Magyar Örökségünk March 1988. [antikvár]

It is widely acknowledged in the fteld of publishing that the third year in the life of a publication is the most crucial and that, if serious problem-challenges are met and overcome, it will survive for the long-pull stronger than ever. We can bear witness that there is a lot of truth in this belief. For ever since January of this year, we have been subjected to such a severe "baptism-of-fire" that the fallout from it disrupted our publication schedule and, in fact, almost terminated it. We will not dignify the outrageously unconscionable causes of the effect either with a direct response or an explanation, except to report that we have resumed publication and that we will do everything humanly possible to get back on our regular monthly schedule as soon as possible. We will alsó secure our operations with constructive changes. At this time, we want to publicly express our sincerest gratitude to everyone who rallied to our side to help us solve the serious problems confronting us; to the many readers of the "Hungárián Heritage Review" from all over the United States who wrote us letters of concern and encouragement and who telephoned us to convey their best wishes; and to each and everyone of our subscribers for their patience, loyalty, understanding, and continued support. That our "well-wishers" outnumber our "ill-wishers" by far, reinforces our dedication to a meaningful cause and our determination to carry on come what may. Meanwhile, our message to our "ill-wishers" is in the following translated excerpt from the poem "Epilógus" written by János Arany in response to the vicious "smear campaign" deliberately orchestrated against him by his adversaries: "I walked through life mostly on my feet, sometimes in a streetcar. I saw many elegant carriages with beautiful wheels and plush seats, and I swear I was never jealous of them. I couldn 7 care about the ones traveling in the carriages, snobbish gentlemen, overdressed women, and how they wrinkled their noses at those walking slowly along the roadside. If I encountered someone who deliberately threw mud at me, / did not faltér. I stepped to the side and wiped it off. After all, as I walked here and there, little flowers blossomed for me. 1 picked them, and my heart was filled with joy. " PAUL PULITZER Executive Editor-Publisher