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1947_11_29--022-Houston

58 THE SATURDAY EVENING POST November 29, 1947 CHANGED TO BOSTITCH; DOUBLED PRODUCTION When this paintbrush manufac. Curer started Bostitching metal ferrules to wooden handles—replacing machine nailing—production rose from 425 dozen a day to about 900 dozen. Bostitch makes savings for others, too: the furniture manufacturer who panels the backs of mirrors at 50% lower fastening cost . . . the luggage maker who reduced floor space 80% for the frametacking operation . . . the bicycle manufacturer who fastens shipping cartons, top, bottom and one side, in 3 the former time. Whatever your combination of metal, plastics, wood, cloth, leather or paper, you can probably fasten it better and faster with one of the 800 Bostitch machines. 250 field men in 91 key cities, backed by skilled research engineers and 50 years' Bostitch experience, make it easy for you to get the right machine for any job. Write for facts about representative models from the world's largest and most versatile line of stitchers, staplers, tackers and hammers. Use the coupon below . today. BOSTITCH AND FASTER eoa irae04, uliiki rebtE- ALL TYPES OF STAPLES APPLIED BY MACHINES ALL TYPES OF MACHINES FOR APPLYING STAPLES Boatitch,329 Mechanic St., Westerly, FL I. (or Bostitch-Canada, Ltd., Montreal) Please send descriptive material on Boetitch time- and money-saving machines Name Company Address (Continued from Page 56) participants were court-martialed and hanged. By 1920 metropolitan Houston had grown to about 200,000 and the steady exodus of wool and petroleum from her port was mounting into a flood, and Houston's Anderson, Clayton & Company was beginning to dominate the cotton business all over the world. But until 1928 Houston was just one of the less colorful Texas towns that had made no impression on the national consciousness. When people outside the state had occasion to refer to it, they almost unanimously mispronounced its name and called it "House-ton." There were, no doubt, some of the members of the National Democratic Committee who were still guilty of this inaccuracy when the time came to determine the location of the 1928 Democratic convention. There were, of course, spectacular bids from all the big cities in the country. Acting for sky's-the-limit Houston, Jesse Jones handed the committee a blank check with his name signed to it. He asked the committee to thumb through the other bids and fill out his check to top them. Then, since there was not much more talking to be done, he got his hat and started home to begin getting things ready to receive the delegates. And by the time Franklin Roosevelt rose in Houston's Convention Hall to nominate Al Smith for the Presidency, Houston's name was as clearly fixed in the mind of the nation as were the signatures of the delegates in the desk registers of Mr. Jones' numerous Houston hotels. By 1930 the town's big buildings were being outshone by such impressive skyscrapers as the Esperson Building. Then the depression hit, and Houston just switched her tail and kept going. Oil flowed as freely out of the ground and through her port as ever before. One after another, important" distributing companies adhered to her business community. Oilfield machinery companies were covering more and more hundreds of acres with their wares, and were displaying ten-ton mud pumps in show windows as flossy as Tiffany's. Then the preliminary pulsations of World War II commenced their insistent throbbing. Houston's expansion began to sprint. In Washington, Jesse Jones controlled the billions of the RFC. He did not discriminate against Houston. A good many miracles needed to be worked. He knew exactly what Houston could do, and he had the money needed to give it its chance. Moreover, it became clear that the Japanese would not long let us have natural rubber nor the Germans continue to supply us with chemicals. Houston, protected by Gulf Coast outposts and with its channel now deepened to thirty-four feet, had excellent access to the sea. Also significantly, by way of the Intracoastal Canal, it had interior, relatively submarine-exempt barge communications stretching from Mexico to Florida and over the breadth of the Mississippi River system. Houston's domain had oceans of petroleum for making chemicals and synthetic rubber. Its cheap natural gas for industrial purposes was more or less limitless. So were its supplies of elemental sulphur for making acid, and salt for the production of chlorine and alkali. It had gypsum and vast, easily available deposits of oyster shell to burn into lime. Among its many other abilities, Dow Chemical Company at near-by Freeport even knew how to make magnesium out of Gulf sea water. The Government laid down better than $300,000,000 to give Houston's chemical industry a wartime start. And the proof of that industry's success can be seen in the fact that, since the war's end, that industry is spending another $300,000,000 of its own money in expansion, and is planning to expend other hundreds of millions in the near future. So dazzling in scale is Houston's new industrial adventure that Houston's own people are apt to forget the huge wholesale and retail business, the cattle and cotton, the rice and lumber, that kept the tcwn going until it was weaned, and which still continue to enrich it. In the piny woods to the northeast— where the names of such lumber kings as John Henry Kirby and Jim West will not soon be forgotten—hundreds of mills are still making the sawdust fly. Rice pours into the city for processing, packaging and shipping. Houston's dominance as a cotton port results from the fact that most Mississippi Valley cotton, which used to be shipped from New Orleans, now travels overland to Southeastern mills. It is primarily Texas cotton, shipped from Houston, that now feeds New England's spindles. Houston's cattle industry, long notorious for its lack of quality, has been vastly improved by more careful interbreeding with the lordly Brahmans, the sacred cows of India. The Brahman's thick hide is impervious to the ticks and mosquitoes in which the coastal region abounds and which lay lesser cattle low. Since Brahmans thrive on the relatively nonnutritive grasses of Houston's plains and marsh lands, and go right on eating when the burning summer sun drives other cattle to the shade, they have made Houston's cattle market a place of interest and Houston's annual Fat Stock Show a thing of grandeur. A Brahman calf will not only outgrow any other breed but the greedy and appallingly insistent thing will, if orphaned, take over the first milch cow he sees, of a less dominating type, as his personal dairy—this while the elder bossy is running full speed and kicking just as hard as she can. Houston itself is not too different from that Brahman calf. It is too occupied sating its own ravenous hunger to be particularly concerned with the dilemmas of its minorities. Yet a quarter of Houston's population is Negro. As in most Southern cities, they live principally in inadequate housing beside unpaved streets. They are not very welcome in labor unions, and consequently get less, generally speaking, for their labor than their organized white competitors. However, as a result of a recent Supreme Court decision, they are now allowed to vote in the hitherto sacrosanct White Man's Primary. Moreover, Houston has become the home of the new Texas University for Negroes. This is Texas' move, again under pressure from the Supreme Court, to offer full university training to Negroes, without admitting them to the white University of Texas at Austin. The Negro university is located roughly in the vicinity of the University of Houston, which got its start only a few years ago by employing public-school rooms at off hours. Today the University of Houston has lots of new buildings of its own and more to come. Its student body now many times outnumbers that of Houston's academically rarefied and splendid Rice Institute, where, at one time or another, such distinguished scholars as Julian Huxley have taught. Rice got its start on an endowment from wealthy William Marsh Rice and, incidentally, owns the ground beneath Houston's big old Rice Hotel on which the capitol of Texas once stood. Hard alongside Rice Institute's beautiful campus, Houston, in con- (Continued on Page 60) ONE OF 800


1947_11_29--022-Houston
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