Too many of the writers became self-satisfied with their usual type of chatter, and though perhaps some of them realized how necessary a change was, they themselves were too complacent to do anything about it. In Mr. Jozik we have a dreamer, yes, but a practical one; and between a practical dreamer and just a dreamer there are worlds of difference, for he works as hard as he dreams. I am sure if we had the chance to make the Journal a leading competitor of the amateur publications in the country, you too would feel proud of it, and any work you may have done to help it climb the ladder of recognition. So, self-satisfied rank amateur, or equally as amateurish but ambitious, not only for yourself but for the Journal, which will you be? —BETTY CAROL BALEGA. Life Insurance Salesmanship is a profession that involves more than the mere sffecting of a sale. The client acknowledges his dependence by consulting the salesman who should be willing to guide and assist him in the selection of the best form of life insurance protection for the needs of himself and beneficiary, regardless of the financial benefit to be derived from such sale, thus it becomes necessary to abandon the strictly selfish commercial view and assist the client to select that which will give him and his beneficiary the ultimate in life insurance protection within the ability to pay. LAUGHTER Laughter in golden musical notes Drifts through night from joyous throats; Across a fantastical, colored sea The rippling waves gently lift me And carry me far off into the land Of Laughter! On a silver strand The wind blows into the purple night Then falls like music in moonlight Which sings of Earth in mischievous themes And sends gay laughter into our dreams. —Amelia Nyers. (American First Serial Rights)--------------------o-------------------CONTESTANTS, Don’t Be Caught Off Guard When The Prospect Says: “I Haven’t Any Money” How do you interpret the answer of the prospect who says, “I haven’t any money”? In nine cases out of ten, what he really means to say is, “I haven’t any money for life insurance; I have plenty of money for cigars, prize fights, new cars and golf, but I haven’t any money for life insurance.” The only way to handle this prospect is to make him want life insurance more than he wants the other things. Exactly HOW to do this depends on your ability as a life underwriter. Your explanation of what life insurance will do for him must be so powerful that he will see the wisdom of putting his surplus cash into life insurance instead of buying things that have no lasting value. —United Mutterings. NOTICE OF CORRECTION “Youth, the Hope of Prosperity," by Betty Carol Balega, appealing on Page 3 of the June 27 English Issue, was a misprint, and should have read, “Youth, the Hope of Posterity." “Melancholia — 1940” A village street that once was fair, In the vast expanse a face is seen, Tossed on the waves with the flotsam there. Wreckage that once had human been. Yes, human once but not again, Hope long since lost, a bewildered thing. Her eyes great staring orbs of pain, Lips curled with hate that used to sing. She had been melancholy first When war’s dark shadows she saw fall, And then she thought her heart would burst To leave her town, her home, her all. Since then she’s stumbled through a haze, What matters that? She keeps moving on, And melancholy steeped for days, Scenes.indelible e’er they’re gone. She’s seen her young ones lulled to sleep With the cannon roar their lullaby, She’s heard them scream in slumber deep, Then heard that scream so softly die. She’s left her friends along the road Their places taken by faces new, Her shoulders bent beneath their load, Fatigue benumbed—God, what to do? She staggers on and then she slips With a soul and heart so horror crammed, A grin then splits her dust parched lips— She laughs the laughing of the damned! —BETTY CAROL BALEGA COSTLY FUN? It’s fun to follow the fire engines. It’s always a thrill to see the great red trucks' hurtling past, with their sirens screaming. And it’s fun to watch a fire. There is a primitive excitement in the sight of flame and smoke, and the sound of crackling wood. But, if we go beyond the superficial sensory pleasures, and start to think about what fire means, the fun is spoiled immediately. For fire is the grimmest of disasters. Fire kills some 10,000 Americans each year. These people meet the most horrible of deaths—and every cne of them die in vain. Directly and indirectly, America’s fire bill runs close to 2,000,000,000 each year. That money would build 400,000 excellent homes. It would buy three million good new automobiles. It would supply 2,000,000 people with jobs at over $80 per month each. It would provide 4,000,000 families with subsistence relief. To the individual, fire may be the most ghastly of experiences. It may mean death and injury. It may mean the loss of a job. It may mean the burning of irreplaceable possessions. It may mean ruin and despair and privation. For fire has no mitigating circumstances —it has no silver lining. It represents destruction, pure and complete. Consider this next time the fire engines scream by. Consider this next time you see smoke and flame and feel the angry heat of a burning building. And then it will seem more fun to help prevent a fire than to watch one! To Our Contributors Contributions intended for the July 25th issue should be in before or on July 20th. No guarantee of publication in particular issue can be given for material received after that date.
