Mrs. F. W. Pinney and her daughter, Ann, left today for Sheboygan, Wis., because of the death of Mrs. Pinney's mother-in-law, Mrs. Charles Pinney. F. W. Pinney is on defense work in Panama and will arrive by plane to meet his wife and daughter in Sheboygan

Louisville, Ky., June 27 - (AP) - Three light training planes from nearby Bowman field army air base plummeted into front yards in an exclusive residential section of East Louisville this afternoon, killing one flyer and injuring five other airmen and three civilians.

The small planes of the type used in training glider pilots at the glider combat school at Bowman field all fell within an area of two blocks.

Authorities at the field listed the dead flier as Pfc. John E. Stilley, 19, rural route 2, Kansas City, Mo.

The injured were Flight Officer Roy R. Lewis, Los Angeles, Calif., fractured skull, fractured jaw and leg injuries, condition critical; Flight Officer John A. Werner, Medford, Wis., fractured ankle; and Flight Officer William J. Hargis, Tulsa, Okla.; Pfc. Marvin Woods, address unavailable, and Pfc. Franklin Wolf, address unavailable, all minor injuries.

Police listed the injured civilians as Mrs. R. E. Smith, multiple cuts and bruises; Miss Virginia Smith, her daughter, cuts and bruises, and Mrs. Ernst Finch, Sheboygan Wis., sister of Mrs. Smith, bruises.

The women were injured when one of the falling planes crashed into the living room of the Smiths' third-floor apartment and then dropped to the ground.

The triple crash, which attracted several thousand persons to the scene, was believed to have been caused by a sudden and brief rain and wind storm which hit only a small section of the city, witnesses said. Many other planes from Bowman field in the air at the time were not endangered. Bowman field announced that an investigation would be made.

Death-bed promises are almost as old-fashioned as cutting your favorite child off with a shilling or digging a garden to find the buried family jewels.

But occasionally one hears of one. It is about a promise she made her dying husband that Alma Watson writes me from Sheboygan. Alma is 31, she was married ten years ago and has been a widow for three years. Now she wants to marry a captain in the marines (- as indeed, who mightn't?)

"When Harold was dying," says her letter, "he asked of me a solemn promise that I would not marry again. We lost our first baby at birth, three years after our marriage; I was expecting my second baby when my husband's sudden and fatal illness occurred. He was convinced that our child would be a boy; in the few hours he had to make arrangements for me and the child he was in a frenzy of anxiety for fear that in my youth, inexperience and loneliness I would hurry into a second marriage with some scamp who would waste and ruin our boys estate, which is small, but means security for us at least. The child was a girl, and after Harold's death I discovered that he had deceived me for most of our married life, that there was another woman whose claim on him was so strong that about half of everything he left went to her. She had two sons; his sons.

"My husband was fourteen years older than I, irritable, masterful, and critical. For seven years I made him a good wife; tried to be patient and understanding. I knew all along that my marriage was anything but an ideal one; but my mother and his had warned me not to marry him. But I determined to make the best of it, and I did.

"When he was taken from me I did fell a sense of loss, regret and strangeness, until his will revealed the existence of his long-standing love-affair with a woman in his office, a woman who I knew, who was frequently in our home. Then the thought that I also had been his wife in those years, grieving over the loss of my child, rejoicing in the prospect of another baby, revolted me so that I was actually prostrated with shock. I would not see the woman again; I sold the place, joined my father and mother on the farm where I spent my happy girlhood, and awaited the coming of my baby. She came safely, and is the pet and delight of us all.

"Some months ago I met a captain of marines, just back from the Solomon's. He is six years older then I, good and gentle and loving, decorated for valor at Guadalcanal, in every way a man to love and respect. We love each other dearly; my parents would be most happy to have him for a son. Some five years ago he bought a farm next to us, and will farm it again after the war, if he comes safely through. In every way the prospect seems one of heavenly happiness to me, but I am bound by that old promise exacted by my husband in the last hour of consciousness. Or am I bound by it? Will you tell me what you think of this problem?

Alma, I'll tell you what I think, and what authorities far wiser in moral law than I think about it. I am informed that such a promise is not binding; it was unfairly extracted from you under serious emotional pressure. No human has the right to control the actions of another after death; it would be as reasonable for you to demand of your dying husband that he never look at a woman - angel until you arrived to join him in heaven! If he really meant only to protect you and his unborn son from adventurers, from a foolish second marriage immediately after his death, that danger has passed anyway. His son is a daughter, and his widow has remained a widow for three long years, and now contemplates marriage with an eminently suitable person. If he meant, which is more likely, to continue to dominate and handicap you, that is an unworthy motive on his part, and wherever his spirit is it will be freer if you forget and forgive his injustice. At 31 you are too young to abandon all thought of married happiness, especially after long years when you sacrificed your own wishes to his, living only to please and satisfy him.

The jealous desire to go on living after death, to continue to influence this world and a few at least of its inhabitants, is a childish and undeveloped impulse. One sees it exemplified in wills, in freakish last dispositions of estates, in surprise letters locked up in strong boxes. If, as I believe the liberated spirit reaches new wide horizons where all our sensual earthly appetites at last appear to us to be as pitiably narrow as they really are, how bitterly must a soul regret the blind little whims and meannesses he left behind him.

One of the most horrifying examples of that sort, son years ago, was the will of a man who left a large fortune to the woman who would bear the most children in ten years. Several women actually entered this disgraceful race; some of the poor little unwanted babies died; some were of unmarried mothers; many came to families already on relief; several to a vermin-infested home that had already given to the relief board a great deal of trouble.

If the proper authorities has thrown out this pernicious will, as subversive to public morals, there would have been one long-drawn scandal less in the world. Had a living man made such a proposition there would have been no hesitation in shutting him up. But because the man was dead, and red wax and red tape dangled from a lifeless document, it was regarded as sacred, and the infamous conditions of it were published where weak-minded, irresponsible women could read them.

Were the promise of a different nature, and Alma's husband living, she could go to him, and explain why she was withdrawing it. Because of his own callous infidelities. Because of complete changes in all the conditions. Certainly she is not more obligated to him dead than she would be if he were still here.

Sometimes I have advised the women who write me to obtain legal separations. I have never advised divorce. It seems to me a much more serious thing to dissolve a marriage between the living than to cancel a death-bed promise made in the last jealous, sick domineering hours of a man's life. Doctors deceive patients if they feel it a helpful thing. Nurses murmur untruths; wives say cheerfully, "you're much better today." Classify your promise among these soothing deceptions and forget it. And may the future be good to you.

Manila, March 6 (AP) - An officer and three enlisted men say this happened:

Sgt. Thomas Thompson, Fort Lauderdale, Fla., saw a shadowy figure approaching his foxhole in the 11th airborne division sector on Luzon island. He shouted a challenge and in reply drew a wild shot from a Japanese rifle.

Thompson aimed, pulled the trigger and his rifle failed.

Pfc. Donald Otten, Sheboygan, Wis., aimed, pulled the trigger and his rifle failed.

Pfc. Eugene Wold, Duluth, Wis., aimed, pulled the trigger and his rifle failed.

At that point the Japanese hurled a grenade into the foxhole where the three Americans crouched. The grenade failed to explode.

Robert G. Reuter, Ottsburg, Wis., and Eileen A. Dunn, Sheboygan, Wis.

The Penn Yan Baking company at 17 Main street has been sold to Mr. and Mrs. Earl Theune of Sheboygan, Wis. The former owner was Floyd Best.

Mr. Theune, who has had some eight years experience in the baking business, took over operation of the local store Thursday, Oct. 6. He recently completed a baking course at Okmulgee, a subsidiary technical training school of Oklahoma A & M.

Mr. and Mrs. Theune are making their home at 612 North Liberty street.

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