A little fellow stood in the doorway of a cold house and gnawed on a piece of hard bread. He complained to his mother about being hungry and was joined by a mixed chorus of six or seven other hungry voices. The frail mother uttered a low sigh and closed her tired eyes as if to get momentary relief from the morbid life about her. Eight small children, husband dead, rented home and there she was sick abed.
Three blocks away, a little girl around nine years of age, who might have been pretty had it not been for the fact that she was undernourished, walked slowly down the street without even a sign of shoes on her cold, little feet and temperature below zero.
Not five blocks further, in the northern direction, a man stood on the corner, grimly silent, both hands in the pockets of his shabby top coat, disappointment stamped on his countenance. His only plea, the finding of a job. His was gone, but his family had to eat; the rent had to be paid. This sounded logical enough.
The above sketches may sound like "trial leads" for a novel of New York tenement life, or introductory paragraphs to a human interest story, but they were not intended for either. They appear in this week's issue of "The Reflector" as actual reports of true cases of unfortunate citizens right in our community, in our race and in our city. Domestic labor, in Charlottesville and at the University, has been reduced; construction work is at a standstill and many, many Negroes are in need of immediate relief. The few local organizations are doing their best to aid the reported cases but, available data shows that the cases are on the increase. So, the above sketches were taken from the notebook of a local news reporter and printed here to remind you that suffering is going the rounds and that this winter promises to be a hard one.
Consequently, if you have wearing apparel, food or a piece of money that you could spare, or even make a sacrifice, I appeal to you to get in touch at once with the Community Welfare Organization. Don't wait. Your brother is hungry. Look at your supply and see what you can inch off to help a fellow in distress.