The News Journal from Wilmington, Delaware • Page 18

A18 Del. Friday, Dec. 21, 1984 The News-Journal papers Gannett newspapers Brian Donnelly, President and Publisher Susanne P. Corty and Joseph J. Hanson, John H.

Taylor Jr. Editorial Page Editor Editorial Writers John R. Jurden, Editorial Cartoonist Mary M. Baker, Editorial Assistant Opinion oviet salvo "IKHAIL S. GORBACHEV has caused some confu sion in the ranks of those who watch and interpret every move of the Kremlin hierarchy.

Com 4 A few old thoughts related to S. Africa rade Gorbachev is a key member of the Soviet Politburo and widely regarded as the heir apparent to aging Konstantin Chernenko, party chairman and president. This week, while visiting Great Britain, Comrade Gorbachev and his wife were a social and diplomatic sensation, behaving as few top-ranking Soviets ever have in the West. From their stylish clothes to their relaxed and humorous conversations, the Gorbachevs caused quite a stir. Absent was the dour Russian image.

Does any of this mean anything? The answer, of course, is yes, no and maybe. Mikhail Gorbachev has risen relatively rapidly into the Soviet inner sanctum. His position, heir apparent or not, is one of considerable power. His public appearance is carefully calculated. At 53, he is one of the Politburo's youngest members.

Was Mr. Gorbachev's social whirl a private attempt to present the world with a new image of Soviet leadership, one that is at home in the more outgoing, less rigid world of Western diplomacy? Or was he but an emisary, a functionary of a changed attitude in Moscow? He carried an important message to London. It was a message intended for the United States. The first part was a reiteration of the Soviet Union's declared intention to resume serious arms negotiations next month. The second was typically Russian: "You must make the first move or there can be nothing substantial achieved." Comrade Gorbachev may be wearing fashionable clothing these days and his cocktail party conversation may be more animated than that of his predecessors, still he is a Russian and a Communist.

It ought not to be overlooked. The sojourn in London was the first salvo of next month's scheduled meetings between U.S. Secretary of State George Shultz and Andrei Gromyko, the Soviet Foreign Minister, to begin talk of arms control and reduction. It was a classic Soviet attempt to get the upper hand. It need not be feared, just recognized and understood.

Remember, the Soviets asked for the new talks. They did so because they were unsuccessful in their effort to block the introduction of U.S. missiles in Europe. They also are desperately opposed to the Strategic Defense Initiative the so-called Star Wars program which President Reagan has proposed. Mr.

Gorbachev's call for keeping weapons out of space apparently referred to this program. In all relations with the Soviet Union, one must be constantly on guard. Appearance and reality do not always mesh in the Soviet Union. Then, again, sometimes they do. James J.

ICilpatrick HERE IN the capital the demonstrations continue. A little after 3 p.m. each weekday, 30 or 40 marchers assemble near the Embassy of South Africa. For an hour they walk in a tidy minuet. At 4:30 the afternoon's three honorees step politely through the police lines, approach the embassy door and symbolically seek entrance.

They link arms and accept an escort to waiting police sedans. The TV crews depart. The demonstration dissolves. These tableaux have all the spontaneity of Dresden clocks. I have covered demonstrations by miners, teachers, air traffic controllers and striking utility workers.

They exhibited real passion. By contrast, the neatly choreographed embassy performances seem to come from Central Casting. These are demonstrations geared to a fast food society. They are as thin as a sheet of newsprint, ephemeral as a TV image, but they have been marvelously effective. They have caused many Americans to think seriously about South Africa for the first time; they have prompted the president to speak more forcefully to this issue than ever before.

The producers and stage managers have much credit coming. So let us think together. I would direct thought toward a few old ideas. One old idea is that mores the morally binding customs by which a society is identified tend to gation's slow process is in motion. Another old idea is that persons who hold power seldom surrender power willingly.

It is folly to suppose that the power structure in South Africa peaceably will swallow black majority rule. The situation in South Africa is unlike the situation elsewhere in Africa. When Britain yielded on Rhodesia, white Rhodesians, if they wished, could go home to England. Portuguese who left Mozambique and Angola could go home to Portugal. Belgians who abandoned the Congo could go home to Belgium.

But South Africa's 5 million whites already are home. They are no one's colonials. They will never abandon power without a desperate struggle. If such a struggle is to be avoided struggle even bloodier than our Civil War all of South Africa's best minds must be encouraged to seek peaceful alternatives. The "homelands" concept seems to be working poorly but at least addresses the reality that the loyalties of most South African blacks are not national but tribal.

"One man, one vote" is not a solution; it is a motto, for ideologues to wear on their sleeves. Patience is the oldest idea of all. Let us keep things in perspective the perspective of time, the perspective of other oppressions elsewhere and let us now and then contemplate the beam in our own eye before we castigate the mote in Pretoria's. evolve slowly. Another old idea is that within such an evolution, certain aspects of human nature remain fixed and constant.

The United States has known precisely such an evolution in its own race relations. I think back 30 years and 30 years is the merest tick of time's clock to the mores that characterized Richmond, Mobile and Atlanta in 1954. Every public institution was rigidly segregated: schools, parks, restaurants, theaters, libraries, hospitals, streetcars. But the winds of change, unfelt or ignored, had been blowing for at least 100 years. The evolutionary process was in motion.

With a couple of powerful shoves from the Supreme Court and the Congress, the structure of state-sanctioned segregation began to topple. Nothing of the structure When I first visited South Africa 20 years ago, I found in Pretoria and Cape Town the mores of Richmond and Mobile greatly magnified. But as a "60 Minutes" documentary made clear Sunday, things change and attitudes evolve. It is too much to say South Africa's structure is toppling, but desegre Essex- Wessex idea rooted in real issue The amazing centennial of immigrant Miller 1HE NAME might be the easiest part of the problem. If TT 1 the Sussex coastal area should split from the rest of the county, turning Delaware into a four-county president of the Home Building and Loan Association for the umpteenth time, the Evening Journal wrote: "In its 180 years, the United States has bred many legends but none is more enduring than the tale of the penniless immigrant boy who leaves his home in the old world to seek his fortune in the new woild.

Nathan Miller is the embodiment of the legend." It was largely through Miller's efforts on the State Parks Commission that it was decided to turn Pea Patch Island and Fort Delaware into a state park which each summer draws thousands of visitors from all over the country. Also, there's a fantastic story of how Nathan Miller, at a friend's request, in 1924 started the New Castle-Pennsville ferry. It gave the old Wilson Line's ferry such competition that Wilson had to buy it out and use it instead of the Wilming-ton-Penns Grove crossing. A pity there's not to be a Nathan Miller Centennial Dinner at which 1 immigrant success stories could be retailed far into the night. Bill Frank is a News-Journal col OK, old-timers, let's chat today about a legendary Delawarean, Nathan Miller, founder of the Miller Bros, furniture store.

Yes, Nathan Miller died on Sept. 7, 1967, but very few old-timers or even officials of the Delaware Jewish community, of which Miller was once a very important figure, know that tomorrow is the Nathan Miller centennial. He was born Dec. 22, 1884, on his father's farm near the Polish village of Olita. Nathan Miller's two older brothers came to the United States in the 1890s.

When he was about 14, Nathan decided not to remain in what was Russian territory and be drafted into the czar's army. Working his way to Belgium, and then earning money for a low-priced steamship ticket, he, too, arrived in this golden land. After landing in New York, he drifted to Philadelphia, Chester and, around 1904, Wilmington. Thus began the story of how this youngster became a big wheel and positive influence in Delaware and raised a family, including a son, Seymour, who as a U.S. Army lieu- brand new U.S.

citizen, his English not of the best, bracing Wilmington Trust's top officers for a loan. The story is that as he finished there was silence until one glassy-eyed banker said, "But, Mr. Miller, this is 1915 and there's a war in Europe. Suppose we lend you the money you ask for and the whole world blows I'm told Nathan Miller looked at the bankers almost with pity and said, "Gentlemen, if the world blows up, what will you care about where your money is? We'll all be in the same boat." More silence and a few coughs. Then the bankers told Nathan Miller he'd hear in a day or two.

The answer was, "Yes, you can have the money. -We share your faith in our country and future." So the Miller Bros, store began. As business thrived, Miller became deeply involved in such projects as chairmanship of the 1920 Jewish War Relief campaign, Liberty Loan and various hospital drives and formation of a building and loan association that reached the $4 million bracket. In 1956 when Milter was elected Bill Frank tenant was killed in action at St. Lo, Normandy, July 26, 1944.

Learning English as well as he could, he peddled notions door to door until his brothers, Samuel and Charles, arrived here. The three opened a variety store at 607 W. 2nd specializing in furniture. Business was so good that Nathan Miller opened a furniture store at 213 Market then in one of downtown's busiest areas. Nathan Miller married Anna Schultz in 1906.

She died in 1934. Six years later, he married Esther Zucker, who survives him. Nathan Miller had three sons, including Lt. Seymour Miller, two daughters, four grandchildren and 12 great grandchildren. In lower Market Street, ideas for expansion turned Nathan's eye to Meharg's store at the northeast corner of Ninth and King.

Needing funds for the move, he decided with his brothers' approval to approach Wilmington Trust Co. Imagine this little Nathan Miller, proposition, the lower counties could be Essex and Wessex. On the other hand, either the secessionists or those from whom they say they want to split might insist on the name that county has borne since colonial days. Pain is a signal that something is wrong and must be attended to. The squeak means that the wheel needs something, probably grease.

What is vital is to cure the cause of the friction. A resolute little group of would-be secessionists has made it known that it hopes to stir up interest in forming a fourth county from the coastal part of Sussex. It did not float this trial balloon for fun, not even to amuse Sussex County Administrator Joseph T. Conaway. Mr.

Conaway reportedly greeted news of the secession proposal with a laugh, then sobered to adjudge it as "just not a very practical idea," not "very realistic." Separation in a county, as in a marriage, should be decided on only after serious thought. The protesting faction is upset by what they consider county government's toleration of excessive beach area development. The folks in Georgetown must realize that even if the secession idea is impractical, or unrealistic, the concerns of those who have entertained it must be addressed. umnist. The public has a right to know: Santa is almost kaput SAYING that in three, four, islands.

Americans are sunnosed to Russell Baker five years at the most, Santa JL Claus will be through. Washed up. Kaput. Don't tell me "That's crazy, there will always be a Santa Claus." Sooner or later everything is sent to the dump, even the best things. Look at the telephone company.

Five years ago you would have said, "There will always be a phone company." Where is the phone company today? Washed up. Kaput. Though it was one of the best things, it was sent to the dump. Not that Santa is in the same league with the late telephone company, when it comes to quality. When it was a brand-new idea, though, Santa Claus had a certain romantic appeal, no doubt about that.

Cheerful red color, genial old grandfather image, poetic fantasy of a beneficent human running a business with no cash register it all wasn't bad stuff for lifting spirits at the dark end of the year. lem. Once long ago Americans may have associated fat with jolliness; now it receives only scorn. Finally there is Santa's sack, a sort of giant mailbag supposedly filled with toys. That is embarrassing, of course, because the kind of toys we get nowadays can't be tossed into a mailbag.

They must be carefully packed in cardboard and cushioned in bubble plastic. Even then the video display ter-. minal may be cracked or the circuit board mashed out of shape. The sack was all right for Teddy bears and rubber-doll babies, but when you're expecting a $2,000 computer mechanism and are told it's being brought in a sack by an overweight fried-food gobbler who can't even tan and is so out of it that he doesn't even use Grecian Formula well, kiddies, if you're like me you're ready to retire Santa Claus to the attic, along with your collection of N.R.A. Blue Eagle posters.

Why not? Nothing lasts not even the telephone company. go to the islands in winter. But they're supposed to come back with a suntan. This codger has a burn. Americans don't respect people who get burned instead of tanned.

Such is the state of American culture that people whose skins get burned instead of tanned are thought to be fit subjects for jokes. Worse suppose Santa Claus hasn't been to the islands, but has been staying close to the sunless Arctic pole. That high color can mean only one thing: Santa Claus is eating a diet rich in fats, sweets, greases. His cholesterol may be disgustingly high, his circulating system clogged. In short, we are looking either at a man who is ridiculously incapable of tanning or one who never worries about his health and probably never jogs or works out at the health club.

Again leave us be candid: Americans despise people in bad health because of the national belief that all people can enjoy good health Intellectually, however, it was always feeble. The idea of Old Jelly Belly squeezing down millions of chimney flues was an insult to a 5-year-old intelligence. The idea that, having squeezed his way down, he could squeeze his way up again well, let us not be too cynical about the power of childhood's will to believe. What made Santa Claus survive so long was the adult world's eagerness to encourage children to suspend disbelief. What dooms Santa Claus, if my hunch is correct, is not the modern psychologist's objection to stuffing children full of malar-key, but aspects of the Santa Claus image that have become repellent to modern America.

First, of course, is his age. Snow-white hair and beard are distressing evidence of truly advanced age. At one time mere grandfathers may have looked that old. Today, grandmothers tint their hair; grandfathers apply dye daily from the jar to look eternally youthful. Santa Claus has given up.

That ancient white in his hair betrays him as a great-grandfather at least, possibly a great-great-grandfather. Need I point out that persons of that age are not warmly welcomed in our land for longer than it takes the TV host to congratulate them on being antique and hustle them to the wings? Hanging around for the entire month of December, antediluvian Santa Claus becomes, a wet blanket dampening the youthful buying spirit of America. Also: Santa Claus's color so ruddy is embarrassing. Why is he so red in the face? All right, it's winter, so maybe he's been to the and eternal life by tending to their muscles and innards day and night. The impression of rotten health is magnified by Santa's weight prob M' 1i-liftlii 0 ifch jf- nil ffli fi ffl ft fl rtiiiii rn ntr -f- nYjiLj.