ARIZONA TRIBUNE, FRIDAY, MAR. 24, 1961,
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Pictorial Weekly
VOL. 3 f NO. 34
EOWARU BANKS. Publ.al... ond Edilof
ELOISE BANKS. Altitlsnl Editor
FRED BANKS. Stoll Phoiofiophci
E tltklithtd July 10, I9SB Pukluhtd every Thursday in Phoenir,
Ariiooo, 2 137 East Broodway, BR 6 2JO I
Subscription Rates
Vi Vi. SI 50 I y». 12 SO 2 yrs. S 3 SO
"all THAT IS NEEDED TO REMEDY THE EVILS OF
OUR TIMES IS TO DO JUSTICE AND GIVE FREEDOM.
ANNEXED.and liking it
A dead cottonwood tree fell on East Broad
way last week. This is hardly a momentous
subject nor a particularly interesting one y but
to view the cause and effect of the tree story
may change one's opinion.
Refuting Joyce Kilmer's verse about seeing
nothing lovelier than a tree y a look up the
southside of East Broadway Road makes it
possible. There stand or lean huge , gnarled
remnants of one stately cottonwood tree.
They are dying or dead , and they hang over
on the side of the gaping irrigation traps of
death for young children .
During a severe March windstorm , my
neighbor's chain link fence was crushed as
one of the dead trees crashed groundward.
Luckily my neighbor's small son wasn't play
ing in that part of the yard. Within twenty
four hours , the workers of the city streets
department had cleared a large portion of the
debris .
Two years ago y similar misfortune happen
ed when other friends lived next door. The
tree collapsed over their driveway , wrecking
the gate and blocking the entrance . Our neigh
bors were out of the city at the time and I
tried to get the county streets department to
remove it. I called the Salt River Power Dis
trict maintenance office , and I was told that
although the trees were part of their ditch
program , fallen trees were out of their do
main unless they were in the ditch .
Further calls to the county were fruitless
and finally , I flagged a trucker who agreed
to pull the huge tree out of the driveway.
When our neighbors returned from their hol
iday they were faced with a gigantic cleanup
job.
While there is verbal and legal action to
de-annex this area known as South Phoenix ,
this tree story is just one of the many so-call
ed unimportant ways that annexation to the
City of Phoenix has benefited southside citi
zens.
Those who fought incorporation and who con
tinue to protest , must enjoy the stench of un
collected garbage , the sight of trash and debris
the swerving reckless drivers , the daily mov
ing of shacks into the area and the swarms
of homeless dogs and cats straying about .
Annexation is a blessing not a bane , as some
would propagandize.
HII I 1 S " LOOK YOUR HA,R ,S SHOWING"
Phoenician k V‘;
BEAUTEE SALON
EL.OISE J. hill 21 J 0 E JEFFERSON
ESTELLE WARD
AL. 3-9989
P.3
SIGHTS
l
SOUNDS
ELOISE BANKS'
After a short rest period and
afternoon tea, we felt rejuven
ated. Our second night out in
Coventry began with a taxi ride
over the winding streets out to
Tile Hill. We were looking for
my husband’s favorite pub of
many years ago. The driver
took us up to FletchamteadHigh
way and we pulled up in the damp
night in front of the Phoenix Inn.
Mr. and Mrs. W.E. Howe, the
new owners, greeted us after
several regular patrons asked
Ed if he had once put up there,
(frequented the pub). One elderly
gentleman guided me toward the
group, then we all exchanged
names and salutations. Ed found
a friend of his deceased father,
Billy Banks, and he eagerly quer
ied him about his Dad’s last days.
The Phoenix Inn was divided
into four sections. There were
beautiful paintings hung on the
ivory colored walls of the lounge.
A baby grand piano stood on a
raised floor near a large open
fireplace. The yellow fingers of
fireflickers leaped about in a
crazy design. Thick red carpet
ing was underfoot. Large, invit
ing leather chairs were neatly
arranged in groups. Massive
drapes hung over leaded windows
and gave the huge area a feel
ing of coziness.
Small groups of men and women
stood or sat sipping and chatting.
Suddenly a robust Englishman
and his petite blonde companion
came over, he grabbed my
spouse’s hand and they shouted
like old friends should. Ed
hadn’t seen his buddy “Ossie”
for nearly 20 years. He and his
companion pulled up seats and
the chatter began.
Closing time comes quickly
in the pubs. Lights out and taps
off must come at half past ten
except on holidays when there
is a gracious hour extension. At
quarter past ten, the barman
begins his nightly spiel in a sing
song voice, “It’s time for your
last one, ladies and gentlemen,
what’ll be your last order?” His
closing lines were a bit differ
ent from one I had remembered
from Huddersfield but the mes
sage was the same and the patrons
quietly responded.
As we started to make arrange
ments to return to the Leofric
Hotel the owner, Mr. Howe whis
pered in Ed’s ear that he wanted
us to stay for a few minutes and
chat a bit. We agreed and sat
again with Ossie and his friend.
The two Howe boys joined us,
Richard, 10, and William 19. My
husband made a true friend when
he gave Richard an honorary
deputy’s badge.
I displayed the beauties of
our state with the colorful pages
of the Arizona Highways Mag
azine. Mrs. Howe couldn’t im
agine that the western states
really looked like the views in
movies and television films had
shown. She remarked that one
scene resembled a “Bronco”
scene that she had believed to be
a backdrop. All during our vis
it there at the Phoenix Inn, we
showed the Arizona Highways
Magazine to about twenty per
sons . We left a copy with the
Howes and promised to send
them some more when we re
turned home.
The Howes took us down in the
cellar and I was fascinated with
the huge tanks of ale and the
amazing cleanliness of the place.
Fans were in strategic points and'
an intricate cooling system kept
the liquid just the right temper
ature for thirsty tongues. Rob
ert showed me how a new tank
was tapped.
con’t, next
COLUMN
Vieivs, Previews* Reviews
EDWARD BANKS
Each Sunday two teams of collegians meet on a nationally tele
vised quiz program. Colleges send representatives to match knowl
edge, memory, or mental recall or worthwhile scholarships. Last
Sunday, I watched a contest that should have been called at halftime
as no contest.
One team, consisting of two young men and two young women from
Fisk University, at Nashville, Tenn., competed with four young men
from Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute at Troy, New York. Questions
ranged from political science to literature and the Fiskites made
one of the worst showings of any team that has appeared on the
program.
The final score was 295 to 45 in favor of the students from New
York. It was a real drubbing. I felt dismayed as the students from
Nashville answered incorrectly or made no answer.
It is true that one team has to win and one has to lose, but it is
expected that one team will not be left so far behind. Perhaps, this
is an indication that Fisk officials should make sure and choose
some better qualifiedall around students to appear on a quiz program.
A better showing should be produced by one of the top rated Negro
schools of higher learning.
Different pubs handled differ
ent brands of ale and beer. An
sell brands are rated very high
and the Howes were proud that
they had been selected to handle
it. We were accompanied on the
tour of the inn by a fierce-faced
English hound.
Time passed quickly and we
knew that we had a full day ahead.
Mr. Howe and Robert helped us
out into the slick driveway. It
had started raining and sleeting
during the night. We bade the
rest of the family and Oswald
and Elsie goodbye, as Mr .Howe’s
little Triumph skittered onto the
glistening highway. Within fif
teen minutes we pulled up outside
of the hotel. Getting out was al
most as difficult as getting in an
English made automobile—with
Several body gyrations, we were
once again on terra firma or
maybe sleety firma.
The night porter opened the
massive door (a European custom
of locking doors after midnight
which plagued us during our trip).
We instructed him to awaken us
with early tea at seven in the
morning, then he reminded us
that our nightly tea had been left
as ordered earlier and he wanted
to bring us a fresh pot. We dis
suaded him and caught the lift
(elevator) upward.
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The next morning we spent
packing and walking about* the
mall and arcade. I saw the mem
orial statue of Lady Godiva, the
fair lady of Coventry who rode
through the streets protesting
taxes, clothed in a flesh-colored
outfit that proved to be her own.
Possibly this ride on a white
horse provoked the gentry into
coining the phrase, “Didyou ever
see a dream walking?” or “Her
full length suit was skintight!”
Around noon we checked out
amid the usual rounds of staff
farewells.
Inside the lobby, another friend
was waiting for my husband. After
more handshakes and introduc
tions, we were ready for another
part of our visit to Coventry.
Shankland, was a Welshman, with
a wry smile and a caustic tongue.
He and Ed had been close friends
for many years, now he owned
a fleet of taxis.
COn’t, P. 3
SAMUEL WOOLRIDGE
LICENSED—BONDED
Electrical Contractor
REMODELING-REPAIRING
HOUSE WIRING A SPECIALTY
AL 3-1347 1110 W. PIMA