The Maycomb Voice
Issue No. 132; December 12, 1930
I’m sure everybody is well aware that we haven’t seen snow in Maycomb since 1885. Waking up to a snowfall was quite surprising to the town as a whole. Most of the children didn’t even know what snow is, well until recently, of course. I ran into little Scout Fitch in the street the other day and asked what she had thought of the snow, “I didn’t even know what it was! I hollered for Atticus ‘cause I was sure the world was endin’!” School was closed that day.
I remember my childhood in the north. Every winter we had lots of snow, so I wasn’t as appalled as the rest of the town. The first good snow, my siblings and I would bundle up in lots of layers: long johns, 3 pairs of pants, 3 pairs of socks, 2 pairs of gloves, 3 shirts, 2 sweatshirts, a coat, and a hat. We would then go outside and play all day or until we became soaked. We would sled, have snowball fights, build snowmen, and go ice skating. After we had all turned blue, we would go inside for mom’s famous hot chocolate. The warm chocolatey liquid running down my throat and through my veins. It would instantly warm one. I wouldn’t be surprised if most children here have never even had hot cocoa. In a way, children of the south are deprived; they never get to experience the different seasons the way that northern children do. They never know the feeling of ice skating or ice fishing or sledding. They never understand the true meaning of a “white Christmas”. Most of them never have a snowball fight or build a snowman or just play in the snow. Most children of the south don’t ever know the feeling of snow or how it tastes or the beauty of a single snowflake. For this, I am grateful for my northern childhood.
Miss Stephanie Crawford's Gossip Column
Boo Radley Goes Insane
Arthur (Boo) Radley just may have earned his nickname last Friday. It seems that Boo was cutting up newspapers for his scrapbook like he normally does. Mrs. Radley said that everything seemed fine, “He wasn’t acting differently, but I got a weird feeling.” Mrs. Radley should have listened to her gut and got out.
Mr. Radley came home from work and greeted his wife. Mr. Radley and Boo have always been close. It seemed that Mr. Radley just understood Boo on a different level. He knew his son was different, but he accepted him for it and did activities that Boo enjoyed. Sometimes they played cards. Sometimes they cut up newspapers together. Sometimes Mr. Radley even helped Boo catch the cats and squirrels that he ate.
One thing definite about Boo is that he can get very jealous. He pouts when his father talks to anyone else. When Mr. Radley came home from work that eerie day and kissed his wife, Boo became more jealous than usual. While Mr. and Mrs. Radley were in an embrace, Boo came running at his mother with a pair of scissors in hand. Mr. Radley screamed and she turned around. It looked as if he was going to pierce her in the heart. All of a sudden, Boo tripped on the lamp cord and fell, missing his mother and actually piercing his father’s leg. Boo will shortly be admitted into an insane asylum.
Tom Robinson was found guilty early this morning in his case verses Miss Mayella Ewell. Tom Robinson was accused of raping Miss Mayella Ewell on the night of November 21st in the home of the Ewells’. According to Mr. Heck Tate’s and Mr. Ewell’s testimonies, Mayella suffered from major bruises on the right side of the face, mainly within the eye area, and dark red hand marks around her neck. However, with all the mayhem from the raping, there was not a doctor called nor fetched to document the bruises or check the victim to make sure she was in a stable condition. Miss Ewell stated in her testimony that she had asked Mr. Tom Robinson to come inside the gate and help her chop up an old dresser that her father had asked her to get rid of previously. Miss Mayella admitted that she has had Mr. Robinson over previous times to help with other around the house chores. When Mayella went inside to fetch a nickel to pay Mr. Robinson for his work, Robinson allegedly followed Miss Mayella Ewell into the house, overpowered her, and then raped her. Mr. Ewell then stated in his testimony that when he saw Tom through the window overpowering and hurting Mayella, he yelled and ran into the house as fast as possible and, by that time, Mr. Tom Robinson had already fled the scene. However Mr. Ewell did not want to follow and catch Mr. Tom Robinson because he wanted get ahold of Mr. Tate as soon as possible, and comfort his poor Mayella. The jury was out a mighty long time making sure they made the right decision, and after a few hours, the jury came to the verdict of Mr. Robinson being guilty. Folks here in Maycomb are saying that because the jury took so long to convict Robinson, it is showing that there is less segregation within the small town and that these court cases one day aren’t going to be Black and White cases anymore.
The snowfall this past week made me muse into my childhood up in the north. I lived up in Ohio and every winter there would be the bright and beautiful flakes. It was my favorite season, and it was the reason I loved growing up in the North. The snow made me miss waking up to the bright white snowflakes just afalling every winter. When I was a child I would get up and wake up my brother and sisters, and we would go play in the snow. We would bundle up before going outside wearing layers upon layers of clothes to make sure we wouldn’t get chilled. Our favorite thing to do was making different snowmen. We would make the different snowmen look like different fellas within the communities. Momma didn’t like the fact we dressed our snowmen up as people from the community; she said it was disrespectful. So I would tell her, “Momma, life’s like a box of chocolates: you never know what you’re gonna get. Now we got us some snowmen.” My brother, sisters, and I would always take a good yelling from my mother for taking clothes out of the closets to dress our snowmen We would spend all afternoon decorating the snowmen then after we were done we would go down into the lake and ice-skate. My eldest sister was named Helen, and she hadn’t an idea how to ice-skate, but she sure tried her heart out. Every time she would try to go around the corner she would fall, and every time she would get going fast, she would fall too. My littlest sister was Marie, and she was the best ice-skater I ever saw. She was the one to teach me when I was just about 12 years old. After a long day of playing in the snow we would all come in, turn on the radio, and climb under warm blankets. Those were the good ole days being a kid and playing in the snow.
Dear Mrs. Dubose
Dear Mrs. Dubose,
After all of this hub-bub around Tom Robinson’s court case, I seem to be seeing a lot of Bob Ewell around my house. I live just down the street from the Robinson’s home and it sure is worrying me. Helen, Tom’s wife, has a job and I feel like he is following her when she’s walking to and from work. If he is, should I get involved? Mr. Ewell is a nasty, dangerous man if nobody else will say so and I’m afraid he’ll hurt Helen! I hear some nasty language gettin’ thrown at the woman and it’s a shame. Helen shouldn’t be bullied by some mean man whether the jury said her husband was guilty or not! It’s not my place to give a verdict on Mr. Robinson, but I can sure say that nobody should give his wife any problems!
May I just say, how dare you. How can you write to me defending a black woman? Those people deserve what they get. You, ma'am, are just insane. I don’t care what Tom Robinson did or didn’t do. I do agree, however, that Mr. Bob Ewell is a disgusting man. He drinks his life away and doesn’t give a care about his family or house. He is a disgrace to the great town of Maycomb. Also, you should not get involved. Let disgusting Mr. Ewell take care of the disgusting Robinsons. You stay away and do something productive! I’m in here writing letters to you people when I could be out gardening. I’m sacrificing my time to hear you talk about pity for black folk. I do not want to hear about you getting involved with their lives now, ya hear?