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PAGE g Second Cuss Mail Registration Number 5540 Ready or not, here it comes. Another swift kick in the er, solar plexus for_the smokers of the work}. . . . Yes, more bad news for the gaspers, already saddled with arbitrary bylaws dictating where they can smoke, where they ean't, where they can eat, where they must sit on airplanes, what donut shops they are welcome in, what ski championships they can sponsor. The list is endless. Now they are target for a sling from yet another country heard rom. As of Jan. 1, the Kingston Whig-Standard daily newspaper plans to discontinue "most advertising" promoting the use of tobacco products, according to puhlisher Michael Davies: Davies reasons that research has shown smoking represents a serious health hazard, and that it is a social habit that will decrease significantly in popularity in the decades to come. So he's "giving the ball a bit of a push." At no small cost to his newspaper, we might add, since the Whig and its affiliated TV Times stand to lose about $50,000 worth of ad revenue from the move. Hopes are, says the publisher, that more advertisers (presumably in support of his move) will come on board to make up the difference. It is tough to find fault with Davies, especially since any personal gain or improved image the Whig receives will likely be offset by business losses, to say nothing of the move alienating the paper from its puffing (and paying) public. Furthermore, let's face it (oh, oh, here come the letters), smoking is a dubious habit at best, offering scant pleasure to those partaking, causing foul and filthy odors, inestimable health damage to smokers and non-smokers, and needless peer pressures among our curious, impressionable and reasonably healthy youth of today. To use a bad pun, it's a real drag. ' By the same token, while we defend the right of Davies to do as he pleases with the advertising department of his newspaper, the move raises some serious questions. Though many are not aware of it, any newspaper can refuse to publish any advertisement it so desires, without justification or reasonable cause. Court decisions have seen to that. Cigarettes, booze, foreign automobiles, political pressure groups, it doesn't matter. But one does wonder, as is one's right, whether or not the Whig move is personally or professionally motivated. After all, there is nothing illegal about tobacco products. They carry more than their weight at tax time, display warnings on their packages regarding health risks, and are readily available at any corner store. So as long as they remain legal, why play favorites? Why tobacco ads? Why not booze, too, and over-the-counter drugs? And how about automobiles? Goodness knows the harm they cause when abused. Where do you draw the ine? Mr. Davies may have good reason for taking the stand he did last week. But if he does, it will be interesting to see if his courage and conviction are backed by consistency. - _ , " , ' " . 'P' _ 4 Br MEN " . 4 ' " . ' “ . " ' I . " . a. f . 5 ' , 4 . a” f . _w . tr " " I' ' - q . _ "' , " ' ' . = . o" - ' It -- , W " _ .. ' . g ' . '55 'F' . ‘ , © , 8Pd - - , . IR a»; Lt ' "c Bt' C'. . _ ii .. . Rt! - ' " l a . " . D, & c, " . , " . " , T " - » - - I "gr' '8" WW 4 gaudy f was I " ' VHM’MgW, - , a? . _ ”m T m ”Mrwgfi «w _ eu-sr-v.-',,., "rv' J-e', rh ,.N w " ":1" 'ps w 'trJii'ir's "NM P IN". - . "iAsut 35553515" f t"ir"'t' 'Was ""', 00:52; (.- ur A: 4 "ri"' M', F'" 4. _ .1, . - WATERLOO COME. WEDNESDAY, “GENDER s. tttSo Snuffing puff published every Wednesday by Fairway Press, a division of KitchenevWaterloo Record IM., owner 225 Fairway Rd. s., Kitchener. Ont, Walenoo CNootcie othce 3 located on me Haney. While Law Omce BM trerar enuanca upper N001) Pam-no al the real ot the Manna openuoroaetoFriv90oam IoSOOpm address corresportdetu'e to Waterloo omce " Erin St E Waterloo. Um NN ILT, telephone an 2830 Publisher: Paul Winkler Manager: Bill Karges Editor: Rick Campbell established 1854 With your kind permission, I'll tell you a little Christmas story this week. We'll call it: "Turkey for Easter." _ - In my own home town, when I was a boy, a Turkey Fair was held every winter. shortly before Christmas. There was a district north of the town that was poor farming land. It was rough and rocky, like some parts of the Bruce Peninsula, and its inhabitants had a difficult time scraping a living out of the inhospitable land. So most of them grew turkeys. They'd let them run practically wild through the year, then bring them to town for the Turkey Fair. The main street would be lined with sleighs. cutters and old cars, all piled high with turkey for sale. Buyers would come from the cities. and the townspeople would all be out to pick up their Christmas fowl. As a result, the town street would be crowded. Jingllng. sleighbells. scurry- ing people, filled with the Christmas spirit, and crowds of turkey farmers and their families, with the sharp-faced buyers from Montreal and Ottawa scuttling to get the best birds for the least money. made it an exciting day for the town‘s youngsters. and quite a few of us didn't show up " school that day. I‘ll never forget one Turkey Fair, when I was about twelve years old. It was right in the middle of the depression. As usual, the street was lined with turkey farmers selling their wares by nine o'ciock in the morning. This was the big day of the year for them. The rest of the year, they barely managed to make ends meet. But when they had sold their turkeys, they were rich for a day. Some of them would have " much as thirty or forty dollary. a lot of money in those days. This. was for them. It meant that children would have something for Christmas, that Mother might get a new dress. or pair of shoes. that Father could have a few beers and maybe buy some shells for his gun, and that their credit at the store could be sustained. They were terribly poor. well. this one year, something happened. At the time. I had no idea what it was. but it was probably a glut of iowl on the market. and too irsartr-6enrttbmtrmmertotmrtur%rfete Grist-Isa. At any rate. the - Fair was an utteriailure.0alyaiewbuyersshowedap.alot Bill's story Bill Smiley Syndicated columnist of the townspeople simply did not have any money and were living on credit, and the farmers could not get rid of their turkeys. At first they were selling a few for ou- trageously low prices. twelve or thirteen cents a pound, instead of the usual eighteen to twenty- five. But by noon the turkey farmers were nearing panic. They were running around with a turkey in each hand, canvassing houses. trying to sell them for seven and eight cents a pound. By four o'cioek in the afternoon. the full extent of the tragedy had been revealed. Women stood by their sleigh-loads of turkeys with the tears streaming down their faces, and three or four of their children, cold and hungry. wailing in sympathy. The mens' faces showed anger. fright and bewilderment. It was a bitter day for them. It meant that instead of a Christmas full of warmth and happiness, they were faced with a Christmas bleak with despair. lacking every- thing that usually made it good, as well as a cheerless winter ahead. existing by the barest of margins. _ It was a shambles. Turkeys were hurled into the street and trampled on by bitter, frustrated men. Others spent their last fifty cents for a bottle of cheap wine and got drunk. The people of the town looked grave, sympathetic, worried. Even the heavens wept, and a downpour of freezing. rain fouled the white snow and increased the general misery. _ I don’t think I have ever felt more sad and depressed than I did that day, child though I was. When I got home, I wanted to spill all my feelings to my mother, but one look at her face told me she knew. She went about her work with that intense fury that always possessed her when she was trying to hide her feelings, and I knew better than to start babbling. A while later, my Dad came in with a long mee, and be and my mother held one of those iow~voiced conclaves that drive curious children crazy. Then he went back outside. My mother looked a little less harassed. Then the rest of the family began coming in. My younger brother started hernia; around and, with the tough indif%mgtee ot a Mr. I almost forgot ahMtheturkeyierneraaldtheirdaapeirJn the babble of the funny. (Continued on we! 7t Kat we!