COMMODITIES: Much Ado in Memphis

Rheumatic old King Cotton let out a loud roar. Partly a roar of defiance, partly a roar of pain, it rose up out of the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, where the National Cotton Council was assembled in annual meeting.

Leaders of the South's long-ailing major industry, habitually dependent for protection on Southern oratory in the halls of Congress, announced that hereafter they would fight their own fights—to a certain extent.

Cried Mississippi Planter Oscar Johnson, the Council's owlish president: "Cotton can defeat any competitor on today's horizon if it is given equality with that competitor in scientific support, sales pressure and production...

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