Feb. 20, 1958

I may not be much of a bear around the house, but as a journalist, I’m fearless.

I give you All the News That’s Fit to Print. I am an Independent
Newspaperman For All the People, the Voice Slightly West of the Rocky
Mountain Empire.

I Dare, Where Others Don’t.

So if you want to get my typewriter fighting mad, just tell me that yours is a story too hot to print.

That’s what E.B. "Jett" Simrell did yesterday. He sent me a copy of an
appeal to the nation which–according to him–newspapers had refused to
print, even as a paid advertisement.

The appeal read in part:

To divorced men, all he-men and womanly wise females: 

Do you believe we should and must have: 

1–Organized effort to put men legally back in the driver’s seat at home? 

2–Laws that will give a GOOD man
the legal power to securely hold and protect his home and family
against the whimsy and unbridled emotions of his dreamy, unrealistic,
over-romantic mate?

Naturally, although I wouldn’t say so publicly, I sensed that maybe Simrell was onto something big.

And I became even more convinced when I read his printed statement further:

It is man’s fault! We let
our guard down … If we have any guts left we can restore men and
women to their respective domains as nature intended. 

I am ready to dedicate the remainder of my life to restoration of the male-female identity in America. 

I am not a woman-hater–I love ‘female’ women. 

ARE YOU READY TO FIGHT?

Was I! I was so fighting mad that I grabbed up my phone and within seconds, had Jett Simrell on the line.

"Jett," I demanded, "is it true that other newsmen squirmed out of printing your story?"

"True," he said. "They even turned down a three-inch paid ad."

"Then, buddy," I assured him, "you’ve come to the right man. Spill it."

Jett cleared his throat. Then he began.

"For one thing," he said, "females won’t use their womanly wiles on you anymore. They’d just as soon punch you in the nose.

"But I’d rather see a few women spanked on their bottoms than see
thousands of kids running wild in a state of mass confusion. And that’s
what the wholesale divorces are doing today."

Jett paused. Then he started again.

"Yes, I was married. For more than 15 years. I’ve got three wonderful
daughters. I picked out a young wife who hadn’t been immersed in the
attitudes of the so-called modern woman.

"For six years, it worked out. But slowly, she started picking up on
what she heard on the radio, read in the papers and learned from
neighbor women. She started wanting all kinds of liberties.

"I gave her some. And she wanted more. Well, to end it briefly, she finally got everything I worked for."

Jett cleared his throat.

"Each sex has its own place," he went on. "Women should be women. Men should be men. Is that asking too much?"

I agreed with Jett that, definitely, it wasn’t.

"Then you’ll join my campaign? You’ll get in the fight to put the pants back on the man."

"I would, Jett," I replied, "but I can’t. I’ve got a previous appointment."