PAGE TWO
MAROON AND GOLD
SATURDAY, MAY 13, 1944
Maroon and Gold
Edited and printed at Elon College by students of
Journalism. Published bi-weekly during the college
year.
Carolina Roses
—EDITORIAL STAFF—
Mary Ellen McCants . . .
Gene Poe
Alma Rose Sprinkle . . .
Martha McDaniel ....
Emerson Whatley ....
Ed Daniel
. . . . Art Editor
—BUSINESS STAFF—
Mary Coxe
Business Manager
Anne Bigby
Circulation Manager
Charles R. McClure . . .
—NEWS EDITOES—
Robert Weston
Patricia Hook
Edna Reitzel
Elizabeth Braddy
Leon Gibbs
Elizabeth Holland
Mary Lib Wright
Florine Braxton
John Rossi
Thomas Horner
—PEODUCTION STAFF—
Charles Brown ...
. . Linotype Operator
Dr. Merton French ....
Staff Photographer
Spike Harrell
Entered as second-class matter November 10, 1936,
at the post office at Elon College, N. C., under the Act
of Congress, March 3, 1879.
RKPnCaSNTBD POM NATIONAL ADVBi«TI«INa BY
National Advertising Service, Inc.
College Publishers Rep* esentative
420 Madison Ave. New York. N.Y.
CHiCAao * Boston • Lot Aimilu • San Fmamciscc
As An Artist
As an artist paints the last stroke on a masterpiece,
he breathes a faint sigh of relief. Stepping bar>: sever-
"al paces, he evaluates his work, smiles upon it approv
ingly, and then with an outburst of joy and satisfac
tion. his voice rings through the room, “It is done—it is
finished!”
Similarly, Elon College, like an artist, has painted,
molded, and sculptured the lives of a group of young
men and women who entered its gates just a little less
than four years ago. Yes, that is the senior class to
which Elon is now saying, “It is done—it is finished.”
There is no doubt in our minds that this is true. We
are certain that Elon has offered to each of these
students undeniable opportunities, and that as a col
lege, its work is done—finished.
Think back, for just a few moments, seniors, to the
days when you were selecting your college. All of you
had in your minds definite things that you hoped to
find in a school—some of these things profitable, some
rather happy-go-lucky. Most of you found what you
wanted. Perhaps you were discouraged at times—
when you thought the food wasn’t the best in the world,
when the heat wasn’t on one cold morning, when the
teachers thought you should spend more time on les
sons than on pleasures, or even when the rules didn’t
exactly suit you—but those things have sort of slipped
your memory now. You’ll walk back on Elon’s campus
reminiscing—Senior oak, the library, Whitley, the year
all the boys left—. Then you’ll proudly exclaim, “Gee,
but those were the best days of my life! I wish I had
them all to do over again.”
Yes, Elon has given you a start, a grand and glor-
ous beginning. The world which you are about to enter
is offering to you a grim reality of chaos and confusion,
for you, as educated young Americans, to “straighten”
out. It’s a hard task, but you can do it. Will you?
The duty of your college to you has been fulfilled.
The hours of painting are ending, and the masterpiece
awaits exhibition and sale. Figuratively speaking, then,
to the artist and to the masterpiece, we say “Congratu
lations! There’s a job—well done.”
A Mother^s Day Letter
Dear Mom:
Guess you think it’s about time I was writing. It
has been a week now, hasn’t it? Well, you see, mom,
I ve been pretty busy lately. Exams are coming up
next week, and I’ve been studying hard.
Really did enjoy that cake you sent. I always said
your cake was the best in the South. Tell dad I got
his check and appreciated that, too.
But that’s not really what I’m writing to you for
this time, mom. Tomorrow’s Mother’s Day, and, shucks,
it just sort of makes a pretty good time to tell you how
crazy I am about you. No kidding, you're my best girl
friend. Gee, I don’t know what I’d have done without
you all these years.
Remember how you used to come in and wake me
up every morning, and I got up too, often after the third
time you called. But that ole alarm clock—it could just
sit there and ring all morning and I wouldn’t even
budge. It’s just nothing that makes up for you . . . not
one single thing. Now don’t you go get the idea I’m
homesick, or anything like that, ’cause I’m not. Maybe
I would be if I hadn’t had such a good mother to make
something out of me. I reckon you just about top my list
as far as women go, and I rate women about the highest
things I know of.
Well, gee, mon, I don’t really know how to say all
this stuff to you; but I guess you know what I mean.
You always could catch-on to what I was thinking. But^
anyway, I do love you, and I hope you have the best
Mother’s Day possible.
MARY ELON
The Good Book tells us that there is a time for ev
erything under the sun. It is time for the roses, and
bouquets, in which the Old North State excels. Indeed,
after extensive travel, one is apt to observe that roses
seem to find Carolina soil to their liking, and to grow
here with a profusion and a glory that astounds.
But to our task. We believe in honest expression
of the soul. Roses, bouquets, or compliments, it is
all one so long as the sentiment represented is honest.
These are bespoken frankly. There would be more,
much more to be said, had we time and space. “Time
and space causes much moaning,” thought the fat boy
as he ran to catch the bus.
Catch a life-line and come along: A hearty Good
Morning, and here come the roses—
A large bouquet to President and Mrs. Smith for
untiring devotion to Elon, and for the great capacity
for sustained effort and vigor that we so much admire.
A generous bundle of Carolina roses goes to Dean
and Mrs. Messick for their generosity, their broad and
human sympathies, and for looking always on the sunny
side.
A double bouquet to Dr. Brannock for the shrewd
understanding of life that is his, for the wisdom of his
years, for the sound of his hearty laughter, for practical
ity and great humanity.
To Dean Edna Randall Kraft, one large American
Beauty for so ably protecting Elon’s Bevy of Beauties.
To His Honor the Mayor, Mr. George Colclough, for
the smile that won’t come off, and the able and affable
greeting with which he always meets the public.
To Professor and Mrs. Barney for being just them
selves, gracious and fine on all occasions.
To Professor and Mrs. Hook, for talent, and kind
ness beyond compare, and for always meeting the call
of duty.
And another armful of Carolina roses to Dr. and Mrs.
Bowden, and Doug and Buddy, for smiles and jokes,
Christmasy cheer the year around, and being philosoph
ers all in a healthy American style.
To the three Frenches, a tidy bouquet for adding
chic, vitamins, broad Christian purpose, and little
Louise, a fairy in a go-cart, to our campus life.
To Mr. Apple for giving us a little sunshine every
day, and looking like a Hollywood hero despite his years.
To Mr. Whitesell, for being able to fix anything,
and for always doing it with a smile.
To the army boys who represent the Spirit of 1944
and carry on the great tradition of the Boys of 1776,
and to the students of every class, for the inspiration of
youth, for high ideals, and for the coming years when
they shall hold the forts of liberty and justice, the lar
gest bouquet of all.
And a special rose to Andy Morgan, whose smile is
the biggest of all, and whose honesty and honor and
friendly ways make this world a better place to live in.
As for the rest of us, whose names may not yet have
been given a accolade, let us embrace ourrselves;
there’ll be more next time.
QoUsqs diumoh
Not knowing just what kind of stuff and nonsense
you “Kiddies” like, it’s kinda difficult to select some
thing that will please you. But if you don’t like these
just wait until next year—I’ll find some “honeys” dur
ing the summer.
HUMOR?
June—the month of brides. The other eleven are
devoted to divorces.
Optimist—A cheerful frame of mind that enables
a tea kettle to sing though in hot water up to its nose.
Orator—The fellow who’s always ready to lay down
your life for his country.
WATAUGAN.
A freshman went to Hades
To see what he could learn:
The devil sent him back
Labeled, “much too green to burn.”
More truth than poetry.
HILLTOP.
Truer words were never typed.
A professor who comes two minutes early to class is
very rare—in fact, he’s in a class by himself.”
THE TWIG.
There was a young man from Spokane
Whose verses no reader could scan.
When warned by a poet
He said, “Yes I know it,,
But I try to get just as many syllables into the last
line as I possibly can.” ^
THE PIONEER.
The Modern Female
She’s like an angel; she’s always ready to fly, she’s
continually harping, and she hasn’t an earthly thing
to wear.
THE PIONEER.
A Northern eskimo met a Southern Eskimo.
“Gulub( glub, blub,” said the Northerner.
“Glub, you all, glub, glub, honey chile.”
BACHELOR.
The preacher had just finished an unusually long
and dry sermon ... so long in fact, that several mem
bers of his congregation had drifted off to dreamland
... so to close the morning’s ritual, he asked one of the
sleeping deacons: “And, now we will have a few minutes
of prayer . . . Deacon Brown, will you lead?”
“Lead,” answered Deacon Brown as he awakened
suddenly, “I just dealt.”
THE PIONEER.
i hr., m
(^ampjuA
By LEON “ELECTRICIAN” GIBBS
This being the last column of “College Humor,” I
will bid you adieu. And as one ole cow said to another,
“If I don’t see you in the future. I’ll see you in the
pasture.”
Howdy, folks! How are you all along here about
the end of the school year? What with exams peeping
out from behind every nook and crook on ye olde cam
pus, my buddy and I had quite a bit of difficulty edging
ourselves into the tiny space left for us. But being
rather magically inclined, we two mysterious little imps
did manage to get a few key-hole glimpses of what’s
what these days. But as I was saying to Snoop the
other day, it’s just about vacation time for us as well
as for you. Ah, just think, my friends, three months of
undisturbed sleep! We can curl up down in our favorite
tree trunk and there won’t be a living soul on the out
side mumbling sweet nothings, etc. But, er, we really
don’t mind these little interruptions every now and
then. They rather break the monotony of a somewhat
boresome life. Truly, we’ll be mighty glad when au
tumn returns, and something new has been added. Let
us say, that, on the whole, this has been a rather fruitful
year for us. We’ve started sweet romances, broken up
some true loves, and comforted the lonely hearts. Just
one simple bit of advice for the future—and for us—
“don’t be too good, you won’t have any fun, and neither
will we.”
We hear tell that among the ever-decreasing group
of cadets on Elon’s campus, there dwells one—a certain
Mr. McGuire—who’s line has been trained to the point
of perfection on a number of our more gullible “senor-
itas;” namely, according to Mr. McGuire’s bet
ter judgment, the ten most beautiful girls at Elon. We
would beg to differ with your opinion, sir, but who are
we to argue with one so experienced in the arts as a Life
photographer?
In spite of rain and several other discouraging de
tails. May Day on Elon College campus turned out to be
a really beautiful affair. Orchids to all of you who made
it possible—Dean Kraft, Mr. Westmoreland, Edna Rum-
ley, Mary Warren, Helen Margaret Messick, the king
and queen, the attendants, and the physical education
class. Onions to you who wouldn’t help undecorate.
Speaking of May Day, we just happened to think
about the Navy. It was just gobs and gobs of fun for
Jeanne, Edna, Helen, and Mary. Some girls have all
the lurky breaks.
Now just what do you think about people who go
around breaking hearts? We’re not saying that anyone
here at Elon would do things like that. No, but—there’s
Faye Thomas. Of course, we don’t exactly know, but
we’re just kind of guessing, if you know what we mean.
Hey, maybe we’ve said enough. Reckon we’d better
change the subject.
Commercial Department Personnel
We were just wondering if you folks wouldn’t be
interested in some rather personal things. We mean
little things Tike, “I wouldn’t have you know this for
the world, or don’t you tell a living soul.” But now,
we wouldn’t call it exactly nosey when we got these
little items straight from the victim’s own writing. For
the benefit of you Commercials, who won’t have a
chance to read the Commercial Who’s Who Book, Snip
and Snoop is rounding up a bit of its “info” for you.
Now, friends, we want you to meet Brantley An
drews. Some of you know him as G. I. He’s the fellow
who likes dating girls and working in the “P. X.” He
sort of thinks being a big executive would make a nice
life’s occupation.
Described as a black-haired, blue-eyed rebel from
Virginia is Maxine Beachum. Who’s Who goes on to
tell us that her heart doesn’t belong to Daddy any more.
You couldn’t miss this one. She likes eating-from
ice cream to spinach—likes “Al” (or rather that was the
case when the book was published), likes dating, and, of
all things—bookkeeping. She laughs often. Inci
dentally, this is Anne Bigby we’re speaking of.
Then there’s “Hedy.” No not Lamarr, but Violet
Hedrick, brown-eyed commercial student from Eliza
bethtown, North Carolina. Funny thing—but “Hedy”
dislikes being broke. Her ambition is to be a White
Collar Girl—^^maybe in Charlotte. Our guess is that
there must be some attraction down that way.
Everytime a former Elon student comes back on the
campus, he starts asking, "Well, where’s Buster’s girl?”
Then, before he’s left, he’s met that girl with the fascin
ating personality—Lou Ratliffe. She’s just about tops
when, it comes to jitterbugging.'
You all know Hazel Taylor, don’t you? She’s the
blonde that makes you look twice. Speaking of her
likes and dislikes, we find that she’s nuts about
“Charles,” good times, Elon, home. And for her dis
likes, well, there’s work, war, two-timers, and the man
shortage.
Hello, Dot! That’s Dot Williams over there, that girl
.with the long hair and big blue eyes. She’s plenty
cute. We don’t think she’ll have much trouble ful
filling her ambition—to get married, eventually. And,
by the w3y, she’s from Suffolk, Virginia.
Do you all know Gladys Murray? Well, she’s a per
son who believes in this: “I don’t bother work—and
work don t bother me.” ? She’s crazy about Elon
College.
Now, take Betty McLean. She has what she terms
wanderlust blood—she wants to be traveling all the
time.
Well, we’ve already said our good-byes at the be
ginning of this, so we’ll just quit for now. Good night
till September!
SNIP and SNOOP
Congratulations to MaryEllen McCants for getting^
out such a swell paper on time. Congrltulations to
Eliza Boyd on her position as editor of Phi Psi Cli.
“Shorty” may be short, but that doesn’t seem to
make a shortage in the number of her boy-friends. It
is hard to tell whether the Army Air Corps, Navy, or
civilians will win out in the finals.
“Dot” Holland has been seen down at the Waughs
a lot this week. Couldn’t be because she likes Lorraine
or because “big brother” has a furlough? The other day
. Lorraine was making a cake and sent “Dot” out to the
hen house to get some eggs. “Dot” returned with three
hen eggs and one glass nest egg! Never make a farm
er’s wife of that gal!
“MAC” seems to have turned “hill-billy”i Her
favorite tunes are “Yesterday’s Tears” and “Have L
Stayed Away Too Long?” By the way, I like them too.
Sptkking of favorites, “Back Door Stuff” (the rec
ord I mean) is Kathey Butler’s favorite.
We wonder how a lot of people get their nicknames,
for instance why do they call Lib—“LUCY ” SatterfielrT
-“BUNK,” Eugene Preston Poe-“Jo^’ Reiley—
“SHEIK,” Mr. McClure—“CHAD,” Margaret Anne—
“MAGGIE,” Marion James—“CHIC,” Janie—“DUR-
lady,” Vivian Harrell—
Olin Leonard and Frank Rogers have been seen go
ing to breakfast in the middle of the night? Also we
have heard “Lib” Holland dressed to go one night
about 11:30 p. m.
Poe looks funny going to bed wearing a nightcap,
he thing of it is, he tries to get Spike to wear one too.
Women and electricity are similar because both
are shocking at times; that’s whjj “Yours Truly” is
studying Electrical Engineering.
We nominate “Flo” and “Joe” as the cutest couple
with Clarence and Nell coming in second. By the way
army°^ characters have been accepted by the
“Spike” has been nominated as the biggest heart-
breaker, Emerson Whatley holding second place.
•II ” Clapp, J. C. Smith and Alton Durham
will make a nice catch for someone. '
F T T list Of
Fx Wh' t’ Special Priority.
Ex. Where did Joyce M. get S. P. to date Vic Strader?
Last week-end Professor Hook went to Atlanta to ,i
physicist s meeting. While he was there the head of the
Physics Department at Duke hooked Hook’s hat (by mis
take of course).
v/i ^°"S*'®*^'^l^tions to Professor Westmoreland and
Edna Rumley on the enjoyable May Day program It
was good even if it was in the gym, and it showed a
lot of hard work by everyone who participated.
around a lot. The latest re
port had him on the porch of Ladies’ Hall. I’ll bet
Reverend O’Kelly would turn over in his grave at the
thought of spending the night on the porch of Ladies’
Uncle Sam got down to the last straw and sent
Yours truly his greetings. Now I am the three “B’s’^
boy—: Bainbridge bound blues.” I have spent some
memorable moments on the Elon campus. It has meant
a lot to me, as I have heard a lot of others who are in
(Editors Note: And you’ll be welcome. Monsieur
Poet’s Corner
PROOFREADER’S JEREMIAD
Pass not your proof with haughty mien
Nor perfect (?) markings view,
Said proof may reach the referee
Bedecked with azure hue.*
+ ♦ ♦
Of all the folks who roam this earth,
Proofreaders ought to be
Freest of supercilious mirth,
Or ego-osity.
For who is there (save you attid I)
Could ALL the errors see’
Yet even you let one go by.
And I missed two or three.
For whether rubbed ’gainst the walls
Or brought up at the case.
At times some inadvertant falls
Precipitate disgrace.
The foreman lays his finger on
The break, and asks, “How Come’’”
While those who send the copy moan,
“Are all proofreaders dumb?”
Ah, no, kind sirs, but there are days
When brains and eye seem fogged
And errors will elude the gaze.
Thought diligently dogged!
Doctors’ mistakes lie underground,
Our errors upward fly,
Like grapefruit juice, so often found
Athwart the public eye.
A. E. R.
*In the Government Printing Office, proofs are read
a second time by readers who use a blue pencil, some
times to the chagrin of the first reader. The referee
looks over the proof before it goes for correcUon.