Dunn is fairly well represented on the baseball map these days with Budd Pope winning every game he pitches in the Southern League and Girard Wilson doing the same in the Eastern Carolina League. Bud is with the mobile and Girard is with New Bern. If either has lost a session this season, such a loss has escaped our attention. Along with this we notice that O’Quinn and Caviness of Duke and Lillington respectively are setting the woods afire in the Piedmont League, to say nothing of the clouts of Johnson.
All of this reminds me that the professional leagues have not drafted the best there is down this way. Dunn was tagged to scrap up enough to take Four Oaks’ measure yesterday.
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O, gee; O, gosh; please deliver us from the turtle-shelled exclusiveness ththat impends. We’ve been just plain ole Dunn for some thutty or more years now, and have managed to mosey along without any “exclusivesters” to speak of and the going has been good. True, some of our leading moonshing and bootlegging families have managed to garner more than their rightful share of sheikels, but that don’t mean nuthin in the final reckoning. Let’s lay aside this exclusive stuff and be good fellows together. Any one of us is just a common as any the rest of us, if we go down to bed rock.
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In the language of one of our best friends, we love and respect you, gals, but do lay off of that late night or early morning motoring stuff. The cops see you. We see you. Of course we are not going to tell anybody. But some time mother and dad might see you alighting from the limmysine at 1 a.m., and then there will be the divvle to pay. Take my advice and don’t do it.
Night noises along Broad Street: Chug, chug, chug, chug, chuff; crash; screams; then the tinkle of breaking glass. Was your daughter in the party?
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Without any desire to impeach the honorable gentleman who held up half o the umpiring in yesterday’s game with Four Oaks, we wish to give credit to little Sanderson for about the juiciest two-bagger men in these parts for some time. His umps declaring it was a foul, which was his privilege (line obscured). But if a fair ball has been hit in the local field this year, that clout was such by at least five feet. His ump was in error. His fault was in remaining glued to the central station when he should have been along the lines with a periscope.
Bad umping seems to be the rule in this li’l league of our’n. But for each Dunn would have won the session against Selma last Friday. Two of the visitors’ runs against James Cameron Smith were registered on a batted ball that was foul by several feet. The fault, however, was not entirely with the umpire. He evidently mistook the quarter flag of the race track for the foul line, and no one could blame him. Soon after that faux pas, Daniels, the Dunn half of the umpiring staff, declared a hit by Ferrell to be fair when it looked to us foul by some several inches. This, though, did not result in disaster to Selma. Sam died right where he was placed by the umpire. The Selma foul blow counted two runs and resulted in a tied score at the end of the game.
From the Dunn Dispatch, June 21, 1921
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